Class and Society in Shakespeare: A Dictionary 9781472554871, 9780826477972

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For Cathy, for everything

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Series Editor’s Preface The Continuum Shakespeare Dictionaries aim to provide the student of Shakespeare with a series of authoritative guides to the principal subject-areas covered by the plays and poems. They are produced by scholars who are experts both on Shakespeare and on the topic of the individual dictionary, based on the most recent scholarship, succinctly written and accessibly presented. They offer readers a self-contained body of information on the topic under discussion, its occurrence and significance in Shakespeare’s works, and its contemporary meanings. The topics are all vital ones for understanding the plays and poems; they have been selected for their importance in illuminating aspects of Shakespeare’s writings where an informed understanding of the range of Shakespeare’s usage, and of the contemporary literary, historical and cultural issues involved, will add to the reader’s appreciation of his work. Because of the diversity of the topics covered in the series, individual dictionaries may vary in emphasis and approach, but the aim and basic format of the entries remain the same from volume to volume. Sandra Clark Birkbeck College University of London

Acknowledgements Several people have been instrumental in helping me to bring this work together. In the first instance, Sandra Clark has been invaluable in her role as series editor. She has been able to keep an eye on any potential cross-over between this volume and others in the dictionary series. This has been very important for me because of the wide-ranging nature of a work on class and society; the demarcation between this and other subjects such as history, politics and religion has sometimes been a difficult one to maintain. Thanks are also due to John Drakakis for putting me on to the idea of this book in the first place. The people at Continuum have been very professional and helpful, especially Adam Green, and Colleen Coalter for her work on the manuscript. Jon Billam provided sterling service as copy-editor. Finally, I would like to thank my wife Cathy and my family for all the support, especially during the last few hectic months. Sometimes real life catches up.

Abbreviations AC AMND AW AYLI CE CYM COR GV HAM 1 HIV 2 HIV HV 1 HVI 2 HVI 3 HVI HVIII JC LLL KJ KL LC MA MAC MM MV MW OED OTH PER PP PT RII

Antony and Cleopatra A Midsummer Night’s Dream All’s Well That Ends Well As You Like It The Comedy of Errors Cymbeline Coriolanus The Two Gentlemen of Verona Hamlet 1 Henry IV 2 Henry IV Henry V 1 Henry VI 2 Henry VI 3 Henry VI All Is True (Henry VIII) Julius Caesar Love’s Labour’s Lost King John King Lear A Lover’s Complaint Much Ado About Nothing Macbeth Measure For Measure The Merchant of Venice The Merry Wives of Windsor Oxford English Dictionary Othello Pericles The Passionate Pilgrim The Phoenix and the Turtle Richard II

abbreviations RIII RJ RL SON STM TA TAN TC TEM TN TNK TS VA WT

Richard III Romeo and Juliet The Rape of Lucrece The Sonnets Sir Thomas More Timon of Athens Titus Andronicus Troilus and Cressida The Tempest Twelfth Night The Two Noble Kinsmen The Taming of the Shrew Venus and Adonis The Winter’s Tale

Introduction The terms ‘class’ and ‘society’ are so familiar to modern readers that we use them as a lens through which to view other cultures and our own culture in other periods. But Shakespeare never uses the concept we label as ‘class’, at least not in our way. Rather, his culture imagines itself in terms of large numbers of rigid hierarchical demarcations, and so he makes use of terms that we would instead regard as substrata, or at best synonyms for class. Hence the entries in this book on concepts such as degree or rank, and even other terms that we would tend to regard as separated out from anxieties about social status are inevitably flavoured with Renaissance England’s obsessions with social position. Partly this historical disjunction can be explained by semantic change, of the kind that affects the other word in this book’s title, society. To Shakespeare, this meant other people’s company, rather than an overarching concept of the social totality. But this book is aimed at those looking back at Shakespeare’s period from the twenty-first century. Simply to use terms from the Shakespeare period that are now obsolete would lead to confusion and perhaps some obfuscation. This book is designed to illuminate and describe the somewhat arcane nuances of socially charged meaning that have been lost or subsumed into other meanings since Shakespeare’s time. There is, however, a much more important and powerful historical development that lies between our present and that distant past: the rise of individualism. Time and again entries that seem to be narrowly precise in modern usage, usually in relation to the practice of specific persons, turn out to have a far wider range of social meanings in Shakespeare’s usage. It is extremely difficult for us at this remove to see past the barrier of the individual in its historically exact formulation to a period that pre-dates its rise, or at least has partial elements of its emergence. This book has been written as an attempt to redress the balance, to tease out at least some of the meanings that have become obscure to us, and to do so in an informative manner. This book has to have this title, because anything else would make less sense to its 1

Introduction intended audience. For a full discussion of exactly these problems, see Whigham (1984). The entries themselves vary in length. In order to make the longer ones easier to follow, they have been divided into three sections: an initial definition in the style of an encyclopedia; a guided tour of Shakespeare’s uses of the term; and a list of suggested further reading. The shorter entries follow the same pattern, albeit in more condensed form. The book is not a concordance, so not every occurrence of a term will be listed. The second section with the Shakespearean references has been written in the style more of a literary essay, although without the usual scholarly apparatus of notes and appendices. It seemed more sensible to produce the text in this way, with close reference to Shakespeare’s texts, sometimes in the form of elucidatory quotations. The intention was for the reader not to be scurrying too often between this book and Shakespeare’s texts. The emphasis is on Shakespeare’s use of the terms, glossed by secondary modern and Renaissance texts. Readers who are particularly interested in the latter should consult Gillespie (2001). Many of the entries have been cross-referenced in bold with others, a necessary procedure for a society in which rank, status and class were so important. The comprehensive index should be consulted where necessary. The edition used throughout is The Riverside Shakespeare, ed. G. Blakemore Evans (2nd edn, Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1997).

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A abbot The head of a monastery or abbey; the female form is ‘abbess’. The position ceased to exist with the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII. He acted upon a long medieval popular tradition of anticlericalism that fed associations of worldly corruption into the term. There was also a corollary in political language due to the temporal power of the church. The lands and industry associated with monastic foundations made many of them very wealthy and the various reforming movements saw them as a logical target. Partly this was due to their wealth, and partly because of some very well publicized cases of laxity in morals. The position of abbot in particular was always open to political manipulation, as noble families sought to have their candidate installed in what should have theoretically have been an independent spiritual position. Renaissance drama and literature encapsulates these issues, so that there tends to be a sense of corruption when the term is used, even if only residually. Probably the single most famous foundation is Westminster Abbey; its proximity to the court and the City of London made it a significant political entity in its own right. The Abbot of Westminster is an important onlooker in the deposition scene of Richard II (4.1), but he does not speak until the court leaves the stage. After the Bishop of Carlisle speaks prophetically of the damage that will result from recent events, the abbot intervenes and takes on an important political role, at 4.1.325–34. Ridley (2002, 2) describes some very late religious foundations at 104. 3

abbot A clear and concise description of the social effects of the Reformation can be found in Smith (1997), 26ff.

actor (a) This period, which is five hundred years closer to Latin than our own, has many words that carry Latinate uses that are now obsolete. In this context, an ‘actor’ can simply mean someone who does something, or takes an action. More often, however, it approximates its modern usage of almost exclusively referring to a person who takes a part in a play (a synonym is ‘player’). In Shakespeare’s period, there is an added sense of deliberate self-referential artificiality. These plays are aware of themselves as plays, and metaphorical comparisons are often made by characters to the situation of an actor. In its most complex form, this takes the shape of a play within the play. (b) The actors and other professionals associated with the theatres posed a serious problem for contemporary social theorists, principally because they were technically ‘masterless men’, or vagabonds. And they were all men – women were not legally permitted to act on the public stage. As relatively independent media workers, they did not fit easily into the norms of a rigid, hierarchical society in which place was of paramount importance (see degree and rank). They made a living from a newly emerging and powerful form of monetary economy, and so were difficult to define in the old social terms derived from feudalism. The civil authorities in London were particularly apt to blame the theatres for all sorts of social evils, partly for religious reasons which were often caricatured as puritan. The actors responded by devising an ingenious series of ways around their relative social dislocation. One of these was to site their theatres in suburbs outside the city’s normal area of jurisdiction, or in specified liberties within the city itself. Another was to seek a powerful patron. To some extent this was a simple method of gaining some protection from those associated with the court, since the court and the city did not always get on very well – and the nobility ranked higher than the merchants and guilds of the towns. But there was a more specific reason for seeking noble patronage: if the actors were paid a stipend by a nobleman, they were technically part of his household and thus entitled to wear his livery. In such a case, the actors were able to fit back into the social system. A final option, one pursued by Shakespeare among others, was for an actor to 4

actor seek official confirmation of gentry status, because to be a gentleman meant that one had attained the minimum legal rank at which one did not have to be beholden to any other member of society. In order to fit into the life of the city of London as far as possible, the actors organized themselves along the lines of the guilds, with an apprentice and journeyman structure. All of these options were attempts to legitimize their activities. An example of the Latinate use of the word can be found in Measure For Measure, when Isabella is suing to Angelo for her brother Claudio’s life at 2.2.34–41. Angelo’s coldly precise legalisms almost end the discussion but, with the Provost’s support, Isabella continues. As her arguments become more heated, she begins to affect Angelo in more ways than one, as he contemplates exactly the same intended action as was performed by Claudio. This use of the term ‘actor’ is quite common in the plays. A much more socially charged usage is of course the reference to actors in the more specific sense of the word, as at AMND 3.1.77–80. A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a play that is particularly saturated with theatrical references; at this point, Bottom and the others are rehearsing the play they will be putting on for Theseus’ wedding to Hippolyta. This play within the play at times takes on a life of its own, its vitality contrasting with the relatively sterile world of the court of Athens. As he watches what is going on, Puck addresses the audience directly, a common enough technique in the drama of the period, also used in ‘asides’ and soliloquies. This logic of an intermediate position, a watcher who comments on the action but is also part of it, is an important logical element of this play and many others. It signifies a theatregoing culture in which there is no straightforward boundary between the audience on the one hand and what is being enacted on stage, on the other. Another play that is similarly self-referential is Hamlet. This is something that has been picked up by later members of the acting profession, mainly as a vehicle for star performers. But in its own period it demonstrates a full awareness of its theatrical artificiality (HAM 2.2.388–403). These are actors playing parts that show the dramatist’s historical knowledge of his own profession, with references to Roscius the actor, Seneca and Plautus. They are also at odds as figures in this particular play, with Hamlet making sarcastic fun of Polonius while the older man struggles to deal both with Hamlet’s madness, which is itself 5

actor another form of acting, and his own attempts to describe the accomplishments of the troupe that has just arrived at Elsinore. Polonius’ farcical pedantry points to an inability fully to define what it is that actors do. As chimerical shape-changers, they cross the boundaries of comedy, history, tragedy, pastoral and so on. All of these elements are present in just this short scene, with acting standing in for a logic of outward display coupled with the enactment of roles. Acting is so embedded in the language of this play that there is even a reference to the recent performances of Shakespeare’s (HAM 3.2.100– 5), since it is likely that Julius Caesar and Hamlet were part of the opening season of the new Globe Theatre. And as with the earlier passage, it demonstrates an awareness of Roman history. It is important to note that Shakespeare’s lack of Greek is rather obvious here by its absence, as Ben Jonson noted at the time. All of the classical references are to the Romans. However, there may be a certain logic to this that feeds into Hamlet as a whole, with its attendant Senecan revenge logic and attention to issues of state power. One of the most well-known incidences of the logic of self-referential acting comes in The Tempest (4.1.146–58). It is a common enough critical comment that The Tempest represents Shakespeare’s farewell to his full-time theatrical career, and this speech is often quoted in support of that argument. As with Hamlet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the later play is full of the logic of stage presentation, and of course Prospero is often seen as the archetypal director, perhaps even on occasion a role played by Shakespeare in person. But acting also performs a metaphorical function in the play, as Prospero indicates – the show he has put on for the benefit of Ferdinand and Miranda becomes an opportunity for a moralistic homily. This traditional reading of the play can of course be challenged, because it depends on an uncritical acceptance of Prospero’s power on the part of the audience. The use of acting in the wider metaphorical sense is extremely common in Renaissance drama. It often comes at a point of crisis for one of the characters, allowing a kind of self-referential dramatic irony to creep in (3 HVI 2.3.24–8). Warwick’s defiance in the face of death is conventionally appropriate, since this was supposed to be the attitude of a defeated nobleman. The reference to acting at this point is striking, drawing attention to the life of a person played out in public, as well as the stage performance itself. Heroic endings are often attended in the drama by such allusions to the theatre. 6

actor (c) Weimann (1978) is the most complete analysis of the social performance context of Renaissance acting; he has further developed his ideas on the relationship between theatre and society in his later book (2000). A similar effort is made in Montrose (1996). Montrose (1995) is an investigation of the complex nuances of performance issues in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Liebler (1995) investigates the social ritual foundations of Renaissance drama and its customary self-conscious artifice. Sohmer (1999) contextualizes Julius Caesar as well as Hamlet and Henry V in terms of the emergence of the new Globe Theatre. Barker and Hulme (1996) is a now classic essay in the development of postcolonial criticism; it interrogates the assumptions that lie behind the standard uncritical acceptance of Prospero in The Tempest. Barroll (1991) looks at the social situation of Shakespeare’s company in the emerging Jacobean period. He usefully corrects the assumption that the King’s Servants were somehow recognized as such because of Shakespeare. Mullaney (1998) looks at the liminal spaces occupied by the theatrical profession, and the theatres themselves; see also Richmond (2002). Ridley (2002, 2) relates the theatres to other pastimes at 261ff.

admiral The (noble) officer in charge of a fleet or navy. In England and other countries, the overall commander-in-chief of the whole navy had the office of Lord High Admiral. This was an exceptionally prestigious appointment, especially from the reign of Henry VIII onwards, and was held by the highest ranking noblemen in the kingdom. The threat posed to England by sea-borne invasion includes times of civil war (RIII 4.4.433–9). The man who will become the first Tudor monarch carries particular resonance for a play that is produced under the last: the coincidence of an invading force with a native uprising is Elizabeth’s worst nightmare. Command of the seas is therefore of the utmost importance. For Hawkins’ performance at the Admiralty and during the Armada crisis, see Ridley (2002, 2), 218–23. For a general discussion of the office, see Edelman (2000), 4–5. affinity This expression is used of specific different kinds of relationship in this period, although almost never of personal ones, unlike in modern usages. It more often applies to the allies one has in the social 7

affinity spectrum or, in a very specific sense, one of the categories of incest. Shakespeare in fact only uses the word once, with the former meaning. In Othello, Iago manipulates Cassio into a drunken fight. Unfortunately for Cassio, this leads to his dismissal from Othello’s service, one of the main reasons being the importance of the man he has injured during the brawl (OTH 3.1.41–7). Emilia’s words to Cassio permit a glimpse into a world of encoded social networks, relationships by alliance, clientage, dependency and obligation. The social spectrum is criss-crossed by this net and Cassio’s lapse of judgement has important consequences for him. Perry (2003) notes how the clientage system operated at Elizabeth’s court at 106.

alderman A word with several contemporary meanings. Shakespeare uses it only once, with its most common denotation of an important city official. An alderman was the chief administrator of a city ward, of which London had 26. The aldermen of London constituted a kind of governing body. They were drawn from the ranks of metropolitan notables, especially the guilds. A reference to wealth and office comes in the form of the alderman in Mercutio’s ‘Queen Mab’ speech (RJ 1.4.53–8). This alderman’s ring could be a signet of office, or simply a sign of the wearer’s prosperity. Picard (2004) lists the functions of an alderman at 272–3. ale The popular drink of the less well off. What is important is its use in every household as a clean substitute for drinking water, which could often be contaminated, especially in the large cities such as London. See also beer, which is ale with hops added, entailing a more complex and lengthy brewing process. In 1 Henry IV Hotspur makes a side swipe comment about the Prince of Wales: ‘I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale.’ (1.3.232). This is a direct reference to the supposed low-life doings of the prince, and is intended to point up the difference in behaviour between the two young men in the play. Later on in the Second Tetralogy, the Boy bemoans his lot in France: ‘I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety’ (HV 3.2.13), a sentiment seconded by Pistol. In other words, the hardships of campaign life make them want to return to the normality of their previous life. 8

ale For the importance of ale to the lower-class households, see Picard (2004), 187.

alms (a) An act of charity to the poor, usually by members of aristocratic households. This was a practice renowned as part of medieval piety; in the Renaissance, it is regarded with the suspicion held of most memories of past Catholic practices, unless dispensed by members of the nobility. The term can apply either to the concept of charity in general or, more specifically, to the donation in kind or cash itself. (b) Kate gives a description of standard alms-giving at TS 4.3.4–6, where she compares it to her own treatment at the hands of Petruchio, but the image is a common one. Connotations of rank surface in a more unpleasant form at CYM 2.3.111–15, when Cloten attacks the absent poor gentleman Posthumus to whom Imogen is married, using terms which are loaded with class abuse. Alms are not a form of charity in this passage, but a meagre doling out of scraps to the socially unfit. The section picks up on Protestant unease where alms are concerned, not only as a residual Catholic practice, but also as a worry about whether or not the poor deserve the charity. This set of very specific Renaissance social meanings occurs also in Coriolanus at 2.3.62–84, a conversation that takes place as Coriolanus is standing publicly for Consul. The Roman Republican tradition the play references is one in which candidates must stand forth in the forum and allow themselves to be publicly examined by any interested citizens. The examination can be a combination of verbal and physical questions and probings, designed to test the candidate’s fitness to serve, as evidenced both by speech and bodily marks of wounds suffered in Rome’s service. Coriolanus, of course, as the ultimate aristocrat, refuses to bend to the three Citizens in this scene, and the whole encounter is epitomized by a series of class distinctions culminating in Coriolanus’ reversing of the logic of alms-giving. It is not necessary for these Citizens to be poor – they could be relatively well to do – but for Coriolanus they are automatically very poor because he perceives them to be beneath his dignity. The situation gives rise to a series of sarcastic inversions as Coriolanus refuses to ask the Citizens for their vote; rather, he demands it of them. He then dismisses them with a haughty and imperious ‘adieu’ as he acknowledges his receipt of their ‘alms’. The 3rd Citizen notes that this is hardly the way 9

alms the tradition is supposed to work. Alms-giving functions here to delineate and exacerbate differences in social rank. This is not an isolated instance of the use of the term in the play. Later on, Coriolanus picks up on the associations established in the consulship episode (COR 3.2.117–23). This repetition comes at a crucial point in Coriolanus’ career in Rome, when he is about to come under direct physical threat from the common people. Here again receipt of alms is described as an extremely unpleasant and base action to take. The explicit reference to genuflection adds connotations of Catholic practice to the class register. (c) Duffy (1992) describes the importance of alms in medieval Catholic practice at 365. Tawney (1987) describes the shift in emphasis with the emergence of Protestantism at 119, 122 and 263, contrasting with residual feelings of charity at 258–60. Ridley (2002, 2) discusses the attempted systematizing of poor relief as opposed to personal almsgiving in the Reformation at 283–7. Palliser (1992) has several sections on charity and alms-giving: 137–9; 147–9; and 404–6. Picard (2004) looks at how the City of London set up almshouses in order to try to deal with the serious problem of poor relief in the period immediately after the Reformation at 264–5.

ambassador The representative of one state to another. There can be several different kinds of ambassador in this period, ranging from the permanent presence of a specified individual through to a single appearance by a personage sent for a specific purpose. Sometimes more than one ambassador from the same country could be in a capital at the same time, carrying out different duties. An ambassador was supposed to be someone of high rank and wealth, of sufficient social standing to be taken as the direct representative of another monarch or nation. It was understood as a matter of course that espionage would be part of the duties of an ambassador, especially one staying long term. There were no permanent embassy buildings as such, business being carried out wherever the ambassador happened to be staying. Some nations would have a small number of favoured residences, and one or more of these could take on a character somewhat approximating a modern embassy, but this was more by long usage than design. Ambassadors and references to them are common in the plays, especially those that 10

ambassador deal with high politics. Plays such as Antony and Cleopatra seem almost to be structured upon mediation, negotiation and messages of one kind or another. However, probably the single best-known incidence comes at HV 1.2.246–58. Henry’s reply to the tennis balls insult is courteous enough to the ambassadors themselves, but he seizes the opportunity to deliver one of his set-piece speeches. On this occasion he sets up his quarrel with the French, but he does not go beyond the bounds of diplomatic convention by harming the messengers. Something that is left unsaid is extremely important here: these are not technically ambassadors in the fullest sense at all. They are in England simply as representatives of the heir to the French throne, Henry’s competitor for the prize. As such, the encounter between them and the English king has something of the air of a chivalric challenge, albeit a very serious one. Additionally, it would not be lost on at least some of the audience that ambassadors are being sent by a prince, rather than the king – a hint of the faction fighting that has riven the French and had given Henry the opportunity for his attack. The French king’s weakness is therefore on some level already apparent in the play. Ridley (2002, 1) contains details of the career of Eustace Chapuys, the Imperial ambassador to England; his support for Katherine of Aragon during the divorce proceedings instigated by Henry VIII can be found at 190ff. Plowden (2001) delineates the Scot Maitland’s first mission to London at 69ff. Much of this kind of history would have been well known to Shakespeare’s contemporaries.

ambition (a) This word is used in ways that shade into something like a more neutral (even positive) modern meaning, but it usually comes from a context of associations that give it a sense of a certain danger. Someone who is ambitious takes the logic of social competition (see emulation) to an extreme. (b) There seems to be a cultural context in which ambition operates in this period, but because it is assumed rather than defined it is difficult at this remove to understand it fully. The context is supplied by a generalized, if powerful, sense of the inappropriateness of too much ambition. This makes the term open to appropriation, since charges of ambition are easy to levy at one’s political opponents (1 HVI 2.4.112–15). All of this harping on ambition comes towards the end of the famous Temple 11

ambition Garden scene, which draws emblematically the battle lines for the Wars of the Roses. But when everyone involved is accusing everyone else of ambition, the social meaning of the term becomes dangerously loose. A rhetoric of accusation inevitably focuses a Renaissance audience’s attention upon the words that are used; in a sense, therefore, the term ‘ambition’ is available for contestation, and ultimately who wins the conflict will be proven correct. They will also incidentally be able to define who was overly ambitious and who was not. However, these definitions are not final, since both sides in the war have justifications for their positions, and both sides also commit crimes. Interestingly enough, Shakespeare reinforces the importance of this whole context by using the word again in the very next scene (1 HVI 2.5.122–29). The Duke of York speaks this soliloquy just after Mortimer’s body has been removed from the stage. Crucially, Mortimer is the most senior Plantagenet; Richard II even went so far as to name him as his heir. In this scene he not only recounts the story of his life ever since, under the House of Lancaster, but bequeaths his claim to the House of York, as he himself is dying childless. Regardless of the legality of this move, the scene serves to dramatize the power of the alternative claim to the throne; even if York’s resumption of the claim is dubious, then so too was the usurpation of the man who became Henry IV. York’s soliloquy encompasses all of these issues by means of the phrase ‘ambition of the meaner sort’, picking up on all of the conflicting associations generated by the multiple uses of the word in the Temple Garden scene. The word is almost becoming a touchstone for the rival claims that are about to engulf the country in civil war. Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, notes exactly this when he is dismissed from his position after his wife’s disgrace (2 HVI 3.1.142–6). The problem is that the king to whom he speaks is the person who should be the arbiter of any such strife. But of course this king is enacted upon, he does not act in and of himself. This adds to an already explosive situation produced by the faction fighting of his minority and the combination is disastrous. Duke Humphrey’s warning is important because it draws attention to the whole issue of unleashed ambition even as he himself becomes its victim. In Hamlet a similar set of associations feeds into Claudius’ use of the word in the prayer scene (3.3.51–60). This prayer is not necessarily a soliloquy in the standard sense, since it is not spoken directly towards the audience. Additionally, it is not clear if Hamlet hears the words, 12

ambition although he does come on and see Claudius praying. But in a sense neither of these points matters: it is important that the audience is given full knowledge that the Ghost’s story is substantially correct. The focus on ambition is crucial because of its negative contemporary connotations, and this is immediately followed in the speech by a generalized commentary on the corrupt reality that lies behind the shows of power and justice. Ambition is a central concern of much character-orientated criticism that deals with Macbeth. The audience has seen some rumblings of his discontent after the first meeting with the witches, his promotion and the enhanced status Duncan bestows on Malcolm. But it is Lady Macbeth who most accurately pinpoints the issue, at MAC 1.5.15–22. Macbeth wants to progress up the social scale, but is not ambitious enough to do absolutely everything that is necessary to go as far as possible. She will be the one who supplies the missing impetus, as he notes himself (MAC 1.7.25–8). This is the cue for Lady Macbeth’s entrance, ensuring that her importance in urging him on is reinforced visually. Probably the greatest icon of the ambitious man is Julius Caesar. His actions paved the way for the final dissolution of the Roman Republic and the constitution of the Empire by his named heir. Caesar’s assassination in the Capitol is probably the single most famous political event in Western history, and certainly in popular versions of history. The word constantly reappears in the course of the play, a kind of verbal nervous tick that constantly reminds the audience of what is at stake in the world of the play. Cassius uses it in his machiavel soliloquy (1.2.320) and avows to the audience that he will use references to Caesar’s ambition to win Brutus over to a conspiracy. Brutus himself revisits the theme in his epigrammatic justification for Caesar’s murder: ‘ambition’s debt is paid’ (3.1.83). He repeats this claim in his oration at Caesar’s funeral (3.2.24–9). Brutus’ cold, logical prose relies on sombre repetition to make its point. But Antony’s rejoinder is much more effective because of his use of props (Caesar’s body and robes) and his appeal to the emotions. As Cassius rightly feared, what is needed here is an orator, not a philosopher, and Antony picks up exactly on Brutus’ words to stir up the crowd during his famous ‘Friends, Romans, countrymen’ speech at 3.2.73–99. Like Brutus, Antony also uses repetition, but his technique is to challenge Brutus’ confident assertions and definitions of ambition by insinuating that definitions can be contested. The conditional ‘If it be so’ in the seventh line of the speech comes immediately 13

ambition after his acknowledgement that Brutus has already told the onlookers that Caesar was ambitious. This immediately moves the mood from Brutus’ indicative to a less certain register, which Antony then goes on to exploit. His repeated asseverations that the conspirators are honourable are therefore undercut at an emotional level, giving scope for the actor playing the part to become more and more sarcastic and venomous with each use of the term. The importance of all of this is not only the way in which Antony manipulates the audience in response to Brutus’ oration. Crucially, Antony demonstrates that terms such as ambition or honour are relative, not absolute, amply justifying Cassius’ worries in retrospect. (c) For a classic analysis of Macbeth’s ambition in novelistic psychological terms, see Bradley (1992), 290–354. A more recent restating of the case with similar concerns is in Wells (1994), 282–99. Sinfield (1992), 95–108, is a trenchant re-reading of the play set dead against the assumptions associated with much criticism since Bradley. Rather than see ambition as some kind of personal psychological flaw, he structures it in terms of social power relations in Shakespeare’s version of early medieval Scotland. Rebhorn (2002) discusses relations of power among Rome’s elite in Julius Caesar. Liebler (1995) sees Caesar’s assassination as a ritualistic act, in which psychological terms such as ambition support a socially produced set of meanings, 85–111. Wilson (2005) contains an entire section on the most famously ambitious man in England, Robert Dudley, from 235–354.

apothecary Originally the owner of a shop that sells commodities such as spices, drugs and preserves, the term is more often used for a specialist in drugs for medicinal purposes. An apothecary plays an extremely important role in Romeo and Juliet, even though it is a brief appearance. He is the supplier of the fatal drug to Romeo at RJ 5.1.58– 79. Hurried as it is, this important scene is necessary to prepare the way for the catastrophe. It is also in keeping with the speed of events in the rest of the play, and Romeo’s wish for a swift-acting drug is in keeping with the suddenness of his other actions. The societal interest is increased by the state and relative status of this apothecary: apart from the men of religion and the usual cast of extras, he is the only character of note to appear in the entire play who is not supported by means of 14

apothecary an association with the nobility. He is exactly the kind of man who would have such a poison, and Romeo knows that his need for money is greater than any fear of the law. The play does not explain how it is that Romeo has knowledge of such a man, especially given the shortness of his sojourn in Mantua. This may simply be an effect of the need for speed. But it may hint at a darker side of Renaissance Italy, at least as it is represented on the English stage. Picard (2004) notes the existence of apothecaries’ shops in London at 119. Adams (2000) has a section on them in his chapter on Shakespeare’s London at 23–4.

archbishop (a) A higher ranking bishop, whose diocese is metropolitan, or whose jurisdiction extends over several bishoprics as well as his own. The position could be titular only, especially if the holder had duties elsewhere. A good example of this would be Cardinal Wolsey in the reign of Henry VIII. As well as becoming a cardinal, Wolsey retained his archbishopric of York, because a cardinal still retained some sort of official territorial position. The two English Archbishops’ sees are Canterbury and York; because of their prominence, both play important roles throughout English history. In addition, Canterbury is crucial because of its proximity to central state power, while York is the pre-eminent see of the religiously conservative north of England. The Archbishop of Canterbury is effectively the senior bishop of the Church of England after the Reformation, because the English church does not recognize the Roman Catholic title of cardinal. (b) The Archbishop of York is an important opposition figure throughout both of the Henry IV plays. He is a member of the important northern Scrope family, and tries to co-ordinate the various disaffected factions against the reign of a king seen by many to be a usurper. His political role comes to the fore in 1 HIV 4.4 and attains much more importance in 2 HIV after the destruction of the Hotspur rebellion at the Battle of Shrewsbury. Morton sums up the situation very early on in the second play: ‘But now the Bishop Turns insurrection to religion.’ (1.1.200–1). In the context of the play as history, this seems to be a straightforward enough statement, but it resonates in a very specific way with more recent events from the Reformation period. The conservative north saw the single most dangerous rebellion against Henry VIII’s 15

archbishop programme of religious change, the Pilgrimage of Grace, which was initially bought off with fair promises before being viciously and brutally crushed. This is exactly what happens to the rebellion in the play and an exact parallel such as this would not be lost on at least some of those present in Shakespeare’s audience. The region was also the location of the 1569 rebellion against Elizabeth I. The Archbishop of Canterbury plays a similarly important role in relation to war in Henry V with the infamous ‘Salic Law’ speech (1.2.33–95). However, the Archbishop of Canterbury most familiar to Shakespeare’s audience would undoubtedly have been Cranmer, one of the architects of Henry VIII’s English Reformation. He is an important figure in the episodic play Henry VIII, known in the period as All Is True, very little of which is true at all. The play functions as a dramatic representation of the momentous events of Henry’s reign up to the baptism of Princess Elizabeth, which works as a kind of Protestant apotheosis. The fact that the play ends at this point without having to deal with the excesses of the later parts of the reign allows it to avoid some of its more contentious problems. Cranmer is a marginal figure in the play until the fifth act, when he becomes the intended victim of a plot by Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester, who leads the pro-Catholic faction at court. Henry’s intervention saves Cranmer, incidentally allowing Henry to appear as a kind of Protestant hero at the expense of Gardiner. The latter was deprived of his see during the Protestant ascendancy in the minority of Edward VI and then restored by Mary Tudor as part of the Catholic resurgence – and all of this would be well known to many of Shakespeare’s contemporaries. Most importantly, however, it is Cranmer who speaks the prophecy of Elizabeth’s greatness at the play’s close (5.4.14–55), eliciting a joyful response from King Henry. Although this is of course complete nonsense, it nevertheless benefits from the fact that the play ends at this point, without the audience seeing Henry go on to bastardize this very daughter. So it acts as a kind of climax, one that has to be seen in the context of the time at which the play was written and performed. Nostalgia for the reign of Good Queen Bess is beginning to creep in to this Stuart play, and the foreshortening of the play dovetails nicely with the contemporary foreshortening of memory – the last years of Elizabeth’s reign were deeply unhappy ones, with war in Ireland, the Essex rebellion, a series of bad harvests, social unrest and so on. All of 16

archbishop these very real social issues are elided by the play’s ending, as Cranmer’s prophecy paints a picture of a golden age to come. In all of these plays, the lesson is simple: archbishops are political figures at least as much as religious ones. The conflation of the two spheres picks up on a whole series of negotiations around the social meanings of religious power in the period. (c) See Hassel (2005), 23. Duffy (1992) has quite a lot of detail concerning the career of Cranmer, 379ff. He also describes the importance of Reginald Pole, a major supporter of Mary Tudor, 530–2. As well as being a cardinal, he was Mary’s Archbishop of Canterbury. Ridley (2002, 1) describes the importance of Pole as an opposition leader in exile during the reign of Henry VIII at 298–9. Erickson (2001) analyses the dilemma Cranmer found himself in when confronted with the Catholic resurgence under Mary Tudor at 345–6.

archer (a) Generally, anyone using a bow could be described as an archer. However, the term has special resonances in English military and social history, because of the way it was used by them in medieval warfare. Copied from the Welsh when Edward I subjugated that country, the longbow as used by English troops was a fearsome weapon. There were two reasons for this: its penetrating power and rate of fire; and the relatively close formations in which it was used. The Welsh foresters who originated the weapon were skirmish specialists, but the English adopted it into formed bodies of troops more suited for mass warfare. The volume of fire and the effect of individual shots combined to produce a battle winner in the Hundred Years’ War, and longbow units continued to be important in the Wars of the Roses. The longbow in effect became the English national weapon, and statutes were enacted by Henry VIII to try to keep up the practice. This was important, because unlike the crossbow or the newer gunpowder weapons, training to use the longbow was a long and involved process. One had to build up technique and muscle power, and constant practice was necessary. Ultimately, social changes in the face of developing technology began to lead to the mass armies of the eighteenth century, and the longbow fell out of use in the military. But the archer still occupied a favourite place in nationalistic English history. 17

archer (b) In a massed battle, the archers had to be protected as far as possible from the enemy. This meant that the English armies had to use combined arms tactics and tactical ruses. Billmen or pikemen could be used to stop enemy cavalry getting to the longbows, and the emplacement of stakes to ward off horses was a tried and tested technique. This mattered, because much of the strength of the French army, England’s main foe, was in the charge of its noble cavalry. Shakespeare’s audiences were well versed in such seemingly esoteric details, principally because of the treasured memories of the prowess of the English longbowmen. So details such as those recounted at 1 HVI 1.1.110–19 would have made perfect sense to Renaissance theatre-goers. This passage is delivered by its messenger as a series of logical developments. First, Talbot’s small force retreats from Orleans. It is then set upon by a much larger French army, and caught by surprise. The standard techniques of English battle deployment cannot be used, because there is no time. There are not enough pikemen to protect the archers, so they hurriedly cut and emplant stakes. The messenger continues to describe how bravely the English fight despite these disadvantages, with Talbot the great hero keeping the fight going for three hours before he is treacherously stabbed in the back and captured. All of this would be understood by the audience. So too would its historical context. The reign of Henry VI saw the beginning of the end of English power in France. As the English saw it, an inexorable process of decay continued throughout his reign, creeping into domestic life as well, and culminating in the Wars of the Roses. Talbot’s defeat in this battle is just one of a mounting series of reverses, and the play focuses on the problems posed for the domestic scene during Henry’s long minority. It does so by dramatizing a split between the warlike nobility on the one hand, and the churchmen on the other. The defeat of the fabled longbowmen is part of this general downward turn in English fortunes. Shakespeare brings it home to his own audience by means of the details given in the messenger’s report. Many of the archers present at such a battle were from the same social ranks as most of the Renaissance audience, so the battle has an immediacy for them. Archers are also mentioned in the preparations for another battle, the famous Battle of Bosworth that ended the Wars of the Roses (RIII 5.3.289–300). Unlike the disaster that befell Talbot, at Bosworth Richard III is able to dispose his battle lines properly. His deployment is a stand18

archer ard medieval one, but the outcome of the battle is decided by treachery rather than fighting ability; the archers seem to have played relatively little part. (c) Picard (2004) gives examples of troop musters in the reign of Elizabeth I, including archers, at 268. Ridley (2002, 2) describes archers within the general military context at 241–3, and as a sport at 247–54. See also Edelman (2000), 13–17.

armourer A military metal smith. The specialist who made armour for the battlefield and joust. By extension, the term also applies to the attendant who dressed a man-at-arms before combat; medieval mail, especially plate armour, was very complex and the various pieces had to be put on in a particular order. A helper was needed for this. Unsurprisingly, Henry V contains references to the armourer’s profession. There are two of them, and they are both offstage descriptions by the chorus figure. The first, a rhetorical exaggeration, occurs at HV 2.0.1–4. The armourers are doing very well out of the preparations for war, but then their profession is an honourable one, unlike the supposedly low-life camp followers such as Pistol and his friends. The second example occurs before the Battle of Agincourt (HV 4.0. 12–14). The night before a battle can be a noisy time, and armourers are not quiet people. This description affords a glimpse of the logistics of medieval warfare, as opposed to the execution of the battles themselves. The process of putting armour on is shown in Antony and Cleopatra. Here the intricacies are shown to be beyond Cleopatra, untrained as she is (AC 4.4.1–7). There is more here than comedy; Cleopatra’s failing attempts to help Antony with his armour links in with the play’s presentation of gender relations, especially given the pair’s tendency towards cross-dressing. It is probably also anachronistic, because late Republican Roman armour was not quite this complex. Braudel (1985, 1) contextualizes the historical and technological developments which changed armour at 393–5. See also Edelman (2000), 23–5. army (a) The term can be used generally of the men who defend a country, but in this period it tends to be used of a specific body of troops 19

army moving and acting in concert on the strategic plane. Tactically, armies were composed of several sub-divisions, usually modelled on the three medieval ‘battles’ and, possibly, a reserve. On the field of conflict itself the troops tended to form up as a centre and two wings, with a reserve (if there was one) congregating around the army leader. Each of these groups would be composed of further sub-divisions under the command of junior officers. High military rank was almost exclusively the prerogative of nobles, in a continuation of feudal practice. A further complication is added by the composition of the army’s men, which would be in varying proportions of infantry, cavalry and artillery. Each of these would have several sub-types as well. England had no standing army in this period and had to rely on a conglomeration of mercenaries, experienced campaigners, militia and noble retainers in times of crisis such as that of the approach of the Spanish Armada. They would have had no chance of resisting the thoroughly professional and seasoned Spanish army fresh from its campaigns in the Netherlands should it have landed. (b) The transitory nature of armies in the period covered by Shakespeare’s history plays is exemplified at 1 HVI 4.4.173–5. The individual fighting man in the age of feudalism may have been personally very good at his job, but the lack of a professional army organization means that easily raised armies could just as quickly be dispersed. In fact, they have to be, simply because the call to arms affects men who would otherwise be at work in the fields, as well as the nobility. This means that the campaign lifespan of an army is relatively short; basic economics make sure of that. But such considerations obviously do not suit the requirements of full warfare, and so there is an inbuilt tendency to find ways to circumvent the basic feudal system from its very beginning. The composition of an army is defined in terms of rank, even though the majority of troops are not of high social status (2 HIV 4.1.152–4). This insistence on hierarchy does have a certain logic in a medieval army of this sort, because many of the men would have been organized under the banner of their feudal superior. Enumeration by means of noble names is therefore shorthand for the number of men in the army as a whole; it also reinforces the all-pervading sense of gradation even in time of war. The terminology of feudal warfare is so prevalent in Shakespeare that we even find examples of the chivalric duel (KL 5.3.110–14). This 20

army is almost the last thing one would expect in the world constructed by Goneril and Regan in King Lear, but of course much of the ritual of that play is feudal. This includes the conduct of warfare and a challenger does indeed step forward, to strike Edmund down: his dispossessed brother Edgar, in disguise. This play is ostensibly set in Celtic, preRoman Britain, so the use of feudal titles and warfare is anachronistic, but then these are usefully familiar ways of representing unfamiliar epochs to a Renaissance audience. Even so, there are occasions in the plays when an acknowledgement of historical differences does come to the surface (AC 3.7.41–4). Enobarbus fails in an attempt to persuade Antony to fight on land rather than at sea. The advice he offers Antony is correct and, even though Shakespeare does not explicitly use the term, he is referring to the prowess of the Roman legions. The campaign hinges on the decision Antony makes, and results in the fateful sea battle of Actium. The plays do register a sense of the problems that can be encountered by armies on campaign (HV 3.5.56–60). This is an accurate description of the state of the English army just before Agincourt. The lack of a standing army means that there is no professional logistics support in any meaningful way. Armies can and do suffer from starvation, desertion and disease, probably in numbers that are greater than the losses caused by any actual fighting. A further historical reason for the small size of Henry’s force is the necessity to leave behind troops to garrison Harfleur, and in any case he originally calculated that the French would be too busy with Burgundy in the north and east to bother about him. This latter point is in fact one of the main underlying strategic considerations to the whole Agincourt campaign: it is opportunistic. (c) Keegan (1998) has a substantial section on Agincourt, the battle that was so symbolically powerful for Shakespeare’s England, at 79–116. Braudel (1985, 1) provides the overall context of the social structure that informed Renaissance armies at 51–3 and again at 92–3. Palliser (1992) narrates the military situation facing Elizabeth’s armies at 50–2. See also Somerset (1997), 533–4.

assembly Any meeting of a large group of people. Sometimes the meaning is relatively formal, such as an assembly that is gathered to 21

assembly ratify a treaty. The use of the word in a formal setting occurs several times. An example can be found in the meeting in the capitol in Coriolanus (2.2). Here domestic politics contradicts the direction of foreign policy. Coriolanus has come to be awarded for his bravery, but the Tribunes of the People insist on noting his disdain for the common man. Another example comes at HV 5.2.1–8. The play implies that the Duke of Burgundy is a neutral observer, thus conveniently skirting over the historical role he played as an enemy of the French. The theatrical display of the peace assembly serves to round off Henry’s triumph, making it seem a natural result of the Battle of Agincourt, which in fact took place years previously. An example of a more generalized use of the word can be found at 2 HIV 5.Epi.22–5. The term is used flatteringly of the audience, who are described as being of the social rank of gentry. For the general context of the social order in which groups met, see Amussen (1988), especially Chapter 5, 134ff.

authority (a) In its most basic sense, authority denotes the power to enforce obedience. It usually carries a sense of structuration with it, since a full system is thought to underpin the right to authority. Therefore, authority can be delegated or conferred as a form of authorization. It can also refer to the people who wield that structured authority, those who exercise power or command. By extension, it refers to the power to influence others. In its most general sense, it stands for authorship or testimony that carries weight, often in the form of an acknowledged quotation or book. Such a wide range of possible meanings demonstrates that the term is not settled in its usage and in fact it is a key word in the vocabulary of state and other power in Shakespeare’s texts. Much conflict erupts over who has the right to authority, and on what basis. The structure of authority is changing rapidly in this period, and the plays dramatize many points of contestation over what constitutes legitimate authority. (b) Shakespeare’s dramatic representation of England in the reign of Henry VI fully contextualizes the struggle over authority. The problem in these plays is the king’s minority, followed by his incapacity. With royal power inevitably weakened, the principle of authority becomes reduced and fragmented, with various factions vying for power dressed 22

authority in the name of authority (2 HVI 3.1.309–17). The powerful Cardinal Beaufort and the Duke of Suffolk have full ascendancy at the court of the weak King Henry. They are trying to manoeuvre the Duke of York, the next most powerful nobleman in the realm, to Ireland, as a way of removing him from the scene of power in England (such a use of Ireland continued through the Renaissance as well). York himself notes this in the soliloquy that follows this scene. York is of course very careful in his response to Beaufort, referring to his willingness to comply if the king wishes it so. Suffolk’s rejoinder is equally revealing in its completely open usurpation of royal authority; there is even an ambiguity about his use of the royal plural – is he referring to himself and Beaufort as a political party, or is he using it in his own right? This is in fact the moment at which the Wars of the Roses begins in earnest, as York ruminates afterwards about the consequences of his removal to Ireland. Incidentally, the role of Beaufort would be well known to many of Shakespeare’s audience. He is a scion of the excluded line of John of Gaunt’s Beaufort descendants, the line from which the Tudors are ultimately derived – Henry VII’s mother was Margaret Beaufort. This kind of disjunction between the theoretical structure of power on the one hand and the practice of it on the other occurs elsewhere (AC 3.13.86–95). Enobarbus’ barbed asides to Thidias and the audience bring home the problem: the confluence of the structure and person of power is ebbing away from Antony, as he himself notes. The pinnacle of the power structure is the man at the top, and in Antony’s case his authority has become, briefly, almost regal, something that does not go down well in Rome. In a sense, of course, Octavius is no different, but he is very careful to maintain the forms of the old Republic even as he is about to become its first emperor. Antony reacts to Octavius’ messenger with a form of despotism that would be decried in Rome as oriental; his power being laid bare and removed from him, Antony lashes out. This is an extremely offensive thing to do, given that a messenger was supposed to embody the spirit and position of the one who sent him. It also denotes Antony’s shift away from the kind of Roman self-control embodied in the play by his opponent; Roman envoys were fabled for their heroic stoicism in the face of their enemies, as Antony would be well aware. What all of this does is delineate in precise detail a whole series of issues to do with authority, its structure and its logic. Coriolanus is set near the beginning of the history of the Roman Republic. The structure of authority that is worked out in this play is the 23

authority republican compromise between the power of the aristocracy and the will and needs of the people. In a sense the titular character becomes a metonym for the process as a whole, the necessary aristocratic victim of his own extreme violence. With his removal from the scene, the aristocracy becomes domesticated just enough for the republic to rise in relative internal harmony, although this is a compromise that is historically destined to fall apart. The play begins with famine and class conflict (COR 1.1.15–19). In this passage, authority is almost a synonym for privilege. The play begins with the citizens accusing the wealthy of hoarding the superfluous food supplies, picking up on an issue that was very close to home in the English Renaissance, given the poor harvests and shortages of the last years of Elizabeth’s reign. The citizen wants the aristocrats to give away the extra food that would rot unused anyway. For him, those in authority are abusing that position by not acting, as he says, humanely. The issues raised here surface again and again throughout the play. In fact, it would not be too much of an over-generalization to say that the play is about the structure of authority, something that Coriolanus of course sees as entirely inhering to the personal worth of a member of the upper classes. The people and their Tribunes see another side to the concept (COR 3.1.198–211). They try to lay hold of Coriolanus, so he draws his sword to defend himself. The result is a riot, even a pitched battle, in which the senators drive out the people. Compromise will eventually be reached as Coriolanus is exiled, excised from the body politic. All of this lays bare an operational division at a fundamental level in the concept of authority. By necessity, especially given the Roman setting, it needs to function as a tension between the underlying structure on the one hand, and the person in whom that authority is vested, on the other. The actions of Coriolanus tend to the extreme of individual behaviour; it is not for nothing that his name is Martius. The problem that faces him is that even though the Roman state needs violent aristocratic behaviour, it nevertheless still has to be circumscribed; it needs to be put to use, it has no justification in and of itself. But Coriolanus is so extreme in his violence that he upsets the balance; in fact, he does not consider such a balance to exist at all. The people and the Tribunes, on the other hand, want to demonstrate that authority is not simply an authoritarian structure that gives massive power to any one class or person. The result is a titanic power struggle that almost destroys Rome. 24

authority The name Brutus is very important here; not only is it the name of the famous conspirator against Julius Caesar, it is the name of the family that saved Rome from the tyranny of the Etruscan Tarquins. A similar dramatic analysis of concepts of authority occurs in King John. In this play, the figure of the king comes very close to the actions of Henry VIII in his insistence on absolute royal authority, even over the church (KJ 3.1.147–60). This speech is the turning point of the play, demonstrating the king’s belief that temporal power and jurisdiction over one’s dominions is absolutely vested in regal authority alone. So on one level he is simply acting in this scene in accordance with the principle of absolutist rule that he has tried to embody in every other aspect of his reign. By defying the church, he just adds to a long list of enemies, both internal and external, and it is this final enemy that undoes him, by means of excommunication. This is one step too far for his subjects, both noble and common, and he begins to fall. His example is of course twisted still further by historical and dramatic irony and hindsight – this representation of King John is almost that of a Renaissance Prince in the style of Machiavelli, together with memories of Henry VIII. The tragedies also dramatize issues of authority, perhaps none more so than at KL 1.4.19–30. There is here a complex interaction that picks up on prior events in the play, within an ongoing context of the stripping of all power from the king. He has in fact already banished Kent for openly standing up to him in full view of the rest of the royal family and important visitors, but fails to recognize him in his disguise as a man of relatively low rank seeking service. Many of the same issues as in Coriolanus surface again here, in a different pseudo-historical setting. State and regal authority are shifting concepts in the part-Celtic, partfeudal world Lear and Kent inhabit. The interdependence of the structure and the personal nature of authority is particularly difficult in this play. Just as Lear is beginning in this passage to recognize that he is no longer quite what he used to be, Kent turns up determined to follow his feudal lord to the end, despite the sentence of banishment. The play continues to dramatize the fissure that has opened up in the whole fabric of authority (KL 2.1.57–63). Gloucester’s rhetoric seeks to justify his decision about his son Edgar by reference to ducal authority, but of course he is acting extremely rashly in exactly the same manner as Lear. He takes Edmund’s lies at face value and orders Edgar’s death without any form of trial or show of justice. This may be a part of the 25

authority supposed semi-barbarism of the mythical time in which the play is set. But the constant use of medieval and Renaissance titles hints at a too hasty circumvention of the ways in which nobles were supposed to be treated. There is much more to this than simply the narrative patterning so beloved of English A Level exam boards; Gloucester behaves like this even before Lear’s state has fully disintegrated. His intemperate desires are in fact on show right at the very beginning of the play, as he presents Edmund to Kent just before Lear’s court arrives on stage. So the kind of authority that existed in Lear’s Britain before the results of his abdication come to fruition is already a violently disjunctive one. All of these conflicts inform the meeting of the two old men before the catastrophe of the play. Here is Lear’s well-known epigrammatic definition of what has happened to authority in Britain: ‘There thou mightst behold the great image of authority: a dog’s obey’d in office’ (KL 4.6.157–59). Lear is the one most fully responsible for this situation, the personal results of which have driven him insane, but a simple psychological explanation is not enough to deal with the massive problems raised by his abdication of power. The performance tradition is at least as important here, with Lear coming on stage as a mad carnivalesque flower king. He is now part of the upside-down world, having taken on the role of the mad fool whose insanity provides important insights (which at least partly explains the play’s dropping of the character of the Fool). The repetition of the word ‘authority’ at this moment reminds the audience of the overall context of the play’s events – even in madness and suffering, these two cannot be fully separated out from the world they inhabit, a society they created. A different angle is taken in Measure For Measure. In this play, the leading man in authority does not abdicate, he simply deputizes his jurisdiction and then takes on a disguise to wait and see what happens. The Duke’s assumption of the role of a friar permits him a privileged place of observation, incidentally uniting in the one person the dual role of temporal and spiritual power. It also gives him access to hidden information, via the confessional, allowing him to deal with Angelo by means of his prior contractual marriage obligation. The change in the state when Angelo takes over is one that he makes deliberately obvious (MM 1.2.116–23). The Provost’s reference to a ‘special charge’ implies that this is a new rule laid down by Angelo. The open display of the criminal is decreed, but at the same time there is a hint of arbitrariness, as Claudio’s rejoinder indicates. Even so, he is content to comply; in this 26

authority play, resistance to Angelo’s authority is not going to come from below. The early insistence of the play on a specular economy is extremely important here, feeding as it does into the overarching role of the Duke. The ways in which the play will go on to dramatize how perception and observation work are signalled to the audience, and of course the issue of Angelo’s hypocrisy is going to be crucial in this respect. Isabella unknowingly touches on exactly the element of hypocrisy in Angelo’s ostensibly strict religious character when she pleads for her brother’s life (MM 2.2.110–22). Isabella’s perspective brings the prime Christian virtue of mercy into the equation. Angelo’s religion is of the more unbending kind, and it is this moral position that informs his interpretation of the law. The confrontation is also his undoing; when presented with a woman who is at least as religiously pure as he purports to be, he immediately desires her and abuses his authority to achieve his ends. The play’s later revelations regarding the prior relations between Angelo and Mariana demonstrate that in fact Angelo has a history of doing things like this. By invoking mercy, Isabella puts into sharp relief a disjunction between the letter of the law, and its spirit. It is no accident that her impassioned speech draws upon the relative pettiness of earthly authority when compared with the heavenly. Even the Duke is momentarily taken by surprise by the ruthlessness with which Angelo is prepared to execute his designs (MM 4.2.108–11). But the Duke is wrong in his assertion to the audience: the note that has just been delivered is a written command directly from Angelo to the Provost to carry out Claudio’s execution, regardless of anything else he might hear. The Duke’s response is to pull another trick on Angelo. Just as he has smuggled Mariana into Angelo’s bed, he now fools him by means of the death of another criminal. The symbolic importance of the visual error must not be overlooked, and the recurrence of the emphasis on authority marks the moment as crucial. Angelo is of course relying on his position in society to get away with his crimes. He does so in a revealing abuse of the principles that are assumed to underpin the structure of authority (MM 4.4.20–8). Angelo uses a sexual language that insists on the physicality of the body politic, especially the person in authority. This undoes any easy assumption that authority is impersonal or objective. Angelo’s corruption demonstrates, as with other plays, that there is no necessary conjunction between the two elements necessary for the smooth operation of authority. His vice and its attendant viciousness lays open a question 27

authority that is very unsettling in the period: how can one ever be certain that those in authority always act in accordance with the principles of that authority? The physical aspect of this issue marks these plays as belonging to the Renaissance. The very real presence and limitations of the body should not be underestimated in this context. Psychology was understood in terms of the humours, the functions of bodily fluids and substances. Additionally, there is a very specific kind of emerging individualism, amply catered for on the stage by the figures of the machiavel and malcontent. They are the characters who most often are able to comment on the mores of their society, because they are partly isolated from it. They need it at the same time as they despise it. Authority is one of the concepts that is put in question (OTH 1.3.319–26). Iago makes it quite clear to Roderigo that for him there are no social rules. He employs an extended gardening metaphor to make the point, linking it in with the sexual will. Roderigo is not quite bright enough to realize that if this is Iago’s attitude, then his protestations of friendship towards him should not exactly be taken at face value, although the revelation of his letter later destroys Iago (5.2.324–9). For Iago, authority is not something that exists outwith the individual; what one does is a matter of one’s own choice. This gives him the unsettling freedom that is associated with the machiavel – he operates completely outside the normal rules, although he does eventually receive his comeuppance. As a stage type, this is more than enough; the audience of the period does not need any psychological motivation, because the machiavel is simply the bad guy. He functions to upset received notions, and one of these, as he himself notes, is authority. Sonnet 66 analyses in depth exactly these problems. The behaviour of one in authority will not always seem to be in accordance with that position. The poem notes a split in the object of its attention, and this occasions a serious problem for the writer. The poem’s class register is unmistakeable, linked in as it is with the logic of a world upside down. However, this world is not of the carnivalesque. Rather, it is painfully out of synch with accepted social norms. The supposed beloved of the poem is not acting in accordance with his social rank, and the result is an inverted logic of forsworn faith, misplaced honour and prostituted virginity. The poem does not shy away from the social implications of a world in which there is no correlation between rank and merit, in which perfection is disgraced, folly has precedence over skill, truth is ignored as too simple, and the good attends a superior captain of ill-doing. The 28

authority catalogue is further emphasized by the rhetorical repetition of the conjunction at the beginning of most of the lines. Nevertheless, as the couplet makes clear, the writer still needs to love this person, even though his authority stops the writer’s art from having the full freedom to react as it should. Gendered inflections of the issue are also extremely important. The Rape of Lucrece insists on a division between the principles and actions of one in authority in exactly the same way as Sonnet 66, at RL 617–23. Lucrece explicitly links the dishonour intended by Tarquin to the politics of rank and reputation. She tries to ward off the shame he is about to visit upon her by defining his name as authorizing such behaviour in the future. She is hoping that his aristocratic concern for lineage will outweigh his present lust, an anachronistic but rhetorically powerful invocation of contemporary Renaissance assumptions about nobility. But as with Sonnet 66, a recognition of the problems posed by misplaced authority for those subject to it does not necessarily lead to any action or resistance. The systematic abuse of authority affects the disempowered most of all; even as such figures recognize this, they are also aware that they are not able to do anything about it. A rationale for this situation appears in The Merchant of Venice, in the famous judgement scene (MV 4.1.214–22). Bassanio appeals directly to the Duke, but the lawyer argues that no one is able arbitrarily to overrule prior legislation, incidentally invoking the rules of English common law with reference to precedent. All of this feeds in directly to a major concern of the Renaissance: the precise nature of the relationship between the law and the head of state. The use of the term ‘authority’ here is salutary, epitomizing as it does so many nuances of power and its uses and abuses. There is here an assumption that a prior system preexists the exercise of personal authority, even by the Duke, a structure that circumscribes what can be done, even by him. But as Sonnet 66 and The Rape of Lucrece show, that system is not necessarily objective. To assume that the structure pre-exists those who inhabit it mythologizes the situation, implying that the structure of authority is somehow outwith the processes of social and historical change. And there are inevitably victims in such an environment. (c) For a broad historical discussion of the changing structure of authority in Europe with the development of absolutism, see Anderson (1979). An even more historically comprehensive analyst is Norbert 29

authority Elias in (1983) and (1994). For issues of patronage in Shakespeare’s Sonnets, see Barrell (1988), 18ff and also Innes (1997). Some of the more easily available of the vast contemporary literature debating authority would be: Bodin (1955); Castiglione (1976); Elyot (1834); and Machiavelli (1961). For the Duke’s surveillance methods in Measure For Measure, see Dollimore (1996). Brecht’s famous analysis of the beginning of Coriolanus can be found in Brecht (2001), 252–65.

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B badge A heraldic distinguishing mark or device worn on the clothing. It denotes the faction, house or lord to which one owes allegiance. More generally, it can mean any sign or appearance. The specific heraldic meaning of the term can be found in the history plays at 1 HVI 4.1.89–110. Here it is clear that the two retainers Vernon and Basset are simply reproducing the faction fighting instigated by their respective feudal overlords, Somerset and York. The two badges of the red and white roses are something of a godsend for a drama that heavily relies upon emblematic visuals. So regardless of the historical truth or otherwise of the use of the roses, they have a certain dramatic utility. This draws the audience’s attention to the struggle that is going to erupt into the Wars of the Roses, and it is extremely important that this confrontation takes place in the presence of the king himself. He is of course completely inept, and is unable to quell the faction fighting. Another example of the heraldic badge comes later in the three Henry VI plays at 2 HVI 5.1.198–210 with an altercation between Clifford and Warwick. This is a standard ritual of military challenge, drawing upon the importance of heraldic devices in warfare. But there is more here than the traditional insults. By describing its appearance in detail, the play insists on drawing attention to Warwick’s household badge. Shakespeare’s contemporary audience is well aware of Warwick’s historical importance as the ‘Kingmaker’ who stood behind the House of York, a man so powerful that he is almost able to become king 31

badge himself. Emblematically, therefore, the play accords him the prestige associated with his name and his badge. The more generalized instances of the term are also relatively common. Shylock uses it in this way: Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys and my usances. Still have I borne it with a patient shrug (For suff’rance is the badge of all our tribe). (MV 1.3.106–10)

Excluded from Christian society and its outward signs, Shylock is nevertheless capable of taking its terms and using them metaphorically. See MacKinnon (1975), 34–5, and again at 130. He is particularly at pains to point out the importance of badges for household retainers.

bankrupt A person whose finances have been destroyed because of failure to pay creditors. By extension, used metaphorically of anyone who looks incredibly poor. A standard use of the term can be found in The Merchant of Venice. Shylock is particularly scathing when he uses the term of Antonio: Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrout there. (MV 4.1.121–2)

Shylock openly states his hatred for Antonio often enough, but the trial scene extends his logic. Bankruptcy is for him just about the worst that can befall anyone, and he dehumanizes Antonio completely as a result. Shylock perceives bankruptcy to be an absolute category. In other plays, bankruptcy functions metaphorically as a marker of relative status. King Richard recognizes this in his own situation in Richard II: K.Rich. O that I were a mockery king of snow, Standing before the sun of Bullingbrook, To melt myself away in water-drops!

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bankrupt Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, And if my word be sterling yet in England, Let it command a mirror hither straight, That it may show me what a face I have Since it is bankrout of his majesty. (RII 4.1.260–7)

This passage is part of the deposition scene, in which Richard finally has some serious impact, albeit too late to save himself. He realizes that he has no identity without the kingship he has renounced. A more generalized use of the word appears in the description of the English army before Agincourt in Henry V: Big Mars seems bankrout in their beggar’d host, And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. (HV 4.2.43–4)

This is all of a piece with the French derision of the English army the night before the battle. Their finery works by comparison with the poor state of the English, turning the whole encounter into an object lesson in the follies of pride. Stone (1967) has details of the decay of aristocratic holdings and finances, including the effects of debt and bankruptcy, at 76ff.

banquet A lavish feast, usually held on ceremonial or state occasions as opposed to any large-scale consumption of food and drink. A banquet is usually laid on for an important group of people, especially for reasons of celebration. This is very much the case for the divorced queen in Henry VIII: Kath. No? Saw you not even now a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun? (HVIII 4.2.87–9)

The enactment of her vision on the stage seems to confirm the truth of what she sees as she is invited to a heavenly banquet not long before she dies. But the lavish excess entailed on the occasion of a banquet can tend 33

banquet to have a negative or sinister undertone. This can partly be explained by sensitivity to possible differences between appearance and reality: Eno. Bring in the banket quickly; wine enough, Cleopatra’s health to drink. (AC 1.2.12–13)

Seemingly innocuous in isolation, this scene comes immediately after Antony insults the Caesareans by refusing to meet with their envoys. It also sets the tone for the play’s treatment of Antony while he is in Cleopatra’s company. Because he is seen to banquet too much this early on, Antony’s grip on affairs is going to be a major issue in the play. Many of the plays in fact utilize banquets as the occasions for dire events, such as Macbeth (3.4), with the interruption of Banquo’s apparition. Another possibility is for a banquet to set up a series of events that has tragic consequences, as when Romeo meets Juliet for the first time (RJ 1.5), or near the beginning of Timon of Athens (1.2). Such a disjunction between the ostensible joy of the occasion and what really occurs is used as a conceit in Sonnet 47: With my love’s picture then my eye doth feast, And to the painted banquet bids my heart; (SON 47.6–7)

The complex synaesthesia brought about by a painted banquet reinforces its elaborate untrustworthiness. Here ‘painted’ carries overtones of false appearance, with too much cosmetic manipulation of the visual. This is very much the same use of a banquet to torment some of the visitors that can be seen in The Tempest (3.3). Picard (2004) has details of the food to be served at banquets at 180–1, and the drinks at 185–6. See also Ridley (2002, 2), 154–60, and Meads (2001).

baron Used in general terms of the lords of the realm, derived from feudal practice: one who held land directly from the king. More specifically, it denotes the lowest rank of the nobility, in effect the untitled who still owed direct military service. Note that the term is distinct from that 34

baron of baronet, which James I created in 1609 as part of his sale of honours to combat the decline in his treasury. The general use of the term can be found in the list of prisoners presented to the king after the Battle of Agincourt in Henry V: Exe. Charles Duke of Orleance, nephew to the King, John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt: Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. (HV 4.7.76–9)

The list begins with royalty and the king’s relations, then proceeds downwards. It is worth noting that the ‘common men’ are not even numbered. The barons of the cinque ports are listed among the dramatis personae in Henry VIII. They carry Anne’s canopy at her coronation at 4.1, but their function is more important than their names, which are not given. For the lower ranks of the nobility, see Stone (1967), 38ff.

bastard (a) An illegitimate child. There is a problem with how to define illegitimacy, because of various interpretations of marital status. This is a crucial issue and goes right to the top of the social hierarchy, especially because of the behaviour of Henry VIII. His bastardizing of Elizabeth by Act of Parliament was never reversed, so in fact she was technically still illegitimate while Queen. In the plays, the use of the word changes depending on the immediate context. It can denote someone who is simply illegitimate, but who can be honourable, or someone who acts like a bastard in a way approaching the modern usage. This latter meaning seems to be derived from the fact that someone outside the norms of society has to act in ways that would normally be outwith what is allowed, in order to make their way in the world – the kind of behaviour associated with the machiavel figure. Most of these kinds of behaviour carry associations of extreme activity, as though the abnormal situation of the person endows him or her with extra energy. In its most general sense, the word can refer to any commingling of substances that is out of the ordinary, for example when blending wines. (b) An example of a positive bastard figure can be found with 35

bastard Faulconbridge in King John. Much more common, however, is the behaviour associated with characters such as Don John in Much Ado About Nothing. At its most basic, the word is used as a term of abuse by the nobility, for whom legitimacy is a crucial principle: Glou. Thou bastard of my grandfather! Win. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in another’s throne? (1 HVI 3.1.42–4)

The Bishop of Winchester has just asserted that he is every bit as good as the nobleman; Gloucester interrupts him with a reminder of his illegitimacy. But of course this does not matter to a churchman as much it does to the nobleman. Winchester’s response is to change to a rhetoric of illegitimate power. A similarly abusive intention lies behind Queen Margaret’s use of the term in 2 Henry VI: Queen. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amain, To say if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father. (2 HVI 5.1.114–16)

With the Wars of the Roses now in full swing, Margaret deliberately and viciously insults the lineage of the House of York, belittling the basis on which their claims are made. This conflict still carries resonances for a Renaissance audience, because of the ways in which the Tudors ended the fighting. In The Winter’s Tale Leontes goes even further than this by calling into question the legitimacy of his own daughter. He tries to force Paulina to take the child at 2.3.76, and then directly accuses his wife of cohabiting with his best friend: Her. You speak a language that I understand not. My life stands in the level of your dreams, Which I’ll lay down. Leon. Your actions are my dreams. You had a bastard by Polixenes, And I but dream’d it. (WT 3.2.80–4)

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bastard Leontes’ vicious sarcasm underlines the certainty of his jealousy. His assumption that Polixenes and Hermione have been dallying causes what others, especially Paulina, describe as a madness. This of course is based on the psychology of the humours, and the play is driven on by his imbalance. Such a concern with true lineage can also be found in the Sonnets. Truth can be concealed while a bastard falseness gains respect: Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, When beauty liv’d and died as flowers do now, Before these bastard signs of fair where born, Or durst inhabit on a living brow; (SON 68, 1–4)

These lines demote an idealized past that is considered to be present in the features of the young nobleman. The present, by contrast, only has ‘bastard signs of fair’. A similarly conservative position informs Sonnet 127: In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were it bore not beauty’s name; But now is black beauty’s successive heir, And beauty slander’d with a bastard shame, (SON 127.1–4)

A register of rank is unmistakeable here, with the emphasis on successive heritage. The vocabulary of lineage denotes an idealized previous period’s insistence on the correspondence between a language of purity and the beauty to which it refers. This contrasts with a much more bastardized present time in which the signs are not so easy to decipher. Perhaps the best known bastard in Shakespeare is Edmund in King Lear. His famous invocation of nature at 1.2.1–22 ties in with a contestation of the term that takes place all the way through the play. Edmund describes normal custom in the most repugnant terms possible for this culture: plague. His rhetoric goes completely over the top in its register of sexual potency, as he defines himself completely as some sort of priapic force. For him, the nature goddess of the first line and the gods to whom he declaims in the last line of the speech are prodigies of lust and extreme overabundant vitality. This exuberance will fit in with the new world of Lear’s daughters, one in which self-invention and the 37

bastard circumvention of assumed social norms will make him equally attractive to both sisters. In fact, this is all of a piece with the language of the king in the play. His own overreactions reach into his extreme response to Goneril when she seeks to circumscribe him after he has given up his power: Darkness and devils! Saddle my horses; call my train together! Degenerate bastard, I’ll not trouble thee; Yet have I left a daughter. (KL 1.4.252–5)

The old king’s powerlessness is brought to the fore in his desperate exhortions to powers and devils. His only recourse is to bastardize her, but even this is an empty, if vicious, gesture, because he has no power to enforce this bastardization. The changing state of Britain in King Lear is not the only time that a process of bastardization seems to become the state of a nation: Mac. Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain, and a basterd, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation? (HV 3.2.122–4)

Here the stereotypical Irishman is in dispute with the other caricatures of the British nations – an Englishmen, a Welshman and a Scotsman, like the old jokes. The attempt to represent national accents and characteristics comes undone, especially in modern performance, and these four figures are a serious problem for a postcolonial era. The Englishman, Gower, is of course the one who keeps the peace, and the whole interrelationship between the four of them acts as a kind of metaphor for English leadership of the British Isles. This is of course a blatant misrepresentation, or at best wishful thinking on Shakespeare’s part, because the war of Henry V was not one of national unity. Rather, these captains are typical mercenaries and in this respect their squabbling about the siege of Harfleur and the war generally does have a serious purpose. But what is important about MacMorris in particular is the way he is used to demonstrate an English view of the Irish – he is made to state that he has no nation as such. The energy of the bastard continues to haunt the text of this play. 38

bastard The French note this in relation to the composition of Henry’s army, ascribing it to a commingling of blood: ‘Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!’ (HV 3.5.10). But it is these belittled bastards who will go on to wipe out the flower of French chivalry at Agincourt. The implication is a subtle one, but it is there nonetheless: bastard, mongrel nations have a vitality that allows them to defeat vastly superior forces. The reference to the Normans who conquered England demonstrates not only awareness of history, but of the history of warfare too. Agincourt will come to signify for the English Renaissance what Waterloo has done since 1815, but the nationalistic mythology that underpins both can be read against the grain of their ostensible projects – and the term ‘bastard’ is an important one in this respect for Shakespeare’s play. (c) Stone (1979) contextualizes illegitimacy at 388–90, and refers specifically to aristocratic bastards at 330–1. For a full discussion of royal illegitimacy, see Murphy (2003). In his chapter on population, Palliser (1992) puts some figures on rates of illegitimacy at 48–50. Amussen (1988) relates illegitimacy to gender politics at 113–5; see also Laurence (1995), 79–82. For Henry V, see Sinfield and Dollimore (1992). Findlay (1994) is a full investigation of the figure of the bastard on the Renaissance stage; see also Richmond (2002), 61.

battle The general meaning of this term is commonly a single engagement between rival forces, often determinant of the outcome of a campaign or entire war. These fights, both at sea and on land, are usually named after a location in the neighbourhood, such as a town or perhaps an area of coastline. In medieval military parlance, a ‘battle’ is one of the major constituent elements of an army when arrayed for the fight, usually divided into wings, a vanguard, and possibly a reserve. By extension, it can be used to denote the army as a whole. The medieval use of the term to refer to an army or its constituent parts is very common in Shakespeare. This is especially the case in the history plays: ‘What may the King’s whole battle reach unto?’ (1 HIV 4.1.129). Hotspur’s question is one of many examples that occur throughout the plays of this specific usage. Such mass combats throw up an important performance problem: how best to represent them on the stage? One method, of course, is by means of simply reporting them as events that 39

battle take place offstage, but this misses the opportunity for dramatic spectacle. Another common technique is to imply the generality of a particular battle, while making use of the apron stage to show specific emblematic scenes, as happens later in Act 5 of the same play, and many other places in the plays. Sea battles present an even more tricky problem, for example the reporting of the Battle of Actium at Antony and Cleopatra (3.10). The chief strategic difficulty posed by a battle is the way in which its outcome will influence a campaign or war as a whole. Battles such as Agincourt seem to the Renaissance English to be somehow divinely ordained in the scale of the victory, which conveniently accords with the aristocratic ideology of the just war. Even so, there are moments when the plays seem to register the human cost that the rhetoric of war seeks to obliterate as at (HV 4.1.134–46). Here the disguised King Henry’s response to Williams attempts to pin the responsibility for these issues on the soldiers themselves. But as Williams points out, there is a process by which the subject has to obey the king, and so ultimately the king is the one responsible (Henry goes on to ruminate upon this and related issues in his soliloquy on ceremony). Keegan (1996) fully describes the Agincourt campaign and battle at 79–116. Contamine (1993) delineates the strategic implications of the choice to seek pitched battle at 219–27. Edelman (2000) has several entries on aspects of the term at 37–43.

bawd A procurer of sexual services, male or female. A pimp. The adjective ‘bawdy’, meaning smutty sexual innuendo, is derived from it. Pandarus in Troilus and Cressida is the archetype, and in fact ‘pander’ becomes a synonym for bawd: ‘By the same token, you are a bawd’ (1.2.281). Pandarus is Cressida’s uncle, and he fosters her relationship with Troilus. Other, similar characters appear in Measure For Measure (Pompey) and in the brothel scenes of Pericles. In Henry V, Pistol is reputed to be a bawd, as Gower notes: ‘Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal, I remember him now; a bawd, a cutpurse.’ (3.6.61–2). The insult is directed often enough at lower-class figures such as Pistol, but in The Winter’s Tale Leontes accuses Paulina (unjustly) of being one: ‘A most intelligencing bawd!’ (2.3.69). See Richmond (2002), 62–3. Picard (2004) details the ‘bawdy courts’ (which came under ecclesiastical jurisdiction) at 286–7. 40

beadle

beadle A minor bailiff or justice officer, often associated with the civil jurisdiction of the area covered by a parish. A constable. A beadle is used as part of the general humiliation of Falstaff and his followers towards the end of HV (5.4); here Doll Tearsheet verbally assaults him, describing him as extremely thin. This is a standard insult delivered to the constabulary, who were generally very badly paid and so ill clothed, equipped and nourished. The term can also be used metaphorically, as when King Henry talks about God and war to his soldiers the night before Agincourt: ‘War is his beadle, war is his vengeance’ (4.1.169). Here, ‘beadle’ refers to war as God’s instrument. Picard (2004) discusses the role of beadles in relation to the policing of the poor at 300. bear-baiting A particularly gruesome form of entertainment, this involved a bear chained to a stake being savaged by dogs. Much merriment and betting was involved. The London bear-baiting pits were in Southwark, along with other less respectable forms of entertainment such as the playhouses. Bear-baiting is the chosen entertainment of Sir Toby and his circle in Twelfth Night: I would I had bestow’d that time in the tongues that I Have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. (TN 1.3.92–3)

Sir Andrew bemoans his lack of the finer arts, but then he is not exactly the most intellectually inclined of men. Sir Toby is able to bring Fabian into the conspiracy against Malvolio because of bear-baiting: Sir To. Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? Fab. I would exult, man. You know he brought me out o’ favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here. (TN 2.5.4–7)

The appeal of the sport is obviously to the less well refined. Picard (2004) discusses London bear-baiting at 246–7.

beauty (a) As well as the range of meanings it still has, this term has 41

beauty connotations of social rank, especially when applied to women. It can have generalized uses, but its main denotation is physical appearance. See fair, which often functions as a synonym. (b) Noble and royal women are assumed to be beautiful, but this basic correspondence does not necessarily always prove to be the case. It can be taken as a basic sounding board when used, in effect being a convention: Agr. To hold you in perpetual amity, To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts With an unslipping knot, take Antony Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims No worse a husband than the best of men; Whose virtue and whose general graces speak That which none else can utter. (AC 2.2.124–30)

Octavia is not even present when Agrippa makes his premeditated suggestion. This reinforces the impression of professional diplomatic horsetrading given by the conventional list of her attributes. It is a wonder that Agrippa does not say she has good teeth as well. Of course, Octavia will not be able to compete with Cleopatra, and the few times she appears on stage will not dispel the image of her as having no independent will. So despite protestations of beauty, there is often a sense in which other issues are to be taken into consideration. This is common enough in the period; an insistence on beautiful appearance draws attention to the basis of that appearance, and also brings to mind the inevitable questioning of a possible disjunction between appearance and reality. Many uses of beauty therefore have extra layers to them, as in other examples of the diplomatic marriage market: Glou. And for the proffer of my lord your master, I have inform’d his Highness so at large, As liking of the lady’s virtuous gifts, Her beauty, and the value of her dower, He doth intend she shall be England’s queen. (1 HVI 5.1.41–5)

But Gloucester’s choice is replaced when Margaret of Anjou is instead 42

beauty betrothed to the English king, an event that reveals several underlying tensions. First, Margaret’s dowry was almost non-existent. This detracts from the conventional requirements of diplomacy, despite her famous personal beauty. This beauty goes on to play an important part in the faction fighting that is to come, with Suffolk in particular being singled out by Shakespeare as becoming her lover. Factionalism is in fact already underway, as the English court splinters between noble and church parties, led by Gloucester and Winchester respectively. These are hardly good circumstances for a king’s marriage to a famous beauty, but one who seems to most of the aristocracy (at least in the play) to have nothing else whatsoever to recommend her. The problems posed by the choice of Margaret for queen are picked up again later in the cycle by the Duke of York at 3 HVI 1.4.121–35. York’s diatribe draws attention to the fact that the convention of royal beauty is not enough; it has to be accompanied by hard cash or the equivalent as well. The associations of rank that accompany beauty are present in these history plays in other aspects as well. Joan of Arc describes herself in the conventional terms reserved for an upper-class lady at 1 HVI 1.2.78–86. As she notes, true beauty is pure and white. And since she is a shepherdess, her complexion has to be divinely altered from its tanned state. This emblematic association of beauty as an opposite of darkness is very common in the period, and in this instance it affords Shakespeare the propagandistic elements he needs for her associations with devils. The implication is that deep down Joan is still as dark as ever, fatally contaminated not only with devilry, but by her class origins as well. Sometimes beauty is described in such a way as to draw attention away from other issues. This is especially the case in Henry VIII: I have perus’d her well; Beauty and honour in her are so mingled That they have caught the King; and who knows yet But from this lady may proceed a gem To lighten all this isle? (HVIII 2.3.75–9)

The Chamberlain’s aside here elides Anne’s attractiveness and honour with historical hindsight. It also conveniently avoids the issue of what happened to her later when Henry tired of her, but then the whole play 43

beauty does this by finishing with the birth of Elizabeth. A similar operation occurs with Anne’s coronation: The rich stream Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen To a prepar’d place in the choir, fell off A distance from her; while her Grace sate down To rest a while, some half an hour or so, In a rich chair of state, opposing freely The beauty of her person to the people. (HVIII 4.1.62–8)

The historical fact of Anne’s advanced pregnancy is simply ignored by the text here, although of course some of the play’s audience would have been well aware of it. Descriptions of beauty can often serve a purpose of displacement, as the convention works to efface awkward or unspoken issues. The plays are well aware of such possibilities, and in fact refer to them quite often. Theseus’ speech on reason at AMND 5.1.4–17 picks up on the problems posed by conventional statements of beauty. His scepticism assumes the lover’s deep untrustworthiness, when he sees beauty residing in its dusky opposite, a revealing use of the same iconography as informs the Joan of Arc passage. For Theseus, there is a very real possibility that a poetic representation of beauty is in fact a lie, or at least insane; beauty is changeable. Lear’s curses on his daughters bear something of the same stamp, although of course he himself is going mad: You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, You fen-suck’d fogs, drawn by the pow’rful sun, To fall and blister! (KL 2.4.165–8)

It is something of a critical commonplace that the more Lear loses his power, the more vicious his rhetoric becomes. What is important here is the way he replays standard gender stereotypes, by defining Goneril in accordance with her physical appearance. To curse this by means of infection is a deeply shocking thing to do in Renaissance culture. It also shows his inability to do anything about it. 44

beauty Such changes in the representation of physical appearance inform Othello as well. Once again we find the context of beauty and blackness informing the vocabulary: Duke. And, noble signior, If virtue no delighted beauty lack, Your son-in-law is more fair than black. 1.Sen. Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well. Bra. Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see; She has deceiv’d her father, and may thee. (OTH 1.3.288–93)

The Duke’s epigrammatic utterance is followed by Brabantio’s warning. The standard iconography is out of sympathy with the events of the play so far. Even so, the warning about Desdemona is going to remain, especially given her propensity to activity, something that a conventionally chaste and beautiful woman is not supposed to have in this period. So there is at least a possibility that representations of beauty may recall beauty’s conventional opposites. An extreme case is that of the incest with which Pericles begins. More often, especially in the tragedies, beauty heralds a whole series of disasters, especially women’s beauty. This is exactly what happens when Romeo sees Juliet for the first time at RJ 1.5.44–53. This is exactly the kind of interplay that occurs again and again in the Sonnets. In these poems the ‘dark lady’ is opposed to the fair young noble friend, as the collection reworks the conventional sonnet vocabulary of love and beauty: ‘Then of thy beauty I do question make’ (SON 12.9). The passage of time is as predestined as the movement of the seasons, and the iconography of an unreproductive beauty is inevitably subjected to it in these poems. There are many examples of this kind of use of beauty in the Sonnets and it is worth noting that they echo the implications it holds in plays such as Romeo and Juliet. (c) Innes (1997) is a full investigation of how beauty informs the personae of the young man and the dark lady of the sonnets. Betts (1998) is a discussion of Queen Elizabeth’s physical appearance and its representations. Hackett (1995) analyses Elizabeth’s appropriation of the cult of Mariolatry, including its manifestations of physical beauty. 45

beauty Traub (1995) traces the alignments of women’s erotic power and how Shakespeare’s plays seek to contain it; see also Eaton (1991). Charney (2000) sets out the conventions of love and beauty in Chapter 1, 9ff.

beer An alcoholic drink; ale to which hops has been added. An important drink for those toward the lower end of the social scale, especially given the uncertain cleanliness of drinking water. ‘Small beer’ is a particularly weak or low quality drink. Beer was widely available, and was an important part of most households’ economies. When watered down, it could be a relatively safe drink for the young. This is the root of the prince’s joke about his inability to hold his alcohol at 2 HVI 2.2.6. One of Cade’s utopian promises is to outlaw watered down beer at 2 HVI 4.2.67–8. See Edelman (2000), 48–9. Picard (2004) describes the importance of beer and brewing to the average household at 187.

bishop (a) In hierarchical Christian churches, a bishop has charge of a diocese. He ranks above parish priests and the various diocesan officers. Bishops are also important political figures, with the right of a seat in the House of Lords. Certain bishoprics have been more involved in outright power politics than others, although sometimes this is a direct result of the political affiliations of a particular incumbent. Technically, bishops rank below an archbishop. (b) The Bishop of Winchester is an important figure throughout 1 HVI, acting as a sort of leader of the opposition to the noble party in the young king’s ruling council. This particular title has resonances for the Renaissance, because of the importance of Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, in the reign of Henry VIII and Mary Tudor. Although he was one of the churchmen associated with Henry’s divorce proceedings against Katherine of Aragon, Gardiner was nevertheless a leading force for Catholic reaction. This is made apparent in the fifth act of Henry VIII, in the plot laid against the life of Cranmer, Henry’s Archbishop of Canterbury. Although the religious settlement arrived at by Elizabeth relied on the bishops, many of her subjects registered a sense of dissatisfaction with episcopal religious government. Protestant suspicion of bishops as 46

bishop perhaps a relic of the Catholic past sometimes surfaces in Shakespeare in relation to representations of Catholic practice, as in 2 HVI: ‘I’ll send some holy bishop to entreat’ (4.4.9). Here the politically inept King Henry thinks piously and pathetically that some bishop or other will help his situation. Henry’s piety was notoriously excessive, and in the popular memory at least partly explained the manifold failures of his reign. Bishops can also be shown directly to be rather useless, as in RIII 3.4, when the Bishop of Ely tries to get some strawberries for Richard just as the latter is about to order the death of Lord Hastings in council. Not all of the bishops in Shakespeare are necessarily portrayed in negative terms, however. The Bishop of Carlisle is an important supporter of King Richard throughout Richard II, becoming involved in the first rebellions against Henry IV. Even the usurping Duke of Lancaster recognizes the bishop’s upright character as he deals with the rebels at RII 5.6.19–29. The bishop functions as an important counter to the newly empowered Lancastrian dynasty, reminding the audience that the crown was got by dubious means. (c) Collinson (2003) narrates some of the problems posed by bishops and the Reformation at Elizabeth’s accession at 36–8. Erickson (2001) points to the importance of Bishop Bonner of London during the Catholic reaction at 404–5. Palliser (1992) contains a substantial discussion of the bishops in Elizabeth’s England from 382–6. See also Hassel (2005), 35–6.

blazon Specifically, the heraldic device on a shield – the coat of arms. However, it tends to be used in a more generalized, metaphorical sense. There is a specific rhetorical usage in the period as a form of praise. An example of the term that carries overtones of its class basis can be found in Twelfth Night: ‘What is your parentage?’ ‘Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman.’ I’ll be sworn thou art; Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit Do give thee fivefold blazon. (TN 1.5.289–93)

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blazon Olivia is musing over her sudden attraction for Cesario, and blazons him immediately as being of at least the rank of gentry. Another metaphorical usage can be found when the Ghost of Old Hamlet is speaking alone with his son: I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand an end, Like quills upon the fearful porcupine. But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. (HAM 1.5.15–22)

The accumulation of emblematic details of fear builds up to what the Ghost describes as an ‘eternal blazon’. Duncan-Jones (2001) details Shakespeare’s own attempts to acquire the status of gentleman, including his dealings with the heralds over an appropriate blazon at 82ff. Parker (1987) notes the importance of the blazon as rhetorical tool.

body (a) In this period the body is not simply the physical aspect of an individual. It is a fundamentally social category, varying from the grotesques of carnival to its presentation in acts of justice. This is important precisely because representations of the body are stratified according to strict social codes. For example, a nobleman found guilty of treason could usually count on the death sentence being carried out by the axe, rather than the stipulated punishment of being hung, drawn and quartered. The gendered body is particularly crucial because of prevailing notions over what constitutes biological difference. Even contemporary psychology (the humours) depends on physiological symptoms. By metaphorical extension, body can refer to a group, especially a political entity such as a country or state. (b) The sheer physical presence of the body can never be discounted in Renaissance culture. The stage is of course a good location on which 48

body to display it, as can be seen from the effects produced by Falstaff in performance, even now. The body seems to be omni-present, even in speeches that seem to be dealing with what a later period might consider to be more elevated matters: No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave; Who, with a body fill’d and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, cramm’d with distressful bread, Never sees horrid night, the child of hell (HV 4.1.266–71)

This reference to the body occurs during Henry’s famous soliloquy on ceremony the night before Agincourt. While Henry muses on the duties of kingship (incidentally ignoring privilege) his rhetoric automatically returns to the body of a slave, setting up an explicit opposition between a king, who has a worrying mind, and a slave, who has no mind at all. The lower classes are imagined and imaged here as really nothing more than brute bodies. But the need to return to the body marks the text as being of its time. In Julius Caesar Cassius also links power and the body, but in a different way. In his rhetoric, there is no real or essential difference between himself and Caesar: And this man Is now become a god, and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body If Caesar but carelessly nod on him. (JC 1.2.115–18)

Cassius lists Caesar’s physical infirmities, and uses them as the basis for a comparison that leads inevitably to a questioning of Caesar’s status. He sees himself as physically superior to Caesar, and so questions Caesar’s political pre-eminence. This play’s insistence on the physical surfaces again when Brutus and Cassius argue before Philippi: Remember March, the ides of March remember: Did not great Julius bleed for justice’ sake?

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body What villain touch’d his body, that did stab And not for justice? (JC 4.3.18–21)

The word ‘justice’ is conspicuously absent from Cassius’ earlier soliloquy, and indeed the only conspirator of whom these words could possibly be said is Brutus himself. This is a good example of Brutus’ continuing difference from his fellows, and it is crucial in the overall context that he returns to the physical nature of the assassination. The slaying of a monarch, or one as close to that status as Caesar, is no light matter. This is because of the semi-sacred nature ascribed to the position: Now He that made me knows I see thee ill, Ill in myself to see, and in thee, seeing ill. Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land, Wherein thou liest in reputation sick, And thou, too careless patient as thou art, Commit’st thy anointed body to the cure Of those physicians that first wounded thee. (RII 2.1.93–9)

Even as he warns King Richard of the dangers of listening to those who have made him become an absolutist monarch, John of Gaunt refers to the king’s sacred anointed status. Gaunt’s death-bed speech is used to predict Richard’s downfall, the final words of a man who could have usurped the kingdom but chose not to out of loyalty to his belief in the concept of kingship. Gaunt’s son will prove to be a very different man. The problem thrown up by Richard II is the perennial one that haunts a monarchy: what happens when the anointed king acts in ways that are held to be contrary to kingship? A whole ideology of the monarchical state can be opened up to dramatic display by this issue, and it is one that recurs throughout the plays. Menenius uses it as the basis for his fable of the parts of the body in Coriolanus (1.1). Although this play is set at the beginning of the Roman Republic, it is clear that Menenius sees the body politic to which he refers as one in which the common people are subjected to the aristocracy. Laertes uses a similar conceit in Hamlet: Perhaps he loves you now, And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch

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body The virtue of his will, but you must fear, His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own, For he himself is subject to his birth: He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself, for on his choice depends The safety and health of this whole state, And therefore must his choice be circumscrib’d Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head. (HAM 1.3.14–24)

Laertes’ warning to his sister has a similar basis to Henry V’s speech on ceremony, but there is a secondary element: Ophelia is not necessarily of high enough rank to be certain of marrying Hamlet, whatever he might say about loving her. The necessities of state diplomacy in the marriage market can be glimpsed here. Such considerations are of course to be obfuscated by the use of more delicate language and phraseology, as happens in Henry V: The breath no sooner left his father’s body, But that his wildness, mortified in him, Seem’d to die too; yea, at that very moment, Consideration like an angel came And whipt th’offending Adam out of him, Leaving his body as a paradise T’envelop and contain celestial spirits. (HV 1.1.25–31)

There is no mention here of Henry’s politic use of his supposed wildness in the Henry IV plays; instead, it is almost as though his newly anointed status has wrought some kind of miraculous transfiguration. The bodily aspect reinforces the power of that transformation, although of course audience members who remember the earlier presentation of the young Prince Hal would perhaps see something else at work. The Renaissance’s constant harping on bodies even when dealing with issues that would seem to later periods to be more refined than this is rooted in a very physical psychology: I cannot weep; for all my body’s moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart; Nor can my tongue unload my heart’s great burthen,

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body For self-same wind that I should speak withal Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, And burns me up with flames that tears would quench. (3 HVI 2.1.79–84)

Richard of Gloucester is here represented as the epitome of the choleric man, in accordance with humoural psychology. His body’s elements are out of balance and the result in him is an all-devouring flame that must constantly seek out new fuel, something that will become more apparent as this play proceeds, and on into Richard III. Gloucester’s proverbial (if perhaps deliberately misrepresented) ambition and cruelty are therefore the results of a physical condition: Indeed, ’tis true that Henry told me of; For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward. Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, And seek their ruin that usurp’d our right? The midwife wonder’d and the women cried, ‘O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!’ And so I was, which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then since the heavens have shap’d my body so, Let hell make crook’d my mind to answer it. (3 HVI 5.6.69–79)

This conventional Tudor demonizing of Richard depends on the myth of his physical deformity. It also marks him off as being somehow more powerfully active precisely because of his grotesque body, recalling the energies of carnival. The speech also refers back upon itself by means of the reference to acting (‘play the dog’). So even as Richard is represented as the misshapen butcher of legend, the play implicitly acknowledges that his representation is a role. It is common enough in the period for references to the body to privilege the mind or spirit at the expense of the body, in accordance with a neo-platonic hierarchy of essences. Even so, the body is implicitly present precisely because its existence is necessary for the higher, more refined functions of the spirit to take place. The residual physicality is extremely important, as can be seen for example in Donne’s poems. In Othello this intertwining is made explicit: 52

body Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnar’d my soul and body? (OTH 5.2.301–2)

Othello’s question at the play’s denouement makes sense only in the context of its period. This is because the jealousy Iago has aroused in him is as much physical in its nature as it is mental. It has to be, by humoural logic. The gendered body is affected by the same kinds of association, filtered through patriarchy. This is made very clear in Cymbeline: Such and such pictures; there the window; such Th’adornment of her bed; the arras, figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o’th’story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, t’enrich mine inventory. (CYM 2.2.25–30)

Jachimo’s figuration of Imogen’s bedchamber and body will be literalized for Posthumus as absolute evidence of her infidelity. The attributes of the female body are to be enumerated; crucially, although Posthumus is in love with her, he automatically shares in the patriarchal system that embodies her as an object of desire. It is this logic of physicality that underpins the episode of Cloten’s headless body at 4.2, in ways that are totally alien to later periods. Lear’s curses on his daughters draw on exactly this logic. Since women are defined by their biological function, femininity is equated to femaleness. To attack this rationale is to violate a fundamental category of gendered identity: Nature, hear, dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful. Into her womb convey sterility, Dry up in her the organs of increase, And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her! (KL 1.4.275–81)

Albany’s response is one of complete bewilderment at the violence 53

body of Lear’s curse. These are not only the words of a father, but a king, so Lear’s curse upon his daughter’s progeny is a shocking assault on the one thing he is supposed to hold very precious indeed – his own dynasty. But of course Lear is powerless to do anything about his rage at Goneril’s behaviour, as she quite calmly demonstrates. By giving away his responsibilities, he has abdicated his power as well. The play goes on to show in remorseless detail the implications of such a deed, as Lear is socially marginalized and driven insane by a process he himself set in motion. The body of his daughter becomes the object of a vicious curse that is all the more shocking because it has no effect; the body emblematizes Lear’s predicament. The implication here is that a crucial factor in the construction of gender roles is the generative possibilities of the body, which is no surprise given the period’s insistence on gendered difference. This powerful category of personal and social organization opens up great dramatic potential, and can be seen in many plays other than King Lear. It provides the turning point of Measure For Measure, especially at 3.1.93ff when Isabella reveals to her brother Claudio that his life will be saved if she gives in to Angelo’s lust. It is crucial to Iago’s rhetoric even when he is fleecing Roderigo: It cannot be long that Desdemona should continue her love to the Moor – put money in thy purse – nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration – put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills – fill thy purse with money. The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as acerb as the coloquintada. She must change for youth; when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice. She must have change, she must; therefore put money in thy purse. (OTH 1.3.341–52)

Iago defines Desdemona simply as an engine of bodily lust. This picks up on associations of the super-civilized debauchery for which Venice was proverbial. He similarly defines Othello in terms of racist caricature, based on over-generalization. The movement between physical lust and money is accomplished by means of the standard pun on generative wills, as well as the contemporary meaning of the purse as a 54

body scrotum. Money’s potential for self-propagation makes it an ideal metaphorical partner for sex; Iago’s rhetoric is one in which any form of negotiation, be it monetary or sexual, becomes elided with others that seem equally able to disseminate out of nothing. One should of course always be wary of assuming that Iago believes what he says; the point is that this is a performance of gendered rhetoric. It is no accident that it is a woman who is subjected to this vehement reasoning, because patriarchy requires the categories assigned to women to be not only constant, but policed as such: There’s language in her eye, her check, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body. O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts To every ticklish reader! set them down For sluttish spoils of opportunity, And daughters of the game. (TC 4.5.55–63)

Ulysses’ definition of Cressida comes immediately after her beauty parade at the hands of the Greek heroes. His rhetoric utilizes language in much the same way that Iago uses money; both are methods of exchange, and so of course is Cressida. The commodity that is the body of a woman of rank is seldom so clearly laid bare and although he was one of those who wanted a kiss from her just before this passage, he still is able to come out with his commentary on her. (c) For a historical overview of changes in representations of the body (amongst other elements) see Stallybrass and White (1986). For Queen Elizabeth’s manipulation of her own physical status, see Hackett (1995), Chapters 3 and 4, at 72ff. Laurence (1995) delineates the material bodily world of women at 95ff. Barker and Kamps (1995) is a collection of important essays on gender in Shakespeare and Renaissance culture more generally. See also Callaghan (1989) and Wayne (1991). Dusinberre (1996) is the second edition of an important overview of Shakespeare and gender, especially in relation to its grounding in the body. Styan (1967) is a classic text on the nature of Renaissance staging, and has a section on the body and movement at 53ff. A more up-to-date 55

body interpretation is Montrose (1996), especially at 76ff. Work that specifically deals with bodily images in Renaissance culture can be found in Sawday (1995) and Gent and Llewellyn eds (1990). Barker (1984) is a materialist account of representations of the body.

bond (a) The basic meaning of this term is derived from a sense of obligation or duty, especially in residual feudalism. It refers more specifically to a vow or tie that is personal, for example in love or marriage, or the family. There is a further legal sense of a deal or covenant regarding goods or money, usually notarized and signed by both parties. The legally binding document in this respect is also known as a bond. (b) A well-known example of the term occurs at the beginning of King Lear. The old king has decided to abdicate his power to his three daughters by dividing up the realm. He asks them to respond to this, and is disappointed by the response of the youngest, Cordelia: Lear. Nothing will come of nothing, speak again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty According to my bond, no more nor less. Lear. How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little, Lest you may mar your fortunes. (KL 1.1.90–5)

Lear misrecognizes Cordelia’s statement: she really does love him exactly as she is supposed to do. But he wants something more fulsome than this, along the lines of the earlier speeches of her two older sisters. Cordelia, like the nobleman Kent, is unable to deliver the extra rhetorical flourishes expected by her father. She and Kent both speak plainly, and are disavowed as a result. The play then goes on to demonstrate the effects of Lear trusting the honeyed words of the insincere sisters. The emphasis Cordelia places on the bond of family loyalty is crucial; she feels no need to say anything further. The precariousness of the family bond in Lear’s world is demonstrated in the Gloucester ‘sub-plot’. The bastard Edmund uses the standard assumptions about family to undermine the status of his brother Edgar: 56

bond Glou. By no means what? Edm. Persuade me to the murther of your lordship, But that I told him, the revengive gods ’Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend, Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond The child was bound to th’father; sir, in fine, Seeing how loathly opposite I stood To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion With his prepared sword he charges home My unprovided body, latch’d mine arm (KL 2.1.43–52)

These are all outright lies, but like the old king Edmund’s father believes in what he is told – the older generation inhabits a semi-feudal world in which one’s word is one’s bond. They are incapable of recognizing a disjunction between what is said, and the truth that lies behind it. Edmund inhabits the language of familial devotion like a set of clothes and invokes the bond of family further to undermine his brother and incense their father. The queen utilizes the rhetoric of the marriage bond during the scene of the divorce trial in Henry VIII: Sir, call to mind That I have been your wife in this obedience Upward of twenty years, and have been blest With many children by you. If, in the course And process of this time, you can report, And prove it too, against mine honour aught – My bond to wedlock or my love and duty, Against your sacred person – in God’s name Turn me away; (HVIII 2.4.34–42)

This is only a short passage from a long speech, and her performance in this scene is just as powerful overall. The reference to children can be taken two ways: disingenuous, because of course only one of them, Mary, survived; or as a subtle attack on Henry’s position regarding the legality of his marriage to his brother’s widow. This is dangerous ground, so rather than directly criticize Henry and his love for Anne, the play makes Katherine speak about her bond of marriage. 57

bond The fiscal meaning of bond plays an important part in The Comedy of Errors and also in Sonnet 134, with its play on mortgage, debt, credit and bonds. But the most famous instance of the use of the term occurs throughout The Merchant of Venice: But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no? Shy. There I have another bad match. A bankrout, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was us’d to come so smug upon the mart: let him look to his bond. He was wont to lend money for a Christian cur’sy, let him look to his bond. (MV 3.1.42–50)

This exchange takes place immediately prior to Shylock’s lines insisting on the physical and human effects of behaviour towards the Jews. Salerio and Solanio act as choral sounding boards, although they are not exactly neutral in this role. At least they live through the play, unlike that other double act of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; their function is to elicit Shylock’s position and intentions to the audience, so as to demonstrate the depth of his hatred before it erupts into open conflict in the trial scene. Even as the tension is built up, the character of Shylock is based upon adherence to the bond. The ultimate expression comes at the point of judgement: Por. Why, this bond is forfeit, And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant’s heart. Be merciful, Take thrice thy money, bid me tear the bond. Shy. When it is paid according to the tenure. (MV 4.1.230–5)

The disguised Portia leads Shylock to state several times that he is insisting on the letter of the bond. The emblematic use of the document brings together the two meanings of the legal agreement and the document detailing that agreement, providing a powerful performance tool that focuses the audience’s attention. Having established Shylock’s reliance on the strictest possible interpretation, Portia then goes on to 58

bond destroy him by requiring him to shed blood as well. The totally literal interpretation is turned against Shylock, and he is forced not only to quit his bond, but is then arraigned by the laws of Venice for attempting the life of a citizen. In Macbeth the title character uses the word in a wide metaphorical sense at 3.2.49 as part of his general identification with deeds of blackness and night. He extends this usage to a more explicit identification of himself and fate: 2.App. Be bloody, bold and resolute: laugh to scorn The pow’r of man; for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth. Macb. The live, Macduff; what need I fear of thee? But yet I’ll make assurance double sure, And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live, That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder. (MAC 4.1.79–86)

Macbeth’s ‘bond of fate’ is based upon an underlying sense of a direct relationship or agreement, the kind of associations glimpsed in other plays in more direct form. (c) Laurence (1994) discusses marriage at 41ff. Heal and Holmes (1994) have a chapter on the middle-class family, at 48ff. Stone (1967) covers the aristocratic family and marriage at 269ff. Smith (1997) discusses economic change at 173ff, and the law at 189ff.

book (a) Shakespeare uses the word ‘book’ many times, usually in the form of a phrase such as ‘prayer-book’, ‘note-book’, ‘book-learning’ and so on. Characters often refer to swearing on a book, the book in question often being the bible (which is one word Shakespeare never uses). Often, though, the term is used in more explicit senses that carry extra social connotations to do with rank, knowledge and power or authority. The reason for this is that society in this period is in transition from a largely oral culture (including the theatres) to one in which the more open availability of books is associated with an emerging print culture. (b) Henry VI is often seen clutching books, especially prayer books, and 59

book Richard III is advised to do the same by Buckingham at 3.7 in that play, obviously for a mere show of piety. These stage uses point to a problem with books: they can be good or bad, depending on who uses them, and the viewpoint of the spectator. Much of the plot of Love’s Labour’s Lost hinges on an opposition between the spoken and the written words in a structure that pits written authority against the vitality of the verbal. At a basic level the issue feeds into metaphorical descriptions in the plays: And now I will unclasp a secret book, And to your quick-conceiving discontents I’ll read you matter deep and dangerous, (1 HIV 1.3.188–90)

Worcester here uses an extended bibliographical metaphor to begin a conspiracy. The force of his speech depends upon a sense of a book as containing something dangerous, a hidden knowledge that only unfolds once the book is opened up to perusal. A similar usage takes place in Twelfth Night, although this time it is less sinister: Thou know’st no less but all. I have unclasp’d To thee the book even of my secret soul. (TN 1.4.13–14)

Orsino has confided in Viola, disguised as Cesario, and is about to send ‘him’ on a mission to the woman with whom he thinks he is in love. Orsino employs the image of an unclasped book to imply riches and depth; Viola, of course, is falling in love with him at the same time. Orsino’s book is a wealthy one, the kind that is closed up by a golden hasp, and the value of the book in his imagination marks it off as belonging to the upper classes. Books are important and valuable material possessions in this instance. In The Tempest books are crucial. Prospero’s learning and power are derived from the education he has gained from them and famously decides to destroy them once he has achieved his ends: But this rough magic I here abjure; and when I have requir’d Some heavenly music (which even now I do)

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book To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff, Bury it certain fadoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound, I’ll drown my book. (TEM 5.1.50–7)

There is a hierarchy of power in his speech just prior to this decision, moving up from elements of medieval folklore to classical mythology; and it is his books that give Prospero power over all of these elements. Also, as he admits earlier in the play (1.2), it was dedication to his studies that caused his fall from his duchy in the first place. Too much learning seals one off from the world and renders one vulnerable to the machinations of others more adept at the game of politics. This negative side to book learning tints the concept with a dark shade even as it gives Prospero the ability to redeem himself. In Hamlet there is exactly such a negative view of learning and books. The famous image of the prince holding Yorick’s skull is derived from the standard Renaissance emblem of melancholy by the psychology of the humours; in a sense, Hamlet has too much booklearning for his own good. In his own imagination, books become his brain: Yea, from the table of my memory I’ll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past That youth and observation coped there, And thy commandement all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix’d with baser matter. (HAM 1.5. 98–104)

Even as he abjures them, Hamlet re-figures books in his brain, a foretaste of the revenger’s procrastination that will stop him fulfilling his vows for the larger part of the play. The relationship between learning and action is a problematic one – books can get in the way. Books are therefore not simply neutral objects in the period, and the plays pick up on such divergent associations. This is especially true of the class associations of book-learning: 61

book Dick. The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers. Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled o’er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings, but I say, ’tis the bee’s wax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. (2 HVI 4.2.76–82)

One of Cade’s followers comes in at this point with the Clerk of Chatham and Cade sentences him to death because he can read. This is far from mere slapstick, although modern performances have a tendency to play it that way; the context of the shift from an oral to a literate culture is relatively invisible to later periods. But as well as having some of the sense of carnival about it, Cade’s rebellion is in deadly earnest. He and his followers embody the common fear of the powerful mysteries of the written word, especially when it is in the hands of the lawyers. There is almost a sense of conspiracy theory, with those who have been educated possessing the key to an inner power that excludes everyone else, and they would be the vast majority of the population. This is class war and it continues with the death of Lord Say. He is killed in 4.7 simply because he is educated. He knows Latin, and speaks a language that is out of sympathy with the plain English of the rebels. Caliban’s plot to kill Prospero in The Tempest is a good corollary. The power of books to open and conceal produces metaphors of physical appearance, as happens in Romeo and Juliet at RJ 1.3.80–8. Lady Capulet’s description of Paris here functions as an attempt to force Juliet to like him, but it is as stale and conventional as Romeo’s professed love for Rosaline. The effect is helped by rhymes and an overextended bookish metaphor. By setting up both of the protagonists separately in relation to empty conventions, the play prepares the audience for what will happen when they first meet. Lady Macbeth uses a similar metaphor to more telling effect when Macbeth arrives back home. She has already had the news of Duncan’s imminent arrival, and has decided to have him murdered. For her, the issue is how best to dissimulate while the deed is accomplished: Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange matters. (MAC 1.5.62–3)

62

book The advice is clear enough: Macbeth must close the open book of his face if he is successfully to dissemble, an object lesson in Renaissance courtiership. The opposite case occurs in Othello, when he accuses Desdemona of adultery in his jealous rage: Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? Oth. Was this fair paper, this goodly book, Made to write ‘whore’ upon? What committed? Committed? O thou public commoner, I should make the very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. (OTH 4.2.70–6)

Othello misreads everything he is told by Iago and by Desdemona; his demented use of print imagery draws attention to a culture that is alive to the contradictions posed by books and what they contain. (c) The classic text on the issue of orality and literacy is Ong (1993). Evans (1989) discusses how the problem of the aridity of books permeates Love’s Labour’s Lost at 39ff. O’Callaghan (2003) provides a useful overview of the developing print industry. Marcus (1996) is a re-reading of Renaissance texts that pays strict attention to the exigencies of publication and reprints. Heal and Holmes (1994) has a chapter on education and books in the middle classes at 243. Picard (2004) also deals with education and books at 214ff.

brass Alloy of copper with other metals, usually used in this period as a synonym for bronze. It was used in church bells and cannon. It was also the metal associated with classical monuments and sculpture, and so becomes used in general terms for something of sufficient hardness to stand the test of time. Its hardness combines with its shine to give a metaphorical usage for a spectacularly false front. The ability of brass to stand the test of time is referred to several times in the Sonnets. Often its power is seen to be as nothing when compared to poetry, but at other times the poet ruminates on the ruin of his beloved when even brass falls prey to change: 63

brass When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; When sometime lofty towers I see down rased, And brass eternal slave to mortal rage (SON 64.1–4)

The use of the term as an insult can be found in King Lear, when the disguised Kent attacks Goneril’s steward Oswald (2.2). Oswald is of the new order, and so is anathema to Kent, even in his disguised state. See Edelman (2000), 59–60. Rivers (1994) details the classical iconography that influenced Renaissance poetic uses of brass at 9ff.

brick An expensive building material. Only the relatively well off can afford brick in this period, partly because of the cost of transporting it to where it is needed. This is especially true of buildings in cities. Angelo in Measure For Measure has enough wealth to be able to afford not only a vineyard, but a garden with a brick wall around it: Isab. He hath a garden circummur’d with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back’d (MM 4.1.28–29)

The contemporary audience would be alert to details such as this, marking off relative social rank by means of wealth and possessions. Ridley (2002, 2) has information on brickworks at 91 and 104.

Brutus (a) Ancient Roman family name. One of the Brutii was responsible for the expulsion of the Etruscan Tarquin kings from Rome and the institution of the Republic. This Brutus was a friend of the husband of Lucretia, who was raped by Tarquinius Superbus (the story Shakespeare retells in The Rape of Lucrece). From then on, the family was associated with acts of freedom. Perhaps the single most famous was Marcus Junius Brutus, the conspirator who helped assassinate Gaius Julius Caesar. He was reputed to be Caesar’s illegitimate son. (b) One of the Tribunes of the people in Coriolanus is named Brutus, and so is a member of this family. In the play he is one of the protagon64

Brutus ist’s main political enemies, reinforcing the family’s role as protectors of the Republic. The famous conspirator against Caesar has an important role throughout that play. Even his enemies recognize his greatness: Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all: All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; He, only in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elements So mix’d in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world ‘This was a man’. Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, With all respect and rites of burial. Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie, Most like a soldier, ordered honourably. (JC 5.5.68–79)

Antony’s comment on Brutus’ motivation for joining in the conspiracy against Caesar picks up on the nobility of purpose for which the house of the Brutii was famous. Octavius follows on from Antony’s description with an interesting etymological play on ‘man’ and ‘virtue’ here, because the Latin for man ‘vir’, is the root of the term ‘virtue’: it effectively means appropriate manly behaviour, the Roman standard for proper conduct. In this way Brutus, who is represented in the play as a Roman stoic philosopher, is recognized by those who defeat him as having acted in accordance with the benchmarks by which the Romans liked to think of themselves as being judged. The Renaissance picks up on these associations: Question your Grace the late embassadors, With what great state he heard their embassy, How well supplied with noble counsellors, How modest in exception, and withal How terrible in constant resolution, And you shall find his vanities forespent Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, Covering discretion with a coat of folly (HV 2.4.31–8)

The discussions at the French court regarding the relatively unknown 65

Brutus quantity of the young English king produce a reference to Brutus. The implication is that the behaviour of a Brutus was well enough known to be almost proverbial. (c) Kahn (1997) discusses Brutus as an exemplar of Roman virtus at 79–81. Sohmer (1999) challenges a too easy reading of Brutus’ virtue at 157.

butler The servant with responsibility for the wine-cellar and the serving of its contents. Stephano in The Tempest is a butler. Appropriately enough, he spends the entire play drunk. Picard (2004) describes wines at 186–7. As the servant in charge of them, the butler was an important figure, not least because of the possibility of secret tippling.

66

C Cade, Jack An important figure in 2 Henry VI, Cade was the leader of the most notorious episode of lower-class unrest in England during the Wars of the Roses. The portrayal of Cade draws very much upon the tradition of the carnival world of topsy-turvy. Even so, the violence of his rebellion is made clear. The Duke of York is made by Shakespeare to claim responsibility for fomenting the rebellion at 2 HVI 3.1.357. Although there may have been suspicions that this was indeed the case, it is much more likely that the rebellion had more immediate social causes. Lander (1993) includes a chronicle entry regarding this rebellion at 39ff.

Caesar (a) The person most closely associated with this name is Gaius Julius Caesar, the most powerful man in Rome at the end of the Republic, so much so that he is usually considered to be the first de facto emperor. While on campaign against the Gauls, whose territories he added to Rome’s domains, he built up a veteran army personally loyal to himself. It was this military power that allowed him to defeat Pompey, his primary rival, as well as Pompey’s surviving supporters in a series of campaigns. Caesar was careful to cloak his power in Roman constitutional forms, but even so his position was felt to be so threatening to other elements of the ruling classes that he was assassinated in 44 BC. Given the intense Renaissance interest in all things classical, it is not 67

Caesar entirely surprising to find many references to his career in the writings of this much later period. The term ‘Caesar’ has many resonances, ranging from a sense of absolute autocracy through religious power to the prideful aspiring man destined finally to fall. As the final victor of civil war, and as pontifex maximus, Julius Caesar was head of both the state and the official religion. His power is directly analogous to that of Henry VIII, who liked to be compared with Caesar. The courtier and poet Sir Thomas Wyatt refers to this aspect of Henry’s public persona in his sonnet Whoso list to hunt. Both Caesar and Henry also published their own works on state power and history. In fact, the comparison can be taken even further, since the dynasty of the Caesars suffered from intense rivalry over rights of succession, a historical situation extremely close to that of the House of Tudor. (b) Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar was first performed in 1599, right at the end of the sixteenth century, in an atmosphere of anxiety over the succession to Elizabeth I. This could go a long way towards explaining why the play deals in great detail with the struggle over Caesar’s legacy and power once he has been killed. Thus, although the Roman state was at that point still nominally a Republic, the play’s dramatization of the conflict acts as a convenient site for Renaissance English troubles. Within such a context, the death of Cinna the Poet in 3.3 in a public riot betrays a very real fear of mob violence in an age of vagrants, masterless men and violent popular resistance to the ongoing programme of land enclosures. The emblematic short scene demonstrates the social consequences of political strife at the highest levels. See also the entry on name for a discussion of the importance of lineage and title. In Shakespeare’s plays in general, Caesar’s name is usually invoked as a basis for comparison, which implies that his career was sufficiently well known to be easily recognizable in the popular theatre. Caesar is often invoked in the Henry VI plays, as a constant reminder of the military prowess of the dead Henry V. At one point, however, the reference comes in the context of betrayal, when Suffolk comments upon his own impending death. He mentions Brutus, one of the leaders of the conspirators who assassinated Caesar, whom he characterizes as having ‘a bastard hand’ when striking Caesar down (2 HVI 4.1.136–7). This is a very precise articulation of both betrayal and illegitimacy, since Brutus was often considered to have been Caesar’s son. During 68

Caesar the Cade rebellion, Lord Saye refers to Caesar’s writings when he is attempting to placate the lower-class rebels (2 HVI 4.7.60–3). Here class conflict is partly enacted through the use of Latinate learning. In the prologue to the final Act of Henry V, a direct topical reference to contemporary politics occurs, in which the (unnamed) Earl of Essex is explicitly compared with Caesar (HV 5.0.24–34). The basis for the link between these figures is one of military power, since Essex is engaged in an expedition to Ireland and in the play Henry is waging war with France. Caesar’s popularity with the common people of Rome is also mentioned here, in a manner similar to that which underpins the very first scene of Julius Caesar. In all of these instances warfare between the classes and the internal struggles of the English aristocracy are coloured by the Caesarean epithets. All of the meanings noted so far can also be uncovered in Antony and Cleopatra. This later play continues the political history of Rome, more or less from where Julius Caesar leaves off. The contest is now between the successful Caesareans, Octavian and Antony, and the action is overshadowed by previous events. In this respect the name of Caesar stands for the processes of recent Roman history that form the play’s immediate context, so much so, in fact, that everyone addresses Octavian as Caesar. Also, the Oxford editors follow the First Folio in using the name Caesar for Octavian’s speech prefixes. What this demonstrates is that Octavian is accepted as the named heir of Caesar, with all that implies. Hence the uses Octavian Caesar makes of the royal plural, for example at 1.4.1–3. The name of Caesar has in this play become a royal title and a dynastic inheritance. (c) A standard Roman history textbook which includes a description of Caesar’s career and its consequences for the growth of empire is Scullard (1976). Classical writers who deal with the same concerns are available in translation; see Suetonius (1979) and Plutarch (1972). An example of the standard critical line on Julius Caesar (and the other works) is Wells (1994), 191–8. For work that is sensitive to class and politics in the context of Renaissance and modern performance, see Sinfield (1992), 1–28, and (1998), 140–54.

captain (a) In army usage, the most specific and technically correct employment of this term is to refer to the proprietor of a military 69

captain company. This is not simply a function of rank, as it is in modern practice, since the person employed to raise the troops might not even march with them on campaign (see lieutenant). This role is an outgrowth of what historians have termed ‘bastard feudalism’ for lack of a better term. In military historical terms, this confusing period produced a situation in which the feudal system of allegiance and levy became inadequate to furnish enough well equipped troops for the army’s purposes. A captain would be empowered (and paid) to raise troops on behalf of the warring leader; this in turn led to the emergence of mercenary troops (known as ‘condottieri’ in Italy) such as the infamous English White Company. Although soldiers raised by paid captains always were mercenaries in that they agreed to join the army for pay, there was a shift from the ad hoc raising of forces to the more permanent companies associated with the term ‘mercenary’. More generally, ‘captain’ can refer to specified military functions such as captain of the guard, where the rank of the person involved might not necessarily be that of captain, since social status is at least as important (see for example Sir Walter Raleigh’s career). In its most generalized sense, the word is used metaphorically to refer to any commander. In the navy the term refers very specifically to the commander of a ship. This man also very often held a share in the ship and its profits, and is referred to as ‘captain’ even if the size of the vessel does not merit such an exalted term. (b) The system of using paid captains to raise troops was notoriously open to abuse. The captain was usually paid a certain amount per man he brought into the army, but there were ways to manipulate this to pecuniary advantage, such as misreporting the numbers enlisted and then blaming any shortfall on desertion or sickness. These problems are highlighted in the parts of the Henry IV plays when Falstaff is involved: If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a sous’d gurnet. I have misus’d the King’s press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. (1 HIV 4.2.11–14)

This is just the beginning of a long soliloquy in which Falstaff quite openly admits a whole catalogue of problems with the men he has 70

captain enlisted in order to make money. One trick, as he goes on to note, is not to equip them, but that’s fine because they’ll steal whatever they need anyway, since most of them are criminals. This is a different situation from that in Henry V, with a most militarily proper and correct group of British captains fighting on behalf of Henry’s English imperialism. A less specific use of the term to refer to a command other than that of a paid company occurs in 1 Henry VI: Duke of Alanson, this was your default, That, being captain of the watch to-night, Did look no better to that weighty charge. (1 HVI 2.1.60–2)

The various French commanders all go on to justify their actions to the Dauphin, including Alanson. The point is that they have been surprised by an English night attack led by Talbot, and the captain of the night watch did not perform his duties. The general sense of the word in relation to a commander occurs many times. An example can be found in 1 Henry VI: King. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester, That hath so long been resident in France? Glou. Yes, if it please your Majesty, my liege. King. Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord! (1 HVI 3.4.13–16)

Sea captains are less common in Shakespeare, although they are still there. Antonio in Twelfth Night, who befriends Viola’s brother Sebastian after the shipwreck, is possibly the most well known. He is an interesting figure because of his ambiguity: one state’s seafarer is another’s enemy. There are hints in his situation of the Elizabethan context of piracy. (c) See Edelman (2000), 72–3. Duffy (1998) has a section on army captains at 67–9. Although his book is concerned with the armies of a later era, his sociological observations on the adherence of the military to outdated modes of rank and behaviour is applicable to the soldiers of an earlier period. See Contamine (1993), 95–101 and 150–65 for medieval mercenaries. Brimacombe (2003) has a chapter on Elizabeth’s sea captains at 63–75. 71

cardinal

cardinal (a) A true ‘Prince of the Church’, with jurisdiction over the ecclesiastical hierarchy of an entire region or country. A cardinal will hold at least one bishopric or archbishopric, sometimes in absentia. The full College of Cardinals is the body that acts as a Council of the Catholic Church, and also chooses the pope from amongst its members. A cardinal can be employed with full plenipotentiary powers by the pope as a legate, a role that gives him extreme power as a direct papal emissary. The role of cardinal is one that is viewed with deep suspicion, even abhorrence, by anticlerical movements right through the medieval period and into the Renaissance. Reformers view cardinals as embodying the worst worldly excesses of a corrupt church hierarchy, a line that is given added force in English history by the behaviour and power of Cardinal Wolsey during the reign of Henry VIII. (b) Tensions exist between the clergy and the nobility during the minority of King Henry in 1 Henry VI, and later when he has finally assumed the throne in 2 Henry VI. The peace party is led by the Bishop of Winchester in particular, and he is later elevated to cardinal. Various nobles in the play are worried by the young king’s excessive piety, and thus his susceptibility to being swayed by the men of religion. At the same time most of the nobles are determined to continue the war in France. The combination of these factors drives the events of the early period in these plays, before the eruption of what we call the Wars of the Roses; this history is deeply inflected by the religious conflicts of the period in which the plays were written. This earlier depiction of a cardinal’s involvement in politics is repeated in Shakespeare’s and Fletcher’s portrayal of Cardinal Wolsey in the jointly written Henry VIII. Wolsey makes for a powerful dramatic figure and the play takes full advantage of his notoriety. There are several reasons why this should be so. First of all, to his own contemporaries as well as later Englishmen, Wolsey summed up all that was corrupt about the late medieval church, with his arrogance, overweening pride and addiction to worldly pleasures. Secondly, he acts as a locus for a whole series of concerns about the relationship between king and pope, or country and church. The reason for this is a clash of priorities: although Wolsey is effectively King Henry’s prime minister, he also owes direct allegiance to the pope. Henry’s swerving reformation policies came about as a direct result of his need for a male heir, that standard Tudor obsession. This in turn 72

cardinal required him to get rid of his Spanish wife, Katherine of Aragon; they only had the one surviving daughter, Mary. Wolsey was required by Henry to do the fixing; but at the same time he had an absolute requirement to obey the pope. All the standard Renaissance concerns over the power of the papacy come to the fore here: in a nutshell, Wolsey was subject to two powerful masters, and the conflicts engendered were to bring about his downfall. Even now, it is technically illegal for a Catholic to hold the highest office in the British state, precisely because a Catholic must owe allegiance to the Church of Rome first and foremost. The third reason for Wolsey’s usefulness to a dramatist is the way in which his career epitomizes the politics of rank. Born a butcher’s son in Ipswich, like many able young men he turned to the church as a way of making his way in the world. But of course when he achieves preeminence in the court of Henry VIII, he excites the jealousy and hatred of the hidebound nobility. In this respect the faction fighting at court that is depicted in the play concentrates on the conflicts between Wolsey on the one hand and the aristocracy on the other, an ahistorical movement that ignores Henry’s own meddling as well as splits within the nobility. But it does make for dramatic focus. All of these issues are immediately placed before the audience at the very beginning of the play, at HVIII 1.1.50–66. This scene between Norfolk, Buckingham and Lord Aburgavenny begins with Norfolk describing the Field of the Cloth of Gold to Buckingham, a meeting between the French and English kings that was full of pageantry, and achieved very little in the way of serious diplomatic gain for either country. When Norfolk comments that Wolsey organized it, Buckingham’s language becomes notable in its vitriol. He uses the standard Renaissance conceit of the sun as an image of royalty to complain that Wolsey’s closeness to the king effectively eclipses royal favour from reaching anyone else. Norfolk’s response is illuminating, in the way that he picks up on associations of rank to wonder how Wolsey has achieved his position. Norfolk of course betrays his class bias at this point, since he cannot understand how Wolsey has managed to gain his position without the benefits of rank, alliance or service. What Norfolk means by ‘high feats’ must mean military service, or at least the kinds of service that a nobleman would deem acceptable. Although this Norfolk is in fact an amalgam of two separate individuals, one of them was responsible for the great victory over the Scots at Flodden and was also Lord 73

cardinal High Admiral of England. He is unable to understand precisely what it is that makes Wolsey so indispensable to the king. The reason, of course, is precisely that Wolsey is not part of an alliance, and so is totally reliant on the king’s favour, as the rest of the play demonstrates. And Wolsey is a consummate minister, an organizer, a bureaucrat; even though Norfolk’s description of the prior events of the meeting of the two kings acknowledges Wolsey’s abilities in this respect, Norfolk still cannot class these as enough to explain the clergyman’s power. Additionally, some members of Shakespeare’s and Fletcher’s audience would know that both Norfolk and Buckingham are hardly the names of trustworthy scions of the nobility in themselves. The Duke of Buckingham who is portrayed in this play is the son of the supporter of Richard of Gloucester, one of the main contenders for the murder of the so-called princes in the tower. When Gloucester became king Buckingham rebelled and was killed. King Henry is about to do the same with this Buckingham, mainly because he has a serious claim to the throne, something that the play does not mention, preferring instead to make Wolsey’s manipulations seem to be the reason for the duke’s downfall. This Norfolk is similarly tainted with treason – his father was one of Richard III’s main supporters and was killed leading the initial charge of the Yorkist king’s vanguard at Bosworth Field. Two other members of the house were to be executed for treason, one later in the reign of Henry VIII and one under Elizabeth. So although at first sight the play sets up a simple opposition between these nobles and the offstage figure of the cardinal, the tension between the drama and historical events provides a counterpoint. The politics of rank in this period, and in this play, should not be taken at face value. The play uses the choral technique to shift the depiction of politics away from the court. The gentry are made to comment on events at a distance, in order to give a separate description of events leading up to Buckingham’s downfall, at HVIII 2.1.38–51. The amount of detail provided by the Gentlemen in this scene builds up an impressive catalogue of misdeeds to the cardinal’s account. In effect, the two onlookers acknowledge that Wolsey has complete control over affairs to the extent that he is able to split the noble faction by having Norfolk’s son Surrey sent to Ireland; he is then able to move against Buckingham. The tenor of the discussion moves on from these specifics to a more generalized attack on Wolsey, with a recognition of both his power over the king and the common people’s hatred for the cardinal. This is important, 74

cardinal because it shows that in the world of the play Wolsey stands alone, hated by nobles and commons alike, reinforcing the image of him given by Norfolk earlier. Buckingham’s destruction then follows, with these two acting as onlookers and interpreters for the audience. However, the death of Buckingham does not stop the faction fighting that play depicts as a direct result of Wolsey’s power, since even the noble official responsible for running the king’s household seems incapable of escaping the cardinal’s rapacity (HVIII 2.2.1–11). Here the Lord Chamberlain makes an independent comment that adds to the long list of grievances against Wolsey that the play is building up. Significantly, the next people to come onto the stage are Norfolk and Suffolk, and the Lord Chamberlain tells them that the king’s marriage is affecting his conscience: Suf. How is the King employ’d? Cham. I left him private, Full of sad thoughts and troubles. Nor. What’s the cause? Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife Has crept too near his conscience. Suf. (Aside) No, his conscience Has crept too near another lady. Nor. ’Tis so; That is the Cardinal’s doing. The king-cardinal That blind priest, like the eldest son of Fortune, Turns what he list. The King will know him one day. Suf. Pray God he do, he’ll never know himself else. (HVIII 2.2.14–22)

The Chamberlain mentions just after this exchange that he thinks the king is interested in the sister of the King of France, but Suffolk’s aside to the audience seems to indicate that he knows better. This would not be surprising, given that he (Charles Brandon) was one of Henry’s best friends and partners in jousting, drinking and gambling, as well as being the one Henry’s sister Mary married for love. Historically, he had to tread a very fine line in his dealings with the Tudors, because his wife Mary was a close friend and supporter of Katherine of Aragon in the divorce case. The elder Mary Tudor is an important omission from the world of the play, possibly because to include her would be to require extra information, and this would detract from the dramatic 75

cardinal focus. Overall, the effect is once again to demonstrate that different members of the nobility know different things, even as they are all united in their distaste for Wolsey. Norfolk’s assertion that the king will eventually find out what Wolsey really has been up to is echoed by Suffolk, and of course this foreshadows the play’s representation of Henry awakening as Wolsey falls. The moment at which this occurs is rooted deeply in the divorce case, and the impossibility of Wolsey pleasing both of his masters, the king and the pope. The nobles realize that at HVIII 3.2.19–42. Although this section conflates a wide range of complex historical events, it does so in a way that draws overt attention to the delicate balancing act that Wolsey has had to perform between the king and the pope. His role touches on a very raw nerve for the English Reformation – is the pope or the monarch to be supreme? The play ends before the Reformation gets into full swing, with the dissolution of the monasteries and the dispersal of their lands and moneys; here the playwrights deftly sidestep the whole religious debate by reducing it to the case of the king’s marriage only. The cardinal himself is made to die offstage. (c) See Hassel (2005), 49–50. Jones (2003), 361–3, describes the print output of the English Reformation and its targets, including the cardinals. Weir (2001) devotes a short chapter specifically to the power Wolsey wielded at Henry’s court, 195–200. Warnicke (1989) decribes in detail the crucial relations between Wolsey and Anne Boleyn at 73ff, as part of her chapter on the papal response to the divorce case. McMullen (2002) has many references to Wolsey in the footnotes to the play’s text.

casket A little container, itself often made of valuable materials, in which small items of high value could be kept. Such a box would often be locked by some form of elaborate hasp, which would also often be decorated with precious or semi-precious materials. The richness of a casket would of course vary with the status and wealth of its owner. The Merchant of Venice provides an entire plotline revolving around caskets, the wooing of Portia. The emblematic value of these containers is so important to the play as a whole that this element is often referred to in a kind of critical shorthand as the ‘casket plot’. Nerissa explains: 76

casket Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your father’s will, if you should refuse to accept him. (MV 1.2.92–4)

There are three caskets: one of gold, one silver, and one lead. Whoever chooses the correct casket according to the terms of the will of Portia’s father gains her hand in marriage, along with all of her inherited wealth. This gives rise to all sorts of possibilities in performance, depending on how much one wishes to imply Portia’s foreknowledge of which casket is the correct one. She would then be able to use visual and aural clues to attract the suitor’s eye, either to the wrong casket or, with the man she wants to succeed, the correct one. In the case of Bassanio, she definitely uses aural cues in the music to rhyme with ‘lead’, the correct choice. On the importance of the casket plot to the structure of The Merchant of Venice, see Holmer (1995). Caskets and the truth or otherwise of what is contained in them are critically important to the story of Mary Queen of Scots; for the so-called casket letters produced at her initial trial in England, see the index entry for the ‘casket letters’ in Weir (2003), 605.

castle (a) In early feudal practice, a castle was simply a fort or strongpoint from which the surrounding territory could be subjugated and governed. This use of the place evolved as the middle ages progressed into a principal place of residence for the local landowner and as the central hub of the government of major towns and cities. The wealthier families could afford establishments that rivalled the royal castles in magnificence. Those owned by the crown were scattered across the countryside, and served as a means of keeping an eye on the nobility as well as lower-class subjects. One special class of royal castles was in Wales. Eventually, with the rise of gunpowder, the term came to be used of any substantial residence. The familiar appearance of the castle continued in use as an aristocratic architectural fashion, but its solid defensive functions were by the Renaissance a thing of the past. (b) The importance of castles in medieval warfare was considerable. It took time and effort to reduce one by siege while to ignore local castles during the course of a campaign invited raids on one’s supply routes. 77

castle An enemy castle left uninvested in one’s rear was a real source of potential trouble because it could contain significant enemy forces. All of this was especially true of civil war as noted in RII 3.3.21–30. The rebel nobles have come up against a royal castle, defended by the king in person. Unfortunately for Richard, however, the usual possibilities open to a defender in such a position are unavailable to him. First of all, most of his own forces have deserted, making a determined defence difficult, if not impossible. And, secondly, there is little likelihood of a relief army coming to his aid even if he were to hold out, simply because the most powerful members of the nobility have united against him. The political and strategic situation is against him, and he has no option but to surrender, even though he has already realized that Bullingbrook is after something more than restitution of his ancestral lands. This episode from Richard II carries all of the emblematic associations of the castle. Another example occurs in Macbeth: This castle hath a pleasant seat, the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. (MAC 1.6.1–3)

These are the stereotypical words of the lowlander on reaching the Highlands, reinforcing a sense of Duncan as being dangerously out of his own element. The audience already knows this, of course, but the location of the castle far from Duncan’s own seat of power underlines the danger to him. In this respect Macbeth’s castle functions as a sort of marcher stronghold (in English terms), the appropriate residence of a man on whom Duncan relies to defend the periphery of his realm for him. The problem, of course, is the perennial one of the feudal monarch, the same as encountered by Richard II: how can you fully defend yourself against such a man, even if you need him for his own power and military prowess? Macbeth himself does not make this mistake when he comes to power, although his methods of doing so are particularly brutal: The castle of Macduff I will surprise, Seize upon Fife, give to th’edge o’th’sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. (MAC 4.1.150–3)

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castle Following a familiar critical line, this could be taken as Macbeth plotting to continue his evil reign just after seeing the witches. But there is more to this than an overly simple explanation based purely on character psychology. Even though the ‘history’ of this play is badly confused, which is hardly surprising given Shakespeare’s sources, there is nevertheless a very specific logic to it. Shakespeare’s play images the Scotland of Macbeth and Duncan by means of the familiar terminology of English feudalism, despite some sprinklings of local flavour (such as the title of ‘thegn’). In this respect, Macbeth’s ruthlessness exactly parallels Duncan’s earlier laxity. The centre of power in Scotland has shifted to the Highlands with Macbeth’s accession to the throne. So the southern reaches of the country are now the periphery, and the problem here is that it makes Macbeth’s kingdom vulnerable to attacks from the south, from England. Duncan’s state needed warriors like Macbeth to protect it from the Scandinavians to the north and east, as well as from internal rebellion. By the same process, Macbeth’s state needs to be protected from England and it is crucial to the catastrophe of the play that this is exactly the direction of the final blow. By surprising Macduff’s castle, Macbeth intends to exterminate his family and line, so removing a potential major threat, but his actions will also remove a possible staging point for an English invasion. (c) For the role of castles and other fortifications in medieval warfare and society, see Contamine (1993), 101–15, and Edelman (2000), 88–9. Sinfield (1992) analyses the culture of violence in Macbeth at 95–108. Elias (1994) sets out a sociology for the feudal state in relation to its need for powerful subjects at 366–420; his discussion is based upon the axis of ‘centripetal’ forces in competition with ‘centrifugal’ tendencies, of which the territorial power of the great magnates (centred on their castles) is a prime example.

cathedral The main church of a diocese; the bishop’s seat. Often applied to any major church of note that functions as much more than a parish church. Shakespeare uses the term only once, when the Duchess of Gloucester imagines herself being crowned in ‘the cathedral church of Westminster’ (2 HVI 1.2.37). She associates this place specifically with royalty, and so uses the term ‘cathedral’. Palliser (1992) narrates how cathedral cities dealt with the dissolution 79

cathedral of the monasteries at 269–70. Ridley (2002, 2) has some details of cathedral building at 104.

ceremony (a) A rite or observance that is performed according to set rules. The term carries a sense of solemnity, and is often religious in origin. More generally, it can refer to a formal act of civility, especially in deference to those of superior rank to oneself. In its most metaphorical sense, it can mean any form of display. (b) ‘Ceremony’ appears several times in Shakespeare in its basic sense of a particular solemn rite. This is usually done in reference to the type of rite being undertaken. For example, Theseus uses the term in relation to weddings when deciding on the evening’s entertainment: That is some satire, keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. (AMND 5.1.55)

Here Theseus speaks of the decorum that he thinks is appropriate to the various weddings that have just taken place; it is his hierarchy of values that defines decorum. A similar usage of the word as a form of ritual occurs when Coriolanus wishes to stand for the consulship: Sic. Sir, the people Must have their voices; neither will they bate One jot of ceremony. (COR 2.2.142)

Sicinius the Tribune is one of the official representatives of the people; at this point in the play he insists on all of the ceremonial niceties of the election being adhered to, and he does so in the Senate House. He probably realizes that the public rituals involved will be too much for the haughty Coriolanus, which in fact turns out to be the case. Massive ceremonies that are too difficult to show directly often take place offstage, and are represented later in time by onstage speakers: 1.Gent. God save you, sir! Where have you been broiling? 3.Gent. Among the crowd I’th’Abbey, where a finger

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ceremony Could not be wedg’d in more. I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy. 2.Gent. You saw The ceremony? 3.Gent. That I did. 1.Gent. How was it? 3.Gent. Well worth the seeing. (HVIII 4.1.56–60)

The Third Gentleman goes on to describe the ceremony in question, the coronation of Anne Boleyn. His carefully chosen religious language works with the displaced narration to draw attention to the queen’s behaviour, as well as handily allowing the play to avoid the fact of her advanced pregnancy. Parolles represents ceremony as part of the false game of the courtier, as is to be expected given both his name and his function in the play: Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrain’d yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more expressive to them, for they wear themselves in the cap of time, there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most receiv’d star, and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be follow’d. After them, and take a more dilated farewell. (AW 2.1.50–8)

The common Renaissance concern with outward appearance versus inner reality here finds expression. Parolles gives a very full definition of ceremony as a set of social niceties to be used by an inferior to his social superiors, albeit for the covert purposes of advancement. It does not matter if the dance is led by the devil, because these people are the ones who should be followed; at least, this is his advice to Bertram. A similar sense of the term occurs when Brutus and Cassius have fallen out: Bru. Thou hast describ’d A hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay It useth an enforced ceremony. ( JC 4.2.19–21)

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ceremony Ceremony can therefore have some negative associations, a kind of shell of convenient practice that covers an empty interior. The most general sense of ceremony is used quite often, usually with the simple meaning of manners towards those with some power: Enter a SERVANT. Serv. A messenger from Caesar. Cleo. What, no more ceremony? See, my women, Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel’d unto the buds. Admit him, sir. (AC 3.13.37–40)

The messenger simply walks straight in on Cleopatra and her court and says his piece; her response notes the complete lack of any outward formality. She jokes about it and orders the servant to bring in the messenger; in this respect her business can be seen to be much less formal and stilted than the world of the Romans in the play. Perhaps the most famous example of the word can be found in Henry V’s soliloquy before the Battle of Agincourt: And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffers’t more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in? O Ceremony, show me but thy worth! What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men? Wherein thou art less happy, being fear’d, Than they in fearing. What drink’st thou oft, in stead of homage sweet, But poison’d flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! (HV 4.1.240–52)

The speech continues as Henry wrestles with the conundrum posed by his own status, manifested in the usages of ceremonial practice. He elaborates on the problems posed by ceremony for the reality of kingship, which of course he represents as a difficult responsibility for others’ well-being. His description of it as idolatrous picks up on 82

ceremony negative religious associations familiar to the Renaissance audience, but he then moves on to its economic foundations. Henry wants to know both its worth and its soul – he wants to undo the potential contradiction between outward show and inner truth. The speech depicts him as deeply anxious about the ways in which the ceremonies that surround a king cannot be taken at face value; they may always hide duplicitous motives under the guise of flattery. (c) Perry (2003) describes courtly ceremonial, including its literary and cultural associations. Palliser (1992) summarizes religious ceremonial practice at 390–4. Weir (2001) describes the court of Henry VIII at 24–33. Dollimore and Sinfield (1996) discuss the Henry V speech quoted above at 222–3.

chamberlain Originally, this term referred to a servant who attended on a lord or king in his bedchamber or, more rarely, a lady or queen. It was quickly adapted in the feudal period to mean specifically the official who managed a sovereign’s or nobleman’s private chambers. The chamberlain of a king was an office that carried great prestige, because it afforded constant proximity to the person of the monarch. The Lord Chamberlain was one of the main officers overseeing the royal household. The company of players of which Shakespeare was a member was known as the Lord Chamberlain’s Servants before the accession of James I. There is also a more general meaning of the term referring to any chamber attendant, for example at an inn. The Lord Chamberlain is an important figure in the king’s household in Henry VIII. He acts as a kind of go-between, bringing information and observations from the vicinity of the king to various groups of nobles at various points during the play. There is a usage of the more general meaning associated with innkeeping in 1 Henry IV at 2.1.47. Somerset (1997) details Lord Hunsdon’s acquisition of the office of Lord Chamberlain (and its consequent opportunities for enrichment) at 397.

chaplain Clergyman attached to the household of an important noble or sovereign, or, later, any household of local importance. Also, the cleric who officiates at a major institution. The chaplain to the 83

chaplain household of Edmund of Rutland appears in 3 HVI 1.3. He is also noted in the dramatis personae to be young Edmund’s tutor, a common enough role for a man with such an appointment. There is also a reference to the Chaplain of the Tower of London in Richard III at 4.3.29, with Tyrell reporting to Richard that the two young princes have been killed. Heal and Holmes (1994) discuss how chaplains relate to the gentry at 341–5 as part of a general context of relations between the important gentry class and the clergy.

charity (a) Christian love for one’s fellow humans. Compassion, usually evidenced in the form of good works or deeds towards those worse off than oneself. This is particularly the case in medieval Catholicism, and is the context for the giving of alms. More generally, it comes to stand for a benign, paternalistic relationship between a social superior and those of lesser standing in the social hierarchy, or even just simply good behaviour towards others. It becomes a synonym for kindness. (b) This word appears more than fifty times in Shakespeare, usually being utilized in its most general sense of morally benign behaviour. Picking up on its medieval associations, this is a specifically Christian virtue; in The Merchant of Venice, the figure of Shylock is made to seem incapable of understanding it when he is asked to let the bond be forfeit for charity. Shylock does not see the word in the letter of the bond, and since it is not present in legal form, he is incapable of acting upon it (MV 4.1.260–2). In some of the plays there is a rhetorical opposition between charity on the one hand and the current state of affairs on the other: Glou. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous: Virtue is chok’d with foul ambition, And charity chas’d hence by rancor’s hand; (2 HVI 3.1.142–4)

Previously, Gloucester was Lord Protector of the realm, during the king’s minority. But now that Henry has become king in fact as well as name, the faction arrayed against Gloucester has won supremacy. 84

charity This is partly because of the king’s piety; the opposition to Gloucester has been led throughout by the Bishop of Winchester, now a cardinal, who has undue influence over this king. By comparing charitable behaviour with what is happening to him now, Gloucester undercuts the standard accepted modes of Christian behaviour without quite accusing Winchester to his face of morally repugnant behaviour at this point. The Christian associations of the term act as a kind of sophisticated undertone to Gloucester’s use of the term in its general sense. The Christian roots of the word inform Pandolf’s boast of the power of the French in defence of religion in King John: The bastard Faulconbridge Is now in England ransacking the Church, Offending charity. If but a dozen French Were there in arms, they would be as a call To train ten thousand English to their side, (KJ 3.4.171–5)

Even in this play’s world, these words ring hollow, because Faulconbridge is a bastard whose behaviour is impeccable, unlike the king’s. Charity here stands for Christianity in general. Given that Shakespeare uses the word so often, it should not be surprising to find it being used at times as an outright major component of dramatic action: Tim. I take all and your several visitations So kind to heart, ’tis not enough to give; Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends, And ne’er be weary. Alcibiades, Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich, It comes in charity to thee; (TA 1.2.218–23)

But it is exactly this charitable behaviour in its fullest sense that destroys Timon. The play takes the logic of charitable giving to its extreme, demonstrating that fully altruistic behaviour may not be possible in an imperfect social world based on economic necessity. Timon comes to recognize this himself after his windfall: 85

charity Thou singly honest man, Here, take; the gods out of my misery Has sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy, But thus condition’d: thou shalt build from men; Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, But let the famish’d flesh slide from the bone Ere thou relive the beggar. Give to dogs What thou deniest to me. Let prisons swallow ’em, Debts wither ’em to nothing; be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods! And so farewell and thrive. (TA 4.3.523–33)

Encountering his steward Flavius, Timon gives him some of the money he has found, while at the same time cursing the society of hypocrites that refused to repay his own charitable kindness. Timon’s charity was wasted on the ostensibly impoverished gentry; but here he recognizes that a household servant, a man of lower social class, was the one really honest man he knew. The social spectrum is criss-crossed in the play by a dynamic opposition between charity and hypocrisy, turning on the difficulty of knowing exactly what is true appearance and what is lurking falsehood. The dichotomy concentrates the force of a whole range of contemporary Renaissance anxieties over wealth, appearance and rank. In its setting, Timon of Athens displaces its treatment of charity onto the classical world. Henry VIII, however, picks up very carefully on the same kinds of Christian undertones of the term as were present in 2 Henry VI, but in a much more dynamic manner. The word appears six times in the play, emanating from different circumstances each time, and often from different characters. It acquires a kind of discursive status in its own right, functioning as a site over which different possible meanings are played out: Wol. Please your Highness note This dangerous conception in this point, Not friended by his wish, to your high person; His will is most malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends. Q.Kath. My learn’d Lord Cardinal, Deliver all with charity. (HVIII 1.2.136–42)

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charity This exchange is important because it shows the queen rebuking the cardinal during Buckingham’s trial. As a very important churchman Wolsey should be the very one to uphold the virtue of charity, but of course he does not – the scene can easily be played so as to support a view of the cardinal as rapacious and malignant, in exactly the way he is described by his many enemies in the play. In this respect the play very early on sets up its portrayal of Katherine of Aragon as something approaching a saint, and she is the one who here defines charity. The cardinal should be neutral in all of this, but the queen’s comment reveals the possibility that all of this is a set-up: Buckingham is already doomed. The cardinal’s need to gloss the testimony by placing it in the worst possible light is a manoeuvre that is not lost on the queen, nor presumably on the audience. There is also a further interpretative option: at least some of the audience would be aware of the historical undercurrent to the play, namely the fact that the play often dramatizes events as Wolsey’s doing, so as to displace the attention and the blame from Henry himself. All of these tensions are brought into focus by the emphasis on charity. Interestingly enough, the resonances of the term are picked up again very soon after this set-piece, after Buckingham’s condemnation: Lov. I do beseech your Grace, for charity, If ever any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you As I would be forgiven. I forgive all. (HVIII 2.179–83)

This is not simply the conventional response of the condemned Renaissance nobleman. In this scene Buckingham’s behaviour is extremely noble, and his long set speeches allow him to say his piece most charitably. In effect, by refusing a language of reproach, he draws attention to those responsible for his death, while at the same time naming no one. This second use of the term charity repeats its earlier use, pointing inevitably to Wolsey and, behind him, the king. The next use of the term in the play comes during the divorce trial, and now the question of Wolsey’s behaviour breaks out into the open: 87

charity Wol. I do profess You speak not like yourself, who ever yet Have stood to charity, and display’d the effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom O’ertopping woman’s pow’r. (HVIII 2.4.84–8)

The queen has just attacked Wolsey’s motivations by referring to his arrogance, and he responds by noting her previously charitable behaviour. By doing so, he activates the meanings associated with the previous uses of the word, unwittingly to his own detriment. The return to what is or is not charitable behaviour at a third crucial moment in the play has the peculiar effect of personalizing the broader political issues that are at stake. The conflict between queen and cardinal becomes one of action and intent, thus allowing the play to avoid directly questioning the overall imperative of the king’s need for a divorce and a male heir. It is apparent that the use of the term charity has become a kind of dramatic shorthand, a loaded word that is repeated at moments of great political and social importance. It pulses as a textual symptom of the various elements that are at stake, a kind of super metonym for overarching politics. It seems reasonable for the queen to attack Wolsey’s malevolence at this point, since the play has repeatedly prepared the way by referencing his actions towards many others. This gives her a very powerful rhetorical platform, as she amplifies a strand of the play that acts to the cardinal’s detriment. But of course, as the play goes on to show, she is ultimately wrong in her accusation, because Wolsey’s downfall will be occasioned by the discovery of letters that show his opposition to the divorce. What this play does is to damn Wolsey in action, and then later quietly exonerate him. Which means that only one person can really be responsible: King Henry. And that is not something the play can say directly. Instead, its language focuses in on terms of personal behaviour that have religious connotations, and in this respect charity is extremely important. Queen Katherine’s vocabulary allows her very astutely to pick up on all of these associations when the play next uses the word: Q.Kath. Holy men I thought ye, Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye.

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charity Mend ’em for shame, my lords! Is this your comfort? The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady, A woman lost among ye, laugh’d at, scorn’d? I will not wish ye half my miseries, I have more charity. (HVIII 3.1.102–8)

Wolsey and the papal legate, Cardinal Campeius, have come in person outwith the legal proceedings of the divorce trial to try to get Katherine to do whatever the king wants. Her response is again a personal one, and again she invokes standards of charity as part of her attack upon them. What is crucially important about all of this for the Renaissance audience is of course that this is the divorce case that starts off the Reformation in England. The figure of Katherine draws the audience’s attention to the actions of the cardinals in a way that resounds with all of the subsequent social effects so well known to the audience. The reference to charity foregrounds their lack of it, emblematizing a whole host of contemporary Renaissance concerns with the political power of the Roman Catholic Church. It is very clear that the cardinals are political animals, not spiritual ones, at least by Katherine’s standards. Wolsey himself uses the word at the next major crisis, the beginning of his own downfall: How much, methinks, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in charity against it. (HVIII 3.2.297–8)

This is his response to Surrey’s part in the general onslaught, which is a specific reference to Wolsey’s sexual promiscuity. It is unclear from the text whether this is an ‘aside’ delivered directly to members of the audience. Even if it is not, it is an important moment because it marks a change in Wolsey’s attitude. Previously, his behaviour towards members of the nobility could be contemptuous, but here he is perhaps sensing that something has changed. After all, Surrey would hardly dare to utter his own imprecations if Wolsey still enjoyed the king’s favour, and the same is true of the other nobles. Wolsey has hardly acted in charity up to this point; now he finally refers to it as something he is supposed to do. Wolsey’s downfall continues, and he then uses the term in the days leading up to his death: 89

charity ‘O Father Abbott, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity!’ (HVIII 4.2.20–3)

These are the lines Wolsey is reported to have uttered by Griffith, Katherine’s Gentleman Usher. He describes the offstage event of Wolsey’s death to Katherine, who is not long for this world herself. In effect, Wolsey is shown to have come full circle, pleading for the charity he did not himself give during his own life. This is the final use of the term in the play; the political and social conflict over its meanings ends as the play moves into the Reformation and the ascendancy of Anne Boleyn. A play that has similar concerns regarding the social effects of state power and religion is Measure For Measure. The Duke uses his disguise as a friar to spy on the world of Vienna that has been created by his rule. Interestingly enough, he uses the term ‘charity’ as a means of achieving this aim: Duke. Bound by my charity and my blest order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits Here in the prison. Do me the common right To let me see them, and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly. (MM 2.3.3–8)

The word’s religious associations are paramount here, but lying underneath it all is the Duke’s assumption of religious power as a covert way of masking state power. By recuperating religion as an office of the head of state, he is of course managing exactly the same confluence of power that comes about as a result of the English Reformation. The ability this gives him to investigate tiny details in his society is startling; it is matched exactly by the way that Angelo unites his personal strict religious practice to his new position as acting head of state in the Duke’s absence. But Angelo ultimately uses this power in a way that undercuts his own supposed religious uprightness when he falls in love with Isabella and offers her the option to sleep with him as a means of saving her brother, at MM 2.4.51–68. The Duke has taken on the mantle of religious power; here a supposedly religious man has taken on the mantle of state power, and turns out to be a hypocrite, a charge 90

charity that was often levelled at the supposedly sober Protestant communities of London (see puritan). It is difficult to unpick the close associations of this exchange, particularly because the play is set in Vienna, a Catholic capital city. But the close association of religion with state power in the play is extremely close to the situation in England under James I. Also, the semi-absent Duke is reminiscent of the ways in which King James was also often away from court at important times, especially when he went hunting and left state business hanging. It is therefore possible to see the Vienna of this play as a displaced form of contemporary London, with all of its attendant associations. (c) Picard (2004) gives examples of charity in relation to debt relief at 285–6, in continuation of the old medieval traditions of Christian kindness. What is important here is that a gap has opened up in provision because of the dissolution of the monasteries, and personal practice was not enough to cover for the missing social requirements. She expands on this at 296–7 in relation to private charitable donations. Palliser (1992) notes the context of reformed practice at 137–9 and again at 404–6. He also relates the issue to the law at 147–9. Archer (2000) glosses charitable practice in the Reformation at 53.

charter (a) A document from the sovereign or legislature that grants privileges or recognizes rights of certain classes or individuals. The most famous is the Magna Carta, signed by King John, which guaranteed the fundamental liberties of the English people; this is generally held to be an important initial step on the long road to parliamentary democracy. Royal charters are also used to create or incorporate an institution such as a borough or university. In a more generalized sense, the term can be used of written evidence such as a contract, usually official in nature. A common synonym is the phrase ‘letters patent’. (b) Martius uses the word quite early on before he is named ‘Coriolanus’ in that play, with the result that his overweening pride in his ancestry is established very quickly: My mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me. (COR 1.9.13–15)

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charter He says this in response to Titus Lartius’ attempts to praise him for his prowess, which has led to victory for Rome. So one way to take it is as self-deprecation. But the terms in which he does so are interesting: he invokes rank by means of his mother. He effectively tells Titus not to praise him, because he won’t take it even from his mother, and she has absolute proof of her nobility. Even in the middle of a war his speech is predicated upon notions of class. This is an extremely precise reference to the contemporary Renaissance (and particularly Jacobean) phenomenon of the acquisition of charters of rank or lineage (something Shakespeare himself practised in his search for gentry status). Another example of this kind of meaning can be found in Sonnet 87: Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know’st thy estimate; The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting, And for that riches where is my deserving? (SON 87.1–6)

The difference in rank between the poet and the young man he addresses is made especially clear in these lines by the vocabulary of the charter. The relationship is based purely upon the man of superior status permitting it to continue, and he knows well enough exactly what he is worth, which is a great deal more than the poet, as he in turn recognizes. The use of the term in relation to the incorporation of a city appears at a crucial moment in The Merchant of Venice: I have possess’d your Grace of what I purpose, And by our holy Sabaoth have I sworn To have the due and forfeit of my bond. If you deny it, let the danger light Upon your charter and your city’s freedom! (MV 4.1.35–9)

This is Shylock’s response to the plea by the Duke for him to have mercy. It is predicated upon a notion of the rule of law, something that the disguised Portia will reiterate in the near future with reference to laws based upon precedent. Shakespeare’s play here imagines Venice in terms of the associations of an English borough. 92

charter (c) Stone (1967) details the scramble for James’ innovation of the title of baronet, including the granting of the honour (by charter) of this new middle rank of nobility, at 43–8.

chest A piece of furniture that is quite large and capable of being locked: a portable item of storage. A synonym is ‘trunk’. The term can also be used of a smaller box that is used to keep important and valuable pieces, so long as it can be locked and kept relatively secure. See also casket. The first meaning appears in Pericles, when Thaisa is buried at sea in a chest after her presumed death in childbirth (3.1.70). This is the chest that is found by Cerimon’s servants at 3.2.49, leading to Thaisa’s ‘resurrection’. In the important duel scene that begins Richard II, Mowbray makes use of the second meaning, approximate to ‘casket’: The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation; that away, Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-times-barr’d-up chest Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. (RII 1.1.177–81)

Here the Mowbray Duke of Norfolk (as distinct from the later Howard family who held the dukedom) focuses his rhetoric on the crucial importance of reputation. This immediately draws the audience’s attention to exactly what might constitute reputation and its corollary, honour, which Mowbray goes on to describe in similar terms. The problem for this play is that such contentious issues are put in question, especially by a man who is born to be king, but has no ability commensurate with the role. Faction fighting amongst the nobility is the inevitable result of such a situation, which leads eventually to Mowbray’s opponent Bullingbrook supplanting Richard as king. Similar uses of the word appear in the Sonnets (see 48.9 and 65.10). Picard (2004) has a section on wooden furniture at 65–8.

childbed Labour was a protracted and extremely dangerous process in this period. Strangely enough, it was probably more so for the 93

childbed wealthy, since they tended to employ doctors and other supposed professionals who had a tendency to spread infection. Poorer households had to make do with midwives, who were much better skilled and far more experienced. The potential for medical intervention was obviously extremely limited, and many women died from complications that are easily dealt with if basic medical care is available. One of the most common causes of post-childbirth deaths among women was puerperal fever, an infection that takes hold if the perineum is torn or ruptured ( Jane Seymour was one of its most famous victims). The ordeal was simply one of many that would have to be undergone by the child, who would be lucky to reach maturity in any case. Thaisa, wife to Pericles, is buried at sea after it is assumed that she has died in childbirth on board ship (PER 3.1). Hermione gives a graphic description of the torment she has had to endure because of her husband’s jealousy, including ‘The child-bed privilege denied, which ’longs to women of all fashion’ (WT 3.2.103–4). Somerset (2002) includes details on the dangers of childbirth in the context of Elizabeth’s proposed match with Alencon at 396–7.

childhood The early years of one’s life, before adult responsibility; from birth to adolescence. The time is often remembered fondly as one of innocence by many characters in the plays, and is also used as a source of metaphors for blameless inexperience. In reality, in this period early death in childhood was commonplace. Fondly remembered childhood stories surface every so often in the course of the plays: In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the self-same flight The self-same way with more advised watch To find the other forth, and by adventuring both I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof, Because what follows is pure innocence. (MV 1.1.140–5)

Bassanio goes on to urge Antonio to do the same with his money, thereby increasing the amount Bassanio already owes him. But of course it is hardly innocent, since Bassanio intends to use the second 94

childhood loan to equip himself for his attempt on Portia and her wealth. In other plays, upper-class characters often remind one another of their shared mutual childhoods: see Helena and Hermia (AMND 3.2.201–19) and Polixenes and Leontes as described by Camillo (WT 1.1.21–32). Memories of childhood are not so straightforward in the tragedies, however. When Lear has described what Goneril has done to upset him, he tells Regan that she shall never be cursed by him in the same way. He goes on to invoke a whole catalogue of reasons why she will behave herself in the way he wants, including ‘bond of childhood’ (KL 2.4.178); her response is an uncomprehending and irritated ‘Good sir, to th’purpose’ (181). This kind of dissonance between the generations is common enough, since family life among the upper classes in this period was vastly different from the modern Western nuclear family: Lady Capulet is uncertain what age Juliet is (RJ 1.3.10–13). For childhood and child rearing practices among the gentry and upper classes, see Heal and Holmes (1994), 247–54. Stone (1990) devotes a chapter to parent–child relations from 254–99.

chivalry (a) Generic term for knights and knighthood. More specifically, it refers to the code of behaviour to which those of knightly rank were supposed to aspire. (b) Uses of the word to refer to knights as a general group are common enough, especially in times of war, as at 2 HIV 2.3.20. But it is as a touchstone for the behaviour appropriate to those who were of the correct rank or higher that it is used in the most dramatically and rhetorically interesting ways, as for example occurs in the competitiveness between Prince Henry and Hotspur at 1 HIV 5.1.86–100. Prince Henry’s gracious description of Hotspur’s knightly graces enables him to couch his chivalric challenge to single combat in the most appealing terms, but the king his father realizes that Hotspur and Douglas will be too confident in the success of their army as a whole to wager all on the vagaries of a duel. What is more, the context supplies a whole host of associations that lay the chivalric discourse open to question, ranging from Prince Henry’s own behaviour (as he notes), through the world of Falstaff right up to the uncertain claim of the House of Lancaster to the throne. A similarly sweet rendition of the chivalric ideal comes in 3 Henry VI, 95

chivalry when the news of the death of the Duke of York is reported to his three rapacious sons: O Clifford, boist’rous Clifford, thou hast slain The flow’r of Europe for his chivalry, And treacherously hast thou vanquish’d him, For hand to hand he would have vanquish’d thee. (3 HVI 2.1.70–73)

Despite Edward’s words, however, it is easily possible to see the actions of the House of York as anything but chivalric. York’s machiavel soliloquies serve to point up this possibility to the contemporary audience, as of course does his breaking faith with his vow to Henry VI not to contest the throne during that monarch’s lifetime. The actions of both Houses are indeed sordid by this point, and the whole vocabulary of chivalry becomes ironic in such circumstances. Other elements of the chivalric code of practice appear in the plays. The king’s decision in the conflict between Bullingbrook and Mowbray at the beginning of Richard II provides an example: We were not born to sue, but to command, Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry upon Saint Lambert’s day. There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate. Since we cannot atone you, we shall see Justice design the victor’s chivalry. Lord Marshal, command our officers-at-arms Be ready to direct these home alarms. (RII 1.1.196–205)

Despite his high-sounding appeal to chivalry, the king will go on to take advantage of the situation by interrupting the process. His actions will simply be a development of areas that are already hinted at in this speech: he might be born to command, but as he admits himself, he is not capable of enforcing his commands. This focuses the audience’s attention inevitably upon what is quickly becoming a major problem in the play: the king’s inherited rights as opposed to his actions. Richard tries to act in the ways a later age will go on to describe as absolutist. 96

chivalry Crucially, however, he lacks the military ability and power to back up his actions in an age in which the king is still assumed to be a war leader. Richard’s court observes the formalities of medieval kingship, without having the necessary if brutal underpinnings to that power in that period. The rhyming couplets he employs as he delivers his pronouncement reinforce the impressions created. The references to chivalry in the plays are not always complicated by power politics in this way. Sometimes they function emblematically, almost as epithets, as in the anachronistic description of Collatine’s chivalric deeds in The Rape of Lucrece at 106–12. Another such example is Hector in Troilus and Cressida (5.3.31–6), although of course his chivalric behaviour will lead to his death at the hands of Achilles. (c) See Edelman (2000), 88–9. Elias (1994) traces the development of chivalry as a code of restraint on the warrior aristocracy in a section on courtly behaviour at 465–74. Pollard (1995) at 14–15 describes the ideological force of concepts of chivalry. Yates (1993) delineates the Elizabethan uses of the chivalric ethos at 88–111.

church (a) In its most obvious sense, the physical building that stands at the heart of a parish or other religious foundation. More generally, it refers to the collective spiritual body of Christianity, and in the period of the Reformation the religious conflicts inevitably spill over into uses of the term. (b) Shakespeare’s plays have many references to the literal and physical sense of the church as a place of worship, or as a synonym for parish. But the more abstract sense carries a great deal of weight: Glou. Priest, beware your beard, I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly. Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal’s hat; In spite of Pope or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I’ll drag thee up and down. Win. Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the Pope. (1 HVI 1.3.47–52)

The struggle here is between England’s Lord Protector during the minority of Henry VI on the one hand, and the Bishop of Winchester 97

church on the other. This epitomizes the conflict between the clergy and the nobility over the young king, and is inflected by the overall context of what we call the Hundred Years’ War. The exchange is also affected by the Renaissance context within which it is performed. There are two reasons why this is so. The first is simple historical hindsight, since many of Shakespeare’s audience would be aware of the popular history surrounding the weakness of Henry’s reign and its consequences – the loss of France and the Wars of the Roses. The second is more complex, and has to do with the changes wrought by the Reformation. In this second instance, the sight of a patriotic English noble challenging the power of cardinal and pope would have obvious sectarian and nationalistic resonance. The Reformation context surfaces again right at the beginning of Henry V. Here the issue is one of war with France, and the young king’s interest in the wealth of the church: Cant. My lord, I’ll tell you, that self bill is urg’d Which in th’eleventh year of the last king’s reign Was like, and had indeed against us pass’d, But that the scambling and unquiet time Did push it out of farther question Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now? Cant. It must be thought on. If it pass against us, We lose the better half of our possession; For all the temporal lands, which men devout By testament have given to the Church, Would they strip from us; (HV 1.1.1–11)

The two churchmen go on to discuss the list of their ‘temporal lands’, and the wealth it provides is staggering. Audience knowledge of the dissolution of the monasteries and the incorporation of the Church of England will feed into this part of the play. The clergymen go on to provide justification for Henry’s war with France, and freely promise him the church’s economic support. But this does not entirely undo the initial opening scene, with its elements of political and economic calculation. The Renaissance context of the play adds to this with memories of the non-spiritual power and wealth of the Catholic Church – the performance intertwines social change with its representation of an earlier period. 98

church (c) Duffy (1992) is a full treatment of the state of the late medieval English church, the Reformation, and its religious, political and social effects. Tawney (1997) devotes an entire section of three chapters to the Church of England at 140ff. Palliser (1992) describes the belief structure underlying the English religious settlement from 380ff.

churl A term of contempt based on low rank. Originally, in Old English, it simply meant any man, but after the Norman Conquest it was used to refer to the state of feudal servitude to which most of the native population was reduced. It gradually acquired overtones of general unpleasantness. An example of the general use of the term can be found when Puck encounters Lysander in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at 2.2.66–83. A more telling insult is delivered when factions erupt at the court of Henry VI: Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! If ever lady wrong’d her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutor’d churl; and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip, whose fruit thou art And never of the Nevils’ noble race. (3 HVI 3.2.210–15)

Suffolk here chooses his words very carefully indeed, slandering Warwick with a vocabulary of lower class illegitimacy, something of which he himself was often accused – one rumour had it that he was the real father of Prince Edward of Lancaster. A similar class basis for the term’s use can be found in line 12 of Sonnet 1. Elias (1994) describes the abject condition of the European peasantry at 469–70, the basis for the class insults associated with terms such as ‘churl’.

citizen (a) Shakespeare usually uses this term to refer to the inhabitants of a town or city, as opposed to a country or nation. It carries a sense of opposition to someone from the countryside. At specific moments, it can also be used in a way that approximates the modern meaning of ‘civilian’ as distinct from the military. 99

citizen (b) The importance of citizens as a group is a major element of the Roman plays. A good example occurs in Julius Caesar at the dictator’s funeral orations: Ant. Here is the will, and under Caesar’s seal: To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmaes. 2. Pleb. Most noble Caesar! we’ll revenge his death. ( JC 3.2.240–3)

By making the contents of Caesar’s will public, Antony incenses them even further against the conspirators and sets in motion a cycle of violence that quickly spirals out of control with the death of poor Cinna the poet. Shakespeare’s use of Roman history is very precise here, because Caesar was effectively the leader of the populares, the party in the state associated with his predecessor Gaius Marius, as opposed to the senatorial party of the optimates, the allegiance of the conspirators. Citizenship is very important in Shakespeare’s representation of the Roman state, although of course not all of its associations are pertinent to contemporary England. Even so, citizens in the Roman plays can act as metaphorical substitutes for English commoners, a group in society with which many of Shakespeare’s London audience could identify, or at least sympathize. In Coriolanus there are very specific echoes of the kinds of dearth that were common towards the end of the reign of Elizabeth. Although this play was written quite a few years into James’ reign, enough memories survived to make the situation at the start of the play seem very immediate to the audience: 1.Cit. You are all resolv’d rather to die than to famish? All. Resolv’d, resolv’d. 1.Cit. First, you know Caius Martius is chief enemy to the people. All. We know’t, we know’t. 1.Cit. Let us kill him, and we’ll have corn at our own price. Is’t a verdict? All. No more talking on’t; let it be done. Away, away! 2.Cit. One word, good citizens. 1.Cit. We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. (COR 1.1.3–16)

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citizen Here famine is not an absolute situation, but a relative one, depending on exactly who controls the price of corn. The shortage suffered by the poor citizens is described, at least by one of them, as a result of the policies of people such as Caius Martius, who will turn out as the play unfolds to be emblematic of the most extreme behaviour of the aristocracy. Economics here go hand in hand with political and social power. Even when the immediate situation is defused, this split between Romans of different rank will continue to drive the action of the play, even as the Roman state expands under Martius’ war leadership. These issues resurface when Martius, now surnamed Coriolanus because of his victory over the town of Corioli, wishes to stand for the consulship: 4.Cit. You have deserv’d nobly of your country, and you have not deserv’d nobly. Cor. Your enigma? 4.Cit. You have been a scourge to her enemies, You have been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed lov’d the common people. Cor. You should account me the more virtuous that I have not been more common in my love. (COR 2.3.89–95)

Coriolanus can’t help himself: he has to rise to the occasion by making a disparaging remark such as this one. For him, the Roman state is not composed of its people. The emergence of the Republic in full form will require the excision of elements like him: Senatus Populusque Romanum is a concept that is alien to his vision of aristocratic behaviour. He is incapable of understanding an accord between the senate and the people of Rome that will be needed to make the Republic a great power, even when he is standing for its highest office. He is therefore unable to perform the required rituals and the scene becomes emblematic of the tensions within the state that need to be overcome. In the meantime, however, the external threat posed by Aufidius makes Coriolanus’ peculiar talents necessary for Rome’s survival. So a major conflict emerges: inter-state politics requires an accord between the senate and the people that is bitterly opposed by the likes of Coriolanus, while at the same time the hatred of the people for him results 101

citizen in their wish to have him destroyed. This is the conflict that erupts in 3.1 between the Senate and the Tribunes of the People. Shakespeare exaggerates for dramatic effect the differences between Coriolanus and the people, anachronistically opposing military service with citizenship. At this stage in the development of the Republic, and indeed for several centuries afterwards, military service was expected of a draft of the people; so Coriolanus’ claim to a service of his country that is of a kind unknown to his detractors is historically incorrect – such a situation would make more sense in a play set later on during the Empire. One of the advantages of this manoeuvre by the playwright, however, is that it sharpens the differences between them. Citizens are not always a major force in their own right. Often they have a choral function, commenting on the actions of those in power: 3.Cit. Woe to that land that’s govern’d by a child! 2.Cit. In him there is a hope of government, Which in his nonage, council under him, And in his full and ripened years, himself, No doubt shall then, and till then, govern well. 1.Cit. So stood the state when Henry the Sixt Was crown’d in Paris but at nine months old. (RIII 2.3.11–17)

The playwright takes advantage of hindsight here, but he also implicates the audience as he does so, by using characters of their own rank and location to comment on events. He takes this logic even further in the next few lines, as the three citizens debate what Richard of Gloucester might do. Moreover, issues of succession are not an unknown anxiety to Shakespeare’s contemporary audience. Definitions of exactly what constitutes citizenship can also be important. This is especially the case when a citizen is threatened by an outsider: It is enacted in the laws of Venice, If it be proved against an alien, That by direct or indirect attempts He seek the life of any citizen, The party ’gainst the which he doth contrive Shall seize one half his goods; the other half Comes to the privy coffer of the state,

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citizen And the offender’s life lies in the mercy Of the Duke only, ’gainst all other voice: (MV 4.1.348–56)

Portia’s legal sophistry wins the day, but what underpins it is an uneasy opposition between alien and citizen that depends on judicial violence. Citizenship is not an easy category to define in and of itself – it needs an outsider against whom it can construct its identity. Such logic would be very familiar to Shakespeare’s Londoners. (c) Picard (2004) delineates the social organizations to which Londoners were subject as citizens from 259–76. Loades (1992) sets out the context for citizenship in his chapter on towns and trade, 73–98. Neale (1963) has a description of the interaction between citizenship and voting rights in the boroughs at 155–84. Archer (1995) is an accessible reading of John Stow’s London antiquarianism, while Seaver (1995) in the same volume looks at the artisanal citizens of London.

city (a) A synonym for town, although it often seems to mean a category of urban settlement that is larger than a town. The distinction between the two is not a stable or obvious one. (b) Many cities are mentioned during the various plays, but occasionally they take on dramatic importance in their own right. This is usually because the place becomes pivotal for the plot: Sic. What is the city but the people? All Plebeians. True, The people are the city. Bru. By the consent of all, we were establish’d The people’s magistrates. All Plebeians. You so remain. Men. And so are like to do. Com. That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin. Sic. This deserves death. Bru. Or let us stand to our authority,

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city Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, Upon the part o’ th’ people, in whose power We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy Of present death. (COR 3.1.192–211)

Much of the action of this play concerns struggle over exactly what constitutes the city of Rome. The city is split into two factions: the people (plebeians) and the senate, the upper classes. Gaius Martius (Coriolanus) is at the centre of the conflict; as the ultimate noble warrior he scorns the people, and their reciprocal hatred for him is so intense that here they refuse to use the surname he has gained in war in Rome’s service. This seems unimportant to later generations, but name is the defining factor for those of noble lineage. This locates the centre of the struggle exactly in categories of rank. The sentence agreed upon immediately after this passage is the traditional one for a traitor; but Coriolanus is not yet considered to be a traitor by everyone in Rome. The test of strength between the two factions results instead in his banishment from the city, only to return as the avenging head of an invading army. In an abstract, almost historical sense, this whole series of events functions as a kind of myth of origins, the end result becoming the famous slogan of the Roman Republic: Senatus Populusque Romanum – the Senate and the People of Rome. The abbreviation for this (SPQR) will be carried by the legions. If precise definitions of what constitutes a city are hard to come by, there is nevertheless a set of meanings associated with city living. Similar to the court, these are often represented as a means to an end: Rod. Thou told’st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. Iago. Despise me if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capp’d to him; and, by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place. (OTH 1.1.7–11)

Othello’s refusal of this suit is the first of the three different reasons Iago will give for his hatred of the general during the course of the play. Perhaps this one comes too early in the play for the audience already to have full awareness of Iago’s duplicity. Nevertheless, a Renaissance audience is alive to the possibilities for deception afforded by such 104

city representation of a character who is offstage – such employment of rhetoric always proceeds from a specific viewpoint. Roderigo, of course, is fooled, but the way in which Iago manipulates him is already embedded in the play’s initial context: the city of Venice. By asserting without proof that his political allies (see affinity) have been rebuffed by Othello, Iago immediately defines Venice as a place in which influence peddling is the normal way to do business. Such subtlety is of course lost on Roderigo, who is taken in by Iago’s words; but the implications will not necessarily be lost on the audience. Distrust and distaste for the life associated with the city surfaces in other works by Shakespeare: A reverend man that graz’d his cattle nigh, Sometime a blusterer that the ruffle knew Of court, of city, and had let go by The swiftest hours, observed as they flew, Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew, And privileg’d by age desires to know In brief the grounds and motives of her woe. (LC 57–63)

The old drover is clearly depicted as a survivor of the intrigues and fashions of the court and the city. His experience and wisdom have allowed him to forego their presumed pleasures and retire to a life more suited to contemplation. Now of course Shakespeare is exaggerating for effect, but even so this relatively objective onlooker will act as a sounding board for the complaining lover’s counter-discourse to the wiles of the court. This is not to say that Shakespeare himself is necessarily criticizing the city, something that his career would easily belie. But there is a strand of anti-city (and anti-court) vocabulary that is available for use as a poetic conceit, or in dramatic practice. The conflation of court with city is not always necessary, since of course in England both insisted on a certain distance from the other, with important consequences for the drift towards civil war in the seventeenth century. In Hamlet there is an ironic reference to ‘the tragedians of the city’ (2.2.328), so we should be cautious when drawing generalizations from specific instances; not all of them are overdetermined by a negative set of associations. But city life can be defined as either good or bad, or perhaps not wholly either: 105

city Pom. Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city? Escal. No, Pompey. Pom. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to’t then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds. (MM 2.1.230–5)

This exchange between Pompey and Escalus comes in the wake of Angelo’s new regime. It is yet another instance of competing ways to define the life of Vienna. In a way, the city functions in the play as a site for contesting definitions: ultimately, whoever successfully defines legality and life here will gain complete control. Vienna’s vitality spills out into bodily riot and what happens to Angelo in the midst of it is multiply ironic. The Duke, in the meantime, sees all from his privileged disguise and monitors the situation to his own advantage. The plays obviously contain many other elements of city life. A convenient technique for commentary on contemporary London is to set contentious issues in other cities, or city-states: The Duke cannot deny the course of law; For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice, if it be denied, Will much impeach the justice of the state, Since that the trade and profit of the city Consisteth of all nations. (MV 3.3.26–31)

Antonio here relates his own peculiar situation to the larger context of commerce in Venice. This has obvious parallels with the importance of trade and aliens to London – Portia will pick up on exactly the same associations in the trial scene itself. The range of possible meanings connoted by the city gives rise to some metaphorical usages as well: His hand that yet remains upon her breast (Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall!) May feel her heart (poor citizen!) distress’d, Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall, Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal.

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city This moves in him more rage and lesser pity To make the breach and enter this sweet city. (RL 463–9)

The image of a citadel threatened with imminent breach lends itself quite easily to this kind of sexual metaphor. (c) Palliser (1992) devotes a lot of attention to towns and cities; see especially 235–75. Braudel (1985, 2) has a section on the selfconsciousness of towns and cities from 491–7. Thomson (1995) contains a full chapter on urban society and economy at 47–55. Stone (1990) details migration to the cities at 415–6, and mortality rates from 54–9.

cloak (a) An outer garment worn over other clothing, especially for travel. In the expensive world of Renaissance fashion, the cloak provided yet another opportunity for conspicuous consumption, often being elaborately garnished and finished. The old story about Walter Raleigh spreading his cloak over a puddle makes more sense if one realizes just how expensive a cloak was probably ruined by the action; that is why it is so noteworthy. By extension, the word could be used to denote something that conceals the truth. (b) References to cloaks have a certain dramatic utility, especially for plays that are based on an emblematic logic of presentation. They provide a material focus for some of the issues raised in the plays, especially in relation to differences in social rank: Marry, thou oughtst not to let thy horse Wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in their Hose and doublets. (2 HVI 4.7.49–51)

Cade challenges Lord Say’s superior position in the social hierarchy by means of wealth, epitomized by clothing. Say is able to put a cloak on a horse, while the common people, via a double-meaning of ‘honester’, can’t even afford a cloak for themselves. A similar sensitivity to the relationship between wealth and rank occurs with Falstaff: 107

cloak Fal. . . . What said Master Dommelton about the satin For my short cloak and my slops? Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better Assurance than Bardolph. He would not take his band And yours, he lik’d not the security. (2 HVI 1.2.29–33)

This is an extremely precise collocation of anxieties about social rank, wealth and power. Dommelton’s reported response is unsparing in its use of sexual language, a reference of course to the kind of company the fat knight is known to keep. Falstaff is extremely aware of his inability to rely on his rank, and his powerless response is a series of vituperative curses. Social standing does not equate with ability to pay; nor is it a guarantee of correct behaviour. One way for clothing to continue to be useful is for it to be re-worked. This makes the initial expense go farther: ‘an old cloak makes a new jerkin’ (MW 1.3.17) says Falstaff, and he should know. City plays such as The Merry Wives of Windsor provide some of the details of daily life that are often missing from the high drama of tragedy, or comedy associated with the upper classes. The more symbolic uses of the term appear quite often in the plays. Hamlet makes use of the analogy provided by the image of a cloak when he makes his famous statement on appearance and reality at the play’s outset: Seems, madam? nay, it is, I know not ‘seems’. ’Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc’d breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all the forms, moods, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly. These indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play, But I have that within that passes show, These but the trappings and the suits of woe. (HAM 1.2.76–86)

Hamlet makes use of an extended clothing metaphor to make his point. His rhetoric depends for its force upon a disjunction between 108

cloak appearance (‘seems’) and reality; the terms in which his distinction is couched similarly denote a difference between clothing and what is clothed. No matter how sumptuous a cloak or other garment can be, there is no necessary correlation between them and the person they clothe, or perhaps conceal. Such anxieties about dress and its accordance with social reality, especially, rank, are commonplace in Renaissance texts. This marks Hamlet’s speech out as part of its time in a very material manner. Unlike the situation in Hamlet, Prospero’s cloak in The Tempest denotes very clearly his magical power and profession. This kind of emblematic use of a stage prop to signify a specific character can also be exploited for effect in other ways, as when King Henry borrows Sir Thomas Erpingham’s cloak to go among the troops in disguise the night before Agincourt (HV 4.1.24). The stage convention of disguise is neatly accomplished by an economical use of a single item. (c) Somerset (2002) recounts Raleigh’s rise at 428, including the story of the cloak. Palliser (1992) describes in general the sumptuary legislation that specifically related clothing to one’s degree at 95–7. Ridley (2002, 2) contains an entire chapter on costume and fashion at 117–40.

clock (a) A mechanism for telling the time of day or night, often used of many more types than just the mechanical. By extension, it can refer metaphorically to the hours, time-keeping in general, or anything that moves on relentlessly and efficiently by succession. Mechanical clocks that chime or strike are relatively expensive in the period and exist in the form of municipal clock towers or, rarely, in the form of smaller pieces belonging to the wealthy. Precise methods of keeping time are important to those who would like to see social roles effectively regimented. (b) Perhaps the single most famous reference to a clock comes in Julius Caesar at 2.1.192. This seems to be quite simply anachronistic, although there remains the possibility that the term is used in a now obsolete sense of a chiming bell that tells the time. The Romans do seem to have used some such technique for keeping time during the night, for example a central municipal bell being struck at regular intervals. 109

clock According to the OED, in the Middle Ages the word ‘clock’ is used to refer to any timepiece. It is therefore possible that the modern use specific to mechanical clocks has undergone semantic change in the form of a narrowing of meaning. Shakespeare’s text may therefore not be anachronistic at all – the imposition of a specific modern meaning may instead be the anachronism. A more straightforwardly modern sense occurs in Love’s Labour’s Lost when Berowne uses the term metaphorically: What! I love, I sue, I seek a wife – A woman, that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watch’d that it may still go right! (LLL 3.1.189–93)

Berowne clearly does not think that a clockwork mechanism is a particularly accurate one, and extends the analogy to the behaviour of women, in a misogynistic manner that is typical of the men in this play. The dark confusion in nature associated with Duncan’s death in Macbeth is underscored by a disjunction between daylight (or the lack of it) and the clocks: Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man’s act, Threatens his bloody stage. By th’clock ’tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp. Is’t night’s predominance, or the days’ shame, That darkness does the face of earth entomb, When living light should kiss it? (MAC 2.4.5–10)

The Old Man’s response to Rosse’s perplexity is to relate more unnatural events. What is clear is that, symbolically, at least, the various elements of natural progression are in turmoil, as happens so often in Renaissance drama when the state is in confusion. The straightforward progression of clock time that is seen in the first line of Sonnet 12 is here conspicuously absent. (c) Palliser (1992) references immigrant clockmakers at 429. Thomas 110

clock (1991) contextualizes clock time as an urban phenomenon, as opposed to the seasonal rhythms of the countryside at 744.

closet (a) An innermost chamber or room, that is furthest away from public view. The word very occasionally carries something like its modern sense of a private piece of furniture or wall cabinet. (b) The distinction between private and public that is associated with the full rise of individualism has not yet taken place by the Renaissance. It would therefore be anachronistic to associate an extreme version of privacy with the closet in this period. Rather, it should be seen as the innermost of a suite of rooms, especially in the dwellings of the wealthy. Since high ranking personages were very much in the open gaze, access even to this most ‘private’ of places is often available, if only to a select few. It is this sense that permeates Shakespeare’s texts. In King John the monarch’s ‘private’ closet functions in exactly the way just described at 4.2.267, when he orders Hubert to bring the lords who oppose him to that location. Exactly the same sense occurs in Richard III at 2.1.134, when King Edward has a seizure upon the death of Clarence and asks Hastings to take him to his closet. Other examples come in Romeo and Juliet at (4.2.33) and Titus Andronicus at 3.2.81–85. The threshold between a closet and the outside world is one that is relatively easily crossed: The taper burneth in your closet, sir. Searching the window for a flint, I found This paper, thus seal’d up, and I am sure It did not lie there when I went to bed. ( JC 2.1.35–8)

The location of Brutus’ closet is sufficiently well known to whoever is leaving these enigmatic messages. Later on in the same play, Antony is able to produce Caesar’s will during his funeral oration (3.2.129). Presumably one of the first things he did when Caesar was killed was go straight to his closet. In King Lear, Gloucester makes the mistake of mentioning secret papers in his closet to Edmund (3.3.8–11), and his son will go on to use these against him. 111

closet The most famous occurrence of the closet is of course Hamlet (3.4), when the prince accosts his mother in her innermost sanctum. It makes perfect sense for Gertrude to have her own suite of chambers, because this was standard practice for medieval and Renaissance monarchs, even married ones. It had the practical advantage of allowing both a king and queen to have their own court and entourage, along with all the attendant officers. Once again, the term ‘closet’ is applied to the room most distant from prying eyes, and once again it does not prove impervious. A similar set of associations can be found in the gentlewoman’s retelling of Lady Macbeth’s sleepwalking, which comes closest to the modern usages of the term (5.1.4–8). (c) Weir (2001), Chapter 6, describes the formation and contents of Henry VIII’s household from 43–57, including the arrangement of his chambers. Stone (1967) has a chapter on court offices, including the organization of the monarch’s household, from 183–232.

cloth (a) In this period, any item made from textile material can be designated as a cloth in the general sense. However, the word is most often used in association with another to make a phrase, such as ‘cloth of gold’. The precise material used is extremely important, because the kinds of cloth that can be used are governed by Act of Parliament (sumptuary legislation). One’s social rank determines which materials are available for clothing and other areas such as horse furniture or even wall coverings in the home. (b) Cloth has dramatic utility: even when an item is not visible on stage, it is easily visualized and this adds to its value in emblematic terms. This can be quite simple, as in reference to a child’s christening robe, the bearing-cloth. When Perdita is discovered by the old shepherd in The Winter’s Tale, he immediately recognizes the wealth denoted by the richness of her bearing-cloth, although he seems incapable of imagining anything wealthier than the rank of squire (3.3.114–16). Cloten uses exactly the same rank to denigrate Posthumus as worthless at (CYM 2.3.123). The plays contain many such examples of cloth to delineate rank: at the highest levels there is the cloth of state specified in the stage directions for Henry VIII or the contents of Thaisa’s funeral chest in Pericles (3.2.65–6). Enobarbus mentions cloth of gold in his description 112

cloth of Cleopatra’s opulence at AC 2.2.199. At the other end of the scale of value is Pericles’ adoption of sack-cloth, to show his grief and retirement from his duties in the dumb show in PER 4.4. The materials used and their value also relate to fashion; the sumptuary laws were an attempt to fix clothing and other appurtenances according to degree within the social spectrum. But a system of rank based upon the minutiae of degree is itself under severe strain in a period in which wealth as an index of social prestige is beginning to outstrip the older values of hierarchy inherited from feudalism: Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that they praise so. Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. Marg. By my troth’s but a night-gown in respect of yours: cloth a’ gold and cuts, and lac’d with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel; but for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on ’t. (MA 3.4.13–23)

Although Hero is clearly of quite high social status, high enough to marry a count, nobody describes her as a duchess. And yet here her establishment is obviously grand enough to be compared favourably with the Duchess of Milan. This may be a reference to Christina of Milan, the young and very beautiful widow who refused a suit from Henry VIII because she wanted to keep her head. Even if this is just mentioned for the benefit of simple comparison, the catalogue of dress details is intricate and so substantial that the cascade of information demonstrates the wealth and abundance that supports Hero and her train. Richness can be associated with other items made of cloth, not just the clothes one wears. When Suffolk is about to be killed in 2 Henry VI, he insults his murderer by referring to his ‘foot-cloth mule’ (4.1.54). This is the beast of burden that carries the rich trappings for his horse, ‘foot-cloth’ being understood as the textile horse furniture required for appropriate display by a high noble rider. The same term recurs later in the play when Cade confronts Lord Say at 4.7.46. Cade’s objection is to 113

cloth the disparity in their inherited status and wealth, and he focuses in on the foot-cloth as an emblem that can easily be imagined by the audience. Tapestries serve the same purpose of visualization; see Falstaff ’s ranting soliloquy describing his troops (1 HIV 4.2.25–6) and Costard’s reference in AYLI 5.2.575. The composition of clothing is available for easy metaphor, as at HV 2.4.46–8, or COR 3.1.251–2; both of these instances relate to the use of patches to keep expensive clothing usable for as long as possible. Such sheer mundane utility makes cloth available for the basic function of the emblematic stage prop, as in 3 Henry VI, when the Duke of York is presented with a kerchief dipped in his son’s blood (1.4.157–8). The significance of the material lies not in its own value, but in what it signifies – a similar situation to the famous handkerchief in Othello, although the title character in that play seems to place talismanic importance upon it. (c) For the sumptuary laws, see Ridley (2002, 2), 132–5. On the importance of exports of cloth to the economy of England, see Palliser (1992), 324–37. Stallybrass (1996) is an essay on clothes on the stage.

clown This word has three meanings in Shakespeare’s usage: a person from the countryside; a mere countryman, or ignoramus; and a fool or jester, in the employ either of a noble or royalty, or on the stage. These meanings can be interrelated, or separate in individual occurrences. The first, more general meaning of a countryman or rustic, can be found in several of the plays. A good example is the man who smuggles in the asps to Cleopatra at AC 5.2.241. Another is the family that finds Perdita in The Winter’s Tale at 3.3.79ff; the son is defined as a ‘clown’. The second meaning tends to shade into the first and the third; it is used in stage directions to refer to Bottom in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, for example at 4.1, and the gravediggers in Hamlet at 5.1, who are referred to throughout as 1st and 2nd Clowns. The term naturally shifts in stage practice in to the third, performance-related meaning. Characters such as Lavatch in All’s Well That Ends Well, Touchstone in As You Like It, Costard in Love’s Labour’s Lost, Lancelot in The Merchant of Venice and Feste in Twelfth Night fall into this category. There are many incidental minor figures as well such as the Porter in Macbeth (2.3). Modern critical parlance tends to use the term ‘Fool’ exclusively. 114

clown Laroque (1993) devotes a great deal of space to the clown figure; see especially 34–54.

coach A large carriage used by royalty or those of high rank. These were expensive items to buy, equip and maintain. Portia mentions her coach in The Merchant of Venice when she has hatched her ploy to deal with Shylock, and incidentally embarrass her new husband, at 3.4.83. Picard (2004) mentions coaches in her section on transport at 36 – these are in fact Hackney cabs.

colours (a) These can be the various elements of the spectrum as used in painting or dyeing and so on. They are more or less expensive depending on the composition of the pigmentation used, and so certain colours can be used to display the owner’s wealth and status. There is also a specific military usage, referring to a flag carried as a standard in battle, or to heraldic devices in general. This last collocation is in fact the most common group of meanings employed by Shakespeare. (b) Many of the plays, particularly the histories and some of the tragedies, use the expression to denote military flags. The logic of this is taken to a more specific level in various elements of heraldry that appear in the plays. A well-known example is Henry IV’s use of body doubles in battle, as Douglas notes in 1 HIV 5.4.25–38. Another is the famous emblematic rose-picking scene that starts off the Wars of the Roses at 1 HVI 2.4. Its significance is repeated in the argument between Vernon and Basset at 1 HVI 4.1.78ff. This all-pervading sense of the outward significance of colours leads to instances of a mismatch between ostensible appearances and inner reality: Prince. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself To-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen? Poins. Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and Wait upon him at his table as drawers. (2 HIV 2.2.169–72)

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colours This is almost exactly the same as the common modern phrase, although it does have a specific contemporary resonance because of the fact that Falstaff, as a knight, would have his own coat of arms. An even more well-known occurrence of the same logic comes towards the end of Richard of Gloucester’s famous machiavel soliloquy in 3 Henry VI: I can add colours to the chameleon, Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, And set the murderous Machevil to school. Can I do this, and not get a crown? Tut, were it farther off, I’ll pluck it down. (3 HVI 3.2.191–5)

From this point on begins Richard’s rise to power, and he is quite openly represented as lusting for the crown for himself from the very outset. Of course this is partial at best, but it does make for stirring drama, and the crucial element is going to be a level of dissimulation that would, as he says, teach Machiavelli a thing or two. The use of the soliloquy makes the audience complicit, although this is not always the case when such machinations are taking place. In The Tempest, Prospero’s recounting of his deposal similarly uses the metaphor of colours hiding reality (1.2.143). (c) See Edelman (2000), 93–5 for colours of war. Picard (2004) shows the importance of tapestries in home use at 61–3. On the significance of black and white in paintings of Elizabeth I, see Hackett (1995), 72.

Commons, House of: see parliament conjuror This term appears in only one of Shakespeare’s plays, 2 Henry VI. It denotes a lower-class, although still reasonably welleducated, magician who supposedly conjures spirits to make his magic for him. There is a definite tinge of the charlatan. Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, believes in the efficacy of this conjuror. Her ambition leads her to believe the words of Hume, a priest in the pay of her husband’s enemies. When her credulity is revealed, she is publicly humiliated, and 116

conjuror the whole incident helps in her husband’s downfall. Later in the same play, Cade accuses a clerk of being a conjuror because he can read, write and count (4.2.92). Thomas (1991) notes criticism of Catholic rituals as types of conjuration at 58–63. The common confusion of priests with conjurors in Renaissance plays does have a certain contemporary logic to it.

conquest A victory. The military and economic might needed for total conquest of one country by another is so rare in this period, that the term is used most often in a much narrower sense, that of the defeat of an enemy. The Earl of Westmerland uses the word in the specific sense of a victory in battle as he relates Hotspur’s defeat and capture of Douglas at 1 HIV 1.1.77. Talbot uses it to describe his series of victories in France when he meets the young Henry VI at 1 HVI 3.4.11. Henry later uses it to refer to his father’s successes over France at 1 HVI 4.1.148, just as he picks a symbolic red rose. This is perhaps the closest the word is used to its modern sense, although even Henry V did not succeed in conquering France entirely. Its juxtaposition with the emblematic red rose signifies the loss of that ‘conquest’ in the Wars of the Roses that follow. Henry VI is in fact quite aware of the immediate history of his house, as he demonstrates during the debate over the rights of Lancaster and York at 3 HVI 1.1.131–50. Henry states that his grandfather achieved the throne by right of conquest; Warwick retorts that this ‘conquest’ was in fact a rebellion against the lawful king. Interestingly, Shakespeare has Henry make an aside to the audience at this point acknowledging the weakness of the Lancastrian claim. Unlike the English history plays, Roman history provides a more substantive use of the term in something approaching its modern guise, the full incorporation of an enemy into the state. Caesar notes his conquests as he muses over whether or not to go to the Capitol on the Ides of March (JC 2.2.66). There is another, even more precise mention of the word at the very outset of the play, as the two tribunes Flavius and Murellus question the validity of a holiday on Caesar’s return from his defeat of other Romans as opposed to external enemies, at 1.1.32. Even though outright conquest such as that achieved by William the Bastard in 1066 is a rarity, the Elizabethan period saw extreme fears of just this eventuality, with the advent of the Spanish Armada. For a 117

conquest concise sense of this prospect after the execution of Mary Stuart and what it would mean for England, see Dunn (2004), 475–505.

constable One of the great offices of the realm in a medieval kingdom. There are several examples of this usage in Shakespeare, but the most common is from the lower end of the social scale, the parish officer of the peace, in effect a kind of early policeman. These are almost always useless, corrupt or genuinely inept in the plays. The more exalted meaning can be found with the High Constable of France in Henry V. In Henry VIII, Buckingham mentions after his trial that this is one of the offices of state that he has held, commensurate with his high rank (2.1.102). However, the comedies in particular have many examples of a more common use referring to the parish policeman: Dull in Love’s Labour’s Lost; Elbow in Measure For Measure; and Dogberry and Verges in Much Ado About Nothing. Part of the comedy in the last mentioned of these comes from the fact that the inept constables in fact succeed in foiling the main adversary in the play, despite their obvious lack of competence. The jokes about their inefficiency mask a serious problem: the system by which the law was supposed to be upheld was not very successful, a situation that persisted right down to the incorporation of their duties into the modern police force. Picard (2004) describes the function of the constables in London in a section on the city wards at 273–4. See Edelman (2000), 97–9 for the military office. contract (a) An agreement between two parties that is binding, at least in theory. In Shakespeare such a contract is usually verbal, and most often refers to marriage. They are also often broken, reflecting historical practice, especially with marriage contracts among the upper classes and royalty. (b) The word is used in its most general sense of any verbal agreement when the young King Henry tries to stop the faction fighting at his court (1 HVI 3.1.122–45). Prior to the Wars of the Roses breaking out, the main contention was between Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, the king’s uncle, and the Bishop (later Cardinal) of Winchester. This is a struggle between the nobility and the church over policy towards 118

contract France. Both Gloucester and Winchester make asides as to the temporary nature of the agreement forced upon them by the king. He, of course, does not notice this and exclaims ‘How joyful am I made by this contract!’ (3.1.143). The breaking of such contracts by the powerful is so common that the word is almost inevitably contaminated by the probability of its being terminated. However, the most common use of the word comes in relation to marriage. Here again, there is commonly a sense, indeed even an expectation, that it will be broken. This is exactly what happens later on in 1 Henry VI; the king sends a jewel as token of betrothal contract to the daughter of the Earl of Armagnac, a close relative of the French king (5.1.46–7). And yet this marriage never takes place, as Henry succumbs to Suffolk’s description of the beautiful Margaret of Anjou. Gloucester poses an important question: You know, my lord, your Highness is betroth’d Unto another lady of esteem. How shall we then dispense with that contract, And not deface your honour with reproach? (1 HVI 5.5.26–9)

Suffolk responds by invoking a kind of absolutism, as well as by pressing the value of Margaret’s titles. Gloucester well knows that these are as nothing, especially considering the lack of any dowry, but he is overruled. Several major strands of meaning are being condensed here. One is the ongoing faction struggle at court – Gloucester’s previous marriage negotiations are set aside in favour of that urged by Suffolk. A second is King Henry’s weakness. He is supposed to be virtuous, and yet here he is quite happily changing his mind after he has already precontracted himself to a betrothal. The third is a Renaissance audience’s awareness of just how cynical the upper classes could be about such contracts, especially considering the marital misadventures of the later Tudors. In this context, Gloucester’s use of the word ‘dispense’ is an extremely precise reference to the divorce case of Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon. Such equivocating over marriage contracts is common enough throughout Renaissance English society. The problem is that precise definitions of marriage are hard to come by. Instead of a single state

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contract of union, there is a spread of various possibilities that can be exploited for dramatic effect: Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract I got possession of Julietta’s bed. You know the lady; she is fast my wife, Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order. This we came not to, Only for propagation of a dow’r Remaining in the coffer of her friends, From whom we thought it meet to hide our love Till time had made them for us. But it chances The stealth of our most mutual entertainment With character too gross is writ on Juliet. (MM 1.2.145–55)

Such a situation was by no means uncommon in Shakespeare’s society. The problem for Claudio is that the imprecision in the status of his relationship with Julietta leads to his punishment under the strict interpretation of the laws preferred by Angelo. It turns out later on that Angelo is himself in a similarly ambiguous position as regards marriage to Mariana, although pregnancy is not involved in his case (MM 3.1.213–23). This play rehearses various possibilities left open by the various potential forms of marriage, or what is considered to be marriage. Such contracts are easily open to repudiation, even outright abuse. The plays afford many other such examples. Cloten makes a cynical case for Imogen abandoning Posthumus at CYM 2.3.111–24, providing a list of exactly the kind of reasons that lay behind the setting aside of diplomatic marriage arrangements, as the audience would be well aware. Cloten overemphasizes the difference in rank between he and Posthumus, denigrating his rival in language that is appropriate to the meanest in society. Perhaps he is doing so because he is overly sensitive to his own status. There may be a sub-text here that is lost to later generations watching this play; after all, it is not entirely clear what place in society he and his mother had before she married Cymbeline. Cloten is the product of her previous marriage, and his undoubted incapacity to move among the highest circles in the land may point to a relatively low starting station in life, as well as his own characteristic cloddishness. In a sense, perhaps he is protesting too much about Posthumus, as he tries to get Imogen to set aside her marriage with him. 120

contract Similar anxieties about the relative social status of contracted parties also appear in the other plays. Bertram tries to avoid marriage to Helena in its fullest sense in All’s Well That Ends Well by fleeing before the relationship is consummated. Their marriage is not only contracted, but consecrated. In The Winter’s Tale, Polixenes forestalls his son’s attempt to marry Perdita, even as Florizel tries to create a binding contract by having the marriage sworn in front of witnesses (4.4.390–462). The inexact nature of such contracts allows later re-interpretations to take place. Thus, Richard of Gloucester tries to make use of marital anomalies and pre-contracts to disinherit his nephews: Glou. Touch’d you the bastardy of Edward’s children? Buck. I did, with his contract with Lady Lucy And his contract by deputy in France, Th’unsatiate greediness of his desire, And his enforcement of the city wives, His tyranny for trifles, his own bastardy, As being got, your father then in France, And his resemblance, being not like the Duke. (RIII 4.7.4–11)

Edward IV’s notorious sexual appetite is combined with his own possible illegitimacy and various marital contracts in a rhetoric that seeks to justify his children’s removal from the path to the throne. Such rhetoric is highly suggestive of the tricks that could be used retrospectively by those in power to justify their actions. (c) Amussen (1988) details the importance of marriage contracts at 104–17; see also Stone (1990), 29–32 and 221–2. Ross (1999) deals with Richard of Gloucester’s machinations regarding Edward IV’s marital status at 90–2. Heal and Holmes (1994) look at marriage negotiations and contracts among the gentry at 64–6. Jordan (1999) looks at the issue of marriage contracts in Cymbeline from 74–83.

coronation The ceremony by which a monarch or spouse to a monarch is crowned in full public view. The ritual involved the use of sacred oil, even in Protestant Renaissance England. This is significant because it gives the coronation a sacramental character and even a 121

coronation usurper, once fully crowned, could be considered to be king in God’s eyes because of the nature of the ceremony. At least, this could be claimed by such a person’s supporters. But a coronation could not fully erase anxieties over a controversial candidate for the honour. The response of much of the English nobility to the coronation of Margaret of Anjou and the diminishing of English power in France sets up the action at the start of 2 Henry VI, especially from 1.1.71ff. The coronation itself occurs offstage, as is so often the case with massive spectacles that would be difficult to show directly. What is important here is that while it is taking place the disaffected nobility share their concerns. Another history play that deals directly with a coronation is Henry VIII. Here the subject matter is possibly even more contentious than in the earlier play, because it involves Anne Boleyn. Unlike the previous play, there is at least a coronation procession, but the ceremony itself is reported by the Third Gentleman (4.1.62–94). The one topic that is noteworthy by its total absence is Anne Boleyn’s advanced pregnancy. The playwrights presumably do not wish to become embroiled in possible action by the censorship apparatus, so they simply leave out some of the really controversial issues associated with this part of Henry’s reign. But then many audience members would be well aware of these anyway, and so an extra-textual logic informs the play’s reception, something ironically alluded to in its contemporary title, All Is True. Anne and her predecessor were the only wives Henry accorded the accolade of a full coronation; presumably even he realized afterwards that the growing procession of women might cheapen the event. Too many coronations in quick succession would make his policies too readily available for public scrutiny. For details of Anne Boleyn’s coronation, as well as a succinct account of the controversies surrounding it, see Warnicke (1996), 124–30. See Somerset (2002), 87–91, for Elizabeth’s coronation.

coronet A small crown, inferior to that worn by royalty, denoting noble rank. In heraldry, the coronet is located between the helmet and shield, and is more or less elaborate according to the holder’s title. By extension, it can refer to any precious ornament worn round the temples, even a garland of flowers for the head. The visual emblem of a coronet provides the playwright with a useful tool to focus an audience’s attention on differentiations of rank. It also functions metaphorically in 122

coronet a particularly useful way, as Prospero notes in his description of his brother’s usurpation of his dukedom: He thinks me now incapable; confederates (So dry he was for sway) wi’th’King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend The dukedom yet unbow’d (alas, poor Milan!) To most ignoble stooping. (TEM 1.2.111–16)

In effect, Prospero’s brother stages a coup d’état with outside help from the King of Naples. The price for that help is recognition of Naples as Milan’s feudal overlord, and the condensed image of the coronet bowing to the crown emblematizes the bargain. The discrepancy in rank between the two is clear. Henry VIII furnishes another example of relative rank denoted by coronets in Anne Boleyn’s coronation procession. The elaborate description in 4.1 specifies distinctive coronets according to rank for the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and the Earl of Surrey, among others. For precise heraldic definitions of the various ranks of coronets, see MacKinnon (1975), 33 and plate 12.

corporal The lowest rank of non-commissioned officer in an army. Bardolph in 2 Henry IV and Henry V, and Nim in Henry V and The Merry Wives of Windsor, are the two corporals who appear in Shakespeare’s plays. This makes the rank seem unattractive, to say the least. Shakespeare uses them with Falstaff and his other companions to show the unglamorous side of warfare, especially its corruption. Bardolph’s recruitment techniques demonstrate an awareness of a perennial evil caused by the lack of a standing army, in 2 Henry IV (3.2.220–40). He is quite happy to take a bribe from a man who wishes to stay at home rather than be enlisted, and of course he is acting with the connivance of Sir John. Somerset (2002) notes the kind of conditions the common soldier could expect in Elizabeth’s army at 264. See also Edelman (2000), 100–1. 123

counsellor

counsellor In its widest sense, this means anyone who gives advice. Shakespeare tends to use a much more specialized meaning of a noble counsellor (or councillor, an alternative spelling also employed), probably with the Elizabethan Privy Council as the model. The most generalized usages tend to be metaphorical. They are based on the simple function of giving advice, and it is with this meaning that Paulina confronts Leontes in The Winter’s Tale: Good my liege, I come – And I beseech you hear me, who professes Myself your loyal servant, your physician, Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dares Less appear so, in comforting your evils, Than such as most seem yours – I say, I come From your good queen. (WT 2.3.53–8)

The logic that lies behind Paulina’s rhetoric is that of the faithful servitor, the one who gives correct advice as opposed to that which the (powerful) recipient wants to hear: flattery. Leontes’ immediate response is to threaten her, in ways that are reminiscent of Lear’s explosion at Kent, although Leontes does not go so far as to banish her in the same way. More often, however, the term carries a sense of immediate noble counsel, in accordance with a kind of assumed role, such as that of Gonzalo in The Tempest or Polonius in Hamlet. Helicanus in Pericles brings together this role and the kind of truthful advisory role occupied by Paulina, and Pericles himself is unusual enough as a prince to want Helicanus to continue to give him proper advice, even if it is something that he does not want to hear. The fearless adviser seems to be something of a rarity. Perhaps this is the role partly allotted to Cranmer in Henry VIII. The alternative spelling of ‘councillor’ is used in this play, especially in relation to the plot hatched against Cranmer by the Catholic elements of Henry’s inner circle of advisers. Cranmer realizes what they are up to (5.2.10–19) and is in fact delivered by Henry himself, to the discomfiture of this enemies. Weir (2001) describes the composition, size and function of Henry VIII’s Privy Council at 86–7. Brimacombe (2003) details Elizabeth’s Privy Council in his chapter on her statesmen, 44–62. 124

count

count A noble rank used in European countries other than England. The English equivalent is the term earl. Strangely enough, a woman uses the title of countess because there is no feminine equivalent of earl. Bertram in All’s Well That Ends Well holds the title of Count Rossillion. Claudio in Much Ado About Nothing is also a count. The title is of high enough prestige that a duke or king has an interest in the person who holds it, as happens in both of these plays. Shakespeare’s audience would be familiar enough with the term to accept it as a form of nobility, albeit a foreign one. For a theory of the derivation and uses of the word in the early Middle Ages, see Delbruck (1990), 303.

countess Although this is the feminine form of count, it is used to denote the wife or widow of an earl. It can also mean a woman who has status equal to that of an earl in her own right. Foreign countesses appear in several of the plays, for example Bertram’s mother in All’s Well That Ends Well, Olivia in Twelfth Night, or the Countess of Auvergne who tries to entrap Talbot in 1 Henry VI. Queen Elizabeth makes an important reference to Margaret Beaufort, mother of the man who is to become Henry VII, in Richard III: The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby, To your good prayer will scarcely say amen. Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she’s your wife And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur’d I hate not you for her proud arrogance. (RIII 1.3.20–4)

It is easy for such a detail to be overlooked by a modern audience that is unfamiliar with the bewildering array of noble characters on display in this play. But the comment would be picked up immediately by at least some of Shakespeare’s audience: Stanley, Lord Derby, is the second husband of Margaret Beaufort, mother to Henry Tudor, and Countess of Salisbury in her own right. Her piety and arrogance were legendary, and here there is a hint of Queen Elizabeth’s nervousness at her own low ancestry. But rather than admit this, she ascribes the countess’ dislike of her to proud arrogance. On the relative status of a countess, see MacKinnon (1975), 118. 125

country

country (a) The nation or state to which one belongs. Also, the word can refer to a region or area, in a narrower sense, or the countryside in general. The expression has metaphorical extensions. (b) The first meaning, of one’s nation, is easily the most common in the plays. In the English history plays its use helps point up the differences between England and France. This is the sense behind Joan of Arc’s words after she picks out the dauphin at 1 HVI 1.2.81. The same meanings occur later in the same play when she tries to get Burgundy to change sides (3.3.44). Joan’s dramatic utility is evident in the way that she emblematizes the French resurgence, despite the play’s denigration of her as a witch. The narrower connotations of a region within a nation are also quite common in the plays. Joan of Arc in 1 Henry VI again provides an example, or rather her father does when he reproaches her at 5.4.3. The same meaning is apparent when the Duchess of Gloucester receives her punishment at 2 Henry VI (2.3.12). This collocation lends itself to metaphor: Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of ? (HAM 3.1.75–81)

Hamlet’s famous phrase relies on the uncertain excitement of an age of discoveries. When these associations are yoked with the familiarity of the ‘country’, a poetic oxymoron occurs. Finally, the more generalized meaning of countryside, to which Hamlet’s soliloquy perhaps gestures in a shadowy way, is also rather frequent. King Henry uses it in his orders to the army: We would have all such offenders so cut Off; and we give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compell’d from the villages; nothing taken but paid for; none of the French upbraided or abus’d in disdainful language;

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country for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. (HV 3.6.107–13)

This comes immediately after Bardolph’s execution for stealing from a church, and focuses the audience’s attention on the change in Henry’s supposed habits from his days as jolly Prince Hal in Eastcheap. The draconian penalty shows that Henry intends to enforce strict discipline on the countryside of a nation whose throne he claims. Another way in which the term is used is in direct opposition to the city or the court: Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. (AYLI 3.2.45–51)

Corin’s rejoinder comes in the midst of competitive word play between he and Touchstone. The sentiment reflects back upon the behaviour of the various exiled courtiers, gently mocking them with its inappropriateness. These ‘country matters’ take on a further resonance in Hamlet: Ham. Do you think I meant country matters? Oph. I think nothing, my lord. Ham. That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs. Oph. What is, my lord? Ham. Nothing. (HAM 3.2.116–21)

Apart from being the most famous sexual pun in the English language, Hamlet’s riddling on nothing harks back to his deliberate linguistic obfuscations and his antic disposition. (c) For gender and class distinctions in the English regions, see Amussen (1988), 95–133. Palliser (1992) contains a chapter on politics and the nation, from 15–34. For the aristocracy’s management of their country estates, see Stone (1967), 135–59. 127

county

county A geographical division of a British country that has a certain autonomy for the purposes of administration and local government. The term was gradually adopted in English usage during the Middle Ages and more or less approximates to the native term shire, although the two are not exactly synonymous. Some counties have a specific palatinate status, which implies royal privileges or ownership. The term could also be used of metropolitan areas that were incorporated, effectively as counties in themselves. In legal terminology, the word denotes a local court. Shakespeare often uses the word in place of count, as though a count were the overlord of a county. This is oversimplification for the purposes of dramatic clarity. Those of noble rank might hold a title with a geographical or territorial basis, but the properties they owned could be located in various parts of the country. The term is also used as a quick reference to various parts of England, as at HVIII 1.2.98. In comedy, county inhabitants can be seen as unsophisticated: easy targets for the likes of Sir John Falstaff. This is the function of Shallow and Slender in 2 Henry IV and The Merry Wives of Windsor. Palliser (1992) has a useful map of England in the sixteenth century at xxiv–xxv. It shows the counties of the country, including the corporate counties.

court (a) This word has four broad groups of meanings, all of which have great social importance for life in the Renaissance. It can refer to an enclosed area within or adjacent to a building, and of course the relative wealth of the owners will be displayed by how much space is devoted to the courtyard area. Some major constructions had the word appended to their proper name, because of the prominence of court aspects in the complex (e.g. Hampton Court). The second major meaning, perhaps originally derived from the first, is the physical location of a major household or retinue. Since medieval and Renaissance monarchs often moved house for sanitary reasons, the word is very quickly attached to the establishment of the monarch as a sense of meaning in and of itself, divorced from the physical location (this includes the Roman Curia, the high court of the Catholic Church). The kind of behaviour associated with a court gives rise to the third group of meanings, when the word is used as a verb. This can mean in general to act in a courtly manner (see also courtesy), but it is often transferred to the kind of actions and postures associated with love: to court a woman. 128

court The fourth major collocation associated with the word is judicial, and its development seems to have undergone the same pattern as the regnal group of meanings, from the physical space in which legal proceedings take place, to a more abstract sense of the courts in general. Interestingly, Shakespeare never refers to a major element of English judicial life, the ecclesiastical courts. (b) The architectural meaning of the word occurs several times in the plays, mainly referring to areas reserved for specific activities, such as the tennis-court (2 HIV 2.2.18) or the guardroom of a noble fortification (AC 4.9.2). A dramatically interesting usage of the term appears in Richard II, when the rebellious lords are trying to persuade Richard to come downstairs to meet Bullingbrook (3.3.176). The most common uses are in relation to royal or other high noble courts, in several of the senses available. Most of the time these are simply indicators of location or movement towards one, but there are points picking up on some of the main plot elements of a play. For example, in All’s Well That Ends Well, the countess refers to her friends at court, her allies or affinity at 1.3.251–3. Very often, however, references to court life come when some disruption is afflicting the harmony of the court, as when Prince Hal is castigated by his father for his absences (1 HIV 3.2.35). Many modern performances set up the court–Falstaff opposition in the two Henry IV plays not just in the terms posed by the Prince, but as a kind of implicit critique of the reality that lies behind the courtly façade. Hal, of course, triumphs and Falstaff and his friends are ultimately silenced, but the memory of their comedy up to that point remains intact. Serious internal discord at court is one of the main strands of meaning associated with the term. This is very much the case in the Henry VI plays: But howsoe’er, no simple man that sees This jarring discord of nobility, This shouldering of each other in the court, This factious bandying of their favourites, But that it doth presage some ill event. ’Tis much, when sceptres are in children’s hands; But more, when envy breeds unkind division: There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. (1 HVI 4.1.187–94)

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court Exeter’s soliloquy uncovers the underlying tensions at the court of Henry VI; moreover, it hints at exactly the kinds of faction fighting that were current at the court of Elizabeth I (almost presaging the Essex Rebellion). What matters here is not that individual nobles are prone to faction, but that the court system itself fosters it. And when there is no firm authority at the top to keep the seething mass under control, then trouble will inevitably follow. Exeter’s acknowledgment of the importance of the Duke of York in these circumstances is crucial in focusing audience attention on the developing relationship between York and Lancaster as the king begins to move out of his minority. But the magnetic attraction and importance of the court cannot be ignored even as one acknowledges its attendant vices: Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir? Shal. Yea, Davy, I will use him well. A friend i’ th’court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy, for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite. (2 HIV 5.1.29–33)

Shallow has of course been taken in by Falstaff’s assumption that the accession of Henry V will mean his own preferment at court. Davy does make some sarcastic remarks about Falstaff’s crew, and Shallow good-humouredly tolerates this from his servant. So there is a sense in which Shallow hopes that he also can manipulate the situation to some advantage, by following in Falstaff’s wake. Even so, Shallow is aware of the nature of the fat knight’s entourage. A view of gentry life that does not become embroiled in court politics is given just before the rebel Cade is discovered: Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? This small inheritance my father left me Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others’ waning, Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy. Sufficeth that I have maintains my state And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. (2 HVI 4.10.16–23)

Of course, Iden is lucky enough to have been left an inheritance that 130

court will permit him to live at ease without needing to struggle. For others, the court beckons with wealth and office, albeit in a kind of lottery, and one profits only at others’ expense. When discussed in relation to the later context of Renaissance performance, there is perhaps also a slight hint of the appropriate behaviour of a recusant; Iden’s generosity to the poor is Catholic in nature. While this would be expected at the time of Henry VI, its appearance in an Elizabethan play does perhaps hint at the safest way for Catholic gentry to behave – by keeping well away from court, and so also by keeping their heads down. He also receives extra reward, by being the one who brings Cade’s body to the court. Even the heads of state are not immune from court faction fighting. Its results, although not necessarily its processes, are very much to the fore in As You Like It: Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? (AYLI 2.1.1–4)

These are Duke Senior’s first words in the play. His court in exile appears in the form of Robin Hood’s merry men, a convenient visual metaphor for his new status. Perhaps his egalitarian rhetoric might raise a wry smile; after all, he has no choice now but to rely on these men as brothers. A narrative patterning occurs as this scene is followed immediately afterwards by his younger brother’s response to the news of the abscondment of Celia and Rosalind from his court: Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be. Some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. (AYLI 2.2.1–3)

Because he achieved the duchy by faction followed by a coup, the younger man automatically assumes that something similar is going on his own court. The play goes on to resolve the various tensions it raises by conveniently having Duke Junior resign his cares and become a hermit; perhaps the comedic resolution does not fully efface issues of the magnitude of these. 131

court There are many plays in which problems with the court provide major structuring elements for the play as a whole. This is true of the pre-play action in As You Like It; it is even more the case in plays such as Cymbeline: Did you but know the city’s usuries, And felt them knowingly; the art o’th’court, As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb Is certain falling, or so slipp’ry that The fear’s as bad as the falling; (CYM 3.3.45–9)

Belarius is hardly a neutral onlooker, but his acerbic commentary does ring true with what the audience has already seen of Cymbeline’s court. The comparison between the rustic but healthy lives of the two princes cannot but be compared to the detriment of the court; their return at the end of the play will help to rejuvenate the latter. A similar comparison operates between the active court of Henry V and its French counterpart in that play: Dol. To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls. Exe. He’ll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe; (HV 2.4.129–33)

Here it is the Dolphin (Dauphin) who is out of control – he sends his own ambassadors, rather than them coming from his father. The incident of Exeter’s embassy has just been preceded by a dramatization of the conflicts within the French court over policy towards this new King of England, which of course conveniently renders England more united by direct opposition. The play even goes so far as to make the Southampton plot seem like an aberration, caused by French gold. Many of Shakespeare’s audience would be aware that this is a fabrication, some because of an educated knowledge of English history, and others because of the prior staging of the later events of Henry VI’s reign caused by his father’s irruption into France. The instabilities caused in England by the Lancastrian usurpation are not so easily effaced. 132

court Such comparisons are by no means located only between the courts of rival countries. Sometimes they are used to denote an internal regime change: This admiration, sir, is much o’th’savour Of your other new pranks. I do beseech you To understand my purposes aright, As you are old and reverend, should be wise. Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires, Men so disorder’d, so debosh’d and bold, That this our court, infected with their manners, Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel Than a grac’d palace. Be then desir’d By her, that else will take the thing she begs, A little to disquantity your train, And the remainders that shall still depend, To be such men as may besort your age, Which know themselves and you. (KL 1.4.237–52)

Goneril’s biting words to her father employ a tone and vocabulary of relative rank – and he is the inferior. She begins by addressing him as ‘sir’ rather than anything higher, and then uses the royal plural to assert her authority over her father the king. She goes on to leave him in no doubt that her request is in fact an order. She is easily capable of taking that which she is currently asking for, and demands that he remove the younger men from his followers. There is more to this than a relative harping on rank differentiations. One hundred knights and squires in constant attendance is a very considerable and expensive military force to maintain, especially when Lear has in fact given away all royal power. This point and its attendant subtleties of class distinction would certainly not be lost on an audience well versed in popular histories of the Wars of the Roses and the ongoing struggle by the Crown to emasculate the high nobility and their followings. Lear is still thinking in terms of feudal kingship, in which the presence of the king is the guarantee of authority; Goneril’s court has a more abstract, subtle and even Machiavellian air to it. So does that of her sister. Lear’s inability to understand that the concept of royal authority and the court is subject to historical change parallels the wishful thinking of the courtiers in Love’s Labour’s Lost: 133

court Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; Our court shall be a little academe, Still and contemplative in living art. (LLL 1.1.12–14)

But the real world interrupts soon enough in the forms of the Princess of France and her ladies, and the obligations of receipt of an embassy and courtly marriage render Ferdinand’s intentions absurd. The ladies of France are paying court in one sense in Love’s Labour’s Lost; in another, the men pay court to them. The third of our main meanings may well derive from the second, royal or noble one. Attendance at court requires the interested suppliant to behave in a subservient, courteous manner, and this linkage with courtly love may supply the transference of meaning to the act of courtship. This is probably the most easily available of the word’s meanings to a modern audience, although in Shakespeare it is not restricted to love alone. Even so, a love context supplies most of the term’s usages with this kind of meaning. This is very much the case from the outset in The Taming of the Shrew: Gentlemen, importune me no farther, For how I am firmly resolv’d you know: That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter Before I have a husband for the elder. If either of you both love Katherina, Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. (TS 1.1.48–54)

Baptista says this while Lucentio and Tranio are standing by, thus drawing them immediately into the tangled love plot. A similar usage to this one occurs in Much Ado About Nothing: What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light, who in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incens’d me to slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments, how you disgrac’d her when you should marry her. (MA 5.1.232–9)

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court The imposture to which Borachio refers here is usually shown in modern productions as much more than courting. In the play it is unseen by the audience but modern directors seem to feel that it needs updating for the needs of a different culture’s visual imagination. The fact that it is not directly shown marks it off as problematic for a Renaissance audience – they are well aware that incorrect versions of the truth are common in the drama, especially in a play that is full of incidents of incorrect overhearing and seeing. The fourth of our groups of meaning has to do with the law. The lawmaking body is parliament, and its status as such is noted by the phrase ‘court of parliament’ (2 HVI 5.3.25). Other elements of the legal apparatus are referred to by means of the term, such as the Inns of Court (see Inn), being specific instances of court jurisdiction. Such is the trial scene in The Merchant of Venice (4.1). One of the most interesting law courts in Shakespeare occurs with the divorce trial scene in Henry VIII (2.4), since it was enacted by Shakespeare’s company in the Blackfriars theatre – the very room in which the trial took place. There is a parallel in the trial of Hermione in The Winter’s Tale (3.2). Perhaps the most famous court scene, however, is Lear’s insane arraignment of his daughters in the hovel (3.6). It brings together royal and legal courts in a parody of their powerlessness. (c) Picard (2004) plate 9 shows the court of a London house, giving a good idea of the architecture surrounding a courtyard at the time. For life in the royal court of Henry VIII, see Weir (2001) and Wilson (2002). Brimacombe (2003) has a chapter on Elizabeth’s court from 17–32. For courtship leading to marriage, see Amussen (1988), 70–2, and again from 109–16. Palliser (1992) has a chapter on Government, Law and Order from 348–79. On the performance history of Henry VIII, see McMullan (2002), 9.

courtesan Feminine form of courtier. As with so many feminized versions of imported words, this one has extremely negative connotations when compared with the masculine term. It can mean not simply a woman of the court, but a woman who evinces all the worst traits of court life: a prostitute, albeit perhaps one of relatively high social rank. Interestingly enough, Shakespeare only uses the word ‘prostitute’ as a verb. 135

courtesan Bianca in Othello is described as a courtesan who is in love with Cassio. The implication is that she is some kind of strumpet, or at least has the reputation of being one. At least this is Iago’s view. However, she seems steadfast in her love for Cassio, so perhaps as is so often the case, the audience should not take Iago at face value. But what matters in this play is public reputation, and the fact that Cassio gives Desdemona’s talismanic handkerchief to a woman who is vulnerable to this charge helps Iago to fuel Othello’s murderous rage. In The Comedy Of Errors one of the minor roles that adds to the confusion over identity is that of a courtesan, who is the mistress of one of the long-lost twins both named Antipholus. She makes several appearances in the play, and is explicitly located in the courtesan’s house called ‘The Porcupine’, clearly a brothel. The seductive wiles of courtesans expert in the ways of the court are well enough known. In Cymbeline Imogen is incapable of understanding that there could be any reason for Posthumus’ rage against her, and ascribes it to some courtesan’s influence: Pis. It cannot be But that my master is abus’d. Some villain, Ay, and singular in his art, hath done you both This cursed injury. Imo. Some Roman courtezan? Pis. No, on my life. (CYM 3.4.119–23)

Her automatic assumption is interesting, and throws the charge back at Posthumus himself. The underlying logic is impeccable: if he is capable of thinking in terms of sexual corruption, then he himself might be sexually corrupt. Of course, Imogen is careful not imply that this is necessarily any doing of Posthumus himself, but the results of some courtesan’s effect upon him. For a sympathetic analysis of Bianca’s role in Othello, see Jardine (1996) at 25 and 30. She also references the ecclesiastical courts that functioned in cases of sexual defamation.

courtesy (a) The code of behaviour appropriate to one who is associated with the court. Our modern meaning of one who behaves 136

courtesy elegantly and politely is descended from the socially more precise associations of the word in the Renaissance. (b) King Henry IV recounts to his son his own courtly behaviour during the reign of Richard II. He explicitly contrasts this with that king’s own inappropriate behaviour: And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, And dress’d myself in such humility That I did pluck allegiance from men’s hearts, Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, Even in the presence of the crowned King. Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, My presence like a robe pontifical, Ne’er seen but wond’red at, and so my state, Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast, And wan by rareness such solemnity. (1 HIV 3.2.50–9)

This is an extremely important statement of what constitutes courtesy, or courtliness. The adoption of a grave guise invites inevitable comparison with a king who burns brightly and courts popularity at the expense of consistent, guarded behaviour. The entirely different conduct of Richard II that King Henry goes on to elaborate works so much to King Richard’s detriment that support shifts towards Henry of Lancaster in an inexorable tide. Several things are happening here. First of all, it is clear from the speech itself and its context that Henry’s behaviour is a politic choice, in metaphorical terms a set of clothing that he adopts. Secondly, it demeans the king, who is in fact supposed to be the fount and guarantor of courteous behaviour: precisely what defines this behaviour is in a state of disarray. Potential for change opens up a shift in who is arbiter of courtesy. And, thirdly, it masks the stark underlying political reality that causes the king’s downfall: his behaviour is deemed unkingly by the nobility, and they rebel. There is also the fact of self-protection on the part of the rebellious aristocracy: by banishing Henry of Lancaster and then depriving him of his patrimony while he is abroad, the king becomes a tyrant rather than a monarch, and his capricious behaviour alienates the nobility. Rather than find out the hard way who is next on Richard’s list, they band together to destroy him. In 137

courtesy other words, courteous behaviour is a mask for intrigue and betrayal. As a counter to Henry’s justification, it could be argued that Richard is in fact acting as a king, but one who is more absolutist in his rule than a feudal state system will allow, and it is this historical tension that leads to his destruction: if Henry of Lancaster did not lead a successful rebellion, someone else would have done so. Additionally, Henry himself was well known during his own lifetime as a political schemer, a calculating specialist in the arts of intrigue; this is exactly what led to the massive and constant disturbances that took place during his reign, planting the seeds of the Wars of the Roses. The sense of hypocrisy that haunts the courteous façade is also noted by Imogen in Cymbeline: O Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! (CYM 1.1.83–5)

Her epigrammatic definition of her stepmother comes from an acute awareness of her own vulnerability. It is not certain for how long before the play begins that this queen has been married to Imogen’s father. However, the queen makes it abundantly clear that she sees Imogen as the path to power for her son via marriage. When it turns out that Imogen will not change Posthumus for Cloten, she instead resolves to eliminate the princess by murder, leaving Cloten as the only possible successor to Cymbeline’s throne. Such machinations concealed behind courtesy seem to be commonly associated with the term when high politics are involved. (c) See Elias (1994), 56–67, for Renaissance concepts of courtesy and appropriate behaviour. The second book in the same volume theorizes the emerging struggle between king and nobility, or absolutism and feudalism, from 265–9.

courtier (a) A person who attends, or frequents, the court of a sovereign. There is usually a hint of corruption or at least flattery about such a personage, and the word is often used metaphorically to invoke the vices of the court. 138

courtier (b) Claudius uses the expression as part of his attempt to get Hamlet to stay at court (probably so that he can keep an eye on him): You are the most immediate to our throne, And with no less nobility of love Than that which dearest father bears his son Do I impart toward you. For your intent In going back to school in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire, And we beseech you bend you to remain Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. (HAM 1.2.109–17)

The audience has seen just prior to this court scene that there is some serious problem at the highest reaches of the Danish state. By committing incest by affinity Gertrude and Claudius have interposed Claudius between Hamlet and the succession – Danish matrilineal law requires a man who would be king to be either the son of a queen, or married to one. Presumably old Hamlet attained the crown by means of marriage to Gertrude, and here is his brother having done the same. Such subtleties may not be easily available to every member of Shakespeare’s audience; nevertheless, it is clear that something is not quite right. Claudius here plays the consummate courtier himself with his honeyed words, and this sets up warning signals immediately. Claudius cannot afford the heir to the throne to be out of the country, but there is already a suspicion that there is more to his motivation than is immediately apparent. As the play progresses it becomes gradually clear that courtiers here represent some of the worst kinds of behaviour. Characters such as Rosencrantz, Guildenstern and Osric emblematize the issues at stake. Autolycus in The Winter’s Tale sums up what it is to be a proper courtier, and to behave like one: Shep Are you a courtier, an’t like you, sir? Aut. Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? Hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? Receives not thy nose court-odour from me? Reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt? Think’st thou, for

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courtier that I insinuate, that toze from thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier cap-à-pe, and one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there; whereupon I command thee to open thy affair. (WT 4.4.729–38)

Autolycus insinuates himself between the old shepherd and his business at court. He senses a potentially lucrative opportunity, and in effect offers to act as some kind of go-between. His proof of his courtly identity is to demonstrate courtly contempt for the shepherd’s inferior status. This seems to confirm his position in the old man’s eyes, presumably because that is exactly how courtiers are expected to behave. In As You Like It Touchstone elaborates a similarly unpleasant view of the figure of the courtier: Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the forest. He hath been a courtier, he swears. Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure, I have flatt’red a lady, I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy, I have undone three tailors, I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. (AYLI 5.4.40–7)

Effectively, Touchstone says, accept me as a courtier because I have been a hypocrite, defaulted on my bills, and quarrelled violently as often as possible. He employs the fool’s prerogative, an inverted logic that allows him to speak the truth with startling, if acerbic, plainness. This play’s view of the courtier is not a neutral one. (c) Elias (1994) provides a sociological explanation for the changes that produce courtiers from 451–3. Gurr (1996) provides some information on courtiers’ (he uses the term ‘gallants’) attendance at plays at 67–8.

creditor A person to whom one is in debt. This can take the form of money or property, or both. The amount owed usually has a time period, by the end of which it should be paid off. The basis for the 140

creditor agreement between the two parties is usually noted in some form of written document, and lawsuits can result. Perhaps the most famous creditor in dramatic literature is Shylock. The nature of his contract with Antonio is unusual, to say the least. Not in terms of its commercial logic, but the penalty to be paid should Antonio default. The merchant himself notes this: These griefs and losses have so bated me That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh To-morrow to my bloody creditor. Well, jailer, on. Pray God Bassanio come To see me pay his debt, and then I care not! (MV 3.3.32–6)

Antonio’s resignation to his fate has puzzled many commentators, although of course it could be explained by the contemporary psychology of the melancholic. Amussen (1988) details credit practices with examples from 152–5.

crest Ornamentation (originally plumes of horsehair) worn on top of a war helmet for purposes of identification. In heraldry, the usage is specific to a family or individual and refers not only to headgear but also as part of a coat of arms. The crest can also be used separately to denote ownership, for example on a seal. A classic instance of the crest on a knight’s helmet comes in the history plays, and concerns Warwick ‘the Kingmaker’, probably the most famous non-royal nobleman of the Wars of the Roses, at 2 HVI 5.1.202–3. There are obvious figurative uses, and a good example can be found at LLL 4.3.252. MacKinnon (1975) gives the heraldic rules for crests at 24–6.

crossbow A relatively powerful bow fired at the horizontal, with a mechanical winding apparatus for loading. Because the weapon is loaded and fired more easily (although more slowly) than a conventional bow of the more traditional kind, its usefulness in terms of penetrating power and range led to its eclipsing conventional bows in medieval warfare. This was helped by the ease with which anyone could 141

crossbow be trained to use it, as opposed to the practice necessary for archery, especially with the longbow. At one point the medieval church banned it, since anyone carrying a crossbow could potentially kill someone of high social status. The gamekeepers who capture King Henry in 3 Henry VI (3.1.) are carrying crossbows. Just before they find Henry they are seen bickering about who has the clearer shot, as well as the noise the weapon makes when it is fired. See Norman and Pottinger (1985) for discussions about the crossbow at 31, 50–2, 70–1 and 96–7. See also Edelman (2000), 105–7.

crown (a) An encircling ornament worn around the crown of the head. More specifically, the diadem worn by a monarch. Historically, a wreath of victory, a usage derived from the athletic games of Greece and Rome. In symbolic terms, the word can be used to refer to the authority or domain associated with a ruler who wears a crown. By extension, in general terms it means summit or height. (b) The importance of the associations of a crown makes the use of an emblematic stage prop very attractive. This enables the drama to reinforce the importance of what is being enacted, as occurs in 2 Henry IV (4.5). In this scene the waning king sleeps with the crown by his pillow; his errant son Prince Henry thinks he has died and takes up the crown. When the king awakes, he thinks the worst of his son, but the latter’s admission of error leads to a final reconciliation between them. This is crucial to the Second Tetralogy in several respects. Firstly, it enables the dying king to admit to his son the troubles caused him by the way he gained the throne himself, thus opening the way for questioning of his authority and outright rebellion. It also enables the playwright to dramatize a final promise from the prince to his father that he will heed his words and be very careful himself when he becomes king in turn. And, thirdly, it enables the play emblematically to reinforce the historical importance of what is here transpiring. The visual impact of the sequence of events in this scene plays upon the audience’s awareness that these are the historical roots of the subsequent Wars of the Roses. The dramatic economy of the image of the crown condenses a whole series of connotations that would otherwise need to be expounded at great length. 142

crown A similar dramatic utility is achieved in the famous scene of the ‘crowning’ of the Duke of York with a paper mockery by Margaret of Anjou in 3 HVI 1.4.96ff. This provides something more than simply an opportunity for the Lancastrians to triumph over their enemy. The excessiveness of their actions also shows that their house is easily as capable of atrocity as their opponents in the Wars of the Roses. The play is very careful to ensure that the deeds are those of Margaret and Clifford, all done in the name of King Henry VI. His extreme weakness is obvious, but so too is the inappropriateness of a woman and a relatively low-status nobleman taking on full royal prerogative and acting in this manner. The anti-French sentiment directed against Margaret is also simmering away at this point. As with the historically earlier incident in 2 Henry IV, the emblematic importance of the crown allows the audience to concentrate upon a number of associations simultaneously. The final culmination of the whole history of the Wars of the Roses comes with the visual cues demonstrated by the crown at the end of Richard III (5.5) as Stanley presents Richmond with the crown he has taken from the dead brows of Richard. The easy identification of the crown as a symbol for monarchical power also makes it available for caricature: Prince. Do thou stand for my father and examine me upon the particulars of my life. Fal. Shall I? Content. This chair shall be my state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown. Prince. Thy state is taken for a join’d-stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown! (1 HIV 2.4.376–82)

The famous parody of royal authority that follows relies, as does all parody, on a shared awareness of the conventions being subjected to ridicule. These are so well known that they give great scope to the performance of one of the major scenes in the recurring low-life elements of the play. The close structural correspondence with life at court enables the play to suggest alternatives to the assumed world of that court, particularly when it comes to the two crucial pillars of ceremonial and warfare. There does not have to be a stage prop crown present in the performance; the word’s connotations allow it to stand in as a recurring 143

crown symbol of royal authority, as at RII 4.1.132–47. This passage, the Bishop of Carlisle’s prophecy of civil strife, may have been written for him in retrospect, but the events he foresees are well known to Shakespeare’s audience, many of whom will have already seen the First Tetralogy. It also provides an alternative view to the rosy propaganda of the House of Lancaster and, incidentally, their supposed descendants, the Tudors. The verb ‘to crown’ resonates in this context with the sacred authority of kingship, since an important part of the coronation was the sacramental anointing. The bishop is thus speaking with considerable authority as a man of the church. His speech also relies for some of its rhetorical force on the sense in which a truly anointed king is incapable of being fully divested of his royal status: once anointed, always anointed. And for a usurper then to be anointed dangerously debases the currency of kingship and its status as well. The division between houses mentioned by the bishop is a reference to Richard already having proclaimed Mortimer to be his heir, as next most senior Plantagenet in the right of succession. This is crucial, because Mortimer will in turn bequeath his right in the next generation to Richard of York; hence the Wars of the Roses. Such complexities resonate throughout the history plays; they are explained in some detail as the reason for the Percy rebellion in 1 Henry IV (1.3.155–7). Henry IV himself recognizes the dubiety of his claim: The hope and expectation of thy time Is ruin’d, and the soul of every man Prophetically do forethink thy fall. Had I so lavish of my presence been, So common-hackney’d in the eyes of men, So stale and cheap to vulgar company, Opinion, that did help me to the crown, Had still kept loyal to possession, And left me in reputeless banishment, A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. (1 HIV 3.2.36–45)

King Henry’s admonishment to his son carries with it a political lesson: do not be too free with your person. It also notes that if he had acted the way his son does, general opinion would have remained loyal to the possessor of the crown, the rightful King Richard. What these plays demonstrate, however, is that times change, and what was politically 144

crown advisable for him turns out not to be the case for his son. The result of the House of Lancaster’s usurpation has been a series of rebellions; Henry IV has spent his entire reign fighting to defend the crown he took from his predecessor. But his son realizes that his techniques need to be different, which is why he studies what the less exalted members of society think and believe. It is also the reason he will use an opportunistic war against France to distract people’s minds from domestic turmoil. Henry senior was politic in his choices; his son will be at least equally so in his, although the tenor of them will be different: ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’ (2 HIV 3.1.31) is the father’s definition of his own reign. The precise details of the alternative claim to the throne are rehearsed in 2 Henry VI (2.2). Here the Duke of York gives a genealogy of his rights, as well as mentioning the Mortimer line. Typically, Warwick the ‘Kingmaker’ cuts through the verbiage: What plain proceedings is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son, York claims it from the third; Till Lionel’s issue fails, his should not reign. It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee, And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. (2 HVI 2.2.53–8)

There is something of a standard joke here, one that occurs in the plays whenever the high nobility wish to repeat their convoluted claims to power. But the gist of it is given by Warwick: if one accepts Richard of York’s lineage, then he has a stronger claim to the crown than Henry VI. The House of York has precedence over Lancaster because it is senior in descent from Edward III. The kind of claim presented here cuts across the logic of kingly sacredness; after all, the House of Lancaster itself achieved the throne by usurping the place of an anointed king. Anxieties about descent and lawful claims to the crown occur in many other plays. In Cymbeline, the situation is made more complex by the relatively precarious hold the ruling dynasty has on the throne. The reason for this is the assumed deaths of the king’s two sons, leaving his line wholly in the person of his daughter, Imogen, as the queen notes: But for her, Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seiz’d her;

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crown Or, wing’d with fervour of her love, she’s flown To her desir’d Posthumus. Gone she is To death or to dishonour, and my end Can make good use of either. She being down, I have the placing of the British crown. (CYM 3.5.59–65)

The queen’s logic could be challenged, as the audience will already be well aware. There have already been hints of the nobility’s contempt for the presumed beneficiary of the queen’s plotting, her son Cloten, even as they serve him as courtiers. But she does have the advantage of having beguiled the king himself, so it is clear that she is capable of working towards this end. And, being his wife, with a son from a previous marriage, the impetus towards a patriarchal settlement would work in Cloten’s favour. This may in fact be the real root of her hostility towards Rome; she knows that dealings with such a powerful empire will tend inevitably to Britain being subsumed, thus destroying her own dynastic ambitions. She has been actively promoting Cloten as a husband for Imogen, but she also realizes that removing Imogen entirely could be just as useful. There is, of course, a third option: She did confess she had For you a mortal mineral, which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life, and ling’ring, By inches waste you. In which time she purpos’d, By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O’ercome you with her show; and in time (When she had fitted you with her craft) to work Her son into th’ adoption of the crown; But failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless desperate, open’d (in despite Of heaven and men) her purposes; repented The evils she hatch’d were not effected; so Despairing died. (CYM 5.5.49–61)

Unlike many other Shakespearean villains, this one does not repent of the evils she has caused (see for example Edmund in King Lear). She dies because she despairs of the ruin of her plans, in the convenient custom of offstage resolution. Even so, the danger she has posed raises issues 146

crown pertinent to the state of Britain at the time the play was written. There were of course the memories of the uncertainties of succession that plagued the Tudors, particularly the lack of issue from another queen, Elizabeth I of England. But there may also be a serious anxiety about the destructive power of faction fighting, something Cymbeline’s court has been subject to ever since the days when Belarius was a courtier. By displacing these concerns onto a distant semi-mythical past, the play manages to dramatize them while at the same time avoiding potentially seditious matters. The same kind of techniques appear in Julius Caesar, coincidentally another play that deals with the emergence of empire. Crown imagery is a recurring motif in this play, picking up on the well-known aversion of the Romans to royalty, a longstanding tradition that dates back to the expulsion of the Etruscans and the beginning of the Republic. Caesar is the man who more than anyone else was responsible for the final erosion of that Republic, and his heir Octavius will become the first Roman emperor. However, even Augustus (as he becomes) is very careful when assuming his new, imperial dignity: he gives himself the modest title of princeps, First Citizen, from which our word prince is derived. The career of Julius Caesar is thus a turning point in Western history, and the issue for the Roman senators is whether or not he will capitalize upon his supreme personal power by becoming a king in name: I can as well be hang’d as tell the manner of It: it was mere foolery, I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown – yet ’twas not a crown neither, ’twas one of these coronets – and as I told you, he put it by once; but for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offer’d it to him again; then he put it by again; but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offer’d it the third time; he put it the third time by; and still as he refus’d it, the rabblement howted, and clapp’d their chopp’d hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, and utter’d such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refus’d the crown, that it had, almost, chok’d Caesar, for he swounded and fell down at it; and for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. ( JC 1.2.235–50)

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crown Several major issues are encapsulated in this speech. First of all, it is a representation of offstage events, and such are almost never neutral. In these plays, those who relate usually have their own agenda, and a Renaissance audience is very aware of this possibility. Secondly, Casca says that he does not think the episode to be of much importance; in his malcontented way, he describes it in mocking terms. Thirdly, the crown or coronet that is offered to Caesar could in fact be interpreted as a wreath of victory, a common enough tradition in Roman history; it does not necessarily imply royalty at this point. All this imprecision of definition is very important because it points up the central issue of Caesar’s ambition. And, fourthly, Casca’s class bias is easily evident, with his patrician disdain for the ‘rabblement’. There is a hint here of Caesar’s power deriving not only from the military, but also from his prestige amongst the population at large, as distinct from his dealings with the senators. All of these matters are emblematized by the image of a crown and its importance is repeated when Cassius and Casca meet in the streets of Rome during the next scene: Indeed, they say, the senators to-morrow Mean to establish Caesar as a king; And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, In every place, save here in Italy. (JC 1.3.85–8)

Following the logic of the representation of offstage events, a question arises here: who says this? Is mere rumour going to be enough to justify what Cassius and the others end up planning? At the very least, the uncertainty at the heart of the charge of ambition lays it open to interpretation: it is absolutely crucial to the play that Caesar acts as some sort of monarch because of his pre-eminence, and also that he himself never speaks about his supposed craving for royal status. Not only does this make his motivation open to definition by others, it does so in such a way that will drive forward the play’s political and military events. Brutus picks up on the problem of the crown in his musings in soliloquy: It must be by his death; and for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him,

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crown But for the general. He would be crown’d: How that might change his nature, there’s the question. It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, And that craves wary walking. Crown him that, And then I grant we put a sting in him That at his will he may do danger with. ( JC 2.1.10–17)

Members of the audience versed in Roman history will note several problems with Brutus’ reasoning. His assertion that ‘He would be crown’d’ has not been borne out in the play by anything Caesar himself has said, or been seen directly to prefer. Brutus can therefore be seen already to be swaying towards what seems to be a general assumption about Caesar’s ambition that is not necessarily the case. Also, as a member of the line that was responsible for driving out the Etruscan Tarquins, Brutus has a name that reverberates throughout the history of the Republic in relation to opposition to kingship. Caesar was in fact relatively liberal towards the senatorial enemies he defeated in his struggle for supreme power with Pompey and his supporters, many of whom will in fact constitute the conspiracy against him. Caesar was magnanimous in victory over his fellow Romans by sparing their lives, unlike the bloodletting that took place in the previous generation between Marius and Sulla. Caesar’s avowed intent was to settle affairs peacefully in Rome and then turn eastwards with an army to finish off Rome’s enemies the Parthians. But rather than be grateful for being spared, as well as for the opportunities for personal military glory such an enterprise would afford, the senators turn against the traditional Roman attack on an enemy in favour of more faction fighting. This could certainly be interpreted as a sign of decay at the heart of the ruling class. Brutus’ rhetoric in the soliloquy has the effect of personalizing the issue in terms of Caesar’s ambition, while ignoring the wider political context and its ramifications. In this respect his reasoning is rendered specious, and his lack of political subtlety will go on to produce drastic results for the conspirators after Caesar’s death. These consequences will not have been lost on a contemporary audience: this is what happens when the succession to supreme power in the state is not settled, and various factions are vying for control. In fact, the play goes even further than this when Decius, one of the 149

crown conspirators, arrives at Caesar’s house to conduct him to the senate on the fateful day of the Ides of March: And know it now: the Senate have concluded To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar. (JC 2.2.93–4)

Caesar has just told Decius that his wife Calpurnia has had a prophetic dream and on the basis of this dream he has decided not to go forth that day. The context supplies some more information: as pontifex maximus, official head of Rome’s state religion, Caesar is supposed to be able to interpret such dreams. Decius reinterprets the dream as part of his strategy to get Caesar to leave for the senate, and sweetens the pill by announcing the news that the senate has decided to offer him a crown. This could of course simply be yet another crown of victory. But there is a further, more subtle point to be made: if Brutus was correct, and Caesar is already intending to be crowned, why then does Decius need to tell him this news? Surely he already knows it? But of course if he does not, then the argument about his ambition is going to be very empty indeed. These uncertainties will be important for Mark Antony in his speech at Caesar’s funeral when he recounts his failed attempts to have Caesar accept a ‘kingly crown’ on the Lupercal (3.2.96). All of this displacement of contemporary Renaissance concerns about succession to the crown is dramatically very effective and successful. Caesar’s relation to Octavius is almost exactly the same as that between Elizabeth I and James VI of Scotland. Moreover, the play is produced at the end of the sixteenth century amid almost millennial speculation about the end of the Elizabeth’s reign. Subsequent history under the Stuarts will demonstrate that the anxieties surrounding the crown should not be underestimated. (c) The political situation that led Richard II to declare Edmund Mortimer heir to the crown is detailed in Bevan (1990), 137. The relationship between this fact and the Lancastrian usurpation is dealt with at 156–7. Weir (1998) devotes a chapter to the succession of the House of Lancaster and Henry IV’s propaganda machine from 40–54. At 156–73 she narrates Richard of York’s growing disenchantment with the government of Henry VI and the rising tide that lead to the Wars of the Roses. Bennett (1997) describes the dubious lineage and claims 150

crown of Henry Tudor at 58–60. The succession of James of Scotland to Elizabeth’s crown is explored in Stone (1967), 41–6. Parker (1996) explores the consequences of the reversed order of the two Tetralogies for audience foreknowledge at 36–45. Marcus (1998) situates Cymbeline in relation to the emergence of the British nation state due to the union of the crowns and the accelerating drive towards empire. Liebler (1995) analyses Caesar’s monarchical behaviour and the consequential fears it arouses in others at 105–6. For comparisons between Caesar and Elizabeth I, see Sohmer (1999), 55.

cullion A term of abuse: a rascal, or vile person. Probably derived from a medieval usage meaning ‘testicle’. Margaret of Anjou insults some petitioners to the Lord Protector by calling them ‘base cullions’ at 2 Henry VI (1.3.40); the incident points up the faction fighting at court. Fluellen uses the same word when he tries to drive Pistol and his friends to assault the breach at Harfleur in Henry V (3.2.20). Amussen (1988) gives an example of how insulting language relates to the social order at 172–4.

cur (a) A dog. Although the word does not necessarily always carry the negative connotations it has in modern usage, it is beginning to shade in that direction in the Renaissance. By extension, it is used as an insult. In the period’s hierarchy of animal traits, dogs rank pretty low, and so function to cast detrimental comparisons when taken metaphorically. In such instances, it denotes the rude behaviour of those from the lowest classes in society. (b) An example of a relatively neutral use of the word occurs in the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew at Ind.1.17. The Lord who enters with his hounds simply describes one of them as a cur, but it is not meant as a demeaning term. More often, however, the expression carries abusive overtones. The double-act of Launce and his dog in The Two Gentlemen of Verona provides a comic example, especially when Launce launches into one of his diatribes to the audience. The dog is aptly named ‘Crab’ and this provides Launce with much potential for jokes (see especially 2.3.1–32). As an insult the word usually occurs when someone of high rank is 151

cur verbally abusing someone lower down the scale. A good example is when Buckingham discusses Wolsey with the other disaffected lords Aburgavenny and Norfolk: This butcher’s cur is venom’d-mouth’d, and I Have not the power to muzzle him, therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar’s book Outworths a noble’s blood. (HVIII 1.1.120–3)

Buckingham’s comment is saturated with the vocabulary of class conflict, from the reference to Wolsey’s paternity to his church-based book learning, the route of his advancement to power. In fact, as the peer notes, this man has so much power that the highest in the land are subject to his whims, and cannot do anything about it. This is often ascribed in the play to Wolsey’s pride, but of course the underlying political structure is the direct construction of the king himself: Wolsey would not have this kind of clout unless Henry needed him. A full stream of dog imagery pervades King Lear. Usually this is ascribed by critics to the overall symbolic terminology of beasts and nature in the play, but it has a very distinctive and specific class basis as well: Lear. O, you, sir, you, come you hither, sir, who am I, sir? Osw. My lady’s father. Lear. ‘My lady’s father’? My lord’s knave! You whoreson dog, you slave, you cur! (KL 1.4.78–81)

Oswald is often portrayed in performance as one of the ‘new men’ of the post-Lear regime, a fawning courtier in the mould of Osric in Hamlet. But here he shows an exceptionally shrewd awareness of precise gradations in the social scale: by giving away the reality of his power, Lear has turned himself into nothing, at least in terms of the social definitions of the system. He exists by virtue of his relationship with his daughters, which is an extremely accurate inversion of the norms of Renaissance patriarchy. It is woman who is subjected to man in the scheme, since a woman of theoretically equal rank to a man is automatically registered as his social inferior. But Lear now occupies this position in the system and, as he himself begins to realize, it effectively 152

cur effeminizes him. To Oswald, Lear is exactly ‘My lady’s father’; he certainly is no longer the king. He has no identity in his own right. The old man’s response is to vilify him in terms that smack of social abuse, including the slur of cur. This is part of a familiar recurring pattern: the more Lear loses his power, the more vitriolic his language becomes, and the more his sense of identity fails him until he goes mad. A use of dog terminology that is perhaps even more well known comes in Shylock’s ‘Rialto’ speech: You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well then, it now appears you need my help. Go to, then, you come to me, and you say ‘Shylock, we would have moneys’, you say so – You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold; moneys is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say, ‘Hath a dog money? Is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats?’ (MV 1.3.111–22)

In the case of the relationship between Antonio and Shylock, the Jewish outsider is obviously defined as the social inferior. It is this rank differentiation, based on race and religion, which permits Antonio to treat Shylock in the way he does. It is interesting to note that Antonio simply accepts Shylock’s recounting of his insults, so the implication must be that they are true. In fact, he goes on to outface the moneylender, telling him that he should be glad his old enemy is coming to him for money, because if he defaults Shylock will be able to add personal satisfaction to his power over the debtor. Shylock obviously relishes the irony, and inverts Antonio’s language back upon their current situation; beware of a spurned cur who bites back. (c) For a typical gentleman’s addiction to hunting with dogs, see Heal and Holmes (1994) at 291. For Elizabeth I’s similar interests, even in her old age, see Somerset (1997), 204–5.

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curate

curate A general clerical title often used by Protestant churches in preference to the term ‘priest’. In Shakespeare’s times the word seems to be interchangeable with parson. More recently, the word’s meanings have narrowed to mean the member of the clergy who either assists the one in charge of the parish, or who deputizes for that person when absent. There is perhaps already a sense of these associations in the Renaissance. As with so many of the lesser clergy in Shakespeare, a curate is often poorly educated or even stupid. This corresponds with the treatment meted out to minor officials in other capacities, as can be seen from the language used by Nathaniel the Curate in Love’s Labour’s Lost. Feste the Clown in Twelfth Night takes on the role of a curate in 4.2 when tormenting Malvolio. Amussen (1988) delves into some of the local countryside associations of the lower clergy from 147–51. See Hassel (2005), 78.

curtsy Derived from courtesy. A bow of respect before a social superior, now applied mainly to women. Literally, it means ‘to do courtesy’. The use of ‘curtsy’ to demonstrate relative status is not gender specific in this period. This can be seen when King Henry accuses his son during the Percy uprising: Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, Which art my nearest and dearest enemy? Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, Base inclination, and the start of spleen, To fight against me under Percy’s pay, To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, To show how much thou art degenerate. (1 HIV 3.2.122–8)

The vocabulary here is very much based on status and rank, the words carefully chosen by his father to define Prince Hal as deeply inferior to Percy. The king even accuses his son of being so degenerate that he would even fight against his own father in the pay of the Percies. In fact, the word is common enough that it can be used figuratively, as in Isabella’s soliloquy in Measure For Measure (2.4.175). It also occurs in 154

curtsy several of the plays, especially comedies, when an epilogue is spoken by one of the cast directly to the audience (see AYLI Ep. 23). Elias (1994) analyses the differences in manners between medieval and Renaissance culture and our own; see especially 164–5.

cushion A small piece of upholstery used to soften bodily contact with hard wooden furniture, sometimes as a synonym for ‘pillow’. Cushions are useful because they are not only portable, but they cost less than fully upholstered furniture. Even those with modest incomes could afford them. When Arviragus finds what he supposes to be the dead body of the page (Imogen in disguise), he says that the boy’s right cheek was ‘reposing on a cushion’ (CYM 4.2.212). So even the rough life endured by the two princes in Wales with Belarius is not entirely devoid of some basic comforts. When Helena reminds Hermia of their longstanding friendship in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, she describes the time they spent in embroidery ‘sitting on one cushion’ (AMND 3.2.205). Perhaps the most famous cushion in literature is the one Falstaff uses for a crown in his mockery of the king at 1 HIV 2.4.379. Interestingly, however, OED gives a now obsolete meaning of the word as a large drinking cup, which could in fact mean that generations of performers have got it wrong – the crown Falstaff stuck on his head in Renaissance performances may have been a large goblet. But of course that meaning would not work on stage now. Picard (2004) details the utility of cushions at 72. cutpurse A thief who specializes in the stealthy slitting of purses to get at the contents without the owner noticing. When used as an insult, it is often paired with ‘bawd’, since ‘purse’ is Renaissance slang for scrotum. ‘Cutpurse’ is one of the choice epithets bestowed on Pistol by Doll Tearsheet at 2 HIV 2.4.128. He is described in similar terms in Henry V at 3.6.62 by the English Captain, Gower. Pistol tells the audience directly later in the same play that he will take up these occupations at 5.1.86. Hamlet uses the expression figuratively to describe Claudius to Gertrude during the closet scene (HAM 3.4.99). Picard (2004) describes the one cutpurse incident (in this case, slitting a sleeve, another location for keeping valuables) at 277. 155

D dagger (a) A short, bladed weapon that can be worn conveniently and unobtrusively on the belt. Almost everyone carried some sort of knife, as an eating implement if nothing more. But in such a violent culture, explosions of a particularly dangerous kind could occur with so much pointed and edged steel available. (b) In 1 Henry VI, the Mayor of London is forced to intervene in the faction fighting between Gloucester’s supporters and those of the Cardinal. In effect, he imposes martial law: All manner of men assembled here in arms this day against God’s peace and the King’s, we charge and command you, in his highness’ name, to repair to your several dwelling-places, and not to wear, handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon pain of death. (1 HVI 1.3.74–9)

All sorts of bladed weapons, including daggers, are easy to find in this society, and the proclamation is careful to specify the various weapons by type. Cleopatra almost manages to kill herself at the first attempt by drawing a dagger, perhaps concealed, at AC 5.2.39. This episode demonstrates that it is possible for a woman to carry a knife of 156

dagger some kind, and so the availability of the weapon is not confined only to men. In Hamlet, there is a reference to a particular fighting style preferred by Laertes, ‘sword and dagger’ (5.2.145). This is in more precise terms the especially dangerous combination of rapier and main gauche, in which two pointed weapons are used at the same time. The puncture wounds inflicted were either negligible, or fatal, depending on which part of the body is struck – stab wounds to the vital organs could not be survived in this period. The technique is associated with young hotheads such as university students, and was very common in France and Italy. The frenzied multiple stabbing that kills Julius Caesar is accomplished by the use of daggers. Antony picks up on this when he shows the crowds Caesar’s bloody mantle in his funeral oration: Look, in this place ran Cassius’ dagger through; See what a rent the envious Casca made; Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb’d, And as he pluck’d his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it, As rushing out of doors to be resolv’d If Brutus so unkindly knock’d or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar’s angel. Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar lov’d him! This was the most unkindest cut of all; ( JC 3.2.174–83)

The use of the dagger requires the killers to get right up close and personal. It takes great determination to be able to carry through such a close personal assault, which means that this kind of assassination is radically different from, say, sniping at someone from long range with a crossbow. The crowds have already seen the bloody hands and arms of the killers, and Antony will go on to capitalize on the visual horror of the deed by unveiling the corpse further to incense the people. An even more well-known dagger is the one Macbeth sees (or thinks he sees) just prior to his murder of Duncan: Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee: I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

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dagger To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. (MAC 2.1.33–41)

As with parts of Julius Caesar, this speech is beloved of rote recital techniques at school, and these have the unfortunate effect of drawing even more attention to this scene at the theatre, not always in beneficial ways. This situation raises a very difficult performance problem: on stage, nothing tends to be shown, which means that the phantom dagger resides in Macbeth’s mind. On screen, there is a tendency to use special effects to show what he sees to the audience. Whatever solution is chosen, the scene becomes one of those important focal points on which a performance hangs, much like the presentation of the witches elsewhere in the same play, or the ‘To be, or not to be’ soliloquy in Hamlet. But in Renaissance performance, there is another element, one that is lost in modern performances, especially those that change the play by showing the murder directly. The murder takes place off stage for very good reasons – it was, technically, illegal to show the death of a king directly on stage. The need felt by modern screen directors in particular to show something of the deed is the direct result of a cultural shift away from the Renaissance. For a contemporary audience, this soliloquy serves to reinforce the extreme nature of the crime that Macbeth is just about to commit, the very close and personal butchering of a king’s semi-sacred flesh and blood by a dagger-wielding maniac. By shifting constantly from the mind to ‘palpable’ physicality, the speech reminds the audience of the brutal nature of this kind of attack. It is extremely important that the audience is given some insight into the way Macbeth steels himself to carry it through. As the dagger he sees gouts blood, he draws his own weapon and proceeds with the task, using gesture to reinforce the importance of the crime. All of this picks up on Macbeth’s ability to kill that has already been seen earlier in the play; it also depends for its force on the contemporary audience’s personal experience of knives and daggers. Lady Macbeth will remind her husband of all of this when she tries to get him to return to the feast after he has seen the ghost of Banquo (3.4.60–7). This audience familiarity with the weapon informs the use of daggers 158

dagger throughout the plays. This audience knows through shared social and cultural experience that someone who is prepared to use a dagger really means it. This extends to other examples of the weapon’s use in the plays such as Cleopatra’s failed suicide attempt, and Juliet’s successful one at RJ 5.3.169–70. There is also the rather vicious comedy of Twelfth Night, when poor old Sir Andrew meets and hits Viola’s brother Sebastian, only to find out the hard way just how nasty a street brawl can become (TN 25–44). (c) Ridley (2002, 2) notes changing fashions in the wearing of weapons such as the dagger at 127. For the dagger as military hardware, see Norman and Pottinger (1979), at 170–3. Palliser (1992) indicates just how widespread was ownership and availability of weapons, including knives and daggers, at 360–1.

dame Originally used when speaking to a woman of high rank, by Shakespeare’s time it can simply be used when addressing any woman. The spread in meaning is very similar to that of the French ‘Madame’ or the English ‘sir’, from personages of rank to general use. The context of the individual occurrence will dictate the nuances behind the word’s use. This is true even more so than usual in the case of words of address such as ‘dame’, and the tone can obviously vary accordingly. So when Charles of France uses it in direct speech to Joan of Arc at 1 HVI 2.1.50, he qualifies it with ‘deceitful’. Later on in the same play, Suffolk uses the same word when wooing Margaret of Anjou (5.3.124). In this case, his qualifying term is ‘fair’. He repeats his honeyed use of the word at 5.5.12 to his king, this time as a ‘lovely dame’. A scornful example occurs at 2 HVI 1.3.76, when the now Queen Margaret complains of her treatment at the hands of the Duchess of Gloucester, whom she describes as a ‘proud dame’. Margaret’s arriviste status is of course something of a major problem for the Lancastrians and their supporters, and anxiety about it is displaced by Margaret onto the duchess. A particularly violent incidence can be found at KL 5.3.155 as Albany lets Goneril know in no uncertain terms that he is aware of her treachery. Laurence (1995) provides a helpful analysis of women’s stratification according to social roles and the prevailing hierarchy at 15–16; any of these women might be addressed using the term ‘dame’. 159

dance

dance (a) Rhythmical body movements, usually accompanied by music. More specifically, an individual, usually named, succession of such movements. Many forms of dance existed, such as sailors’ dances, soldiers’ dances, and so on. As a social art, dancing was a grace expected of anyone aspiring to high social rank. The word also lends itself to more figurative uses. (b) The formal properties of dance, particularly when performed en masse, lend themselves well to incorporation into the overall dramatic structure. Thus, dance can function as a visual reinforcement of images of reconciliation and harmony, as in the dance of Oberon and Titania at AMND 4.5.84. Indeed, it is well known that several of the plays end in this manner; see As You Like It and Much Ado About Nothing. The harmonious dance convention lends itself, however, to being undercut, as indeed happens with Puck’s Epilogue to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Prospero’s interruption of his own spectacle in The Tempest at 4.1.139. The dramatic utility of dance also allows it to be used in ways that further a play’s developing plotline, as happens when King Henry in courtly disguise first meets Anne Boleyn: The fairest hand I ever touch’d! O Beauty, Till now I never knew thee! (HVIII 1.4.75–6)

This important moment is underscored by Henry’s reference to Anne’s famously beautiful long-fingered hands, something that her daughter Elizabeth proudly inherited. A similarly pivotal moment occurs when Romeo and Juliet first meet during the masque and dance party at the house of the Capulets (RJ 1.5.92ff ). Dance can also be used in a more symbolic way, cutting through the action in ways that reinforce some of the issues being dramatized. In a potentially positive manner, this is what happens with Katherine of Aragon’s vision in Henry VIII at 4.2.82. Some more sinister associations arise when the second triumvirate meets in Antony and Cleopatra (2.7). The drunken party that ensues is enlivened by Enobarbus’ suggestion that everyone dances the ‘Egyptian bacchanals’ (2.7.103). This serves to get everyone together to dance a measure, and so it should be a moment of political harmony; but the Egyptian reference 160

dance simultaneously undermines any harmony by reminding the audience of the seductive power of Egypt. Relatively negative associations are also aroused by dance in Timon of Athens at TA 1.2.131, which serves to underline the excessively ruinous hospitality Timon offers. More figurative uses of dance imagery can be found throughout the plays. A good example is Mercutio’s defiance of Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet: Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo – Mer. Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? And thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here’s my fiddlestick, here’s that shall make you dance. ’Zounds, consort! (RJ 3.1.45–9)

Mercutio typically uses wordplay to twist Tybalt’s meaning, and reinforces his aggression by referring to his rapier as a ‘fiddlestick’. The measure they go on to dance will be fatal. An even more unpleasant instance occurs when Margaret of Anjou ridicules the captive Duke of York with the death of his son: Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad; And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. (3 HVI 1.4.89–91)

This comes just before she has him crowned with a paper mockery and then helps to kill him. (c) Picard (2004) has some details on the various kinds of dancing at 241; see also Ridley (2002, 2) at 258.

debt (a) Amount borrowed from another, usually but not always in money. When lands, goods or property are concerned, the specific term is mortgage. There was a fierce debate in this period, as in medieval times, over what constituted permissible debt as opposed to usury; the definitions usually hung on the amount of interest charged. The word lends itself to figurative uses. 161

debt (b) Debts of various kinds are a source of anxiety, especially in a period that valued lands and titles more than hard cash, despite the economic facts. The kind of behaviour expected of the nobility, in particular their conspicuous consumption, had to be financed somehow, and this often led to debt situations. Falstaff’s behaviour is typically extreme, but when the law catches up with him he is ordered by the Lord Chief Justice to pay what he owes Mistress Quickly (2 HIV 2.1.118–21). The Fool’s preposterous prophecy in King Lear relies for its force on the impossibility of the conditions named. These include a time when squires and poor knights are not in debt (KL 3.2.88). One way for the nobility or even the monarch to continue to function when money is tight is to rely on their peers as opposed to taking other options: Then, Bullingbrook, as low as to thy heart Through the false passage of thy throat thou liest. Three parts of that receipt I had for Callice Disburs’d I duly to his Highness’ soldiers; The other part reserv’d I by consent, For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, Upon remainder of a dear account, Since last I went to France to fetch his queen. (RII 1.1.124–31)

This is an interesting example of the kind of thing practised by Elizabeth I. Mowbray has been accused by his opponent of illegally retaining some of the money he was supposed to pay to the king’s soldiers. His defence is that it was agreed recompense for the cost of his prior service when bringing the queen across from France. In effect, he acted as a kind of ambassador, and had to pay for it himself. The historical context supplies yet more information: the lavishness so detested by his contemporaries has reduced the king to relying on the coffers of his nobility, with promises of future repayment. When the crown’s finances are in dire straits, the underlying social contract between the king and his people via parliament is obviously in tension. The king’s own income plus whatever taxation parliament has voted him are insufficient to cover his outlays and if he is not capable of balancing his books, there is inevitably a suspicion of his competence in other areas. The dominant conception is feudal rather than monetary, but nevertheless the inescapable importance of hard cash is still there. It 162

debt is exactly this kind of profligacy that causes the downfall of Timon of Athens: What will this come to? He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer; Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this, To show him what a beggar his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt: he owes For ev’ry word. He is so kind that he now Pays interest for ’t; his land’s put to their books. (TA 191–200)

This is a direct address to the audience by Timon’s steward Flavius. Although it is set in ancient Athens, the situation is very near to Renaissance English experience: Timon has mortgaged his family estates in order to keep up his customary expenditure in Athens. And even though he does so in order to be generous to his countrymen, there is no guarantee that he will be repaid in kind when his own money runs out. Portia in The Merchant of Venice is able easily to pay the debt of her new husband’s friend (MV 3.2.306–8), but the cash value of her estate far exceeds the analogous situation that faces Timon. The ignominy that remains to the debtor can be glimpsed elsewhere in the plays: He is my prisoner; if I let him go, The debt he owes will be requir’d of me. (CE 4.4.117–18)

The officer charged with bringing a debtor to prison is in danger of paying the forfeit himself and the compound errors of the double twin plot can only add to the confusion. Figurative uses also abound in the plays, especially when some sort of favour or service needs to be returned: And shall it in more shame be further spoken, That you are fool’d, discarded, and shook off By him for whom these shames ye underwent? No, yet time serves wherein you may redeem

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debt Your banish’d honours and restore yourselves Into the good thoughts of the world again; Revenge the jeering and disdain’d contempt Of this proud king, who studies day and night To answer all the debt he owes to you Even with the bloody payment of your deaths. (1 HIV 1.3.177–86)

This is part of a long speech by Hotspur rehearsing the history of Henry of Lancaster’s rise to power; he blames his father and Worcester for supporting the deposition of Richard II, and supporting the new king. There is a historical anomaly here, since Shakespeare makes Hotspur younger than he really was in order to contrast him more dynamically with Prince Henry; in reality, Hotspur was just as important in the support network that saw to it that Richard was removed. Even so, what matters for the audience is that they are reminded of the service rendered the House of Lancaster by the Percies of the north (among others), and that his subsequent rule rankles with them. Now of course there is another side to all of this, since the first Lancastrian king could not afford simply to prefer the northern lords against everyone else at any cost. The problem Henry IV faced was how to manage a delicate balancing act in which no one faction became too powerful. But as the Percy party sees it, this is a betrayal of the fuller rewards they believe rightfully to be theirs. The subtext is that there is no guarantee that such a debt will in fact be repaid to the satisfaction of the creditors. Furthermore, the burden on a monarch to balance out the predatory interests of noble factions parallels exactly the court machinery of the Tudors and Stuarts. Such ‘debts’ are dangerous, especially when the situation erupts into open warfare. Romeo presages exactly this outcome when he finds out that the woman with whom he has fallen in love is a Capulet (RJ 1.5.117–18). The death of Siward’s son in Macbeth is also rendered in terms of debt, this time that of a soldier (MAC 5.9.5). And the assumed deficit opened up by Julius Caesar’s supposedly unending ambition is represented as a debt by Brutus immediately after the assassination ( JC 3.1.83). The very real contemporary implications of debt for Shakespeare’s audience render the term metaphorically effective. (c) Stone (1967) lists the causes of economic decay among the English Renaissance aristocracy at 76–88. He also has a well-known chapter on 164

debt conspicuous expenditure at 249–67. Picard (2004) describes the imprisonment of debtors at 285–6. For the penurious state of Walsingham’s affairs when he died, see Brimacombe (2003), 55.

decree (a) A decision emanating from the highest relevant authority. Decrees could be made verbally, but even then they would need to be more widely published so that the decision could be made known to as many people as possible. One method for this was to use the pulpit. (b) Decrees in the plays are promulgated by various different bodies. 1 Henry IV begins with the king wishing to go on crusade. He asks Westmerland what decree his council came up with to expedite matters (1.1.32–3), but hears the unwelcome news of disturbances in the kingdom. This reminds the audience of the contested nature of this king’s authority, and by extension the authority of his council. In fact, many of the plays demonstrate just such an awareness. Perhaps the most blatant example comes amidst the confusion of the Wars of the Roses (3 HVI 2.1.118), when Warwick reports that the Lancastrians have attempted to nullify the Yorkist decree in parliament. Full control over the machinery of authority is here put in question, especially when pertaining to issues of precedence. In the trial scene in The Merchant of Venice, the disguised Portia reminds everyone present of the importance of precedent in juridical practice (MV 4.1.218–19). A major area of tension is the interplay of the authority of precedence versus personal authority. This is exactly the terrain over which Julius Caesar is played out; it is notable that the pivotal moment of the dictator’s assassination comes when he acts as an absolute monarch, refusing to rescind the decree ordering the banishment of Publius Cimber (JC 3.1.49–75). The same logic occurs in Richard II, when the king interrupts the scheduled duel of honour between Mowbray and Bullingbrook (RII 1.3.118). The king’s action here has great emblematic importance for the issues dramatized by the play as a whole: he originally ordered the two noblemen to meet in judicial combat to settle their differences once and for all. But now he overrules both his own prior decision and the etiquette of the chivalric law of arms. This demonstrates not only a tendency towards absolutism, but also an irresolution that will play right into his enemies’ hands in the long run. Another occurrence can be found in Romeo and Juliet, this time in the 165

decree field of gender politics. Capulet asks his wife if she has ‘delivered to her our decree?’ (RJ 3.5.138), ordering Juliet to marry Count Paris, her parents’ choice. His vocabulary assumes massive social power, both in terms of his absolute right to decide what his daughter should do (she is still a minor), along with the use of the royal plural. Such a statement may well be extreme even by the standard of Renaissance patriarchy, but it is well in keeping with its underlying assumptions about the subjugation of women. (c) Palliser (1992) gives examples of the proclamation of royal decrees under Elizabeth I at 370–2, often using the synonym ‘ordinances’.

degree (a) A university qualification, usually in theology, philosophy, law, or the humanities (Latin and, less commonly, Greek). There is also a very specific meaning in this period of one’s precise location in the social scale. Thus, it is a synonym for rank. Later terminology such as ‘class’ and even ‘status’ does not really have the necessary accuracy associated with a person’s degree in this sense. (b) The meanings associated with ‘degree’ are so important to conservative conceptions of social stability that the alternative can seem to be nothing but chaos. Based upon a neo-platonic conception of the order of the spheres, Ulysses’ description of the cosmos at TC 1.3.85–101 assumes that a harmonious order is already in place, prior to the point at which his rhetoric will move towards the earth and earthly matters. According to him, all things have their proper places under the sun. But disorder in the cosmos signifies discord in nature on earth, and thus also, inevitably, strife in the state. The rhetorical structure of the speech is very carefully constructed so as to mirror what is in effect a chain of being. He moves on to the political effects of a break in the chain at TC 1.3.101–24. The logic of the sequence is impeccable, even inexorable. Once a degree is moved from its ‘authentic place’, the world is thrown into the topsy-turvy confusion of the carnivalesque, eventually destroying itself. Degree is here something that pre-exists the social order; the latter is thus dependent on the former. Of course, Ulysses is hardly a neutral observer, and his speech is intended to force a point, so it is possible to contest such a definition. He is himself a major beneficiary of such a system, since he is a monarch over his own 166

degree state. This conception of social order is thus produced, not revealed. But then his onstage audience is hardly likely to disagree with him, since they are all from the same ‘degree’ themselves. The speech moves on to its conclusion, away from any possible interruption, as Ulysses finally makes the points to which his long discursus has been leading: degree has been disrupted, the effects have spread throughout the forces of the Achaeans, and the result is their inability to overcome the Trojans. Agamemnon asks what the root of the problem is and the answer, following Homer, is Achilles’ unwillingness to take the field. He, according to Ulysses, will have to be dealt with if the invaders are to win this war. So the reason for Ulysses’ long description of the chain of order is now apparent, and it is, contrary to the rhetoric, a fundamentally political one. Agamemnon is the commander-in-chief of the polyglot allied attacking forces, but the main general, sanctioned by the gods, is Achilles. Many members of Shakespeare’s audience will already be aware that his military pre-eminence is crucial to the mission, not least because prophecy has required his presence. Without him, failure is certain. But the problem facing the expeditionary force now is that Achilles is refusing to follow Agamemnon’s orders (in fact he is sulking in his tents because he wanted the same woman captive taken by Agamemnon by right of his leadership). But before verbally attacking Achilles, or even defining him as the problem, Ulysses has had to construct his elaborate rhetoric so as to make his logic as unshakeable as possible: his almost divine conception of an order of degree that precedes the social order thus turns out to be absolutely motivated by political and military necessity. Additionally, in terms of the play as a whole, the so-far unspoken reason for Achilles’ inaction links in at a fundamental structural level with the play’s representations of femininity such as women like Helen, the ostensible reason for the war, and of course Cressida. Cressida’s behaviour is obsessively dramatized throughout a play whose pretext is Helen’s elopement with Paris. Cressida acts as something of a touchstone. Her own actions and those of her peers, Trojans and Achaeans, will demonstrate the kind of things that can and will be done by people of this degree. Definitions of woman are thus central to the play and the social systems that it represents. Not all of the other plays insist in quite the same way as this one upon the central necessity of degree. Nevertheless, similar assumptions do surface, especially in the practices of the aristocracy: 167

degree Fal. What’s your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of what place? Col. I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the Dale. Fal. Well then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the Dale. Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place, a place deep enough; so shall you be still Colevile of the Dale. (2 HIV 4.3.1–9)

This encounter between two knights, however cowardly, demonstrates the importance of degree to people of their rank. Even so, as is so often the case with Falstaff, there is a monetary reason for this exchange – by capturing a man of some standing, Falstaff will be entitled to his ransom. Once again, his braggart practices undercut the discourse of chivalry. Such minor instances of the expression occur many times. After Agincourt, Williams is asked by the king why he wears the gage of a challenge. This is the result of the king’s movements in disguise among his soldiers the night before the battle, and he indulges himself in a moment of dramatic irony: ‘It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort, quite from the answer of his degree’ (HV 4.7.135–6). So different behaviours are expected of each social degree, implying that rules govern the interaction between those of differing degrees. But such unspoken and cumbersome assumptions can become very problematic when faced with the challenge of social movement, especially those foisted on the system by extreme pressure: And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I forever and my faction wear Until it wither with me to my grave, Or flourish to the height of my degree. (1 HVI 2.4.107–11)

The words of the Duke of York in the Temple Garden scene focus attention on the precise nature of his degree: ducal, or royal? He is a Plantagenet, and the question of his right over that of the current king will lead to the Wars of the Roses. So an obsession with degree can 168

degree itself be severely dangerous, regardless of the harmony that might be invoked by anyone who would agree with Ulysses. The behaviour that accompanies such structural stresses becomes open to question, as the Duke of Gloucester notes soon afterwards in the same play (3.1.19–20). His conflict is with the Bishop of Winchester, who also happens to be a descendant of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, via his legitimized relationship with Katherine Swynford. This line, the Beauforts, was barred from the throne by the same Act of Parliament that legitimized them. This fact that is not without importance for the Tudors, since another descendant, Margaret Beaufort, was Henry VII’s mother. It is clear that the upper-class obsession with degree masks the turmoil of political opportunism, claim, counter-claim and insult. Questions of degree therefore do not pertain only to the struggle over the throne; they cut right across the upper spectrum of this society. Exeter will later refer to these issues when he hears the news of the bishop’s elevation to cardinal (1 HVI 5.1.28–33). Similar problems regarding appropriate behaviour arise at 1 HVI 4.1.13–47, when the Falstaff figure is deprived of his membership of the Order of the Garter because of cowardice. There is no guarantee that someone who has attained a certain degree will act in accordance with it. Lower down the scale, the outcome of Cade’s rebellion in 2 Henry VI is upward movement for the man who kills him (5.1.73–82). Iden is knighted and given a valuable bounty for his service to the kingdom, something that was possible in the social theory that underpinned the hierarchical arrangement of degrees. In fact, King Henry asks him ‘what is thy degree?’ (5.1.72), and then raises him up: ‘Rise up a knight’ (5.1.78). Such exactitude of differentiation between degrees is reinforced later on in civil war as Warwick says to Edward of York after his father’s death: No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York; The next degree is England’s royal throne; For King of England shalt thou be proclaim’d In every borough as we pass along, And he that throws not up his cap for joy Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. (3 HVI 2.1.192–7)

As Earl of March, Edward has now moved up a degree to inherit his father’s dukedom. The next degree, as Warwick notes, is the 169

degree throne itself. But this movement is accompanied by the threat of extreme violence, and this faction enforces its will on the populace through whom it marches. Once again, Ulysses’ harmony seems to be missing. This violence is not extrinsic to the system. The rituals of chivalry attempt to regulate the energies in order to keep the structure intact: ‘If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his defence.’ (KL 5.3.110–14)

This chivalric challenge is undercut by the audience’s knowledge of the means whereby Edmund achieved his ‘supposed’ title. So it is clear that differentiations of degree are not absolute. Indeed they are open to manipulation: Oth. I do not think but Desdemona’s honest. Iago. Long live she so! and long live you to think so! Oth. And yet how nature erring from itself – Iago. Ay, there’s the point; as (to be bold with you) Not to affect many proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Whereto we see in all things nature tends – (OTH 3.3.225–31)

This is the moment Iago chooses to begin his assault on the relationship between Desdemona and Othello. It is telling that race is not the only card he plays, but that of degree also. And, in a manner similar to that of Ulysses in Troilus and Cressida, he states the assumption that such order is somehow natural (although it is pretty obvious to the audience that he does not believe this himself). Iago here touches upon what in modern times would be described as a class anxiety: an upper-caste woman such as Desdemona would be expected to marry within her own degree. Such anxieties inform the action of Twelfth Night. Olivia might be a countess, but she is very aware of the niceties of rank. According to Sir Toby, that is: 170

degree She’ll none o’ th’ Count. She’ll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear ’t. (TN 1.3. 109–11)

Whatever the truth of this assertion, it seems plausible enough to take in Sir Andrew, although of course if Olivia really is so ‘nice’ about these things, the chances are that she will not want to marry beneath herself, either. It is exactly this terrain of marriage and social mobility that ensnares Malvolio, as Maria is well aware (TN 3.4.64–83). (c) For concepts of society and the social structure in Renaissance England, see Stone (1967), 15–28. Laurence (1995) contains a section on women, class and wealth, from 15–19. Amussen (1988) has an important chapter on the ordering of society, from 134–79. Palliser (1992) devotes an entire chapter to issues of social change, from 70–110. Slack (1984) relates poverty to social regulation. Thomson (1995) has a section on the social structure of England as it emerges out of the Middle Ages, at 75–133. Heal and Holmes (1994) analyse the ways in which the gentry fit into the overall social hierarchy, from 276–318. For Shakespeare’s own attempts at acquiring enhanced social status, see Duncan-Jones (2001), 82–103.

dignity (a) Social rank, usually of the higher kind. Often conflated in this period with a secondary meaning of worthiness. (b) When Prince Henry becomes king, he asks the Lord Chief Justice to explain his prior harsh behaviour towards him. He replies that it was his then duty to act in accordance with his father’s wishes. He then goes on to lecture the new king on the damage he did to his father’s dignity (2 HIV 73–101). The term means both of the standard meanings here and the speech convinces the young king to retain this man in his office. But in the First Tetralogy, the word is used to mean the highest dignity by the Duke of York: Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts, And change misdoubt to resolution; Be that thou hop’st to be, or what thou art

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dignity Resign to death; it is not worth th’ enjoying. Let pale-fac’d fear keep with the mean-born man, And find no harbour in a royal heart. Faster than spring-time show’rs comes thought on thought, And not a thought but thinks on dignity. (2 HVI 3.1.331–8)

The duke is well aware that he has been manipulated into leaving for Ireland by the faction hostile to his house. He realizes that if he really does intend to press his claim to the throne, he may well have to do so soon, because the moment of decision is fast approaching. The reasoning he adopts in this soliloquy can be seen to be rather specious: after all, he is a Plantagenet, a descendant of Edward III, and his dukedom is well worth the enjoying. But he is already thinking of ‘dignity’, and if his current situation really is nothing to him, that word can mean only one thing: the crown itself. All of this demonstrates that the assumed coincidence of the two meanings of position and behaviour may in practice not always be the case. It is not an isolated instance: Madam, be still – with reverence may I say – For every word you speak in his behalf Is slander to your royal dignity. (2 HVI 3.2.207–9)

These are Warwick’s words to Queen Margaret, and they come at a crucial point in the play’s faction fighting. The king’s uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, has been found murdered and many of those on stage feel that Suffolk was responsible (the play certainly lays the blame on him by showing his involvement). Suffolk was the man responsible for convincing Henry VI to decide to marry Margaret, and also for conveying her to England for her marriage. Persistent rumour had it that he was also her lover, perhaps even the real father of Prince Edward of the House of Lancaster. Be that as it may, Warwick’s warning to the queen opens up a menacing rift between her faction and that of Warwick’s affinity. It is exactly this collapse of an assumed standard of behaviour that maps what we would describe as dignified conduct directly onto one of high social standing that forms the complex power structure of Sonnet 94: 172

dignity But if that flow’r with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity: For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. (SON 94.10–14)

The class register here is unmistakeable, from ‘base’ and ‘basest’ to ‘dignity’. The symbolic use of weeds versus the aristocratic lily reinforces the point: the addressee of this poem is not behaving at all in accordance with the assumed ‘dignity’ of his social position. (c) Stone (1967) devotes a chapter to aristocratic codes of behaviour via education and culture at 303–31. For a particularly famous traditional reading of Sonnet 94, see Empson (1986), 89. Compare this with Melchiori (1976)’s reading of the poem as political at 35.

disease (a) This term is used rather imprecisely to mean any one of various possible problems, or combination of problems. It can mean simply an uneasiness that troubles one’s feelings. It can be a specific medical condition that affects some part of the body, or a more general feeling of bodily unhealthiness. It can also be used in reference to some condition of an unhealthy mind. This last is understandable once one takes into account the prevalent notion of the psychology of the humours, in which an imbalance of bodily fluids and functions inevitably affects the person’s cast of mind. (b) A disease suffered by the King of France is central to the plotline of All’s Well That Ends Well: Count. What hope is there of his Majesty’s amendment? Laf. He hath abandon’d his physicians, madam, under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. Count. This young gentlewoman had a father – O, that ‘had’, how sad a passage ’tis! – whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretch’d so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would for the

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disease King’s sake he were living! I think it would be the death of the King’s disease. (AW 1.1.11–23)

The countess has taken upon herself this daughter’s charge, and goes on to extol her virtues, which are in the same vein as the father’s. So is her knowledge and education, partly inherited from her father, and partly from being brought up in the countess’ household. What is important here is not only Helena’s medical knowledge, but also her moral uprightness; only someone of impeccable credentials will be allowed close enough to a king to be able to treat him. This is revealed to be even more important when Lafeu describes the cause of the sickness as a ‘fistula’ at 1.1.34. OED glosses this as a long thin ulcer, and given the English assumptions about the licentiousness of the French court it can only be assumed that the organ so affected is the royal member itself. The treatment of a king’s sexual disease by a virgin is a common enough motif in folklore, as indeed it is in the Boccaccio story from which this play is derived. But there may be a more contemporary Renaissance resonance, since Henry VIII’s sister Mary married an old and probably impotent Louis XII of France, who died soon afterwards. The relative imprecision of the term ‘disease’ allows the interplay of these various possibilities, without the play having to be too explicit. The state of medical knowledge may well be part of the reason for the word’s wide variations in meaning. A reasonably standard opinion of how diseases could operate is uttered by Cardinal Pandulph in King John: Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest; evils that take leave, On their departure most of all show evil. (KJ 3.4.112–116)

His description is based on the reasoned observation of an intelligent, if not medically educated, man in a period in which disease was common and deadly. His words probably best fit the workings of a fever, which would be the most commonly experienced symptom of most maladies. Another churchman in a different play produces a figurative use of the word that depends for its force on shared knowledge of the kind assumed by Pandulph: 174

disease Wherefore do I this? so the question stands. Briefly, to this end: we are all diseas’d, And with our surfeiting and wanton hours Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, And we must bleed for it; of which disease Our late King Richard (being infected) died. (2 HIV 4.1.53–8)

This is the Archbishop of York’s metaphorical description of the man who is now King Henry IV. The Lancastrian usurpation was like a disease, of which Richard II was a victim, and so are all the nobility. The archbishop’s cure for this disease to the body politic is as violent as the invasive techniques used on bodily illness. Similar connotations attend many of the sonnets, as they wrestle with the uncertainties brought on by the poet’s relationships: My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please. (SON 147.1–4)

The comparison between love and a fever is a reasonably commonplace conceit. But in this case the poet knows that the object of that love is the cause of serious infection; even as he acknowledges this, he cannot but continue to love. This mental anguish is mirrored in the figure of Lady Macbeth later on in that play (MAC 5.1), demonstrating that the term is used equally of one’s mental state as of the body. (c) For Shakespeare’s treatment of disease, see Adams (1989). On the contemporary experience of various diseases, see Picard (2004), 101–6, and Palliser (1992), 53–63.

dispensation A special arrangement made by the church to allow someone to undertake an action that would normally be disallowed by religious law. Such actions can be relatively minor, ranging from releasing someone from a solemn oath, to decisions of major political importance. Perhaps the most famous of the latter instances is Henry VIII’s theological quibbling over his marriage to Katherine of Aragon. 175

dispensation He was granted a papal dispensation allowing him to marry her, even though she was the widow of his dead brother. Later on, when it was obvious that no male heirs were forthcoming from this marriage, he sought an overturning of the decision about the original dispensation. A good example of the kind of dispensations that can be obtained comes in the First Tetralogy. Suffolk is musing to himself how best to satisfy his own attraction to Margaret of Anjou: ‘And yet a dispensation may be had’ (1 HVI 5.3.86); this comes after his acknowledgement that he is himself already married. For the case of Henry VIII’s marriage, see HVIII 2.4.176–82. For a narrative of the whole sorry affair of Henry VIII’s divorce proceedings, see Starkey (2004), 197–256.

doctor (a) Several potential meanings are attached to this word, and Shakespeare is not usually careful to distinguish between them. In his texts it mostly means someone who has attained enough standing in a profession to be able to teach it, or at least be acknowledged as an eminent practitioner. This is most often the case with medicine. The more specialized meanings such as the highest degree to be conferred by a university may be implied, but are never really explored in detail. (b) Falstaff’s interaction with his page gives some indication of the state of medical practice in the period: Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water? Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water, but for the party that ow’d it, he might have more diseases than he knew for. (2 HIV 1.2.1–4)

This gives Falstaff an opportunity to erupt with one of his monologues aimed at the way he is treated by the world. Fortunately for the target of the diatribe, he remains offstage. But comedy can be directed quite easily at doctors who happen to be foreign, as is very much the case with Doctor Caius, the French physician in another Falstaff play, The Merry Wives of Windsor. Much rests on his inability to understand what is going on, making him something of a caricature (see for example 1.4.44ff.). Not all of the medical doctors who appear in the plays are quite so useless, although their cures can be unorthodox when mental health is 176

doctor involved: see the case of the Jailer’s daughter in The Two Noble Kinsmen (4.3 and 5.2) and, more well known, Lady Macbeth (MAC 5.1 and 5.3). Because of the specialized nature of their professional knowledge, such figures lend themselves to pivotal moments in plotlines. A good example is Cornelius in Cymbeline, who acts on his distrust of the queen’s motives regarding poisons, and so thwarts her intentions towards Imogen. Another, similar intervention is made by the king’s physician Dr Butts in Henry VIII (5.2). He lets the king know that Cranmer is being treated with disdain by his fellow council members. But perhaps the medical doctor with the greatest effects on a play is Helena in All’s Well That Ends Well: King. What her is this? Laf. Why, Doctor She! My lord, there’s one arriv’d, If you will see her. Now by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one, that in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz’d me more Than I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her – For that is her demand – and know her business? (AW 2.1.79–86)

Lafeu’s description of her to the king gains her entrance. The storyline is furthered when she uses the knowledge taught her by her father to cure the king of his mysterious illness. Given the almost proverbial licentiousness of the French court, at least to the English at the time, it is not too difficult to imagine the sexual nature of what ails him. Portia in The Merchant of Venice has a similar effect in the trial scene (4.1), although she has to disguise herself in order to do so. With the connivance offstage of her cousin Bellario, a doctor of law, she takes on the part of the similarly well-qualified Doctor Balthazar. (c) On medical doctors, see Adams (2000), 76–9. For the career of the unfortunate Dr Lopez, physician to Queen Elizabeth, see Weir (1999), 416–19.

dowager A woman who holds lands, properties and titles inherited 177

dowager from a dead husband. According to OED, it was first used of Mary Tudor after her brief marriage to Louis XII of France, and then of Katherine of Aragon. The Countess of Rossillion in All’s Well That Ends Well is described in the list of dramatis personae as a dowager countess in most editions of the play, including the Riverside. However, this is probably a later editorial interpolation based on the subsequent usage of the expression. It does not exist in the First Folio, because there is no list of dramatis personae for this play. The only time in Shakespeare that the term is used is when Henry VIII repudiates his first wife, Katherine of Aragon. She is returned to her status before she married Henry, as dowager Princess of Wales (see 2.4.181–2). Perhaps the most well-known Elizabethan dynast is the so-called Bess of Hardwick. She was very careful to build upon her dowager status after the deaths of various husbands: see Lovell (2005).

dowry (a) Money or property brought into a marriage by the woman; a synonym is ‘dower’. There is also a usage (now obsolete) that refers to a husband’s marriage gift to his bride; Shakespeare uses the first meaning. (b) Suitable dowry portions are something of an obsession in this society, one that cuts across social boundaries. Shakespeare’s texts tend to register the economics associated with dowries from the middle classes upwards: She should this Angelo have married; was affianc’d to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed; between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrack’d at sea, having in that perish’d vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renown’d brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate-husband, this well-seeming Angelo. (MM 3.1.213–23)

Two discourses clash here: the moral and the financial. Angelo is within 178

dowry his rights to call off the wedding, because the dowry is not fulfilled, but there is nevertheless a sense of moral outrage at this kind of behaviour. The Duke goes on immediately after this to say that Angelo in fact gave out that Mariana had incurred some form of dishonour. But, at least according to the Duke, the real motive was undoubtedly financial. Such sharp practices are associated in Shakespeare’s London with the socalled puritan middle classes, who were reputed to have a propensity to hypocrisy. Marriage is therefore not simply a case of the consummation of the love of two people – it has an economic basis as well. The dower is an important part of the negotiations that take place before marriage, and anxieties about it crop up in other plays as well; see MW 1.1.238–52. Slender’s various comic misprisions indicate to the audience very early on in the play that this marriage arrangement will probably be inappropriate, if only because of his stupidity. It also signals that Anne Page is available for marriage and it will be this availability that will be a major element of the plotlines of the play. Much of the action concerning her will circle around a group of would-be suitors, indicating that for the middle class milieu of the characters, the interaction between elements of marriage, dowry and personal characteristics is extremely important. Conversations such as this are not even remotely concerned with any form of mutual attraction, let alone love: the kinds of arrangements aimed at here are at least as much social and economic as personal. A very similar set of anxieties occurs in The Taming of the Shrew, although the logic is taken to extremes. Kate in this play is represented as so outrageous in behaviour that her wealthy father has offered a massive dowry to any man who will take her off his hands. He has also said that he will not allow his other, ostensibly more attractive daughter Bianca, to marry before Kate. This leads Bianca’s suitors to a kind of compact to try to get rid of Kate so that they can pursue her supposedly more amenable sister. The patriarchal impetus is obvious, and so are the economic calculations: Gremio, ’tis now no time to vent our love; Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, I’ll tell you news indifferent good for either. Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, Upon agreement from us to his liking,

179

dowry Will undertake to woo curst Katherine, Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. (TS 1.2.178–84)

This is how Petruchio is introduced to the audience, and from this point begins the full topsy-turvy world of his and Kate’s Punch and Judy double act. It continues in the context of marriage negotiations that are subject to rigorous financial logic, at TS 2.1.114–38. This is an extremely useful exchange, in terms of the insight it gives into premarital contracts and dowry negotiations. Petruchio is often played as anything but wealthy. Rather, he is commonly depicted as a well-known Renaissance type, the impoverished gentleman in need of hard cash to restore his family obligations, some of which may well have been alienated by his own prodigal behaviour. The way to represent this aspect of his character is visual, by means of his costume, such that his appearance will contradict his words. When Baptista tells him of the amount at stake in the dowry, Petruchio replies with assurances of a comprehensive jointure. He is also careful to make sure that is everything is fully notarized. Baptista does make a conventional and somewhat halfhearted appeal to the concept of love, but demurs when Petruchio brushes this aside. The scene could easily be played in such a way that Baptista’s desperation to rid himself of his wayward daughter overrules any crudity in Petruchio’s appearance and words. Such issues gain even more prominence when the upper classes are involved, especially royalty: Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege; Behold the ordinance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harflew. Suppose th’ embassador from the French comes back, Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katherine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, (HV 3.0.25–33)

The play earlier shows Henry laying claim to the French throne, so he is aiming a lot higher than some dukedoms, even with the offer of the French king’s daughter thrown in. Henry’s opportunism is of course 180

dowry ignored completely. The context of the French war with Burgundy that allowed him to make his campaign work at all is not mentioned, and the excuse given for the Harfleur siege by the choral figure is French intransigence over an appropriate dowry, i.e. the kingdom itself. These issues are repeated historically later in the three earlier plays concerned with Henry’s son by this French princess: Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect And surer bind this knot of amity, The Earl of Arminack, near knit to Charles, A man of great authority in France, Proffers his only daughter to your Grace In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. (1 HVI 5.1.15–20)

The Duke of Gloucester, Henry VI’s uncle and brother to Henry V, here offers a match that will be considered to be appropriate by the nobility. The woman in question is high born, related to the King of France, and comes with the correct cash dowry. But all of this will be undone by the appearance of Margaret of Anjou upon the scene: ‘Item: it is further agreed between them, that the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be releas’d and deliver’d over to the King her father, and she sent over of the King of England’s own proper cost and charges, without having any dowry.’ (2 HVI 1.1.57–62)

This second match negates the first, which was a common enough if rather disreputable proceeding in the game of international marriage diplomacy. But it is also deeply disturbing to the nobility; the Duke of Gloucester, who was responsible for the previous arrangements, finds himself unable to read this news, and Cardinal Beaufort ends up delivering it to the king. Suffolk, the man behind this new proposal, is a political ally of the cardinal and is made into a duke for his services. But the initial reaction of Duke Humphrey of Gloucester is important: it signals from the outset the continuation of court faction fighting of the kind that was so prevalent in the first play of the cycle. The comparison of the two marriages reveals a great deal about the 181

dowry kinds of issues that were considered appropriate for a royal marriage, including the dowry. The arrival of Margaret herself will widen the various rifts to the point at which a series of civil wars becomes inevitable. It is this last issue that lies at the heart of King Lear. When the irascible old man disinherits Cordelia, he sets up a geographical division that inevitably leads to war between the two remaining sisters. As for Cordelia herself, the King of France sees through her unwillingness to speak in the way her father commands. He in fact notes what her father is unable to perceive in her and takes her for his wife in spite of her newly disinherited status, something that the Duke of Burgundy is unable to bring himself to do (KL1.1.235–57). This whole episode is pseudo-medieval in presentation, which helps to make Celtic Britain somewhat more intelligible to the audience, although Shakespeare makes the suitors appear in person rather than have the various marriage negotiations take place by proxy. This has the added effect of underlining the personal government associated with Lear and the other rulers. The scene also relies for its force upon contemporary associations; the French king is chivalrous and impulsive, while the Duke of Burgundy is concerned with fully appropriate behaviour and wealth, as Cordelia herself notes. France’s recognition of Cordelia’s personal qualities as rare virtues overrides for him any considerations of dowry or inheritance; for him, she has great value in other respects. But as the case of Margaret of Anjou demonstrates, the chances of anything like this happening in the real world of medieval and Renaissance power politics and economics are extremely limited. (c) Palliser (1992) gives the economic context for marriage, including dowries and other legalized settlements, at 73–4. Thomson (1995) gives an example of a specific kind of ‘dower’ that does not appear in Shakespeare, the right of a widow to a proportion of an estate even when the eldest son theoretically inherits it, at 107. See also Laurence (1995), 231. Heal and Holmes (1994) give a detailed example of marriage negotiations further down the social scale, including anxieties about economics and marriage portions (dowries) at 64–6.

drink: see feast 182

duchess

duchess A woman who holds a ducal position, usually as wife or widow of a duke. Relative standing between women of rank is important to the upper classes in the history plays. This is particularly evident in the career of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester. She is acutely aware of the possibility of her husband reaching for the throne, but pays the price for her ambition when she is caught out (see 2 HVI 2.3). The coronation pageant in Henry VIII (4.1) demonstrates the importance of precedence in the precise degree of each person of rank; the old Duchess of Norfolk bears the new queen’s train. Even some foreign duchesses could be sufficiently well known to be referenced in the plays: in Much Ado About Nothing, Margaret mentions the fashionable dress of the Duchess of Milan (3.4.15–16). This may be a reminder of the duchess who famously rebuffed Henry VIII’s offer of marriage because she wanted to keep her head on its neck. The Duchess of Norfolk mentioned above was, ironically, in charge of the education of one of Henry VIII’s later queens, Catherine Howard. The licentiousness of her household and the incompetence of her educational stewardship are detailed in Weir (1991), 434–5.

duke (a) Derived from the Latin ‘dux’, meaning army commander in the late empire period. On continental Europe, a duke could be the sovereign ruler of a small state, such as the medieval and Renaissance Italian city-states. Shakespeare often uses it in this way, although he also has it as the title for the Venetian Doge. In his English plays, there are two kinds of dukes: those with hereditary title in their own right, and the royal dukes first instituted by Edward III, although the names of their titles already existed. The only dukedom that persisted at the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign was the independent (non-royal) duchy of Norfolk, and even this failed to survive the religious turmoil of the middle part of her reign. James I revived the dukedoms, partly to reward some of his favourite courtiers, and partly as a result of his inflation of the honours system. (b) Many dukes appear in the plays, especially those concerned with English history. The distinction between hereditary dukes and those of royal creation must be borne in mind, especially given the convoluted dramatization of English history that takes place in the two Tetralogies. 183

duke The ducal houses created by Edward III were something of a necessity given the need for enhanced status for his large number of sons. By the logic of the times, they needed something to differentiate them from other members of the nobility, even though they were not expected to inherit the throne itself. But of course the misadventures of Richard II brought about a situation in which the scions of these various houses began to think of the throne as a possibility, as Hotspur notes at 1 HIV 4.3.54–65 in his rendering of the Lancastrian usurpation. It is typically partial, seeking to distance his own family from Henry of Lancaster’s move away from simply being restored to his dukedom towards the throne itself. The Percies were not alone in supporting Lancaster all the way to throne, in point of historical accuracy, but were not happy when he did not reward them as they saw fit. The central issue when all of this took place was not only Lancaster’s ambition, but also the nobility’s exasperation with the antics of Richard II. He in fact named another of the royal ducal families, the Mortimers, as the next Plantagenets in line to the throne because of his own lack of direct heirs, but this was assumed to have been rescinded when he abdicated the throne to Lancaster. All of this created a situation in which the occupancy of the throne was dangerously open to competing claims, eventually resulting in the Wars of the Roses (see also Mortimer’s own recounting of these issues at 1 HVI 2.5). The Percy family itself held the other kind of English dukedom, as hereditary Dukes of Northumberland. All of these anxieties about dukedoms were to surface in the reign of Henry of Lancaster’s grandson, the inept Henry VI: For though her father be the King of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, And our nobility will scorn the match. (1 HVI 5.3.93–5)

This is Suffolk’s own acknowledgement to the audience that Margaret of Anjou is not of sufficient standing and wealth to become Henry VI’s queen, and he is quite correct in his prediction of the response of the English aristocracy to the match. The title of duke is therefore grand, but has to be matched with an appropriately grand income; otherwise it is empty, and this is critical in an age that assumed that grand social status would be accompanied by the appropriate splendour. In fact, the title is so well known to Shakespeare’s audience that it 184

duke suffices as shorthand when the playwright represents other times and places. King Lear and A Midsummer Night’s Dream are both plays in which anachronistic titles such as ‘duke’ appear. Partly this is a result of the stories and histories that furnished Shakespeare with his plots, but it is also a convenient way of embodying alien lands and concepts on the popular stage. (c) See Weir (1998), 21–39, for the Plantagenets and the root causes of the dynastic struggles of the Wars of the Roses. For the demise of the last Howard Duke of Norfolk in the reign of Elizabeth I, see Plowden (2001), 180–95. Murphy (2003) has a fascinating description of the lifestyle and household expected of a duke at 181–213.

185

E eagle The bird associated with the Roman god Jupiter and the Greek god Zeus, rulers of their respective pantheons. The Roman connection is particularly important, because the eagle was incorporated into the standard of the legion. Therefore, the bird is a symbol of imperial power and military prowess. The play in which eagle imagery is most prevalent is Cymbeline, set as it is at the beginning of the Roman Empire in the reign of Augustus. The soothsayer accompanying the invading Roman army says that he saw one in a vision: I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, wing’d From the spungy south to this part of the west, There vanish’d in the sunbeams, which portends (Unless my sins abuse my divination) Success to th’ Roman host. (CYM 4.2.347–52)

But this initial interpretation turns out to be wrong. After the Roman army is defeated and peace successfully negotiated, he is forced to reconsider what the vision means (5.5.470–6). Such reworking of important information is common enough in this play, concerned as it is with so many misprisions and misrepresentations. But there is a very specific reason for the soothsayer’s error: the eagle is very closely 186

eagle coupled with Posthumus Leonatus, whose fate is in fact determined by Jupiter himself at 4.4.93–113. Metaphorical uses of this particular bird of prey can also be found in the plays. Perhaps the best known occurs during the council of war in Henry V: But there’s a saying very old and true, ‘If that you will France win, Then with Scotland first begin.’ For once the eagle (England) being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel (Scot) Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs, Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, To ’tame and havoc more than she can eat. (HV 1.2.166–73)

This is not simply a hierarchy of animal emblems, with the princely eagle of course being superior to the sneaky weasel. The imperial connotations are also important, implying that as a nation Scotland is inferior to imperial England. This very precise collocation makes even more sense when one recalls the context of an English king claiming supremacy over France. And one should also remember the contemporary Renaissance resonances of this text written as the British Empire begins to be produced. For the importance of the eagle standard in a Roman legion, see Connolly (1981), 216. Yates (1993) contains a contemporary illustration that clearly shows the imperial iconography associated with the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V ( plate 21).

earl The original Old English meaning of the word was applied to any nobleman, with a poetic use denoting any brave man. In England just before the Norman Conquest, the term had evolved a specific meaning of a ruler of one of the main regions of the country. It was then adopted by the Normans as equivalent to the continental term count, itself derived from the Latin ‘comes’. In this case it refers to the overlordship of a region of land, and this is the meaning it continues to retain into the Renaissance. Note that a lord’s main holdings do not have to be in the region from which his title is derived. The wife of an earl, or a woman who holds the equivalent dignity in her own right, has 187

earl the title of countess. An earl ranks above a marquis but below a duke. Some earldoms are associated with certain dukedoms, such that the heir to a specific duchy may tend to hold a particular earldom. Thus in the Renaissance the Earl of Surrey is usually heir to the Duke of Norfolk. This may also apply to a royal house; for example, the Earl of Richmond is a title associated with the Tudors. There are many earls in the English history plays, which is hardly surprising because of their advanced social status. Often a group of them will comprise the affinity of a duke or royal house, which is very much the case with the Wars of the Roses. This does have the advantage of helping the audience identify which characters support which side in performance. Thus, the Earl of Suffolk is an important figure in the faction fighting of 1 Henry VI. Some earldoms have enhanced political and military importance because of their geographical location. But this in turn created another problem when coupled with their relative remoteness from the centre of power. Such families could and did tend to pursue their own policies in ways that could be considered detrimental by the ruling royal house. Often a counter-balance needed to be created to try to keep them under control. Indeed, this is a subtext in 1 Henry IV when the Percies rebel. One of the lords loyal to Henry IV is the Earl of Westmerland, whose holdings were mostly in the north and west of the country. Perhaps the most famous earl in English history is Warwick the ‘Kingmaker’, who is so important in the three Henry VI plays. For Warwick’s career, see Hicks (2002). For Robert Dudley, the most well-known earl of Elizabeth’s reign, see Wilson (2005), 235–354.

Eastcheap A London district associated in the Henry IV plays with madcap Prince Hal and his drinking companions. For a good example of the interaction in Eastcheap between the Prince and his friends, especially Falstaff, see 1 Henry IV (2.4), which contains the famous mockery of court life at 376–481. Howard and Rackin (1997) contains an interesting observation on Eastcheap as gendered feminine in opposition to the masculine world of the court at 222 n.2. emblem (a) A picture or object that represents a moral quality; a 188

emblem visual metaphor. This kind of representation was very popular in the Renaissance and earlier. Books of emblems that accompanied the drawings or pictures with textual explication were produced and proved to be something of a publishing success. Often, modern commentators pick up on the techniques associated with the logic of the emblem when describing elements of stage performance. This is important in Shakespeare criticism because it avoids the anachronistic use of terms such as ‘realistic’ or ‘naturalistic’. The stage emblem is a moment of representation that gestures towards an effect, often utilizing stage props. (b) Critics have had real problems with the stage techniques adopted by Shakespeare and his contemporaries. There is a reason for this: because these practices do not seem to fit easily into categories that are familiar to the cultural milieu of the critics, there is a tendency to misrecognize the importance of emblematic representation on the stage for which Shakespeare was writing. This is especially the case for critics who read the plays as literary texts. A good example is the handkerchief in Othello, which seems to acquire disproportionate importance. The point is that it serves to focus the contemporary audience’s perceptions on the meanings invested in it by Othello. Since until relatively recently a fully realized conception of the plays as drama has been mostly absent from a criticism that serves a reading culture, aspects of their performance have been, understandably enough, under-utilized in secondary material. Shakespeare, of course, does not use the word to refer to this kind of theatrical visualization, he simply enacts it. But he does take advantage of its contemporary associations: Noble heroes! my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrench’d it. (AW 2.1.40–5)

This is classic Parolles, a tissue of lies and half-truths blown up to make himself look good. The verbal clues are there: the name Spurio along with the left or sinister cheek. His clever use of the visual emblematic reference seems to reinforce his point. 189

emblem Another example occurs as the two title characters see Emilia for the first time in The Two Noble Kinsmen at 2.1.132–46. Here the two women’s discussion of an emblematic rose produces a moment of dramatic irony since, unknown to them, the two prisoners are watching. It is exactly this scene that sets the men off on their path of mutual hatred as each seeks to define Emilia as his possession, his beloved. This is an excellent example of the power of the masculine gaze, and would have been enacted utilizing the zonal stage conventions available at the time. The emblem serves doubly to focus the audience’s attention on Emilia and, simultaneously, the ways in which the men seek to define her. The commonplace emblem is thus easily available for colonization by stage techniques. (c) See Mucci (2003) for the allegorical uses of emblems at 301–3. Shannon (2002) contains a sensitive analysis of the sighting of Emilia in her chapter on The Two Noble Kinsmen from 90–122. See also Bath (1994).

emperor (a) The ruler of an empire. The position is higher than that of any other monarch, since several kingdoms may be subject to an emperor. This gives the title a prestige even greater than that of king. It also gives the ruler greater than normal economic and military power; in theory, he has the ability to draw on the resources of several states to accomplish his designs. It also increases his defensive obligations, however, something that is extremely important in an era of limited transport and ineffective communications. The larger an empire becomes, the more difficult it is to hold together. In Europe, the archetypal empire is that of the Romans, although historians now prefer to refer to it as the principate. (b) In the ‘Roman’ plays, Antony is referred to several times by Enobarbus and others as an emperor. This is correct so far as the Renaissance understands it, since he is overlord of several kingdoms. A good example occurs at AC 2.7.103 when he is at a critical summit meeting with the other two triumvirs. Technically, of course, the term is inappropriately used since Octavius will become the first real Roman emperor when he sidelines Lepidus and destroys Antony. This emperor, known as Augustus, is an important offstage presence 190

emperor in Cymbeline. Jachimo makes up a spurious reason in conversation with Imogen regarding a present for the emperor that will be important in the play’s plot development (CYM 1.6.185–99). This exchange sets up Jachimo’s intrusion into Imogen’s bedchamber. But it also contains several apparently contradictory elements, at least in historical terms. This play is set at the beginning of the Roman Empire and the trunk supposedly contains a present for the emperor. And yet Jachimo acts like a Renaissance trader, even describing himself as a ‘factor’ who is acting on behalf of the other contributors. Imogen herself echoes this aspect of his behaviour with the word ‘interest’. He also refers to France, which did not exist in the period of the Roman Empire; its territory was at the time composed of various Roman provinces dividing up conquered Gallic areas. The invading Franks who gave the area its modern name were a Germanic migration subsequent to the fall of the empire, more than four hundred years after the date at which this play is set. But there is a point to this dramatic conflation: Jachimo is acting like an Italian Renaissance machiavel figure even as he is ostensibly alive during the time of Augustus. This is not the only example of anachronism in the plays, imagining as they do past periods in ways that can be understood by a much later English audience. In any case, the ‘history’ of Cymbeline is extremely suspect. There was no Roman invasion of Britain in the reign of Augustus; Shakespeare gets his story from Geoffrey of Monmouth. But such a situation does lend itself to dramatic licence. Titus Andronicus is set in the twilight of the empire. Rome is already in conflict with peoples from beyond her borders such as Tamora’s Goths. Shakespeare utilizes a correctly historical logic when he represents the arrival of Lucius to overthrow Saturninus and become emperor himself. He relies on a Gothic army to enable him to do so. This muddies still further a situation in which the Goths function as either enemies or friends, depending on the precise nature of their connection with Rome at any given moment. The nature of their interaction with the Romans is therefore contingent upon faction fighting at the heart of the empire itself. The child Tamora bears after she has married Saturninus is thus a form of emblematic miscegenation (see TA 2.50ff), something with contemporary resonance at the beginning of the so-called ‘age of discoveries’. To return to the Franks, because in a strange way their eventual revival of the ‘Holy Roman Empire’ has great importance for Renaissance England. The Archbishop of Canterbury produces a long and 191

emperor complicated exposition of Henry’s descent via the female line from Charlemagne, the first Holy Roman Emperor at HV 1.2.33–95. This is often played for laughs in modern performances, primarily because of its length and bewildering attention to detail; thus, the scene is perceived to be a serious problem for modern audiences. But France was England’s traditional enemy, and to Shakespeare’s audiences the explanation would have had more immediacy. It certainly provides Henry with the excuse he needs to launch an invasion although, interestingly, the play deliberately leaves out the small matter of the major distraction provided for France by the war with Burgundy, England’s traditional ally. The Holy Roman Empire has even more importance the closer one gets to Shakespeare’s England. He does not deal directly with the threat of the Spanish Armada in any of the plays, the result of the enmity of Philip of Spain. But his father, the Emperor Charles V, has great importance for the England of Henry VIII, in the generation before Shakespeare; see HVIII 1.1.168–93. This is another of those long speeches that might seem to make no sense to a modern audience. But it does fulfil several important purposes. First of all, it continues the representation of the offstage events that immediately precede the play, including Wolsey’s management of the Field of Cloth of Gold, the famous summit meeting between Henry and the King of France. The way that this exposition occurs is interesting for its choice of Buckingham as the one to relate it; his rhetoric is definitely not neutral. This is abundantly clear from his sneering parentheses about Wolsey, but there is more to it than that, as at least some members of a contemporary audience would be well aware. He was a possible rival for the throne should some residual dislike of the Tudors resurface, in ways similar to the rebellions endured by Henry VII. He was a direct lineal descendant of the Plantagenets in the person of Thomas of Woodstock, one of Edward III’s myriad sons. This made him a dangerous contender, since he probably had a far better documented claim than the Tudors; it certainly resulted in his judicial murder at the hands of Henry VIII. The play, of course, is careful to sidestep this particular issue, instead blaming Buckingham’s demise on Wolsey’s enmity, following on from the strong hatred Buckingham evinces in this scene. Additionally, the speech serves to point up the close family relationship between the Queen of England and the Emperor Charles V; this is another element of the play’s historical interest that will be developed 192

emperor in full later on. Buckingham sneers about Wolsey’s management of the alliance with the French, supposing to the other noblemen present that the cardinal was in fact opposed to it, but still operated in such a way as to gain great prestige from it. The duke also implies that Wolsey has his own motives in relation to the Emperor’s visit and his avarice is only one element. As a contemporary audience would definitely know, Wolsey was supposedly ambitious to become pope, and the patronage of Charles V would have been crucial to his hopes. Finally, there is here already a glimmering of the kind of strategic power politics that would increasingly be adopted by England and then Britain in its rise to empire – the notorious so-called ‘balance of power’ foreign policy. The islands’ strategic position on the coastal flank of the continental great powers will give the country important leverage and its growing relative wealth will enhance its capability to follow such a course. The defeat of the Spanish Armada in the reign of Elizabeth serves only to reinforce this emerging power, while at the same time exacerbating the already nascent English sense of world importance (and its concomitant xenophobia). The Duke of Norfolk is one of the recipients of Buckingham’s complaints in this scene, and he will go on later in the play to refer back to exactly these issues at 2.2.22–3. He observes at that point that Wolsey has destroyed the agreement with the Emperor as part of the business of the king’s divorce proceedings. Shakespeare and Fletcher’s audience would perceive this with hindsight to be based on much more than Wolsey’s machinations, although their text studiously avoids any reference to other causal elements. Indeed, the play goes so far as to make Katherine into something of an already other-worldly figure once the annulment is finalized and she is dying. This is especially important when she meets the Emperor’s ambassador, Capuchius at 4.2.108–73, immediately after her vision. Eustace Chapuys, to give the more recognizable (to modern commentators) rendering of his name, was a major player in the various machinations and intrigues that abounded over the whole issue. He was indeed rather notorious, and again this is something of which a contemporary audience would have had some knowledge. (c) For an accessible and cogent summary of the military and social context of Rome’s drive to empire, see Goldsworthy (2003), 6–7. For Charles V’s conception of empire, see Yates (1993), 1–28. On the war 193

emperor with Spain and the Armada, see Weir (1999), 389–400 and Smith (1997), 235–41. For issues of emerging British national consciousness, see Mikalachki (2003) and Marcus (1999), both of which reference Cymbeline as a text that tries to deal with nascent notions of a British Empire via its relationships with the Roman Empire.

empress (a) A woman who is either married to an emperor, or who has equivalent rank in her own right. (b) Renaissance iconography requires women from the upper reaches of society to be conventionally represented as beautiful. However, in a society for which powerful women were unsettling, to say the least, there is always a shady residual suspicion of such figures. The two empresses who appear in Shakespeare’s plays are a case in point. Because they are not men, Cleopatra and Tamora are shown to be undone by their own uncontrolled behaviour. Cleopatra is blamed for the disastrous naval defeat at Actium, while Tamora produces a child by Aaron. Their irresolution and irrational lusts are the source of both their attractiveness and their downfall, in ways that would not normally be ascribed to men of the same rank. Cleopatra is referred to three times in the play as an empress, once by Octavius’ supporter, Dolabella, after her defeat (AC 5.2.71). This is, technically, a correct form of address, since at one point her Egypt controls several states. In Titus Andronicus, Tamora’s exotic attraction for the Emperor Saturninus undoes his proposed marriage with Titus’ daughter Lavinia. Tamora uses her exalted position to try to destroy Titus, the general responsible for her initial defeat, and this unleashes a cycle of blood feuding, as Titus’ son Lucius notes at TA 3.1.288–300. Lucius’ soliloquy serves as a set piece to make the audience keep in mind his existence as the play moves through events in Rome itself until the climax. His disappearance from the play and subsequent reappearance at the head of a Gothic army makes him a difficult figure for modern audiences. He is simply one of many relatively minor characters who suddenly achieve prominence at one point or other in the play, and making sure that the audience is able to keep track of who is who and who matters can be quite a daunting task for a modern performance. But the problem here may not simply be reduced to performance only: there may be a contextual issue as well. Lucius’ speech points up 194

empress two important elements of Roman history. The first is his mentioning the expulsion of the Tarquins from Rome and the formation of the Republic. This historical reference relates Lucius explicitly to a tradition of the excision of powerful foreign influences from the Roman body politic. And the second is the reliance upon an army that is personally loyal to the general who leads it, rather than the central Roman state itself. In the case of Lucius, the army ironically comes from the Goths, the very people to whom Tamora belongs, who will go on to sack Rome under Alaric in 410 CE. This is a very precise rendering of the state of the Empire in its last couple of centuries, as it comes to rely more and more upon troop contingents from beyond the borders who are paid to fight for one party or another. Indeed, the Goths were eventually allowed to settle within the Empire’s borders and it is their ambivalent status that is important here. This is an empire that is not capable of controlling its own boundaries, and both Tamora and then Lucius are able to manipulate a situation of structural fluidity. This last issue forms the basis for a famous comparison that occurs towards the end of Henry V: But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens! The Mayor and all his brethren in best sort, Like to the senators of th’ antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conqu’ring Caesar in; As by a lower but high-loving likelihood, Were now the General of our gracious Empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him! (HV 5.0.22–34)

This reference to Essex’ commission to crush the Irish is often commented upon, usually because of its unusually precise topicality. Shakespeare does not often make such overt comments, at least in the texts that have come down to us. But the contextual definition of Elizabeth as an empress is often overlooked in such critical commentaries, as is the representation of the Irish as rebels against the English state. Historical 195

empress hindsight renders the passage ironic, since of course Essex would fail, mount an abortive coup and be executed for treason. This whole complex collocation of contemporary events is exactly in keeping with the logic of the situation Lucius describes: a woman in power, and conflict at the periphery. Unlike Lucius and several of his medieval predecessors, Essex does not return to England in force at the head of an army, but the structural parallels are very clear. How can the centre be certain that an army dispatched beyond its borders will remain loyal? And how can it be certain that a general will not gather his own forces from beyond the pale and return to claim power for himself ? Henry Tudor did exactly this with continental troops reinforced on landing in Wales as he marched to meet Richard III. These vexed issues lie at the heart of the geographical drive to unite the British Isles under English domination, the necessary preliminary to overseas empire. (c) For a critical review of the gender issues that obtain in secondary material on Antony and Cleopatra, ostensibly raised by the play but endemic in critical work, see Fitz (1994). For Rome’s margins in Titus Andronicus, see Liebler (1995), 131–48. On the troubling liminal status of Wales in relation to England, see Hawkes (2002), 46–65. For Essex’ career, see Lacey Baldwin Smith (2006), 192–238.

emulation (a) Rivalry for position, honours and power. Unlike ambition, in this period emulation is a relatively acceptable mode of behaviour between men of the same rank, because it does not necessarily push against the boundaries of degree. Emulation implies competition, as opposed to the possibly transgressive impetus behind unbridled ambition. But when emulation becomes more important than the general well-being of the commonwealth, it takes on a life of its own, and can result in serious faction fighting. (b) Emulation is a word that Shakespeare often has recourse to in the histories and tragedies, as used by Sir William Lucy at 1 HVI 4.4.12– 37. This is almost a textbook definition of emulation and of the dangers it poses when taken to extremes. The two dukes (Somerset and York) are so busy with their own rivalry that they have failed to fulfil their duty in the war with France. Lucy’s lucid account of the problems this has caused Lord Talbot juxtaposes neatly with the recalcitrant nobles, 196

emulation contrasting Talbot’s nationalistic heroism (as the play has it) with their insistence on the prior importance of factionalism. The result, at least according to Lucy, is a situation in which Talbot’s forces are in serious danger of defeat and not because of French strength. The English are weakening themselves. This will become a familiar refrain throughout the Henry VI plays as the English lose their French gains because of civil disruptions and faction fighting, followed by outright war at home. The Duke of York will be a major figure in all of this, as his own sense of worth clashes with Lancastrian supporters such as Somerset to produce an inevitable slide towards the Wars of the Roses. This sense of emulation putting in jeopardy a greater good is very important in relation to the upper classes in the Renaissance. Controlled emulation has a certain value, in that it expends social energy by means of internal competitiveness. The masculine activity that underlies the logic of this kind of situation is exactly that of Roman ‘virtus’. Its etymology is salutary, because it is the root of our term ‘virtue’, but it is thoroughly masculine in Roman usage. It is in fact derived from the Latin ‘vir’, meaning ‘man’, and in effect means manly activity. But if the ruler does not pay enough heed, it can get out of hand: Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, And as a suitor will I give him this. My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation. If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst live; If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive. ( JC 2.3.11–16)

Artemidorus’ vocabulary is incredibly precise in the way that it picks up on the collocation of virtue as a mode of activity and emulation. At the end of the sixteenth century, and getting towards the end of Elizabeth’s long reign, the implications of this kind of situation would be extremely apposite to Shakespeare’s audience. This passage almost presages the problems that would soon be posed by the outrageous behaviour of the Earl of Essex, whose emulation drives towards the extremes of ambition at such a rate that he threatens the queen herself. Interestingly enough in terms of the historical outcome of this impetus, Essex goes on to attempt a coup d’état and fails because almost all support melts away from him. 197

emulation Another play that notes the problems raised by too much emulation is Troilus and Cressida: And this neglection of degree it is That by a pace goes backward in a purpose It hath to climb. The general’s disdain’d By him one step below, he by the next, That next by him beneath; so every step, Exampled by the first pace that is sick Of his superior, grows to an envious fever Of pale and bloodless emulation, And ’tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. (TC 1.3.127–37)

This excerpt from Ulysses’ long discourse on degree demonstrates exactly the same inexorable logic as the passage from 1 Henry VI already discussed. The root of this problem is Achilles’ refusal to obey his commanding officer by continuing to take part in the war against Troy. His heroic standing leads to many others in the army following his lead, and the result is Troy’s continuing existence, much like that of France in the earlier passage. Again, a character represents the stronger power as coming to naught because of internal dissensions spawned by a form of emulation that has gone out of control. The Trojans themselves realize the opportunity granted them by the situation: I have a roisting challenge sent amongst The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits. I was advertis’d their great general slept, Whilst emulation in the army crept: This I presume will wake him. (TC 2.2.208–13)

Like any good general, Hector here attempts to take advantage of his intelligence about the faction fighting among the Greeks. He also accurately pinpoints the cause as a form of creeping emulation. Indeed, the word becomes something of a recurring motif in this play:

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emulation For emulation hath a thousand sons That one by one pursue. If you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an ent’red tide they all rush by And leave you hindmost; ( TC 3.3.156–60)

Here Ulysses picks up on his earlier use of the word in this direct address to Achilles. In effect, he is appealing to Achilles’ sense of his own worth to try to get him to move out of his lethargy and take direct part in the war once again. The rhetoric he utilizes in order to do so is revealing, because it effectively takes advantage of Achilles’ mammoth vanity. The hero’s need to be foremost is part of his self-definition. The logic of emulation in the play is one that is based resolutely on the rank equivalences between the two sides as well as being internal to the invaders: Thou art, great lord, my father’s sister’s son, A cousin-german to great Priam’s seed; The obligation of our blood forbids A gory emulation ’twixt us twain. ( TC 4.5.120–23)

Throughout the play Shakespeare uses chivalric discourse to make the competition between the Achaeans and the Trojans more accessible to his contemporary audience, or at least the members of it who would not necessarily be familiar with the Homeric tradition. Interestingly enough, Hector’s recounting of his blood relationship with Ajax in this context reveals that the Trojans are not at all alien to their enemies, something that is of course reflected in their worship of the same gods. The internal competitiveness of men of the same high social class easily crosses boundaries of nation or state, and so does kinship, a manoeuvre that neatly replicates some of the complexities of medieval French and English warfare. This is exactly the logic demonstrated by Aufidius in his competitiveness with Martius in Coriolanus: Five times, Martius, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me; And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. By th’ elements,

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emulation If e’er again I meet him beard to beard, He’s mine, or I am his. Mine emulation Hath not that honour in’t it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force, True sword to sword, I’ll potch at him some way Or wrath or craft may get him. (COR 1.10.7–16)

Praise for one’s prowess from an enemy demonstrates one’s preeminence in warfare. Aufidius admits his inability to overcome the Roman, and decides to try ways other than mortal combat to defeat his opponent. This is important because of the status of the two champions as war leaders of their respective cities. But unlike Coriolanus, Aufidius sees emulation as having more possibilities to it than simple conflict. He is easily willing to use other means to defeat his main rival even if the means to success is slightly less honourable. For Aufidius, success in emulation overrides the means to the end. (c) Rebhorn (2002) remains the most well-known essay on the concept of emulation both as it is portrayed in Julius Caesar and in terms of its contemporary resonances for Renaissance aristocratic power politics. Gilliver et al. (2005) contextualizes the Ides of March assassination in terms of the problems posed for the crumbling structure of the Roman Republic by Caesar’s pre-eminence at 170–5. The inability of the Lancastrian regime to support Lord Talbot with adequate forces is recaptured in Weir (1998) at 170–3. James (2005) rigorously contextualizes the sexual politics of Troilus and Cressida within a framework of competing masculine interests. Adelman (1982) is a psychoanalytical reading of Coriolanus’ aggression and dependence upon conflict. For a lively description of the competitiveness between Queen Elizabeth’s statesmen, see Brimacombe (2003), 44–62.

enclosures Land enclosures were a major feature of the Renaissance English countryside, although the practice was well established in the Middle Ages. Economic pressure on the aristocracy to make their lands more productive accelerated this longstanding tendency, often at the expense of villagers who thought they had the rights to use of lands in common. The period in effect saw a wholesale rationalization of 200

enclosures effective landownership, as plots were more efficiently conjoined and, often, marked off with hedges and fencing. The patchwork appearance of the English countryside really begins to date from this period. This practice could give rise to social tensions, especially when forced through at a time of hardship; this was very important for such an agriculturally dependent economy. Complaints by aggrieved commoners against rapacious noblemen were very often made in relation to enclosure practices. The peasantry perceived these actions to be detrimental to their own financial wellbeing, and there were problems and even riots. A good example in the plays comes with a petition presented at the royal court against the Duke of Suffolk in 2 Henry VI: Suf. What’s yours? What’s here? [Reads] ‘Against the Duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the commons of Melford.’ How now, sir knave? 2.Petit. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township. (2 HVI 1.2.20–4)

Suffolk and Queen Margaret ignore all of the petitions, including this one, except for one against the Duke of York. The whole episode points up the tyranny of Margaret and her supposed lover as they control the court. Shakespeare sharpens the point by making Suffolk out to be a ruthless enclosing landlord, which would strike a chord with his Renaissance audience. For the economic and social context of land enclosures, see Stone (1967), 135–59. For the rioting, see Alan G. R. Smith (1997), 192–3.

ensign A soldier who carries a standard or flag. Although the rank is relatively low as officers go, an ensign can be more or less important depending on the prestige of the insignia. Thus, the ensign of a basic infantry unit has less standing than the man who carries the allimportant symbol of the army’s commander-in-chief. In an era of limited battlefield communications, the standard serves as the rallying point of a unit; a general’s ensign is doubly important because he carries the banner that marks the location of a senior officer. The ensign is supposed to be a brave man who will defend the colours with his life. 201

ensign Pistol is described as an ensign in 2 Henry IV and Henry V, which is part of the plays’ alternative view of warfare from the high chivalric ideal. Ensigns are often described in editorial stage directions when entering as part of an army; this helps to signify the various factions that are fighting for military and political pre-eminence in the history plays and the tragedies. A good example of the ensign’s emblematic stage importance comes at the very end of Cymbeline: Set we forward. Let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud’s-Town march, And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we’ll ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease (Ere bloody hands were wash’d) with such a peace. (CYM 5.5.479–85)

The play ends with a visual symbol of Roman and British standards marching together onto London. This helps to yoke together the two states in a form of harmonious empire that appropriates for seventeenthcentury Britain all of the associations of the Roman Empire. In Othello, Iago holds the rank of ensign. He is clearly depicted as a close associate of the general, and so he must be the man who carries Othello’s own standard into battle. This is a position of great importance. It gives the lie to one of Iago’s various protestations as to the reasons for his hatred of Othello, namely that the general has passed over Iago for promotion to lieutenant in favour of Cassio. See Edelman (2000), 124–6. Contamine (1993) describes standardbearers in an army muster at 115–16. Gilliver et al. (2005) references the famous episode of the eagle ensign of Caesar’s X Legion leaping into the waters off the shores of Britain at 59, an oft-quoted example of the bravery associated with the standard-bearer.

esquire Originally derived from the medieval knight’s squire, or servant. By Shakespeare’s time there is sufficient differentiation between the two terms for ‘esquire’ to refer to the highest ranks of the gentry. The gentleman who kills Cade is careful to define himself as ‘Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent’ (2 HVI 4.10.43) when he first 202

esquire encounters the rebel. He repeats his formulation to the king himself when he is presented at court after killing Cade at 5.1.74–5. In other instances provincial touchiness about precise degree of rank is parodied, as when Shallow introduces himself to Bardolph in 2 HIV 3.2.57–8. His nervousness about receiving treatment appropriate to his rank resurfaces at the beginning of The Merry Wives of Windsor (1.1.1–4). Amussen (1988) discusses the social order of this society, especially the middling sort, from 144–51, in the context of pressures exerted by social change.

estimation (a) The value or worth of a person. There are two possible ways in which such qualities can be defined: either in terms of the person’s social rank, or their individual accomplishments. (b) A standard use of the word comes in The Two Gentlemen of Verona: Duke. Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman? Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed. (GV 2.4.54–7)

It is difficult to unravel from this short passage exactly whether Valentine refers to rank or personal worth. But that, perhaps, is the point: in standard discursive practice, they are one and the same. The gentry and aristocracy are assumed to be better than their inferiors, in both the social and personal senses (the etymology of aristocracy is important here). A usage that is more specific to the social role of the persons so defined can be found in other plays: but yet the King hath drawn The special head of all the land together: The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, The noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt, And many moe corrivals, and dear men Of estimation and command in arms. (1 HIV 4.4.27–32)

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estimation This description of the military and social power that underpins the House of Lancaster is given by the rebellious Archbishop of York. So despite his oppositional stance, he acknowledges the weight on Henry IV’s side. In the next scene, the Prince of Wales attempts to get his father’s agreement to a single combat between himself and Hotspur: For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant been to chivalry, And so I hear he doth account me too; Yet this before my father’s Majesty: I am content that he shall take the odds Of his great name and estimation, And will, to save the blood on either side, Try fortune with him in a single fight. (1 HIV 5.1.93–100)

Estimation here approximates to something like reputation, so in this case it is not only Hotspur’s social standing that is associated with the word. This nuance is applied to other classes in the plays as well: Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so follow’d? Ros. No indeed they are not. Ham. How comes it? do they grow rusty? Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted Pace; but there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapp’d 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 2.2.334–44)

This is one of the most well known of Shakespeare’s contemporary social allusions, partly because of its referring to the world of the theatres. The estimation, or public reputation, of the players in a competitive environment is of great importance. It impinges directly on their livelihood. Such a collocation of individual and social meanings can also be undone. Both denotations can pull against each other, instead of being assumed to be identical: 204

estimation We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem Was made much poorer by it; but your son, As mad in folly, lack’d the sense to know Her estimation home. (AW 5.3.1–4)

Here the King of France very precisely locates Bertram’s problem with Helena: her estimation is contradictory, at least in terms of the generally accepted sense seen above in The Two Gentleman of Verona. She has great personal qualities and worth, but in social terms she has no estimation at all. (c) Although she does not use this word, Lisa Jardine’s (1996) chapter on Othello at 19–34 is an important synthesis of Renaissance ideas about reputation. For a corollary, see Amussen (1988), 98–107. A good historical example of the importance of the relationship between personal qualities and social estimation comes with the downfall of Anne Boleyn; see Warnicke (1996), 191–233.

exchequer The office of state that deals with the monarch’s finances. Mostly used in Shakespeare as a synonym for ‘treasury’, in the broad sense. When the prince tells Falstaff in 1 Henry IV that he has made amends with his father, the fat knight’s response is to ask him to steal from the exchequer for him (3.3.183–4). A reference in a much more serious context comes in Henry V, when the French herald Montjoy greets King Henry with a message the day before the Battle of Agincourt (3.6.129– 30). G. R. Smith (1997) describes various historians’ views on the Tudor exchequer at 90–1. execution (a) The moment at which the death penalty is carried out. Various forms of execution existed, ranging from hanging to the horrific death of a traitor known as being hung, drawn and quartered. This would usually be commuted in the case of a noble to beheading. The penalty of hanging was used in the case of the lower classes and could be exacted for a multitude of crimes that later ages would con205

execution sider quite minor. Technically, the heretic’s death in the flames was also a form of state execution, since the church would hand over the miscreant to the state for the final act to be played out. Executions could be more or less elaborate, depending on the occasion. Most judicial hangings were carried out at well-known places such as Tyburn just outside London. The burning of heretics tended to be very public, since part of the reasoning behind the punishment was to make it as salutary a warning as possible to others. The execution of traitors could be either public, or held in private in the grounds of the Tower of London, as happened to Anne Boleyn. Henry VIII had given her a particularly public coronation after his notorious treatment of his previous wife, so he probably felt that he had sound reasons for making her death a private one. Unusually, she was killed by an executioner brought over from France especially for the purpose, a man skilled in the use of the sword to behead his victims. The more common use of the axe could be messy in the extreme; it took three blows for Mary Queen of Scots to die. (b) Executions do not take place on stage in Shakespeare, unlike murders and various other forms of death. Instead, various characters are shown being led across the stage to their final end. Sometimes this gives them an opportunity to enact the final ritual recanting of their actions; sometimes it simply confirms them in the reasons for the actions that have led to their sentence. It could be argued that by not showing an execution in action, Shakespeare is missing out on the great dramatic potential that could be afforded by such a spectacle. However, the emphasis on the reasons for a given execution draws the audience’s attention to the reasons behind it, the social and political context: Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? Hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again? Prov. Lest I might be too rash. Under your good correction, I have seen When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o’er his doom. Ang. Go to; let that be mine. Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spar’d. (MM 2.2.7–14)

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execution This short exchange occurs just before Isabella confronts Angelo for the first time. It serves to remind the audience not only of Angelo’s fixity of purpose, but also his relative inexperience. The Provost’s caution is the product of long service and this contrasts neatly with Angelo’s lack of mercy. There is therefore already a hint that Angelo is incapable of the higher Christian values, preparing the way for the full realization of his hypocrisy. The fact that an execution can be shown to have such a prior context has even greater ramifications in the history plays. Here politics is allimportant, and an execution that is represented as justified by one faction can be rewritten by another: Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me. But yet methinks, my father’s execution Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic. Strong fixed is the house of Lancaster, And like a mountain, not to be remov’d. (1 HVI 2.5.98–103)

This is a reference to the father of the Duke of York, Richard Earl of Cambridge, who was executed at Southampton by Henry V prior to the embarkation of the army on the campaign that led to Agincourt. His death was a result of the conspiracy dealt with by Shakespeare in Henry V, a play written later than the Henry VI plays, as part of the socalled Second Tetralogy (HV 2.2). It is represented there as fortuitously discovered, and serves to expunge the English of any rebellious elements that might impair the attack on France. In historical fact, however, it was a potentially deadly plot, led by elements of the House of York in favour of the claim to the throne of this very Mortimer to whom the younger duke is speaking in this scene from 1 Henry VI. It is more than likely that the timid Mortimer betrayed the conspiracy rather than risk a traitor’s death for himself. If one takes the claims of Mortimer and the House of York to be stronger than that of the usurping House of Lancaster, then the execution of the earl could be seen as an act of tyranny. In the second play of the First Tetralogy, the downfall of Humphrey of Gloucester (Henry V’s brother) is precipitated by the ambition of his wife. Her sentence is meted out as a public display of punishment, 207

execution but her fellow conspirators are condemned to death (2 HVI 2.3.1–13). As he pronounces the sentences, King Henry’s language is typically religious, defining the plot as sinful as well as treasonous. The difference in the treatments meted out to the conspirators is based purely on social distinction. The witch, of course, will be immolated as a heretic; her three partners will be killed on the public gallows. But because of her rank, Dame Eleanor has her sentence commuted to a public ritual enactment of guilt, followed by what is effectively permanent house arrest. Other forms of social and political motivation behind a set of executions do occur in the plays. In Richard II, for example, the rise of Bullingbrook to power by means of armed rebellion is given a veneer of respectability, at least initially, when he condemns Bushy and Green to death (3.1). The reason he gives is that they were the king’s favourites, and incited him against the House of Lancaster; they were the ones who put into action the king’s decree of the despoilment of Bullingbrook’s inheritance. On one level this is simply revenge, but on another it acts to colour his rebellion with a sense of righteous injustice. King Richard’s seizure of the lands and property of the Duchy of Lancaster was illegal, enforced as a direct result of royal absolutism. This act added in the eyes of the nobility to the king’s tendency towards autocracy: if he could do this to such an important family, who would be next? In effect, Richard’s desire to crush Lancaster resulted instead in uniting whole sections of the aristocracy against him. Bullingbrook further justifies his rebellion as the removal of such unpopular and inappropriate advisers, something that Henry VIII would repeat when executing two of the most hated of his father’s servants. In other words, such executions are calculated to enhance one’s popularity. The execution of Lord Hastings without any formal proceedings in Richard III is given official sanction by Buckingham and Richard: Buck. Would you imagine, or almost believe, Were ’t not that by great preservation We live to tell it, that the subtile traitor This day had plotted, in the Council-house, To murther me and my good Lord of Gloucester? May. Had he done so? Glou. What? think you we are Turks or infidels? Or that we would, against the form of law,

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execution Proceed thus rashly in the villain’s death, But that the extreme peril of the case, The peace of England, and our persons’ safety, Enforc’d us to this execution? (RIII 3.5.35–46)

It is easy for the Lord Mayor and, later, the other citizens of London, to be portrayed as naïve and bumbling when confronted with such outright lies. They could also be played as very knowing, but powerless to do anything about Richard’s actions. Hastings was killed because he remained fully loyal to the House of York, and that meant Edward’s sons. He was doubly dangerous because the geographical basis of his affinity was nearby, unlike the northerners who supported Richard. He was therefore callously removed when he proved lukewarm to Richard’s emerging regime. (c) Warnicke (1996) recounts the execution of Anne Boleyn at 232–3. For the conspiracy against Henry V, see Weir (1998), 60–3. For the extreme unpopularity of the ministers of Richard II, see Bevan (1990) at 137. On Richard III’s removal of Lord Hastings, see Ross (1999), 85–6. Plowden (2001) describes the context and execution of Mary Queen of Scots at 201–21, as well as some of the consequences.

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F faction (a) A party or alliance organized on the basis of mutual political self-interest. The group so formed is usually composed of elements from the same social rank and their affinity. Factionalism is therefore most often attributed to fractious elements from the same class, and almost always has a pejorative sense to it. (b) Although Shakespeare uses the word and its associated logic throughout the plays, the textual grouping in which it is most often concentrated is the English history plays: Green. The banish’d Bullingbrook repeals himself, And with uplifted arms is safe arriv’d At Ravenspurgh. Queen Now God in heaven forbid! Green. Ah, madam! ’tis too true, and that is worse, The Lord Northumberland, his son young Harry Percy, The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. Bushy. Why have you not proclaim’d Northumberland, And all the rest, revolted faction traitors? Green. We have; whereupon the Earl of Worcester Hath broken his staff, resign’d his stewardship, And all the household servants fled with him To Bullingbrook. (RII 2.2.49–61)

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faction The House of Lancaster is quickly gathering friends at the expense of King Richard, who is absent in Ireland with the majority of the royal forces. The queen and the ministers who have been left behind are doing their best in impossible circumstances, made all the worse by continuous defections to Bullingbrook’s side. This rebellion succeeds, and indeed Bullingbrook goes on to accomplish much more than the restitution of his ancestral lands by managing to get Richard to abdicate, and becoming King Henry IV in his place. The abdication is really a cover for deposition, and Richard is murdered afterwards. But there is a price to pay in the form of later rebellions against the rule of the Lancastrians: But yet I would your father had been here. The quality and hair of our attempt Brooks no division. It will be thought By some that know not why he is away That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike Of our proceedings kept the Earl from hence, And think how such an apprehension May turn the tide of fearful faction, And breed a kind of question in our cause. (1 HIV 4.1.60–8)

These are Worcester’s comments during the dangerous uprising led by Henry Percy, son of the Earl of Northumberland, the two men who were so strong in support of the House of Lancaster in the earlier play. Bullingbrook’s usurpation of the throne breeds further faction fighting, and Worcester is rightly nervous of the steadiness of the support for his own grouping. Once the crown is laid open to violent acquisition, a cycle of continuing aggression accumulates, resulting in the Wars of the Roses: And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I forever and my faction wear Until it wither with me to my grave, Or flourish to the height of my degree. (1 HVI 2.4.107–11)

These are the words Shakespeare puts into the mouth of the Duke of York in the emblematic Temple Garden scene. The court of 211

faction Bullingbrook’s grandson, Henry VI, breaks into the factionalism that will culminate in outright civil war. The triumph of the House of York in the Wars of the Roses follows a similar logic to the aftermath of Bullingbrook’s success. The degeneration of the Yorkists into internal feuding is ascribed in the plays to Richard, Duke of Gloucester, which has the advantage of dramatic economy and focus, if not of historical precision. His own rise to the throne is preceded by vicious factionalism at the court of his brother Edward IV: When have I injur’d thee? When done thee wrong? Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction? (RIII 1.3.56–7)

Richard clearly recognizes the family of Edward’s queen to be a discrete faction in their own right. In this he is simply voicing the prejudices of the older aristocracy against Edward’s favouring his lower class queen’s family members. Their newly acquired status inspires enough hatred for Richard to be able to fracture the Yorkist establishment as a necessary first stage in his own bid for power. (c) The context for the factionalism resulting from the Lancastrian usurpation is detailed in Weir (1998), 40–54. A later chapter in the same book narrates the eruption of the rivalry of Lancaster and York at 156–73. Ross (1999) incorporates a great deal of information about Richard of Gloucester’s manipulation of the various Yorkist factions in his rise to the throne at 63–95.

fair (a) Usually applied as an epithet to physical appearance, meaning beautiful. There is a kind of tautology in operation by which it is assumed that someone from the upper classes, especially a woman, is automatically ‘fair’. This may be the result of a bias in favour of blonde hair colouring or pale complexion, especially when one takes into account a life of wealth and relative ease. A woman whose face is tanned is much more likely to have to work for a living. Gender and social prejudice come together in a collocation that privileges ‘fair’ beauty over other kinds. In more general usage, the word acts as a synonym for ‘pleasing’. As a noun, it refers to the market or trade 212

fair gatherings necessary for the economic functioning of the various localities that make up a country. (b) The standard association of the word as applied to a woman’s physical beauty gives rise to some of Benedick’s wordplay in Much Ado About Nothing: Why, i’ faith, methinks she’s too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. (MA 1.1.171–6)

The juxtapositions between low and high, brown and fair, and little and great mark Beatrice, the object of these comments, as someone Benedick would rather avoid (and it turns out that there has already been some history between he and Beatrice). There is enough commonplace material in the midst of this rather unpleasant banter to suggest that ‘fair’ is a recognizably superior term to brown in the context of men discussing a woman’s appearance. Associations of class distinction inevitably hover in the background when the word is used in this kind of way: Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry’s wife. Suf. No, gentle madam, I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife And have no portion in the choice myself. (1 HVI 5.3.122–5)

Margaret’s beauty is, however, something of a problem, because it is not accompanied by the lands and wealth that would normally be expected as part of the dowry of a woman who is going to be a queen. So although Margaret may well be of the correct rank, and although her beauty is much more than that conventionally assumed of the upper classes, there are other issues. These feed into the Henry VI plays as a series: Anjou and Maine are given to the French, Paris is lost, the state of Normandy

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fair Stands on a tickle point now they are gone. Suffolk concluded on the articles, The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleas’d To change two dukedoms for a duke’s fair daughter. (2 HVI 1.1.214–19)

The Duke of York’s soliloquy homes in on the events that are taking place in France as the foolish King Henry loses everything gained for England by his illustrious father. And his behaviour is even more lacking in what might be deemed appropriate for a king as he marries a fair woman who has no wealth – the reference to the dukedoms is to a previously agreed match. The appearance of Suffolk’s name in all of this is not incidental, since he is by now a major support of the Lancastrian dynasty, as well as possibly the new queen’s lover. It is obvious that fair beauty is only skin-deep, even among the upper classes. The supposedly inevitable coincidence of class with appearance is undone by the action of historical and tragic events in many of the plays, disclosing the discourse that underpins their prior conjunction: O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow’d my daughter? Damn’d as thou art, thou hast enchanted her, For I’ll refer me to all things of sense, If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy, So opposite to marriage that she shunn’d The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, t’ incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou – to fear, not to delight! (OTH 1.2.62–71)

Brabantio’s racism is palpable, and so also is his complete inability to reason out why Othello and Desdemona might become a couple. He ascribes the possibility to magical enchantment, something beyond the mundane world of Venice. In this respect the play uses gender politics and race to set up Othello’s position as a liminal figure. The juxtaposition of the colour associations of ‘fair’ and ‘sooty’ also relates with his accusation of Othello as ‘damn’d’. Renaissance patriarchal control over women defines their attractiveness in terms such as ‘fair’. But if something is made so appealing, then 214

fair it can also easily slip out of control. So the patriarchal gaze that constructs such beauty as the defining feature of a woman, especially a high-ranking woman, also needs a means to conserve that beauty for itself. The whole process creates a series of contradictions within patriarchal ideology, giving rise at the very least to a host of possibilities for suggestive wordplay and misogyny: Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Oph. No, my lord. Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap? Oph. Ay, my lord. Ham. Do you think I meant country matters? Oph. I think nothing, my lord. Ham. That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs. Oph. What is, my lord? Ham. Nothing. (HAM 3.2.112–21)

Hamlet’s insistence on the female pudenda undercuts what the onlookers in the rest of the court presumably see as an interaction between a high-ranking man and woman who are supposedly courting. What is seen by Hamlet is different from what is seen by Polonius, Gertrude and Claudius, which is different again from the perspectives of the audience surrounding the apron stage. These multiple possibilities point up the crucial importance of the fair thought that lies between Ophelia’s legs – the possible generative influence that could continue the dynasty. In other words, the sexual body is encoded by a whole series of stratified social constructs. The interplay between a fair appearance and sexuality is therefore not straightforward: For where is she so fair whose unear’d womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? (SON 3.5–6)

The monosyllabic line 5 of this sonnet needs to be read more slowly than the line that follows, replicating patriarchy’s idealized, passive femininity as opposed to masculine activity. The class associations of the young man who is being addressed in the sonnet are also very clear, as the implication is that no fair lady could possibly resist a man with the 215

fair accomplishments of this one, particularly his rank. But the collection as a whole is unable to keep up this tone, as Sonnet 127 recognizes: In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were it bore not beauty’s name; But now is black beauty’s successive heir, And beauty slander’d with a bastard shame (SON 127.1–4)

The class connotations of the succession of an heir are subsumed in a comparison that works to the detriment of the present age. Black has now replaced fair to the extent that it is to be considered beautiful, in a process that turns fair beauty into a bastard shame. This is the first of the so-called ‘Dark Lady’ sonnets, which continuously pick up on a disjunction between the woman’s appearance and the effect it has upon the writer. She is too dark to be beautiful, and yet he finds himself reacting to her as if she were. And there is a complicating factor, which is the conventionally attractive fairness that has been ascribed to the young man: Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman colour’d ill. (SON 144.1–4)

Here the man is fair, and the woman is his dark (‘worser’) opposite, and yet she obviously nevertheless holds a strong attraction for the poet. This complex undoing of the standard meanings of ‘fair’ results in a situation that is not only confusing, but even threatening: For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art black as hell, as dark as night. (SON 147. 13–14)

If the fair young man is the socially superior figure in all of this, then the dark woman’s appeal is capable of undoing a relationship between the young friend and the poet. Their connection is one in which hierarchy of degree is crucial. Any relationship with a woman, especially from a lower social class, should quite simply not matter in comparison, 216

fair at least by the logic of a resolutely patriarchal society. The problem is that it does, at least for these poems. Such complexity can be found in the plays as well, especially ones that have traditionally posed something of a problem for secondary criticism: O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If half thy outward graces had been placed About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! Farewell, Thou pure impiety and impious purity! (MA 4.1.100–4)

The oxymoronic wordplay recalls the vocabulary of the sonnets, but the situation here is even more dependent on the masculine patriarchal gaze. The context, of course, is the unseen scene in which Margaret stands in for Hero, an offstage moment that is observed by the noblemen, including Claudio. What this does is draw attention inevitably to the ways in which such an unplayed moment is construed by those who are said to have watched it, and the rhetoric by which they portray it to other characters and the audience. The audience is placed in the position of a judge, watching and listening to a representation of a misrepresentation. It is all too easy for the noblemen to get it wrong, as happens often enough in a play that plays with misprisions, misapprehensions and misunderstandings. What is at stake here is the logic by which Hero is defined, and by whom. In a sense the drama is driven not by what she is, but by what she is made to appear to be, a very precise rendering of the social power politics of gendered vision. This same logic accompanies the use of the word ‘fair’ along with its antonym, ‘foul’ in a very similar series of wordplays in Macbeth. The Witches make an epigrammatic definition of the material of the play with ‘Fair is foul, and foul is fair’ (MAC 1.1.11). The confounding of each term in the binary opposition by its opposite leads to a situation in which nature rebels: ‘So foul and fair a day I have not seen’ (MAC 1.3.38) says Macbeth. This occurs just as he and Banquo encounter the Witches for the very first time; Macbeth’s repetition of the Witches’ formula marks him out as potentially already contaminated by their intentions. The lesson seems to be that something that is deemed to be ‘fair’ might in fact turn out to be ‘foul’, an undoing of the standard meanings that should accompany the use of the word. Margaret of 217

fair Anjou should be recalled here as her beauty infects the English court with even more of the faction fighting to which it is already prone in the reign of the unfortunate Henry VI. She ends up in Shakespeare’s plays as an old witch-like figure who returns to haunt the Yorkist dynasty spouting hatred in Richard III. The whole collocation of class and appearance just described is not the only use of the word. There are some references to the ongoing economic life of the country by means of the fairs that are so important to the agricultural calendar, and which attracted trade as well. Examples of this kind of usage can be found with Shallow’s gossip with Slender at 2 HIV 3.2.37, or the old Justice’s household conversation with Davy later in the same play at 5.1.24–5. A more astringent comment is made by the Lord Chamberlain in Henry VIII about the crowds pressing in just before the baby Elizabeth is presented by Cranmer to Henry and Anne Boleyn (5.3.69). (c) Warnicke (1996) traces out the various contradictory representations of the physical appearance of Anne Boleyn at 58–60, the ground over which assumptions about the beauty of noblewoman played against the facts of her appearance and behaviour. Anne Boleyn is something of a test case for all of these assumptions, especially those that underpin the positions of various secondary commentators. The historical background to the negotiations leading up to Margaret of Anjou becoming Queen of England is detailed in Weir (1998) at 106–10, including some information about the perceived beauty of her appearance. Callaghan (1989) contextualizes Brabantio’s reaction to the coupling of Othello and Desdemona at 62. Evans (1989) contains a long discussion about Ophelia and ‘nothing’, including the problems this character poses for secondary criticism, at 171–86. Innes (1997) delineates the importance of fair beauty as a defining feature of the young man in the Sonnets at 108–37, and the corresponding issues for the ‘Dark Lady’ poems at 178–206. For an overview of local markets and fairs, see Braudel (1985) Vol. 2, 26–80.

fame (a) A synonym for reputation. The exact terms in which fame is couched depend on one’s social status. A nobleman’s fame, for example, requires military prowess as well as conspicuous consumption (see also glory), while a middle-class woman from London will have a local set 218

fame of social requirements to negotiate with her neighbours and family. In more general use, the word can denote ‘report’ or even, more loosely, ‘rumour’. (b) In the English history plays, Talbot is the famous English hero par excellence. He functions as a kind of standard for the kind of reputation to which a nobleman might aspire. The Countess of Auvergne realizes this when she fails to entrap him at 1 HVI 2.3.68. Sir William Lucy reproaches the fractious nobles who fail to come to Talbot’s aid, thus hastening the downfall of England’s hopes in France: ‘His fame lives in the world, his shame in you’ (1 HVI 4.4.46). The word is repeated by Talbot himself in his death pact with his son at 1 HVI 4.6.39. Fame in this play has become something of a benchmark by which the nobles who stay at court are found to be failing in their duty. The faction fighting continues into the next play in the series. Here it takes on a different hue, as the marriage of Henry VI to Margaret of Anjou intensifies the old hatreds. Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, is brother to Henry V, and so is uncle to the weak Henry VI; he was appointed Protector during the young king’s minority. He has no ambition to anything further, being loyal to his brother’s memory and, as he sees it, England’s good. He tries to contest the power of Cardinal Beaufort and is unable to stop the faction fighting that develops in the younger generation, led especially by Suffolk, Margaret’s reputed lover. The duke sees the marriage as nothing short of disastrous, and is convinced that everyone else who matters will think the same: Shall Henry’s conquest, Bedford’s vigilance, Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die? O peers of England, shameful is this league, Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, Blotting your names from books of memory, Rasing the characters of your renown, Defacing monuments of conquer’d France, Undoing all, as all had never been! (2 HVI 1.1.96–103)

Gloucester homes in on exactly the kinds of things that appeal to a warlike nobleman’s idea of his own fame: conquest, vigilance, war, counsel, memory, renown and monuments. Deeds of aggression are no good if they are not handed down to posterity. Warwick’s response is to weep 219

fame tears of sheer frustration at the catalogue of disasters; as a military man he knows that the provinces given away to Margaret’s father will act as a gateway for the French into Normandy, the heart of England’s continental possessions. This is in fact what happens, and the consequences are dire for those who believe in England’s rights to a continental empire. Crucially, this perceived weakness at the heart of the Lancastrian regime will lead to the Wars of the Roses; the Warwick who appears in this scene will be known as the ‘Kingmaker’ in this subsequent conflict. Martial accomplishments are so important to a nobleman’s self esteem that they can become something of an end in themselves. This is exactly what happens in Coriolanus, as the title character comes to define himself almost entirely in such terms. Indeed, that is how he receives that name: Know, Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioles gates; where he hath won, With fame, a name to ‘Martius Caius’; these In honour follows Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! (COR 2.1.162–6)

This is an important Roman military ritual, the formal announcement by a herald upon the entry of a general and his army in triumph into the city after a successful campaign. In the Republic, it was the only time that a returning general was supposed to be able to bring his troops with him. The formally accorded triumph is marked by the general’s acquisition of an extra name associated with his victories, and this is how Caius Martius becomes Coriolanus. But as the play goes on to demonstrate, pure military might alone is not enough for a nobleman to succeed as a public figure. By taking the logic of such ability to its extreme, Coriolanus fails to recognize that a truly successful nobleman needs other qualities in order to flourish. For the lower classes and women, a fully realized social world defines what is required for a spotless reputation or fame: Fran. Sir, Ancient Pistol’s below, and would speak with you. Doll. Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not come hither. It is the foul-mouth’dest rogue in England.

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fame Host. If he swagger, let him not come here. No, by my faith, I must live among my neighbours; I’ll no swaggerers, I am in good name and fame with the very best. (2 HIV 2.4.69–76)

The Hostess’ concern for her reputation does seem a little misplaced considering the other company she keeps, such as Falstaff. But then this is part of the comedy, because Pistol’s violent bombast is enough to unsettle any neighbourhood. (c) Stone (1967) examines the importance of fame and reputation to Renaissance nobles in terms of their obsession with their own family history, at 17–18. Heal and Holmes (1994) does the same for the gentry from 20–96. See Amussen (1988) for the importance of reputation to women, at 98–107.

family The familiar nuclear family pattern is only beginning to emerge in the Renaissance, mostly further down the social scale. The result is that Shakespeare uses the word on only a handful of occasions, which seems rather surprising to a later society that places so much emphasis on the concept. The reason for this is that ‘family’ and its synonyms relate to a far wider range of associations than is now the case. Aristocratic ideology sees the family as including illustrious ancestors (our word ‘dynasty’, a term Shakespeare, interestingly, never uses at all), as well as covering the servants and retainers allied with them. Thus, there is more use in the texts of precise terms such as affinity or name. Such expressions share a connotative set that places more importance on conceptions of place, rank and degree rather than personal experience. ‘Family’ is therefore imbricated in a network of socially negotiated relations, as opposed to being the shared personal lives of a few close relatives. The implication is that the importance we attach to stages in family life such as pregnancy, birth, marriage, death and so on were accorded standing of a different order in the Renaissance. They were personal, but this did not stop them partaking of a wider public importance in society generally. The disjunction between the two does not yet fully exist in this form. This feeds into major differences in the period’s treatment of the distinction between private 221

family and public. It could be feasibly argued that the rise of the centrality of familial ideology goes hand in hand with the rise of individualism, which would place both as historically more recent developments than the Renaissance. The closest Shakespeare comes to the modern sense of the word is when Iago and Roderigo awaken Brabantio’s household in Othello: ‘Signior, is all your family within?’ (OTH 1.1.83). Even here, however, one must tread with caution, since Brabantio has quite high standing within the state of Venice. More commonly, the word occurs in a context of aristocratic lineage, as when Saturninus acclaims Titus at TA 1.1.239 by offering to marry his daughter Lavinia, an offer he retracts when he falls in love with the captive Tamora, Queen of the Goths. There is clearly a sense of ‘dynastic’ marriage politics here. A similar example occurs when the fervent Lancastrian Clifford demands an outright assault in parliament upon the House of York (3 HVI 1.1.64), which again has dynastic politics at its core. Henry V talks of ‘noble family’ when he discovers the treason plot at Southampton (HV 2.2.129). All of these occurrences qualify the concept of family by means of further aristocratic associations. A classic treatment of the developments in the concept of the family is Stone (1990). For a more recent discussion of the family, especially among the gentry, see Amussen (1988).

famine Shortage of food. In this period, it does not necessarily have quite the specific severity affecting an entire region that it does in modern parlance; often it simply denotes someone’s hunger. Jack Cade blames his defeat in single combat at the hands of Iden on his inability to fight properly due to weakness brought on by ‘famine’ at 2 HVI 4.10.60. In this context, it obviously means hunger, since it affects Cade personally and no one else. Imogen uses the word in exactly the same way when, disguised as a page boy, she finds Belarius’ cave (CYM 3.6.19). She says that she is worried about what might lie within, but ‘famine’ emboldens her to try something she would normally avoid. The plays also note that famine can strike a region as a consequence of military action: O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention!

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famine A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars, and at his heels (Leashed in, like hounds) should famine, sword, and fire Crouch for employment. (HV Prologue 1–8)

The play begins with an assertion that this king is so good at warfare that he is like another Mars; famine, sword and fire inevitably follow in his wake. The fact that the audience will be aware that it is the French who will be suffering at Henry’s hands does not seem to bother this playwright, but then this is not the first time that Shakespeare has dramatized English martial heroism at French expense (see Talbot’s words in 1 HVI 4.2.11). Famine as denoting a regional shortage of food is the context for the beginning of Coriolanus, something that would be familiar to an audience that has lived through the lean harvests at the end of Elizabeth’s reign. (c) See Palliser (1992), 220–1, for a discussion of the bad harvests towards the end of the sixteenth century. For the destruction wrought on the French countryside by the marauding English, see Contamine (1993), 223–5.

fashion (a) Style in dress, speech or behaviour. It does not necessarily carry our later sense of modish newness, but can refer instead simply to a technique or appearance. The immediate context will supply any qualification, such as the ruinously expensive clothing and fashionable behaviour of the Renaissance courtier, but it would be wise not simply to assume that this nuance is always carried by the term. (b) In 1 Henry VI, Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, exploits the potentially negative associations of the word in the Temple Garden scene. He dismisses Suffolk’s red rose and Suffolk himself: ‘I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy’ (2.4.76). This sense of dress ornamentation or style occurs very often in the plays. In the insane trial scene, Lear takes the disguised Edgar for one of his retainers, but objects to his clothing because it looks like something the Persians would wear 223

fashion (KL 3.6.79–81). Precision regarding clothing style is common in the plays and occurs when Lafew dismisses Parolles’ fashions in AW 2.3.249–56; a better-known example comes with the ridicule of Malvolio in TN 2.5.197–204 and 3.4. A less unpleasant episode comes in MA 3.4.13–23, when Margaret and Hero are discussing clothes, although even this has consequences, because it is presumably something like Hero’s gown that is worn by Margaret in her fateful offstage impersonation of her mistress. The conversation between Julia and Lucetta about how best to style the former’s disguise as a man in GV 2.7.49–56 comically demonstrates the kinds of fashion thought fitting by young gallants. Their fashions have to be set by someone, and this is referenced by Ophelia when she thinks Hamlet has gone mad: O, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown! The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s, eye, tongue, sword, Th’ expectation and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, Th’ observed of all observers, quite, quite, down! (HAM 3.1.150–4)

Interestingly enough, Hamlet’s standing as the mirror of fashion is noted by Ophelia in terms of observation. This links in with the ways in which he is spied upon at Claudius’ court, and of course doubles back upon Hamlet’s own observation techniques. Such fashions are expensive; to keep up with the court, one has to have a good income (see CE 4.1.27–31). In the inverted world of The Taming of The Shrew, fashion in clothing crosses over into behaviour as well. Before he sees Petruchio’s attire for his wedding, Tranio responds to a report of it: ‘ ’Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion’ (TS 3.2.72). The ambiguity makes it uncertain whether he is referring to Petruchio’s clothing or his wooing techniques. At the end of 2 Henry IV, the new King Henry V makes use of a fashion metaphor to underscore the changes in his own behaviour as he notes the sad melancholy of his brothers (5.2. 51–3). Presumably at this point they are at least as worried about his impending rule as they are sad at the death of their father. He is picking up on the same associations of negative courtiership as occurs in As You Like It: O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world,

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fashion When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having. It is not so with thee. (AYLI 2.3.56–62)

Orlando’s comparison of older codes of behaviour with the new selfseeking ones is a common enough motif in the plays. The fashion reference recalls the importance of outward appearance in the newer style of courtly conduct. Laertes assumes that Hamlet’s courtship of Ophelia is exactly of this negative kind at HAM 1.3.5–10, while Sonnet 20 accuses women of the same kind of changeable behaviour in line 4. (c) Stone (1967) includes fashionable clothing in his discussion of the elements of conspicuous expenditure that imposed such a drain on the finances of the aristocracy at 257–8. He gives examples of further strain caused by attendance at court and in London at 183–6. Picard (2004) describes women’s fashions at 147–50.

favour (a) This is a particularly complex term, with a wide variety of meanings. When one is in favour with someone else, there is often a sense of the social superiority of that other person, since favour is not freely given by an inferior. This meaning extends metaphorically to being in good fortune. A sort of conflation of the two produces a sense of doing someone a favour, a deed or action that is performed as a kindness. The word also has a more specific meaning of ‘appearance’ or even ‘face’. And, finally, it can refer to the chivalric concept of wearing an item of clothing belonging to one’s patron. This does not have to be realistic, since the convention dictates that one can wear a lady’s ‘favour’ as part of the tradition of courtly love. It is probably derived from a usage such as ‘mark of favour’. (b) The favour shown by a social superior can be fickle. When a change in favour is noted in the plays, there can be a sense of injustice, at least contextually: What can be their business With me, a poor weak woman, fall’n from favour?

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favour I do not like their coming. Now I think on ’t, They should be good men, their affairs as righteous. But all hoods make not monks. (HVIII 3.1.19–23)

These are Katherine of Aragon’s words at the news that Wolsey and Cardinal Campeius are about to pay her a private visit, in the midst of the proceedings about her marriage. Historical hindsight provides an awareness of the various machinations that accompanied her fall from Henry’s favour. The issue is intensified by the standard Renaissance English distrust of cardinals. Slightly later in the same play, Wolsey himself refers to the changeable nature of Henry’s favour when he mentions the rise of Cranmer in conversation with the Duke of Norfolk (HVIII 3.2.101–4). Again, the context supplies meanings that intensify the observation, since the Howard Dukes of Norfolk were important supporters of Catholicism, their last holder of the title finally being executed by Elizabeth for intriguing with Mary Queen of Scots. Additionally, Catherine Howard was related to the family, a typically oblique contextual association made by a play that deliberately avoids dealing with the full implications of the constant changes in Henry’s marital and religious career. Such political connotations are necessarily treated with circumspection in a period in which drama had to be careful of the state censors. This necessity extends even to the rise of the House of Lancaster, whose heirs the Tudors claimed to be: It pleas’d your Majesty to turn your looks Of favour from myself and all our house, And yet I must remember you, my lord, We were the first and dearest of your friends. (1 HIV 5.1.30–3)

Worcester goes on to remind the king of the services he and others performed for him in his rebellion against Richard II. Members of the audience who saw the earlier play will remember that Henry originally swore that he was only intending to remove the king’s evil ministers and have him restore the ancestral lands of the House of Lancaster. The interpretation Worcester places on Henry’s subsequent conduct blames him for turning away from them, his loyal supporters. Whichever 226

favour version of these events one might believe, it is important to recall that the various ways in which they are staged across the English history plays does force one to acknowledge that they are, at the very least, open to conflicting interpretations. Such is the case with the faction fighting that plagues the court of this Henry’s grandson, Henry VI: Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign. Bas. And me, my lord; grant me the combat too. York. This is my servant; hear him, noble Prince. Som. And this is mine, sweet Henry, favour him. (1 HVI 4.1.78–81)

What is interesting about this exchange is the language with which the two great lords address their sovereign. York’s vocabulary implicitly acknowledges the importance of protocol, as he uses elements of Henry’s rank in his request. Somerset, on the other hand, a staunch supporter of the House of Lancaster, is extremely personal by comparison. For him, the favour of this king is not constrained by the requirements of court etiquette. The difficulties to be encountered by those who need the favour of such powerful but inconsistent personages are detailed elsewhere in the plays. There is an interesting example in the Roman plays at AC 3.1.14–27, when Ventidius displays extremely sophisticated political awareness to his compatriot, Sicilius. Both are Antony’s supporters, and yet Ventidius has defeated the Parthians and killed their leader, something Antony failed to do. As commander of a detached army, he could pursue them and perhaps even conquer them; Sicilius, indeed, has just asked why he has not followed up his victory. But Ventidius is well aware of the kind of politics of ‘renown’ that operates in what is about to become the Roman Empire. His comments also, incidentally, puncture a too easy assumption of the difference between the two principal contenders for supreme power. Antony is often represented in secondary criticism as a ‘hands-on’ leader, unlike his great opposite, the Caesar to whom Ventidius refers. In other words, there are constraints on the power even of those whose powerful favours are sought by others, a situation that appears in slightly different form in another Roman play, at TA 4.4.69–80. In this passage the Emperor Saturninus correctly and succinctly analyses the situation facing him as Lucius 227

favour advances upon Rome at the head of a Gothic army. A popular war leader with such powerful military support will inevitably defeat a discredited emperor whom the people of Rome have forsaken. Saturninus notes the twin pillars that support the emperor: the army and the people, and to lose both is to invite disaster. This is exactly what happens, despite Tamora’s blustering assurances to the contrary that follow. What is important about the emperor’s speech is that it implicitly acknowledges that even he cannot afford to ignore the people’s favour entirely, regardless of how autocratic his rule might be, and how mighty might be his personal power. There is here a lesson for Queen Elizabeth, who jealously guarded her own popularity. Even a monarch ignores the common people at his or her peril, as Charles Stuart would soon find out. Fortune’s favour is an extension of the meanings explored above, as though fortune were in the place of the social superior: Then, in a moment, Fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy minion, To whom in favour she shall give the day, And kiss him with a glorious victory. (KJ 2.1.391–4)

This is a common enough sentiment, reinforced by the use of the term minion. It is echoed in a less military, but no less political, manner in the Sonnets: Let those who are in favour with their stars Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I whom fortune of such triumph bars Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most. (SON 25.1–4)

The class difference between the poet and the young man of the poems is here reinforced by favourable stars; the poet has no problems with this difference at all. In fact, the ascription of the disparity to fortune effaces any possible recognition of its root in a socially produced hierarchy. It is also these powerful people who are the ones able to do favours to others. The more physical uses of the word assume that the person’s favour (face or appearance) is favourable, or at least attractive. This is the kind of meaning that lies behind, for example, Helena’s admission in 228

favour soliloquy that Bertram’s favour is the only one that has a full place in her mind, even more so than that of her deceased father (AW 1.1.79–85). A more neutral usage that simply means ‘visage’ or ‘appearance’ occurs when the sea captain Antonio is arrested in Twelfth Night (3.4.329). Cassius uses the word in this way when he starts to work on Brutus at JC 1.2.90–1. The word is repeated slightly later in the same play when the conspirators arrive at Brutus’ house and his servant is unable to recognize any of them ‘By any mark of favour’ (JC 2.1.76). The final denotation, that is, one derived from chivalry, appears in memorable form in Henry V in the aftermath of Agincourt. The king asks Fluellen to wear the glove presented to him when he was in disguise the night before the battle by one of the common soldiers, Williams. Henry describes it as a ‘favour’ at (HV 3.7.153), and has to intervene to stop an outright fight when Fluellen is challenged by Williams. (c) The clientage system that underpins the dispensation of favour by the socially powerful is described in Stone (1967) in a section on the uses of influence from 125–9. Derek Wilson (2002) contains an enlightening discussion of Henry VIII’s circumspect ways of showing favour to the Howards after the Battle of Flodden at 112–4. Weir (1998) narrates how Henry VI’s favours to certain of the nobility inevitably alienated others in the run up to his marriage to Margaret of Anjou, at 104–6. Gilliver et al. (2005) gives the context for Julius Caesar’s assassination, including the favour he had shown to defeated enemies, at 170–5. Ridley (1987) charts the demise of the Earl of Essex, especially the contest between he and Elizabeth for the favour of the people, at 330, including Essex’s attempt to curry popular support by reviving Shakespeare’s Richard II. Yates (1993) devotes a section to Elizabeth’s Accession Day tilts and their revival of the chivalric ethos, including ladies’ favours, from 88–94, in the more general context of Elizabethan chivalry as a whole.

favourite A person who is in especial favour with some one else, usually of superior rank. The term often carries negative associations, since one who has particular favour has probably offended someone else simply by virtue of being in the limelight. Most of the time, this is a direct result of class snobbery. For example, when a monarch favours someone of relatively low degree above others who consider themselves to be much more important, the result is jealousy and dislike. 229

favourite Such reactions are commonplace in a society that prizes social status as an index of identity, even over and above ability or talent. Should a monarch’s advisors, for example, be chosen for their talent and direct loyalty to the monarch, there will inevitably be some high nobles who resent the fact. The persons so raised will then attract opprobrium that might seem excessive to an age that pays a bit more lip service to advancement through merit. The pejorative associations of the word are pretty much standard (see minion for a more specifically unpleasant term). Cardinal Wolsey in Henry VIII is a superb example of the type, although in his case Shakespeare and Fletcher do not use the word. There may be a simple reason for this: a monarch who specializes in this sort of negative favouritism obviously chooses to do so, and that play studiously avoids ascribing such intentions to the king. It simply dramatizes his actions, and the audience is left to decide for themselves about the king’s real character. Not a single one of Wolsey’s many enemies uses the word. A definition is given in the Second Tetralogy: O, who shall believe But you misuse the reverence of your place, Employ the countenance and grace of heav’n As a false favourite doth his prince’s name, In deeds dishonourable? You have ta’en up, Under the counterfeited zeal of God, The subjects of his substitute, my father, And both against the peace of heaven and him Have here upswarm’d them. (2 HIV 4.2.22–9)

These are Prince John’s reproaches to the Archbishop of York, one of the leaders of rebellion against Henry IV. His rhetoric takes it for granted that a favourite will play false with his master’s title, something that is underscored by the close alliteration. The family that perhaps attracted the most notoriety in its dealings with Renaissance monarchs was the Dudleys. For the career of the detested Edmund Dudley, servant of Henry VII, see Wilson (2005), 1–51. Elizabeth’s favourite, Robert Dudley, he deals with from 237–353.

feast (a) An occasion at which copious amounts of food and drink are consumed. State occasions so marked are known as banquets, 230

feast although the two are often synonymous. The word is also used to denote the day associated with a specific saint. (b) The image of the feasting Renaissance has been made famous by Charles Laughton’s portrayal of Henry VIII. Whatever the truth may be of the king’s personal eating habits, as an estimation of lavish expenditure on food it is not far wrong, perhaps even a bit tame: Maec. We have cause to be glad that matters are so well digested. You stayed well by ’t in Egypt. Eno. Ay, sir, we did sleep day out of countenance, and made the night light with drinking. Maec. Eight wild-boars roasted whole at a break-fast and but twelve persons there; is this true? Eno. This was but as a fly by an eagle; we had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserv’d noting. (AC 2.2.175–83)

In the play, Egypt’s sumptuousness is denoted by its wealth of consumption in such a way that it has become famous in Rome. The terms would also be familiar to a contemporary audience. This exchange comes just before Enobarbus’ famous description of Cleopatra in her state barge, the statement of conspicuous consumption par excellence. The excess of feasting continues in the play at 2.6.60ff, as the triumvirs are entertained aboard Pompey’s flagship. This feast marks the occasion of a supposed peace agreement between Antony and Octavius Caesar. The celebration of important events by feasting enacts a kind of ritual and this is a common enough occurrence in the plays. Henry VIII first meets Anne Boleyn (spelt Bullen by Shakespeare and Fletcher) at a feast organized by Cardinal Wolsey at HVIII 1.4. Kate’s subservience is demonstrated towards the end of The Taming of the Shrew in a feast at TS 5.2. Interestingly enough, this occasion also marks a point at which Bianca and the Widow both refuse to obey their husbands, something that is not often picked out by a criticism that ignores the plot of the half of the play other than Kate and Petruchio. However, feasts in the plays are not all glorious occasions, and may instead turn out to be disasters, as happens in the famous feast in Macbeth with the appearance of Banquo’s murdered ghost (MAC 3.4). Another example is the feast at the house of the Capulet family at 231

feast which Romeo and Juliet first meet (RJ 1.5). A feast gives rise to the wager sub-plot at CYM 1.4, and Timon of Athens is full of feasts whose expense contributes directly to Timon’s downfall. His so-called friends refuse to return his hospitality when his lavish expenditure ruins his household; this again is something with direct overtones of familiarity to the English Renaissance audience. Hamlet’s return to court begins with an ominous feast, as he notes himself: Ham. But what is your affair in Elsinore? We’ll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. Hor. My lord, I came to see your father’s funeral. Ham. I prithee do not mock me, fellow studient, I think it was to see my mother’s wedding. Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio, the funeral bak’d-meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. (HAM 1.2.174–81)

The play will also end with a ritual feast, but one that turns into a bloodbath. The plays are therefore capable of representing the excess of feasting as potentially dangerous, an occasion that can become violently out of control. Indeed, this latent threat is materialized in more metaphorical uses of the word: Dost thou desire her foully for those things That make her good? O, let her brother live! Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her, That I desire to hear her speak again? And feast upon her eyes? What is ’t I dream on? O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet, With all her double vigour, art and nature, Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite. Ever till now When men were fond, I smil’d, and wond’red how. (MM 2.2.173–86)

The imagery here is extreme in its carnality as it turns the standard eye conceit of Petrarchan love discourse into something even more mon232

feast strous; in a sense, Angelo wants to eat up Isabella’s eyes. Angelo’s assumption of his own moral superiority (hence his name) disintegrates with the violent awakening of his own bodily desires. His appetite is aroused and the result is a soliloquy that demonstrates the extremity of his self-image – he is not just holy, in his own eyes, but a saint, echoing the kind of language associated with the puritans. The disjunction he has created between his body and his spirit is thrown into confusion and gives rise to a rhetoric of ironic antitheses. The same logic can be found in Sonnet 47. The alternative use of the word to denote a holy day specific to an individual named saint can be found most famously before the Battle of Agincourt at HV 4.3.40–51. Historical hindsight has its uses, allowing Henry’s famous speech to operate as a kind of glorious prophecy, ascribing the coming victory to divine favour. This is of course a standard conceit in the Middle Ages and Renaissance for military engagements, on whose outcome so much rests. It also conveniently effaces Henry’s miscalculations during the march through France. (c) For aristocratic food consumption and cost, see (Stone) 1967, 254–7. Picard (2004) devotes a whole chapter to food and drink at 166–89; see also Ridley (2002, 2), 147–9. Both include some details of the kind of diet enjoyed by the majority of the population. Sohmer (1999) provides a useful list of holy days at 272–4.

flattery (a) False praise. Flattery presents a serious issue for a culture obsessed with the relationship between appearance and substance. The problem is especially acute for the powerful, who feel that they need good counsel while at the same time they are susceptible to believing any blandishments directed at them. Flattery is therefore an important tool at the disposal of any aspiring courtier. (b) The emulation between Hotspur and Douglas gives rise to one of the former’s characteristic utterances: By God, I cannot flatter, I do defy The tongues of soothers, but a braver place In my heart’s love hath no man than yourself. (1 HIV 4.1.6–8)

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flattery For Hotspur, there is an obvious opposition between the tongues of soothers on the one hand and brave men of action on the other. His rhetoric feeds into one of the central issues of the Second Tetralogy and can be re-defined as a disjunction between politic cunning and military force. Henry of Lancaster has come to the throne by the first method and is trying to hold onto it by necessary use of the second. In this England, a combination of the two is required; Hotspur is a paragon of military honour but as the play goes on to demonstrate, this alone is not enough. Hotspur’s position echoes a passage from an earlier play about a later generation, that of Warwick (the ‘Kingmaker’): I love no colours; and without all colour Of base insinuating flattery, I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. (1 HVI 2.4.34–6)

The comment, however, is not without an added emphasis. One of the problems posed by the Lancastrian regime for England is that it seems to have lost the necessary balance so assiduously cultivated by Henry IV. Warwick, among others, feels alienated from the centre of power because of the prevalence of flattering courtiers such as Somerset and the rising Suffolk. The Temple Garden scene in which the two factions choose sides accordingly picks up on the emblematic importance of the white and red roses. It becomes difficult in many of the plays for the various protagonists to be sufficiently able to distinguish between sincere praise and advice as opposed to insincere and self-serving flattery. This produces an important nuance in performance in Julius Caesar as Brutus says ‘I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar’ ( JC 3.1.52); if the conspirator has taken the dictator by the hand, then the latter is doubly certain not to be able to defend himself as the daggers are drawn. Such a moment renders precise interpretation of events very difficult for the very person who needs to be able to recognize flattery when it occurs. Margaret of Anjou manages a similar contradictory stance when she manipulates her weak husband into discarding the protectorship of Duke Humphrey when she states, among other things, that ‘By flattery hath he won the commons’ hearts’ (2 HVI 3.1.28). What this effaces is that the common people may in fact have recognized that Good Duke Humphrey (as they know him) has the good of the country at heart, 234

flattery whatever the nature of his hatred for the faction of Suffolk and Cardinal Beaufort. Henry VI’s inability to take action here finds an echo in Cymbeline: Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery, nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her; yet, O my daughter, That it was folly in me thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! (CYM 5.5.62–8)

Folly indeed, and yet every report given of this king’s reign notes that he is an easy prey to flattering courtiers, and always has been, at least if Belarius is to be believed. Even here the queen’s death and supposed last words take place offstage, and are reported second hand to the king, as if to underscore his own distance from important events. The technique used here also draws attention to one of the play’s main elements, the ways in which events are represented. When flattery is recognized in this way in other plays, it is not always after the event: Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade The region of my heart; be Kent unmannerly When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour’s bound, When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state, And in thy best consideration check This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgement, Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least, Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds Reverb no hollowness. (KL 1.1.143–53)

What this passage demonstrates is that it is not just an awareness of false flattery that matters; so too do the means of that awareness. Kent is commonly acknowledged in critical analysis to be taking the part of 235

flattery the honourable, truthful retainer, a man whose feudal sense of loyalty is personal. Thus he will speak the truth regardless of the cost, especially when he sees his liege lord making a terrible error. Kent’s is a different world from that inhabited by Goneril, Regan and Edmund and his warning to Lear is a direct acknowledgement of the threats posed to the state by their kind of courtiership. He sees Lear himself as already infected by the disease caused by flattery, so much so that he describes the king as already mad. This is important because it roots Lear’s disintegration firmly in the decision he makes at the outset, rather than as a result of his later dispossession by his daughters; a rigorous following of this logic would argue that Lear is to blame for the damage he causes himself. An alternative analysis might be that Kent’s argument springs at least as much from his own class interest. After all, by raising his daughters (and by extension their husbands) to the status of viceroys, Lear has created a new level of super-nobility, one that has more power than the old nobility of men such as Kent. Perhaps Kent feels threatened by this, and his response is to act outraged by what he sees as an affront to Cordelia’s dignity. Also, as a warrior noble of the old school like his king, Kent is experienced enough to know that such a division of the kingdom into two halves ruled by predator noble families can lead to only one thing, civil war. In other words, the system is incapable of supporting such radical change. Given the possible dangers posed by flattery, some of the plays go out of their way to make some monarchs seem to be enlightened by virtue of their recognition of the dangers posed by flattery: You were ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not To hear such flattery now, and in my presence They are too thin and base to hide offences. To me you cannot reach you play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; But whatsoe’er thou tak’st me for, I’m sure Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody. (HVIII 5.2.157–64)

This is Henry’s response to the plot to destroy Cranmer and like so much else in the play, it relies for its force upon the audience’s historical hindsight. As a supporter of Mary Tudor, Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, was popularly linked in with her persecution of Protestants. 236

flattery This included Cranmer being burned at the stake for heresy. In his prayer-soliloquy on ceremony the night before Agincourt, Henry V makes a similar recognition about flattery at (HV 4.1.251). Timon of Athens is a great deal less ostensibly pleasant when he finally realizes the dangers of sycophancy at (TA 3.6.86–105). (c) Wilson (2002) has as its introductory motto a quotation from Sir Thomas More that sums up both the practice and dangers of flattery. Yates (1993) has a classic section on the structured poetic flattery of Elizabeth as Virgin Queen at 112–20. A critical updating of these issues is in Hackett (1996), 128–62. A collection of essays that serves as a rejoinder to a too easy assumption that Elizabeth had it all her own way is Walker (1998).

food: see feast fool (a) As a general insult, an expression denoting stupidity or unwise action. The more specific sense is that of a simpleton; such real or pretend fools could become professionally employed entertainers. On the stage, this particular meaning links in with the performance tradition of the stock character of the Fool, derived from the medieval carnivalesque. A wide variety of possibilities is exploited by the drama, such that a stock fool figure is conventionally too simple to hide the truth, and has a kind of licence to state it openly where others would not dare. This option shades into professional foolery, where the fool is not necessarily simple, but is given the ability to act according to the prevailing notion of folly. Such stage fooling is noted (or notorious) for its quibbling linguistic wordplay. (b) The standard insulting use of the word can be found throughout Shakespeare’s texts. Hamlet calls Polonius a fool when he realizes that it is he who was hiding behind the arras in the closet scene: ‘Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!’ (HAM 3.4.31). In his direct addresses to the audience, Iago openly dismisses Roderigo as a fool: ‘Thus do I ever make my fool my purse’ (OTH 1.3.383) and again: ‘my sick fool Roderigo’ (OTH 2.3.51). Shylock gloats over Antonio’s fate with the same word: ‘This is the fool that lent out money gratis’ (MV 3.3.2). 237

fool On occasion, the word has a much more pointed use, as when King Richard shouts impotently at John of Gaunt as the latter is on his deathbed: A lunatic lean-witted fool, Presuming on an ague’s privilege, Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood With fury from his native residence. (RII 1.2.115–19)

The Old Duke of Lancaster has just given Richard a very precise and correct analysis of his stewardship of the kingdom of England, and Richard really does not like what he has heard. His blustering can be played here to indicate that he knows Gaunt is correct. Such recognition of the truth accompanies Romeo’s famous verdict on himself: ‘O, I am fortune’s fool!’ (RJ 3.1.136) as he kills Tybalt. Versions of the stock character of the fool abound in the plays: the sophisticated jester Feste in Twelfth Night; Launce in The Two Gentleman of Verona, doing his double act with his dog, Crab; the aptly named Touchstone in As You Like It; and the Fool in King Lear. This last is perhaps the most acerbic commentator on the world around him to appear in this guise in the plays, since he is incorporated into a tragedy. Elements of the figure are also attached at various points to other characters, as at one of the times at which the Prince insults Falstaff: These lies are like their father that begets Them, gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brain’d guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-catch (1 HIV 2.4.225–8)

This is easy enough to manage, since Falstaff is himself a traditional carnivalesque figure, which explains the vocabulary of gross physical excess. In fact, Henry will recall this kind of definition when he becomes king and finally repudiates his former life: ‘How ill white hairs becomes a fool and jester!’ (2 HIV 5.5.48). A similarly unpleasant comment is made about Antony: 238

fool Take but good note, and you shall see in him The triple pillar of the world transform’d Into a strumpet’s fool. Behold and see. (AC 1.1.11–13)

And this comes from one of Antony’s friends and supporters, Philo, right at the outset of the play. It alerts the audience not only to pay close attention to the interaction between Cleopatra and Antony, but also to the ways in which their relationship appears to the world in general, especially other Romans. In Cymbeline, Cloten’s foolish stupidity is related directly to the audience by the very courtiers who have to dance attendance upon him (1.2.24 and 2.1.16). (c) The classic Renaissance exploration of the concept of folly is Erasmus (1986). Laroque (1993) examines Renaissance English responses to the fool in the carnival tradition at 125–7. For the fool’s incorporation into the drama, see Weimann (1978), 11–14.

football An extremely rough game with no rules other than each team having a set of goalposts, often several miles apart. This sport was disdained by the upper classes as something in which only the worst elements would take part. In King Lear, Kent vents his frustrations at the new kind of courtier associated with Goneril and Regan. He joins in Lear’s physical abuse of Goneril’s household steward, Oswald, and calls him a ‘base football player’ (KL 1.4.86). The game is familiar enough for the shape of the ball to be used in metaphor: Am I so round with you, as you with me, That like a football you do spurn me thus? (CE 2.1.82–3)

Rough treatment seems to be part of the association here. For some details of the contemporary sport, see Ridley (2002, 2) at 255–6.

freedom (a) The ability of a person to accomplish an action without 239

freedom prior hindrance. When applied to a state or other political body, it has an open sense of unconstrained independence (this is the root of the usage that is still current of being granted the freedom of a city). Its widest occurrence comes in relation to being without a master, a less pejorative connotation than more socially charged terms such as vagabond or vagrant. (b) The meaning of freedom to take action is perhaps the most common. Suffolk uses it when he is wooing Margaret of Anjou on behalf of his sovereign (and himself): Suf. Say, gentle Princess, would you not suppose Your bondage happy, to be made a queen? Mar. To be a queen in bondage is more vile Than is a slave in base servility; For princes should be free. Suf. And so shall you, If happy England’s royal king be free. Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? Suf. I’ll undertake to make thee Henry’s queen (1 HVI 5.3.110–17)

The play on servility and bondage versus freedom qualifies the social status of a queen and a king. According to Margaret, princes should be free, but Suffolk’s use of the conditional demonstrates that he knows his weak king is anything but free. Wolsey relies upon the same associations when he comments to Queen Katherine that the king will be unable to be free from serious concerns should Buckingham still be at liberty (HVIII 1.2.200–1). The corporate sense of a city’s freedom occurs when Shylock challenges the laws of Venice: I have possess’d your Grace of what I purpose, And by our holy Saboath have I sworn To have the due and forfeit of my bond. If you deny it, let the danger light Upon your charter and your city’s freedom! (MV 4.1.35–9)

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freedom Legal precedent is crucial to his argument, and he is well aware that if Venice starts to contravene its own laws it could be in danger of losing its attractiveness as a mercantile capital. The widest sense of the word can be found with those who pride themselves on being wildly free from all social constraints: this twenty years This rock and these demesnes have been my world, Where I have liv’d at honest freedom (CYM 3.3.69–71)

Belarius’ words are sentiments he holds in common with others who have been unfairly forced to live as outlaws, such as the Duke in As You Like It. Even so, he has not yet filled in the full details of his leaving the court to the young men in front of him, who are in fact Cymbeline’s sons. Cade’s comments when his compatriots make peace with the nobility are much more visceral: I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recover’d your ancient freedom. But you are all recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. (2 HVI 4.8.25–8)

The rebellion he has led has made use of such ‘ancient freedom’ for its justification, which is somewhat ironic considering the play’s representation of him as being in the pay of the Duke of York. Nevertheless, the use of the expression does point to an egalitarian, if violent, tradition among the lower classes, the majority of the population. (c) For Elizabeth’s practice as a queen, including the various actual constraints on her behaviour, see Levin (1994), 10–38. For popular utopian legends see Weimann (1987), 42.

friar (a) Specifically, a member of one of the four mendicant orders of the Roman Catholic Church. The word seems to be used relatively indiscriminately in Renaissance drama, and the individual order to which a friar character belongs is usually not relevant. 241

friar (b) Friars can be utilized for dramatic purposes in different ways from other members of the clergy, a direct result of their relative freedom from religious hierarchy. They are still members of an order, but they do not owe allegiance to an individual churchman associated with a specific geographical area. The exception here would be a monk who is tied to a specific monastery. This gives a friar the ability to act in ways that can be quite extraordinary, and even when one does so for what seems to be altruistic motives, their actions can quickly seem to be unwarranted interference. The friar who saves the day with the Hero deception plot in Much Ado About Nothing is a relatively benign figure, but the friar in Romeo and Juliet helps bring about the catastrophe, despite his best intentions. The biggest advantage these figures have is their ability to act independently, and thus to intervene directly in the social order. The Duke in Measure For Measure takes advantage of this capacity in his assumption of the role of friar; from this position he is able to observe the consequences of Angelo’s governorship of Vienna. All of these examples are tinged for Renaissance audiences with the consequences of the Reformation; thus, there is no guarantee that any friar, however well intentioned or successful, is going to be free from relatively negative associations: King. How grounded he his title to the crown Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard him At any time speak aught? Surv. He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton. King. What was that Henton? Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar, His confessor, who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty. (HVIII 1.2.144–50)

In this ‘trial’ of the Duke of Buckingham, his surveyor ascribes his master’s harking after the kingship to the support of a friar, and of course such a personage would owe allegiance to his order and to the church before the king. This exposes a common enough anxiety in Shakespeare’s England, and of course Henry’s actions against the Roman Catholic Church are very much to the forefront here. There is at least a hint of collusion between Cardinal Wolsey and the Surveyor, such that one interpretation of these events could be a conspiracy to 242

friar cause Buckingham’s downfall. Even so the reference to a friar’s interference is a believable one, at least to the king. The play does not go into the social consequences of the English Reformation, especially the problems engendered by the removal of the social security network provided by the monasteries and their associated orders. (c) Jones (2003) describes the ways in which Reformation printers attacked the Catholic Church, especially the friars, at 361–2. Picard (2004) shows some of the social consequences of the dissolution of the monasteries at 224–5, with reference to the Franciscan order’s hospital facilities in London.

friendship (a) There are two ways of looking at how friendship functions in this period. One would be that friendship in Shakespeare’s works shares the values attached to the concept in more recent times. A second would take into account that his texts are written at the outset of the rise of individualism in its now familiar form, and may even predate it altogether. Some very recent work has stressed that friendship in the Renaissance may not be based purely on an ideal personal relationship. This more radical view challenges the previous one, arguing that its imposition of modern notions on such a distant time period is anachronistic, since a whole web of previously undetected social negotiations underpins what seems at first sight to be a straightforward situation. There may even be a further differentiation: two friends who are roughly the same social status may have a personal relationship that is not the same as that between two friends of unequal rank. A particular friendship may therefore be inflected either with notions of solidarity or patronage. And friends of the same or similar social standing may find their relationship changing over time, especially as a result of political events. Also, gender inflects friendship in the period in ways that are unfamiliar to later readers and audiences. There are subtle differences between male–male friendship as opposed to a male–female relationship, or a female–female friendship. Properly speaking, for Renaissance writers and theorists, real friendship is only possible between two men, a position ultimately derived from Cicero’s De Amicitia. (b) The English history plays contain many usages of friendship as referring to a strategic alliance. In 1 Henry VI there is a heated exchange 243

friendship between Charles of France and Joan of Arc, in which she explicitly uses the term purely to denote a powerful alliance: Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame? Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, Make us partakers of a little gain, That now our loss might be ten times so much? Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend? At all times will you have my power alike? (1 HVI 2.1.50–5)

Charles’ royal language, with its first person plural, rules out any notion of personal friendship, but Joan’s rejoinder would be shocking to a contemporary audience in its familiar use of the first name – this is a shepherd girl talking to the highest personage in the land. A sense similar to that employed by Charles here is used in 3 Henry VI nine times. Exactly the same associations lie behind the Gentlemen’s discussion of a possible alliance between Cranmer and Cromwell in Henry VIII: 3. Gent. However, yet there is no great breach; when it comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. 2.Gent. Who may that be, I pray you? 3. Gent. Thomas Cromwell, A man in much esteem with th’ King, and truly A worthy friend. (HVIII 4.1.106–10)

A particularly good example of the use of ‘friend’ in a purely political context can be found in 1 Henry IV when the conspirators are discussing how they will divide the spoils of a successful rebellion: Glen. Come, you shall have Trent turn’d. Hot. I do not care. I’ll give thrice so much land To any well-deserving friend; But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, I’ll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. (1 HIV 3.1.134–8)

For Hotspur here a friend denotes any potential ally in their endeavour. King Henry uses the same word slightly later in the same play when 244

friendship describing the alliance between Hotspur and Douglas, to the detriment of Prince Henry: King. Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, This infant warrior, in his enterprises Discomfited great Douglas, ta’en him once, Enlarg’d him and made a friend of him, To fill the mouth of deep defiance up, And shake the peace and safety of our throne. (1 HIV 3.2.112–17)

In this instance there may also be a slight sense of a personal relationship between the two, since they have a great deal in common, including temperament. Prince Hal seems to be aware that friendship has several connotations, some of them even contradictory, in his dealings with Falstaff and his companions: Prince. Marry I tell thee it is not meet that I should be sad, now that my father is sick, albeit I could tell to thee – as to one it pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend – I could be sad, and sad indeed too. (2 HIV 2.2.39–43)

The prince discusses the news of his father’s illness with Poins, because no better friend is available. Here the term ‘better’ has connotations of degrees of social rank as well as personal closeness. The utility of friendship as a mark of political associations can be seen in the tragedies as well. For example, in Julius Caesar, it is clearly used to denote political connections, as when Cassius welcomes Cinna to the conspiracy: Casca. Stand close a while, for here comes one in haste. Cas. ’Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait, He is a friend. ( JC 1.3.131–3)

Mark Antony of course picks up on such associations in his oration at Caesar’s funeral (3.2). In Antony and Cleopatra Enobarbus greets Maecenas and Agrippa as friends, reinforcing the new political accord that has been reached between Antony’s party and that of Caesar: 245

friendship Maec. Welcome from Egypt, sir. Eno. Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Maecenas! My honourable friend, Agrippa! (2.2.171–3)

The supporters of the two most powerful men in Rome are clearly close in rank, but the ongoing sense of competition between Antony and Caesar even during this time of peace removes any sense of personal closeness from Enobarbus’ welcome. The word appears ten times in this play, varying from this sense of negotiated business through to the close personal relationship between Antony and Cleopatra. The web of differing interactions that criss-crosses this play can in fact be traced through the different contemporary connotations attached to friendship. When intimations of friendship cross class boundaries, such as the relationship between Antony and Enobarbus, elements of patronage come into play. Another very clear instance can be found at Coriolanus (2.3.104), when the people of Rome are questioning Coriolanus as he stands for consul. The reference to Antony and Cleopatra demonstrates that gender has a role to play in the various nuances of friendliness. Friendship between men and women usually appears in the plays as a side effect of political necessity, as happens for example between Kent and Cordelia in King Lear. However, there are times at which it comes to close to a more modern personal notion, especially when love is involved, as in A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Her. But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy, Lie further off, in humane modesty; Such separation as may well be said Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend. Thy love ne’er alter till thy sweet life end! (AMND 2.2.56–61)

In this instance friendship is intertwined with the personal nature of the attraction between Lysander and Hermia, something which is of course frowned upon by the social system embodied in Egeus and Theseus. However, there is very little sense in the plays of a possible ideal friendship between a man and a woman that does not involve either politics or love. Although at the end of Twelfth Night a friendship is declared 246

friendship between Orsino and Olivia, there are connotations of marriage alliance through the twins and the social standing of the Count and Countess. Women who are friends tend towards a more personal relationship, as Helena reminds Hermia in a very long speech in the confusion of the woods in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at 3.2.195–219. Although of course the playwright is a man, this passage is a very full statement of a friendship between two women. The language is appropriate to an upper-class childhood, appropriating the imagery of heraldry, and the distinction between this and a friendship between two men is implied by the gendered actions of the two girls. There does seem to be a space available for women friends, and it is one that has been interrupted by the events in the wood and the interference of men. A similar situation occurs in All’s Well That Ends Well, in the interaction between Helena, Diana and the Widow, especially at 4.4.17. Their friendship contrasts very strongly with the world of the men in the play, in which politic friendship is referred to on five occasions. However, this society generally holds that true friendship is attainable only by men, in the form of an ideal spiritual relationship. It cannot be carnal, since physical attraction does not last in the same way. It is not available to women, since they are inferior, a familiar Renaissance patriarchal assumption, albeit one that accords with classical antecedents. Some of Shakespeare’s plays test out these assumptions, and this is something to which returns several times during his career. In the relatively early comedy, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, the questioning is accomplished by means of the relationship between the two friends of the title. Valentine is put to the test by his false friend Proteus, as Proteus falls in love with same woman as his friend, despite being betrothed earlier to another. The play dramatizes a conflict between friendship and sexual desire, and of course the names of the protagonists bear this out: Valentine is the true lover, while Proteus (named after a Greek god with shape-changing abilities) is, equally appropriately, the one who changes and dupes. Valentine describes him with the language of ideal friendship to the Duke of Milan, father of Valentine’s beloved, Silvia: Val. I knew him as myself: for from our infancy We have convers’d and spent our hours together, And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time

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friendship To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, Yet hath Sir Proteus (for that’s his name) Made use and fair advantage of his days (GV 2.4. 62–8)

The meeting of minds while growing up together is a common motif, exploited in the speech by Helena noted previously (and see also Polixenes and Leontes in The Winter’s Tale). The irony is that Proteus is about to live up to his name and Valentine only realizes this at the end of the play. The much later collaboration between Shakespeare and Fletcher, The Two Noble Kinsmen, picks up on a similar conflict between friendship and love. The story has a long provenance, from the Italian Boccaccio via Chaucer’s Knight’s Tale, and the two Renaissance dramatists use it as the basis for a test of the friendship between Palamon and Arcite, the two cousins of the title. In order further to emphasize what is at stake, their fight over Emilia is contrasted with the ideal friendship of Theseus and Pirithous, whose name was something of a synonym for true friendship. Interestingly, in this case friendship leaves room for sexual love for another. Theseus’ queen, Hippolyta, describes the friendship: Hip. Their knot of love Tied, weav’d, entangled, with so true, so long And with a finger of so deep a cunning, May be outworn, never undone. (TNK 1.3.41–4)

Also, and in a manner that recalls Hermia and Helena in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, this later ‘Romance’ leaves space for friendship between women. The play pairs off the two noble kinsmen on the one hand with Emilia and her waiting-woman in 2.2. This is the most crucial scene in the play, since it is at this point that the two imprisoned cousins see Emilia and fall in love with her. Viewed emblematically, the scene sums up the conflict between love and friendship. However, what happens when sexual desire seems to infuse the language of friendship between men seems to contradict the standard position. One of the most famous problems with Shakespeare’s Sonnets is the relationship between the poet and the young friend to whom many of the poems are addressed. Not only is this a friendship between 248

friendship two members of the same sex, it is between two men, and the language seems very personal. As with Antonio in The Merchant of Venice, the Sonnets could be seen as homosexual. And the situation is further complicated in the poems by the presence of a mysterious female figure, who seems to come between the two men, and to whom the poet is intensely, if reluctantly, attracted. What constitutes friendship in such a situation is at best unclear. (c) For an exploration of the range of Renaissance inflections of feeling and friendship, see Jardine (1996), especially Chapters 5 and 6. Barrell (1998) interrogates modern assumptions about the primacy of the individual and relationships between individuals in his chapter on Shakespeare’s Sonnet 29, 18ff. Hutson (1994) analyses specifically Renaissance ideas of friendship. Sedgwick (1985) looks at male–male relationships. The Introduction and first chapter set out her critical position, and Chapter 2 relates this to the period of Shakespeare via the Sonnets. She closely follows the historian Alan Bray’s work (1982) on masculinity, but expands the possibilities he outlines by relating them to literature. See also Dusinberre (1996) for work on the female characters in the plays. This is the second edition of a very influential book, and the Introduction discusses in some detail the problems encountered by feminist critics in relation to Shakespeare studies. The most comprehensive recent analysis of representations of friendship is Shannon (2002). Her book teases out the subtle differences in the various kinds of relationship that impinge on friendship, including that between women. Lois Potter’s edition in the 3rd Arden Shakespeare of The Two Noble Kinsmen (1997) looks in detail at the antecedents to the Renaissance conception of friendship, especially 54ff. Montaigne’s essay on friendship can be found in Cohen (1988), 91–105. The most important of the classical notions of friendship that influenced the Renaissance can be found in Cicero (1923).

funeral (a) The ritual attending the burial or cremation of the dead. Depending on one’s social rank, the funeral could be more or less elaborate and expensive. For the aristocracy, it could afford another moment for conspicuous displays of wealth. Proper internment of a personage of nobility or royalty drew attention to their status, an important consideration given the importance of lineage. 249

funeral (b) In the plays, funerals are mentioned most often in connection with the powerful, which is hardly surprising given the attention paid to them in terms of plot: Take up her bed, And bear her women from the monument. She shall be buried by her Antony; No grave upon the earth shall clip in it A pair so famous. High events as these Strike those that make them; and their story is No less in pity than his glory which Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall In solemn show attend this funeral, And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see High order in this great solemnity. (AC 5.2.356–66)

These are the words of the victorious Octavius Caesar, the man who will soon afterwards become known as Augustus, first sole ruler of the Roman Empire. They act as a kind of coda to the action as well as a commentary upon the lives and deaths of Cleopatra and Antony, and they also close the play. The funeral ritual therefore acts a kind of double closure in this play, echoing a similar ending from earlier in Shakespeare’s career: Some loving friends convey the Emperor hence, And give him burial in his fathers’ grave. My father and Lavinia shall forthwith Be closed in our household’s monument. As for that ravenous tiger Tamora, No funeral rite, nor man in mourning weed, No mournful bell shall ring her burial, But throw her forth to beasts and birds to prey: Her life was beastly and devoid of pity, And being dead, let birds on her take pity. (TA 5.3.191–200)

The juxtaposition of Octavius’ words and those of Lucius shows that funeral rites are defined by two exigencies: what seems appropriate to a head of state; and what is deemed to be appropriate by the victor. This 250

funeral complex interplay of status and politics is the context for Renaissance upper-class funerals. There is one occasion in the plays where a lower-class funeral is noted, in the midst of the Wars of the Roses: These arms of mine shall be thy winding sheet; My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, For from my heart thine image ne’er shall go. My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; And so obsequious will thy father be, E’en for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I’ll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will, For I have murthered where I should not kill. (3 HVI 2.5.114–22)

These are the words of the father who has killed his only son in battle, one of a pair of set piece actions seen by Henry VI that emblematizes the destruction wrought by civil war. It gives some insight into a less exalted personage’s end, as well as incidentally a less expensive one. What is important in all three of these examples for the purposes of the drama is the enactment of the ritual although in none of them is the actual funeral shown. However, there are many instances in the plays where elements of a funeral are incorporated into the onstage action, as a kind of set piece. This draws attention to the importance of what is taking place. Examples would include the bickering of the nobility over the funeral cortège of Henry V that begins the three Henry VI plays; Julius Caesar’s funeral; the Lady Anne wooing scene in Richard III; or Ophelia’s funeral in Hamlet. All of these function emblematically to draw the audience into the events that arise out of them, which can often be extremely violent. The representation of offstage funerals is similarly important, such as the events that precede the beginning of Hamlet. (c) For the funeral of Elizabeth I, see Somerset (2002), 725–6. Stone (1967) has some details of the cost of a noble’s funeral at 260–4. Picard (2004) gives information on the more modest requirements of those further down the social scale at 209–13, as well as some expensive ones. 251

furniture

furniture Equipage. The word can refer to different kinds of equipment: that of a house (equivalent to our most common usage); military equipment or harness; or horse furniture, meaning harness and other trappings. When the Duke of Buckingham is being conveyed to the Tower of London after being convicted of high treason, one of the officers orders the barge to be made ready ‘with such furniture as suits the greatness of his person’ (HVIII 2.1.99–100). This is a close approximation of our modern usage, although it also carries a connotation of general equipage appropriate to one of such high rank. The more military associations can be found when civil war breaks out in the reign of Henry IV. Prince Henry orders Falstaff to be ready to meet him the next day, when he shall be given details of his commission and ‘Money and order for their furniture’ (1 HIV 3.3.202). The Duke of York uses the term in the same way when he upbraids Suffolk and Somerset for the damage done to the English cause in France at 2 HVI 1.3.165–72. The sense of horse furniture occurs when Lafew mentions ‘bay Curtal and his furniture’ (AW 2.3.59). Picard (2004) details the kinds of house furniture that might be available to different social classes from 65–73, including beds (Shakespeare’s second-best bed still has a certain infamy). Hyland (1996) includes a useful glossary of terms associated with horses and horse riding, including the various elements of harness and ‘furniture’ at 169–70. For the equipment of Elizabeth’s troops, see Norman and Pottinger (1979), 182–5.

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G gaberdine A cloak or other loose garment made of relatively coarse-woven cloth. This kind of material would have mostly been worn by those who could not afford better. Most famously, Shylock mentions his ‘Jewish gaberdine’ during his Rialto speech (MV 1.3.112). This may well denote a racist element to a speech that is often quoted in modern times as demonstrating Shylock’s victimization: its use implies that he chooses not to wear anything better. Since he can obviously afford to do so, the implication is that he is a miser. However, OED suggests that the identification of Jews with gaberdine is a later development in English, perhaps as a direct result of Shakespeare’s line. In the Renaissance, gaberdine is not associated in this way with any one group, it simply is a form of cheap cloth available to all. See Palliser (1992), 287–93, for a description of the importance of the cloth industry to the English economy in this period; he also notes the variations in the quality of the wool and of the finished products.

gallant When used as an adjective to describe a person’s appearance, it usually means handsome, or physically attractive. It can also mean well or fashionably dressed. This usage can be applied both to men and women. A second adjectival use has a chivalric tinge to it, meaning that the man so described is something of a paragon of heroism or courtly love. When used as a noun, it often has a slightly pejorative edge to it, 253

gallant as though the person is a little bit too showy and wasteful, such as the Renaissance gallants who tried to make their fortune as courtiers and fashionable young men about town. Shakespeare and Fletcher make Suffolk the one to announce Anne Boleyn’s coronation to the other nobles in Henry VIII: There’s order given for her coronation. Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords, She is a gallant creature, and complete In mind and feature. I persuade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall In it be memoriz’d. (HVIII 3.2.46–52)

This is disingenuous writing to say the least: Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, may have been one of Henry’s closest friends, but he was also married to the king’s sister Mary, who was very close indeed to Katherine of Aragon. By making him the one to give this news, the playwrights gloss over the problems that could be posed by historical accuracy. Not only do they make Suffolk praise Anne’s appearance and character, they also make him, most implausibly, predict a glorious outcome (Elizabeth I). In Love’s Labour’s Lost, Dumaine uses the word descriptively in the same way of Katherine of Alanson at 2.1.195. The more chivalric meanings are the ones most often associated with the word by modern readers. In 1 Henry IV it is something of an epithet for Hotspur (see for example 3.2.140); in 3 Henry VI it is applied by Edward of York to Warwick the ‘Kingmaker’ at 5.1.40; and in Troilus and Cressida it is associated with Hector, even by the invaders (1.3.321). Gower uses the word, presumably without irony, when he recounts the king’s massacre of the prisoners during the Battle of Agincourt at HV 4.7.10. More in relation to courtly love, Quince in A Midsummer Night’s Dream describes Pyramus as ‘A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love’ (1.2.23–4). The more negative associations occur several times also. In As You Like It, the usurping Duke’s wrestling champion, Charles, demeans his young challenger Orlando by calling him a ‘young gallant’ at 1.2.200; the Duke repeats the term at 2.2.17 when the flight of Rosalind and Celia is reported to him. Edward of York refers to his namesake, Prince Edward of Lancaster, in the same way at 3 HVI 5.5.12. Perhaps the 254

gallant most well known of such ‘gallants’ is the young prince who will become Henry V; already in Richard II, the usurping Henry IV refers to his wayward son as a gallant at 5.3.15. For the chivalric ethos see Moore (2003). Stone (1967) discusses the gallant young men of Renaissance London at 265.

gaming Gambling, a common addiction of the wealthy and of young gallants. The attraction lies in the element of risk, which seems to have particularly appealed to the Renaissance aristocracy’s sense of reckless style. The word occurs twice in Hamlet. The first time is when Polonius is trying the patience of Laertes’ manservant Reynaldo. The old busybody orders Reynaldo to report to him on his son’s behaviour while he is abroad as a student. Reynaldo mentions gaming as one element of the kind of behaviour indulged in by wealthy young aristocrats (2.1.24). Hamlet himself uses a similar expression in the prayer scene, when he decides not to kill Claudius just in case he is saved from perdition because he is at prayer. He wants to wait until the king is in a more compromising situation, such as ‘At game a-swearing’ (3.3.91). The aristocratic vice of gambling is detailed in Stone (1967) at 258–60.

garment A commonly used term for clothing, garments can have serious implications that go far beyond the simple basic meaning of outer bodily coverings. The reason for this can be found in the Renaissance obsession with the value of outward signs, which extends to clothing. In a period that was self-consciously aware of massive social change, many attempts were made to fix the value reference of clothing, since conservatives thought that the richness of one’s appearance should correlate with one’s social station in life. Masses of sumptuary legislation were enacted, the sheer volume indicating that these attempts failed. A fine example of the negative connotations of fashionable clothing can be found in Sonnet 91, in which ‘new fangled ill’ garments are part of a list of specific interests which are compared with the poetic persona’s love (SON 91.3). The same poem returns to garments in line 10, with a reference to their proud cost. King Henry IV refers to Worcester 255

garment and his party as facing the ‘garment of rebellion/With some fine colour that may please the eye’ (1 HIV 5.1.74–5) during their parley before the play’s climactic battle. Here again garments are relatively negative in their associations, since their brightness can deceive. Similar falseness is the context in A Lover’s Complaint in which the garment belies the underlying truth: ‘merely with the garment of a grace’ (line 316). The uses of the term are not always negative, however. Sometimes it just stands for clothing, as happens in The Taming of the Shrew (4.1.43), which refers to wedding clothes. The same basic meaning can be found when the plot against Prospero fails in The Tempest at 4.1.240. Garment references occur with some frequency in Cymbeline, and not always in a negative light. Imogen insults Cloten by comparing him unfavourably with Posthumus’ ‘meanest garment’ (CYM 2.3.130); this has such an effect that Cloten repeats the phrase several times in astonished wonder. Later on, when Pisanio shows her Posthumus’ letter ordering him to kill her, Imogen describes herself as ‘a garment out of fashion’ (3.4.52). This play touches upon contemporary anxieties about worth and appearance when Cloten wears Posthumus’ clothes, leading to Imogen’s belief in 4.2 that it is her husband who is dead, not Cloten. Cymbeline therefore makes the problems associated with clothing into a central concern, picking up on the play’s dramatizing of issues of inherent personal worth and social status. For English sumptuary legislation on clothing, see Jardine (1989), 142–5. The most recent critical text which deals with these issues is primarily concerned with King Lear, in which nakedness and clothing play major roles: Kronenfeld (1998), especially Part 1, 1–94.

gaudy An adjective meaning false or brittle brightness, as opposed to genuine. This is one of those words that feed into the Renaissance concern with the relation between appearance and reality. Its sense is a slightly pejorative one. Polonius uses the expression in the midst of his advice to Laertes, specifically about making sure that his clothing is ‘rich, not gaudy’ (HAM 1.3.71). When he is at the stage of choosing caskets in The Merchant of Venice, Bassanio rightly guesses that the golden casket is incorrect; for him, it is ‘gaudy gold’ (3.2.101). There is a performance tradition that has Portia guide his choice by use of the song that is being played as he makes his choice (there are several rhymes with ‘lead’), 256

gaudy perhaps supplemented by her choice of position and dress, managed in such a way as to draw him towards the leaden casket. When they are in prison, Palamon and Arcite resign themselves to a life of captivity (until they see Emilia, that is). Palamon says that he wants to ‘tell the world ’tis but a gaudy shadow’ (TNK 2.2.103). For the economic cost of gaudy display, see Stone (1967), 264–7.

general The commanding officer of a force or army. This military usage of the word is derived from the word’s standard application to a whole or generality of a group. Many characters in the plays hold the military rank of general, as well as being of aristocratic social rank. The conflation of the two is common, since the military career was assumed to be the prerogative of the nobility; like so many other military grades, the terminology is derived from feudal practice. Since many of the plays deal with the aristocracy in one form or another, their role in the armed forces inevitably occurs too. This is as true of the ‘classical’ plays as it is of the English Histories. The problem posed for the aristocracy is that such an assumption did not necessarily tally with the reality of their abilities. One of the most famous generals mentioned in the corpus as a whole does not even appear in any of the plays, when the Chorus to Act V of Henry V makes an explicit topical reference to the Earl of Essex on campaign in Ireland (HV 5.0.31). See Edelman (2000), 147–50. Stone (1967) sets out the overall context for the violent tendencies of the nobility, including their propensity to resort to military force, at 96–107.

gentry (a) Technically, the gentry rank below the aristocracy in the social hierarchy of the period. They have the right to a coat of arms, but do not have titles. In common usage, however, the word has a greater spread of associations and the term is not precisely confined to persons of this rank. It can denote a general statement about one being relatively highly born, or perhaps acting in a way that would be expected of such a person. The cognate ‘gentleman’ is applied to anyone who falls within these rather broad parameters, including the highest nobility. ‘Gentle’ behaviour thus has a more socially distinct resonance in the period than it does now. By gaining a coat of arms, 257

gentry Shakespeare was able to call himself a gentleman, a degree of rank that is noted in the First Folio. One of the advantages this conferred was the ability to be reasonably free under the law (including the right to bear arms), an extremely important consideration for a member of the acting profession, which was usually classed as vagabond. This is why aristocratic patronage was so important to the acting companies; by being attached to a noble’s household, they were able to avoid any penalties. A gentleman automatically had the same rights and privileges. (b) A general application of the word in relation to a high-ranking noble comes in the English history plays: Som. Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge, For treason executed in our late king’s days? And by his treason, stand’st not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood, And till thou be restor’d, thou art a yeoman. Plan. My father was attached, not attainted, Condemn’d to die for treason, but no traitor (1 HVI 2.4.90–7)

This is no mere quibbling over status. The Lancastrian supporter Somerset is reminding the Duke of York that his father was a traitor, and until the family is formally restored, the taint remains. York’s retorts that his father was executed by Henry V without full and due process, which means that he was not fully attainted. There is an undertone of contestation here, because if Henry V was not the rightful king, then the Southampton plot to which this exchange refers could not have been treason in the first place. It was in fact an attempt to gain the crown for Mortimer, the named heir of Richard II, the king whose throne was usurped by the Lancastrians in the first place. The use of ‘gentry’ in this context obviously has wider implications than simply the technicality of a sub-aristocratic social stratum. An example of the word being applied to good manners occurs when Claudius and Gertrude welcome Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to court: If it will please you To show us so much gentry and good will

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gentry As to expend your time with us a while For the supply and profit of our hope, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king’s remembrance. (HAM 2.2.21–6)

Of course, nothing is as it seems at this court, and Hamlet’s two fellow students are effectively being hired to spy on him. The use of ‘gentry’ here means, on the surface, appropriately gentlemanlike behaviour, but it conceals a much darker purpose. Presumably the two compatriots are of the correct rank for the epithet to seem appropriate. A more traditional use of the word to refer to the standard middling social rank of the gentry occurs in The Merry Wives of Windsor at 2.1.52. (c) For a full social history of the gentry as a class, see Heal and Holmes (1994). Duncan-Jones (2001) relates the rather dubious story of Shakespeare’s acquisition of a coat of arms at 91–6.

gild A verb meaning to ‘add lustre’. It usually has a sense of some inappropriateness, as in our modern phrase ‘to gild the lily’. To gild something is to illuminate it with the addition of the superior metal, gold, which automatically implies that the item so treated was originally of less value. The associations depend for their force on the difficulty presented by gilt objects to the eye: just how golden they really are can be hard to perceive. Pembroke and Salisbury warn King John that his second coronation invites negative questioning at KJ 4.2. Salisbury takes the view that the action is excessive, producing a rhetoric of luxury that includes the image of gilded gold at 4.2.11. This sense of attempting to add something extra to a lost cause or a problem occurs when Prince Henry tells Falstaff he will try to help him out at 1 HIV 5.4.158. The logic is repeated in the next play of the Second Tetralogy when the king wakes up to find that his son has taken the crown. Henry IV accuses his son of a whole catalogue of misdemeanours, bemoaning what might happen to England when he becomes king afterwards: ‘England shall double gild his treble guilt’ (2 HIV 4.5.128). Wolsey uses a similar image when he discusses his downfall with Cromwell: 259

gild No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. (HVIII 3.2.410–12)

The vocabulary of royal favour is unmistakeable here, with the reference to the sun, honour and nobility. Wolsey uses the term ‘gild’ very carefully, as a form of reflected royal glory, but it nevertheless still carries with it some slightly negative associations. Another usage that is more openly negative comes when Troilus refers to the wiles of the courtier: Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. (TC 4.4.103–6)

Simple plainness is opposed in this rhetoric to those who gild copper to make it appear more valuable, almost a sense of counterfeiting. Perhaps the most unpleasant occurrence comes when Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are discussing Duncan’s murder: Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures; ’tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I’ll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt. (MAC 2.2.49–54)

Lady Macbeth’s famous deception picks up on the golden sun motif associated with kingship, something that Macbeth will reinforce with his description of Duncan’s ‘golden blood’ at 2.3.111. Even gilt objects would be beyond the reach of most of the population: Ridley (2002, 2) comments on the price of gold during the reign of Elizabeth, and how unlikely it would be for ordinary households to have any at all.

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glass (a) An expensive material in this period, partly because of the relative difficulty involved in making it, and partly because its fragility entails the constant need to replace items made from it. Shakespeare uses the word in many ways other than simply to denote the substance. It can mean a drinking-glass; a vial to hold liquid; a mirror; an hourglass; and even glass eyes. Its versatility lends itself well to metaphorical usages based on many of these associations. It is possible that the meaning of a mirror may shade over into the meaning of a window as well, but these are particularly regarded as luxury items. (b) References to the material itself as opposed to an item made from it do exist in the plays: ‘To me he seems like diamond to glass.’ (PER 2.3.36) says Thaisa of Pericles at a banquet. Richard of Gloucester makes a similar allusion to the fragility of glass: I must be married to my brother’s daughter, Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. (RIII 4.2.60–1)

The sentiment is shocking; even if Richard has successfully cast enough doubt on his brother’s progeny for them all to be considered illegitimate, Edward’s daughter is still his niece, well within the forbidden degrees of incest by blood relation. Henry Tudor is of course aiming at the same marriage alliance. More specific uses that mean objects made from glass are very common in the texts as well. The application to an hourglass is one such: see 1 Henry VI (4.2.35); All’s Well That Ends Well (2.1.165); and Sonnet 126.2. A rather startling use of the phrase ‘glass eyes’ appears in King Lear (4.6.170) when the mad old king meets the blinded Duke of Gloucester. Sonnet 5.10 has a reference to the glass vial that is used in a distillation process. A glass from which one drinks is mentioned by Touchstone in As You Like It (5.1.42), and again by Buckingham as a negative means of commenting upon the treaty with France (HVIII 1.1.166). Portia seeks to manipulate one of her suitors (a serious drinker) by having Nerissa place a glass of wine on the wrong casket so as to make sure he chooses that one (MV 1.2.96). Perhaps the most common reference is to a mirror. This is the sense used by Cloten at CYM 4.1.8. A specific usage of ‘looking-glass’ occurs quite often, a particularly famous one being in the midst of Richard of 261

glass Gloucester’s famous opening speech in Richard III at 1.1.15. The mirror imagery lends itself especially well to metaphor. A pretty much standard expression is how a prince should be a mirror for others, a proper glass of fashion and behaviour: see RL 615; HAM 3.1.153; 2 HVI 5.1.142; and 2 HIV 2.3.21. The dialogue between the poet and the painter that introduces Timon of Athens utilizes a rather unusual glass metaphor for flattery with ‘glass-fac’d flatterer’ (1.1.58), presumably picking up on the reflective qualities of mirrored glass to imply that the onlooker sees what he wants in a flattering face, as opposed to the emptiness that is really there. One of the most well-known examples of such usage comes in Macbeth when one of the kings shown to him by the witches holds a glass in which an unbroken line of British kings stretches out for ever (4.1.119). Performance tradition has it that this is a compliment to James I of Britain who may well have been present at a performance of the play. (c) Ridley (2002, 2) notes at 146–7 that glass could be used in windowpanes by even modest households, but that they would not have the cash to buy glass items for domestic use; even mirrors in most households were made of steel. Palliser (1992) details the craft of glass making at 305.

glory Renown or fame. In Shakespeare, it usually expresses the admiration reserved for military heroes or monarchs, although there is occasionally a religious sense. Personages from lower down the social scale can attain the heights of glory as well, but this usually depends on royal or aristocratic patronage. Military glory is one of the commonest meanings conjured up in the texts, often in a context of comparison between warriors (see emulation). The competition between the Prince of Wales and Hotspur in 1 Henry IV provides a good example: see 3.2.150 and 5.4.63. The equivalent occurs at the siege of Troy, between Achilles and Hector (TC 1.3.365). In both cases, the pre-eminent heroes ‘share’ glory, but one is destined to lose out to the other. Another example from the English History plays is Talbot; see for example 1 HVI 2.2.43. In Much Ado About Nothing, Don John desires Claudio’s downfall because ‘That young startup hath all the glory of my overthrow’ (1.3.66–7), a reference to the military action that precedes the play proper. 262

glory Military prowess and royalty should go hand in hand, or at least that is the assumption behind the warrior ethos in the Middle Ages. Edward of York even goes so far as to say that there would never have been a rebellion against Henry VI had it not been for the military and political ineptitude demonstrated in his reign: His father revell’d in the heart of France, And tam’d the King and made the Dauphin stoop; And had he match’d according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day. But when he took a beggar to his bed, And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day, Even then that sunshine brew’d a show’r for him, That washed his father’s fortunes forth of France, And heap’d sedition on his crown at home. (3 HVI 2.2.150–8)

This passage is important in the context of the play as a whole for what is missing: the usual Yorkist attack on the Lancastrian usurpation. Edward here frankly acknowledges that the glory achieved in France by Henry V was so great that it took a catastrophic marriage and continuing military disaster for sedition at home even to become a possibility. Royal glory occurs in other texts as well, as when Salisbury utters a short soliloquy presaging the downfall of King Richard at RII 2.4.19, or when Buckingham mentions the Field of Cloth of Gold at HVIII 1.1.6. The convention of patronage does allow those of lesser rank to partake of glory, but it is an unpredictable situation, as Wolsey notes at HVIII 3.2.224. The same logic pertains in the Sonnets; for a full example, see Sonnet 37. There is also an occurrence of religious glory, or at least that is how Joan of Arc describes the visions that inspired her in 1 HVI 1.2.83. The Earl of Essex became almost the type of the vainglorious nobleman during Elizabeth’s reign; for the attack on Cadiz, see Baldwin Smith (2006) at 213–5. For Elizabeth’s own glorious displays of royalty, see Yates (1993) from 29–87.

gloves A hand covering with separated finger compartments; a gauntlet is a reinforced or armoured glove worn in warfare or hawking. 263

gloves Gloves are quite difficult to make, especially when fine materials are used, and so are often considered to be expensive luxury goods in this period. This makes a pair of gloves an item of outerwear that is ideally suited to being used as a favour, signalling some form of allegiance, or as a challenge to a duel. Shakespeare’s father was a glover, although his business acumen does not seem to have been of the highest. Gloves appear in the plays when some form of emblematic association is needed for upper-class behaviour, especially where love of the more courtly kind is concerned. Claudio gives Hero a gift of perfumed gloves (MA 3.4.62–3) and Speed’s fooling ridicules Valentine’s love posturing, beginning with his gloves, from the beginning of GV 2.1. The associations are not always pleasant: in King Lear the disguised Edgar blames his feigned madness on having previously been a courtier who did all sorts of morally repugnant things. One sign of this was his slavery to fashion, which included wearing ‘gloves in my cap’ (KL 3.4.86). Rosalind (disguised as a boy) displays a little bit of snobbery when she tells Silvius that she has mistaken Phoebe’s hands for old gloves, while punning on handwriting (AYLI 4.3.24–9). Perhaps the most well-known use of gloves in Shakespeare comes when the disguised king exchanges gloves in a quarrel with one of his soldiers just before the battle of Agincourt (HV 4.1.211–12). Picard (2004) lists gloves as one of Elizabeth’s accessories at 157–8.

gold (a) The most highly valued metal, partly because of its colour and durability, but also partly because it is a relatively easy metal to work. It appears in Shakespeare’s texts most often in references to coins. This could simply be a synonym for money in general, or it could be a sign of the conspicuous expenditure associated with the aristocracy. Other objects made of gold are also mentioned, including cloth of gold tissue, and gold’s worth makes it useful in metaphorical constructions as well. The London goldsmiths were particularly valued by the nobility for their ability to raise large sums of money in the form of loans. This was an important means of getting around the various imprecise and contradictory regulations on loans and usury. (b) The Gadshill escapade in 1 Henry IV is concocted by Falstaff and friends on receipt of intelligence that a particularly wealthy target 264

gold is available: ‘a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold’ (2.1.55–6). Average people would be lucky to see any gold at all during their entire lives, so this amount at once would be a substantial haul. The windfall wealth that accompanies the abandoned baby Perdita is treated with appropriate wonder and care by the shepherds who find her (WT 3.3.114–25). The buried gold found by Timon of Athens (TA 4.3.25–6) will serve a more vengeful purpose on those who previously ruined him. Alanson wishes to reward Joan of Arc with a ‘coronet of gold’ after her victory over the hated English (1 HVI 3.3.89). Opulence in dress is mentioned by means of ‘Cloth a’ gold’ among other luxury by Margaret at MA 3.4.19. In fact, any reference to gold or items made from it inevitably connotes great wealth. But there is also the possibility of corruption: see Enobarbus’ famous description of Cleopatra in her barge at AC 2.2.191–218. In this play, such ostentatious displays of the wealth of the east arouse suspicions in Rome. Octavius Caesar relates how Antony and Cleopatra have not only condemned Rome, but have been enthroned publicly as emperor and empress ‘in chairs of gold’ (AC 3.6.1–19). This is important, because of the traditional Roman hatred of monarchy. King Henry ascribes the Southampton treason plot to the attractiveness of French gold (HV 2.2.98). Dissension arises in the Republicans’ ranks when Brutus accuses Cassius of selling offices to undeserving men for gold (JC 4.3.11). King John is made to pick up on Renaissance suspicions of the wealth of the Catholic Church when he tells the Bastard to return to England from France and despoil the clergy; his illegitimate cousin’s response mentions the gold and silver to be had (KJ 3.3.13). King Richard II admits to Lord Aumerle that his coffers are empty because of the sumptuousness of his court and his generous spending. His solution is enforced taxation to pay for the war he intends to pursue in person in Ireland: Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters, Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold (RII 1.4.48–50)

The result, of course, is that the king alienates the wealthiest families in the kingdom. When Henry of Lancaster returns, there is a great deal of 265

gold support for his cause, especially given the way in which Richard dispossessed him after the death of his father, John of Gaunt. There is a great deal of fear that what happened to Henry could happen to others, and Richard’s autocratic government collapses. The careers of some of Henry VII’s ministers ended in exactly the same way. More metaphorical uses can be found at 1 HIV 2.4.278 and 2 HIV 2.4.31–2 with the common sentiment of a ‘heart of gold’. There are also sexual puns, ultimately derived from the behaviour of the Greek and Roman deities: see RJ 1.1.214 and PER 4.6.58–9 for gold in the laps of maidens. (c) Ridley (2002, 2) comments on the availability of gold to the very rich at 145. Stone (1967) gives examples of the ways in which the aristocracy could get credit, including from the goldsmiths and other wealthy artisans at 234.

government This word has a whole range of meanings that go well beyond our usual modern one of the government of a state. It can denote self-control; good behaviour; military command or control; and personal government of a country. There is also the sense that most closely approximates our own as well as some more metaphorical extended uses. Worcester tries to calm Hotspur down and stop him stirring up Glendower’s temper. In the midst of the attempt he uses ‘government’ to mean self-control (1 HIV 3.1.182). Othello has the same meaning in mind when he tells Iago ‘Fear not my government’ (OTH 3.3.256) after Iago has stirred up his jealousy of Desdemona. There is also a sense of good or appropriate behaviour, especially in gender relations: see 3 HVI 1.4.132 for the Duke of York’s vituperative attack on Margaret of Anjou for her lack of ‘government’ with this denotation, and Henry VIII’s praise of Katherine of Aragon for her good government and wifely submission at HVIII 2.4.139. The meaning of military command or leadership appears when Hotspur receives news that his father is ill and cannot be present at the coming confrontation with the forces of the king. Hotspur asks ‘Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along?’ (1 HIV 4.1.18–19). Alanson in 1 Henry VI utters a similar usage when he refers to the part of the night watch ‘whereof I had the government’ (2.1.64). 266

government An occurrence that means ‘control’ can be found when King Henry IV refers to the rebels coming ‘underneath the yoke of government’ (2 HIV 4.4.10), which is beginning to shade into the more familiar sense to us of a country’s government as well. Margaret of Anjou exclaims to Suffolk about the state of England’s government under Henry VI at 2 HVI 1.3.44, an example that does accord with our meaning. Henry himself uses the word in exactly the same way when he is offered Warwick’s support after the famous earl is slighted by Edward of York (3 HVI 4.6.24). There is often, however, a sense of the king’s government being more personal: see the treacherous Cambridge’s flattery of King Henry at HV 2.2.28. Finally, there is a metaphorical usage that links full control of a garden to that of a state in Richard II at 3.4.36. Brimacombe (2003) has a chapter on the statesmen who made up the ‘government’ of Elizabeth I at 44–62. For the disastrous personal government of England by Richard II, see Bevan (1990), 73–100.

governor One who holds authority. Most often, a recipient of deputed powers who holds a town or province on behalf of a monarch. The title, however, does not have to be held in right of a superior and there are some instances in the plays where outright rulership is meant. Contemporary Renaissance usages were not necessarily political; Elizabeth I was known as Governor of the Church of England, although for reasons of state censorship Shakespeare avoids this particular formulation; indeed, he studiously avoids any direct representation of Elizabeth’s reign at all. Governors with jurisdiction over towns or localities appear in several of the plays. Sometimes these are men with definite military roles, such as Montano, Governor of Cyprus in Othello; the non-speaking part of the Governor of Paris in 1 Henry VI when the French capital is under English occupation; or Leonato in Much Ado About Nothing, Governor of Messina on behalf of Don Pedro of Arragon. Governors who are placed in control of towns by the traditional monarch of a country also appear, such as the Governor of Harfleur in Henry V or Governor Cleon of Tarsus in Pericles. A slightly broader designation can also be found, as when Lucius is proclaimed Emperor at the end of Titus Andronicus as ‘Rome’s gracious governor’ (TA 5.3.146). Perhaps the single biggest political mistake of 267

governor all is made by Richard II when he leaves the weak-willed Duke of York in charge of England while he invades Ireland at RII 2.1.220. A specific use of the word in gender relations occurs also: ‘dart not scornful glances from those eyes, To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor’ (TS 5.2.136–7) says Kate to the Widow and Bianca, as she finally accords with patriarchal overlordship. For the historical details of the siege of Harfleur and the garrison’s resistance, see Keegan (1998), 81. Levin (1994) describes the religious problems faced by Elizabeth I and how they interrelated with gender ideology at 10–38; this includes her religious settlement and the issue of the Supremacy of the monarch over the church.

grace (a) This word is ubiquitous in Shakespeare. Most often it is used as a term of address or in reference to a personage of high rank, such as a duke, monarch or archbishop. In also has wider associations when used as an adjective or noun that depend upon a sense of attractiveness or embellishment, often in terms of a favour done by someone of superior rank for another person of lower social degree. There are some specifically religious occurrences as well, especially in Christian phrases such as ‘God’s grace’, and to denote a prayer said before meal times. (b) The plays are full of the word’s use in address to those of high rank. For some examples, see: ‘The Archbishop’s grace of York’ (1 HIV 3.2.119); Prince Henry’s question to his father when he intervenes to save him from Douglas in battle, ‘how fares your Grace?’ (1 HIV 5.4.44); or Warwick’s question to Somerset regarding Duke Humphrey, ‘Is not his Grace Protector to the King?’ (1 HVI 3.1.60). A most precise acknowledgement of the word’s formal use comes when Hume addresses the ambitious Dame Eleanor (Duke Humphrey’s wife): Hume. Jesus preserve your royal Majesty! Duch. What say’st thou? Majesty? I am but Grace. Hume. But, by the grace of God and Hume’s advice, Your Grace’s title shall be multiplied. (2 HVI 1.2.70–3)

The duchess is acutely aware of the precise salutations that are 268

grace available to one of ducal rank, as opposed to fully royal. The religious overtones used by Hume come from the second major grouping of the word’s possible meanings. The religious connotations often intersect with the noble or royal: Sold. [Reads.] ‘Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland etc.’ Montg. And whosoe’er gainsays King Edward’s right, By this I challenge him to single fight. Throws down his gauntlet All. Long live Edward the Fourth! (3 HVI 4.7.71–6)

The play uses the traditional proclamation of an English monarch to re-state Edward’s claim on his return. This occurs just prior to the final defeat of the resurgent Lancastrians, led by Edward’s old supporter, Warwick. The placing of the announcement is therefore of the highest symbolic importance, and it is by no means coincidental that God’s grace is invoked in support of the person making the claim to be ruler. There are some other examples of the more general use of a religious flavour to the word, the most well known occurring in Hamlet: ‘Angels and ministers of grace defend us!’ (1.4.39), said by the prince when he first sees his father’s ghost. For comparisons, see Talbot’s lamentations over Salisbury’s death at 1 HVI 1.4.83–6 and, later in the same play, Joan of Arc’s description of herself at 1 HVI 5.4.40. For use of the word to refer to a mealtime prayer, see LLL 4.2.155. The Master Gunner who prepares the piece that leads to Salisbury’s death in 1 Henry VI supplies another denotation: ‘Something I must do to procure me grace’ (1 HVI 1.4.7). In this context, the word must mean something like favour, fame or, perhaps, advancement. This is in fact a common element to the word when it is used as a verb, often metaphorically; see Sonnet 67.2 and GV 2.2.18. So also is a sense of attractiveness of action, something Sir Andrew ascribes to Sir Toby’s fooling in Twelfth Night at 2.3.81. A sentiment of appropriate attractiveness attaches to the word’s use as an adjective: 269

grace Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! ( JC 1.1.32–5)

Murellus’ words remind the people that Caesar’s triumph this time entails no victories over anyone but other Romans. He and the other Tribune, Flavius, go on to detail the love the people previously had for Caesar’s great rival, Pompey, one of those who has been defeated and killed in the civil wars against Caesar. Pompey had become the leader of the anti-Caesarean faction after he and Caesar failed to come to a lasting accommodation. The class connotations of the word are not always positive, but can be managed in a particularly nasty, if effective, manner: ‘We grace the yeoman by conversing with him.’ (1 HVI 2.4.81). This is how Somerset describes Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York. It depends for its force upon an assumption that his father’s execution for treason is still a blemish against his son’s name. Until he is formally declared to be free of taint, he is assumed to be a simple common man. A less vicious, but more politically astute use of the word to denote class difference is uttered by Warwick to King Henry IV: The Prince but studies his companions Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, ’Tis needful that the most immodest word Be look’d upon and learnt, which once attain’d, Your Highness knows, comes to no further use But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms, The Prince will in the perfectness of time Cast off his followers, and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure live, By which his grace must mete the lives of other, Turning past evils to advantages. (2 HIV 4.4.68–78)

This is in fact exactly what Prince Henry has already intimated to the audience. It also reinforces the audience’s perception of the politic managers of the House of Neville, the Warwicks – it is this earl’s son who will be known famously as the ‘Kingmaker’. The use of the phrase 270

grace ‘his grace’ here serves to denote still further the gulf that exists between the young Henry and his associates. But what is troubling the prince’s father is put into words in another play: Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so. (MAC 4.3.22–4)

Malcolm very precisely notes the difficulty posed for kingship by Macbeth’s usurpation: exactly how can one tell the difference between a good king and a tyrant? The echoes of religion reinforce the importance of this issue for a Renaissance audience, since of course monarchs such as James I of the newly United Kingdom had a habit of claiming divine right for their actions. (c) For the interplay of terms of ‘grace’ and ‘majesty’ in one important incident at the court of Henry VIII, see Wilson (2002), 131. For the immediate context to Elizabeth’s proclamation as queen, see Somerset (2002), 73; for James I’s coronation, see Barroll (1991), 105. Weir (1998) discusses the historical as opposed to legendary elements of Henry V’s dissolute youth at 53.

grant (a) Has a slightly stronger sense than favour, with a much more definite connotation of disparity in rank between the giver and the recipient. The thing granted can be pretty much anything, ranging from some kind of verbal request to a tract of land or property. This last is usually confirmed by some form of charter, but in Shakespeare the transitive verb ‘to grant’ usually occurs in verbal discourse rather than written. There is also a colloquial intransitive verb usage, meaning, roughly, to ‘acknowledge’. (b) A situation in which a social superior grants a request to someone of lesser degree is the commonest use of the expression in Shakespeare: Archbishop Scrope of York says that he has been driven to join a rebellion against Henry IV because the king has refused to grant his petitions at 2 HIV 4.2.30–42. The king himself repeats this usage when he acknowledges that the crown is now his son’s: 271

grant How I came by the crown, O God forgive, And grant it may with thee in true peace live! (2 HIV 4.5.218–19)

This comes after a long speech in which Henry IV describes his path to power and his worries about the situation in which his son will now inherit the throne: he advises him to pursue foreign wars as a means of keeping attention away from any memory of what was effectively a usurpation. Another example comes in 3 Henry VI when Edward of York meets his future queen: Glou. Your Highness shall do well to grant her suit; It were dishonour to deny it her. K.Edw. It were no less, but yet I’ll make a pause. Glou. [Aside to Clarence] Yea, is it so? I see the lady hath a thing to grant, Before the King will grant her humble suit. Clar. [Aside to Gloucester] He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind! (3 HVI 3.2.8–14)

Gloucester acknowledges that Edward really should grant Lady Grey’s suit. However, both he and Clarence also recognize what the pause means, and their cynical exchange demonstrates a knowing awareness of the king their brother’s lasciviousness, which is famous enough to be included in this way in a Renaissance play. For an example of another exchange, this time of land grants, see AC 3.6.34–7. The colloquial expression of acknowledgement appears often in the plays. A well-known passage comes when Brutus is musing to himself about Caesar’s possible ambition: ‘Crown him that, and then I grant we put a sting in him’ (JC 2.1.15–16). A briefer example comes in the Lady Anne wooing scene in Richard III; when she asks ‘Didst thou not kill this king?’ his laconic reply is ‘I grant ye’ (RIII 1.2.101). (c) For the biggest land grab in English history, see the description of Henry VIII’s grants of monastic lands to buy the support of the nobility and the wealthy in Weir (2001), 393–4. Elizabeth’s grant of the title of Earl of Leicester to her favourite, Robert Dudley, is narrated in Wilson (2005) at 284–5. 272

gravity

gravity The personal quality of dignity or solemn seriousness, associated with either the wisdom of advancing years or with very high social rank. This figurative use of the term is derived directly from the Latin gravitas. Palamon’s address to Venus adopts a rhetoric of inversion, invoking her power to turn things into their opposites and make people behave in extraordinary ways. According to him, she can ‘induce Stale gravity to dance’ (TNK 5.1.84–5). The Lord Chief Justice complains to Falstaff about his normal behaviour, correcting him as follows: ‘There is not a white hair in your face but should have his effect of gravity’; the fat knight’s reply is ‘His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy’ (2 HIV 1.2.160–2). Katherine of Aragon makes use of the word when she has to deal with the wiles of the two cardinals at H VIII 3.1.73. The conspirator Metellus suggests the inclusion of Cicero in the plot to assassinate Caesar: ‘Our youths and wildness shall in no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity’ (JC 2.1.148–9). Angelo’s hypocrisy makes an appearance when he admits in soliloquy that he takes pride in his gravity (MM 2.4.9–10). All of these are examples of the kind of behaviour that is assumed to be appropriate to one either of a good age or of high degree. Weir (1998) furnishes an example of a monarch who behaved with what the Renaissance would call ‘gravity’ in her description of Henry V at his accession at 55–6.

greatness (a) High rank. Greatness is ascribed to those with access to social or military power. In this society, such a position is almost always a result of birth rather than achieved by worthiness, talent or loyalty. Ability can lead to social advancement, as the careers of a few individuals such as Wolsey or Cecil would testify, but this is very rare indeed. Those who push against the boundaries of their degree are more often treated with suspicion, especially when their ambition makes others nervous. (b) Perhaps the most well-known use of this word in the plays comes in the comedies, picking up very precisely on the social nature of its definition:

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greatness If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee, but be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ’em. (TN 2.5.143–6)

The riddling letter forged by Maria is carefully constructed so as to build upon Malvolio’s own inflated sense of his self-worth, a common enough symptom ascribed to the puritans. The implication is that the steward is arrogant enough to think that personal qualities will be enough for him to be able to transcend the difference in social rank between him and Olivia. There is another example of a similar possibility of upward mobility, this time in violent form, when Macbeth writes to his wife, calling her ‘my dearest partner of greatness’ (MAC 1.5.11), just after he has told her about his encounter with the witches. Although the couple is already of high social rank and has just been raised higher by Duncan, there is enough of a hint of further greatness for this letter to set Lady Macbeth off on her two soliloquies about her husband, ambition and her intentions for the future. In this tragedy, a longing for true greatness is socially transgressive. A more positive version is provided by Cranmer’s utopian prophecy of Elizabeth’s reign: those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. (HVIII 5.4.36–8)

This is of course an obfuscation made all the more convenient by Jacobean hindsight. The word appears with insistent repetition in the two Henry IV plays. There are various ways to interpret why this is so; at the very least, it demonstrates that exactly what constitutes greatness is open to question, even becoming available for violent appropriation: Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves The scourge of greatness to be us’d on it, And that same greatness too which our own hands Have holp to make so portly. (1 HIV 1.3.10–13)

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greatness Worcester is here effectively accusing Henry IV of misusing his power, and while doing so he takes the opportunity to remind the king that he was raised to his pre-eminence by men such as Worcester, Northumberland and Hotspur. When rebellion finally breaks out later on in the play, it leads to the Battle of Shrewsbury. Just beforehand, Worcester uses a parley to remind the king again of this history (5.1.41–58). Henry will himself pick up on these issues in his musings to Warwick, Blunt and Surrey, although he tries to explain it away: Though then, God knows, I had no such intent, But that necessity so bow’d the state That I and greatness were compell’d to kiss (2 HIV 3.1.72–4)

Another strand of the plot line of these two plays that circles around greatness has to do with the relationship between Henry IV and his wayward son: Tell me else, Could such inordinate and low desires, Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude society, As thou art match’d withal and grafted to, Accompany the greatness of thy blood, And hold their level with thy princely heart? (1 HIV 3.2.11–17)

The king’s question heaps on the details of lowliness so as further to sharpen the distinction between his son’s behaviour and his rank. The force of his rhetoric depends on the gardening metaphor of engrafting, and in this context greatness can only mean the greatest ‘level’ that is socially available. This kind of sense almost of the uniqueness of the truly great supports many other instances of the word’s use in the plays. Unsurprisingly, such moments tend to coincide with a language that refers to the crucial element of high breeding or birth: ‘O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness!’ (CYM 4.2.15) says Belarius in an aside to the audience about Arviragus. Sometimes, it is almost as though there is a tautology in operation: those of great birth will act accordingly, so it is unnecessary to say so. This is exactly the interpretation placed upon 275

greatness greatness by Octavius Caesar when Cleopatra and Antony have been defeated: Come hither, Proculeius. Go, and say We purpose her no shame. Give her what comforts The quality of her passion shall require, Lest in her greatness, by some mortal stroke She do defeat us; for her life in Rome Would be eternal in our triumph. (AC 5.1.61–6)

Antony is already dead, and Cleopatra knows that a life in captivity in Rome is the best she can probably hope for. She does indeed intend to do exactly what Octavius fears, and she famously succeeds in accomplishing this end. The behaviour appropriate to greatness has its own logic, its own momentum, as Laertes tells Ophelia: ‘His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own’ (HAM 1.3.17). (c) Stone (1967) glosses the possibility of social mobility within the context of aristocratic intransigence and opposition to change at 15–16. The support of the northern lords for the House of Lancaster right from the moment of the king’s appropriation of its lands is noted in Bevan (1990) at 143. In Elizabeth’s reign, one of the crisis moments pertaining to her theoretical freedom of action came with the Alencon marriage negotiations: see Somerset (2002), 396–402. For modern performance problems with the victimization of Malvolio, see Pennington (2000), 101–10.

groom A servant. The word can be applied to those who work in stables, which is one of its modern meanings. It can also carry the most common modern sense of a man who is about to marry. Ultimately it seems to be derived from a usage simply denoting any man. When used by someone of high rank, the tone is often contemptuous and insulting: ‘forsake this groom’ (2 HVI 5.2.124) is the order given to Cade’s followers by Stafford. However, this is not always the case: see (RII 5.5.67ff) for a conversation between the deposed king and his stable groom. The insulting usage collides with that of marriage in The Taming of the Shrew: 276

groom Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? Gre. A bridegroom, say you? ’tis a groom indeed, A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. (TS 3.2.151–3)

The word play here makes no sense to a later audience that has lost the class connotations of the word when used of servants. Iago makes a reference to bride and groom in OTH 2.3.180. Picard (2004) has a section on servants at 201–2.

gunner One who works a cannon; a member of a gun crew. Most of the heavy physical work required was managed by ordinary soldiers working under the orders of the gunners. They themselves were technically skilled and proficient professionals. The Chorus in Henry V makes a reference to gunners in the description of the beginning of the attack on Harfleur at HV 3.0.33. Henry’s battlefield reputation was hard won in the civil wars of his father’s reign, and cemented by the archers at Agincourt. But in point of fact his main campaign achievements relied heavily upon logistical planning and a large siege train. In the reign of his son, the French gained a similar mastery of the arts of gunpowder, as demonstrated by the incident in 1 HVI 1.4 when a gun previously sited by the mastergunner of Orleans kills Salisbury and Gargrave. Interestingly, the play represents the gunner’s trade here as running in the family, as the old master-gunner relies on his son to help him. See Edelman (2000), 158–60. Contamine (1993) charts the development of gunpowder artillery at 196–207. gunpowder The explosive mixture used to charge muskets and cannon. It was a notoriously unstable substance, liable to explode at the slightest exposure to a spark, and almost entirely useless when wet. Gunpowder almost never appears in the plays in and of itself, although its effects do. But its properties lend themselves to metaphorical use: ‘ ’Zounds, I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy though he be dead’ (1 HIV 5.4.121–2) says Falstaff when he finds Hotspur’s corpse on the battlefield. The king makes a similar estimation of Fluellen’s temper at HV 4.7.180. Famously, the Globe Theatre burned 277

gunpowder down when some of the special effects based on gunpowder went wrong. See Edelman (2000), 160–2. The ‘Gunpowder Plot’ aimed at destroying Parliament while in full session with the king present has gone down in folklore; see Coward (2003), 129. An earlier plot was aimed at James’ drunken father, Lord Darnley: for a full description of the Kirk O’Field explosion in Edinburgh on the night of his death, see Weir (2003), 249–51.

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H harlot A person whose life is one of unrestrained and illegitimate sexual passion. Jane Shore was the mistress both of Edward IV and Lord Hastings. In the council scene at which Hastings meets his end, Richard of Gloucester accuses Edward’s queen and Mrs Shore of using witchcraft to blast his withered arm. And, since Hastings is Mrs Shore’s lover, he is accused of being part of the conspiracy, which Richard uses to have him summarily removed and executed. The language directed by Richard towards Jane Shore is vituperative in the extreme: ‘harlot, strumpet Shore’ (R III 3.4.71). Unlike its use in later periods, the word is not confined to abuse of women only: ‘harlot king’ (WT 2.3.4) is how the insanely jealous Leontes describes his old school friend Polixenes. Amussen (1988) analyses the preponderance of sexual accusations in defamation cases within the overall context of gender relations at 101–4. She further glosses the issue in relation to economic factors at 119–20.

hawking A pastime beloved of the aristocracy, on a par with hunting. One of the advantages of hawking as a sport was that the relatively sedentary could still take part in the bloodletting so beloved of the nobility. Hawking (or falconry) is a sport that requires quite a degree of talent, experience and skill on the part of the expert who trains the hunting birds. To own hawks was a sign of gentility; it is one of the pastimes mentioned to the drunken Sly in TS Ind.2.43–4. 279

hawking Heal and Holmes (1994) describe hawking amongst the favoured recreations of the bloodthirsty English gentry at 289–94.

heir One who inherits. The word can refer to anyone from any rank, although it tends to be used of the very wealthy and powerful. The heir to the throne is called the ‘heir apparent’. Interestingly enough, the term is not gender specific in this period – the word ‘heiress’ appears only in The Merchant of Venice. Apart from that, ‘heir’ is used indiscriminately of men and women. Falstaff puns on ‘heir apparent’ at 1 HIV 1.2.57–8. In the next scene, Hotspur asks Worcester and Northumberland about Richard II’s proclamation of Mortimer as his heir (1.3.155–7). This question is important for the history behind the two tetralogies because it strikes to the heart of the Lancastrian occupation of the throne. Prince Henry is heir apparent to Henry IV, but only if one accepts that his father has the right to be king in the first place. Jack Cade’s rebellion is partly a consequence of this problem, although it is further complicated by Cade’s pretending to be the Mortimer heir himself (2 HVI 4.2.130–1). See also Margaret of Anjou’s taunting of Richard of York when he has been captured by the Lancastrians at 3 HVI 1.4.96–108. A reference to a non-royal heir comes at 3 HVI 4.1.48, when the victorious Yorkists are dividing up the spoils. This is all interrupted when news arrives from France of Warwick’s defection. Another example comes in All’s Well That Ends Well, when the King of France describes Helena as: She is young, wise, fair, In these to nature she’s immediate heir, And these breed honour. (AW 3.2.131–3)

Despite the punning on her status as an heir to the attributes he lists, the problem for Bertram is that she is not heir to the truly appropriate qualities recognized in his society: wealth and prestige, together with rank. The passage from All’s Well That Ends Well is also a good example of a use of the word to refer to a woman. The patriarchal nature of this society means that male and female heirs are treated separately. This is 280

heir extremely important, because the usual rules of inheritance mean that a husband would take over his wife’s goods, property and cash in a way that is not the case with a male heir. This is the context that informs the behaviour of violent fathers such as Capulet in Romeo and Juliet. See also Celia’s description of the line of succession in the dukedom of AYLI 1.2.17–22; Don Pedro’s recounting of Hero’s status at MA 1.1.295; and the discussion of the state of the succession that starts CYM 1.1.4–7. Henry VIII ends with an extremely suspect prophecy of Elizabeth’s greatness and the succession of James I (HVIII 5.4.39–47). This serves to smooth over the serious problems posed by the succession question all the way through Elizabeth’s reign right up to the point of James’ accession. In all of these examples, ‘heir’ is used as standard for a woman. The same basic usage underpins the riddling elements of Apollo’s oracle in WT 3.2.132–6. Palliser (1992) delineates the ways in which patterns of inheritance varied across the social scale at 77. Stone (1990) glosses his commentary by reference to gender relations at 112–3.

Henry V (a) This monarch is important to the English Renaissance not so much for his accomplishments, as for the interpretation placed upon them. The supposed wildness of his youth adds a kind of egalitarian lustre to his name in a way that helps to obfuscate perceptions of class boundaries (as opposed to the reality). But the main importance of his reign lies in his conquest of much of France after the Battle of Agincourt. In this respect, he fulfils two main functions: good old English xenophobic hatred of the French; and also a kind of late medieval litmus test of English imperialist and nationalist aspirations. (b) Throughout the two Henry IV plays, Prince Henry moves between the world of the royal court and that of his lower-class friends in Eastcheap. There does seem to be some basis in fact for this portrayal, although if the historical prince did have a dissolute youth, his companions were of higher degree than people like Poins. Another aspect of the plays, especially the first, is the use of young Hotspur as a comparison. This is definitely ahistorical, since Hotspur was a good deal older than the prince. Also, the battle during which the two finally meet in single combat was a much less straightforward affair than such a coincidence might suggest. The House of Lancaster emerged 281

Henry V victorious, but Prince Henry was dangerously wounded by an arrow from a longbow that hit him in the face and penetrated right through almost to the back of his neck. He survived, but bore the scar on his cheek for the rest of his days. The two plays make much of the differences between Henry and his father. The juxtaposition of the king’s worries about his son with scenes of reconciliation does serve a certain dramatic function, in that it displaces their disagreements onto the young prince’s wildness, as opposed to his lust for real power. He did in fact exercise full royal authority when his father was incapacitated by illness, and found it hard to relinquish his hold on Henry IV’s recovery. However, they do seem to have been fully reconciled when the father was dying, and he is credited with suggesting to his son that one way to distract attention from his tenuous right to the throne would be to attack France, the old enemy; see 2 HIV 4.4.212–5. The historical person of Henry V was noted for a certain coldblooded ruthlessness, a hint of which may be seen in the plays when he discards his old friends once he becomes king, and again when he orders the prisoners to be massacred at Agincourt. The timing of his assault on France was superb, based on a political and strategic calculation of the turmoil engulfing France and Burgundy. However, things went badly wrong when he led his army on a standard raid through France from Harfleur to Calais. The French quickly patched up their differences (temporarily) with the Burgundians and Henry’s depleted army found itself facing an enemy he had hoped to divide by means of a war on two fronts. Only the extreme overconfidence of the French nobility allowed him the victory at Agincourt, which was so impressive that it became almost talismanic for English discourses of heroism. After this, the play Henry V telescopes time, making the final peace treaty with France seem almost inevitable after the great victory, but in fact Agincourt achieved nothing immediate. The French refused to encounter him again in the open field, the one definite moral effect of the battle. Henry was forced to invade once again with a superb siege train, and in two years of constant campaigning he rebuilt England’s empire in France, particularly in Normandy. Only once this was accomplished was he able to force the French to come to terms. In the plays, Henry’s early death and the succession of his infant son Henry VI were not enough to destroy English power in France. An extra ingredient was required, and this is duly delivered in the form of 282

Henry V faction fighting at the court. This gives the French their chance and, rallied by Joan of Arc, they efficiently remove the invaders from French soil, apart from Calais. The eclipse of English continental power has the added effect of intensifying rivalries at home, resulting ultimately in the Wars of the Roses. However, Henry V may well have sown the seeds for this outcome himself, at least in the long term. His French enterprise ruined the English exchequer, which hardly helped in the next generation. So although the strategic aim of conquest in France did help to deflect attention away from the House of Lancaster, this only worked within the timescale of Henry V’s reign. Had he lived longer, there may have been a different historical outcome, both for France and England, but the situation passed on to his tiny son was a disaster in the making. In effect, the glories of Henry V’s reign eclipsed the reality that the foundation on which his achievements were based was not a solid one. None of this, of course, matters for the perception held of him by the English of later generations such as Shakespeare’s. (c) For a depiction of the reign of Henry V, see Weir (1998), from 55–71. Keegan (1998) describes the killing of the prisoners at Agincourt at 107–12. Hibbert (1998) discusses Henry’s subsequent fortunes at the hands of the historians at 108–13, in the context of the aftermath of the great battle.

Henry VIII (a) The second son of Henry Tudor, the Earl of Richmond, who became King Henry VII after defeating Richard III at Bosworth. Henry Tudor had an extremely dubious claim to the throne, and in order to cement it he married Elizabeth of York, daughter to Edward IV. Unlike most political marriages, this one seems to have been something of a love match. Their elder son Arthur died soon after marrying Katherine of Aragon, which left his brother Henry heir to the throne. On becoming king himself, Henry married Katherine after obtaining the papal dispensation necessary for him to be able to marry his brother’s widow. (b) As a young king, Henry was able to portray an image of himself as affable and pleasure-loving, allowing the able Cardinal Wolsey to run the government of the country for him. Henry, however, had a 283

Henry VIII massively over-inflated sense of his own and England’s importance on the world stage and tried to act accordingly. The one thing that eluded him was the survival of a male heir from his marriage to Katherine, and this became a very serious problem for a man obsessed with furthering the glory of his dynasty. When it became clear that Katherine was not going to produce what Henry needed, he conveniently remembered doubts about the marriage in this first place and ordered Wolsey and other churchmen to find a way out of it for him. Henry was acting in accordance with the patriarchal dictates of his time; his only heir was a daughter, Mary, and if she were to marry the throne would pass through her into the ownership of her husband. This led to the famous ‘great matter’ that acts as a dividing line between the first part of Henry’s reign and the second. There is still some debate as to whether he or Wolsey was the real instigator of the divorce proceedings, as well as the timing of his love affair with Anne Boleyn – whether or not it preceded the decision to divorce Katherine. The whole thing dragged on for years, in which time Henry broke with the Roman Catholic Church, declaring himself head of the Church of England. He secretly married Anne, who had held out for the ultimate prize, unlike her sister Mary and several other mistresses. Anne’s pregnancy seemed to confirm the decision and the rising reformer Cranmer annulled Henry’s marriage to Katherine as invalid and Mary was declared illegitimate. Anne was crowned queen while obviously pregnant. Wolsey had by now fallen from favour and died before Henry could have him arraigned for high treason. The women of England in particular hated Anne; Katherine had been a popular queen. But by the logic of patriarchy, no one seems to have criticized Henry, at least openly. Henry was massively disappointed when the baby turned out to be a girl, Elizabeth, and Anne fell from grace in spectacular style almost as soon as Katherine had died, offstage as it were. Anne was executed for witchcraft, as well as treason, along with her brother (with whom she was accused of incest) and several others; the cause of the Reformation suffered a setback as a result. Anne endured at least two failed pregnancies, and the later one was supposedly particularly gruesome, although the foetus was identified as a boy. Modern medical opinion is that Henry and Anne had incompatible blood groups, and only the first child has a good chance of survival in these circumstances. Elizabeth was now also declared illegitimate. In the meantime, the so-called Reformation continued, with the dissolution of the monasteries organized 284

Henry VIII by Wolsey’s equally able successor Cromwell funding Henry’s ability to bribe the nobility and others not to contest his shifting policies. Even so, his own instincts in religious matters were relatively conservative, and his church remained Catholic; it was just run ultimately by him instead of the pope. In any case, by then Henry’s eye had lighted upon one of Anne’s waiting women, Jane Seymour, who very quickly became queen and provided Henry with the male heir he so desperately wanted. She died of puerperal fever several days after giving birth to Prince Edward, and Henry needed another wife to secure a rather shaky line of succession. Cromwell, who was, like Cranmer, more extreme in his reforming views than their king, tried to use this opportunity to secure a Protestant overseas alliance via marriage between Henry and Anne of Cleves. Her arrival in England was a disaster; although Henry did marry her, he could not bring himself to sleep with her and the marriage was quickly annulled. Cromwell now found himself beheaded for treason as a scapegoat. Wife number five was Catherine Howard, the young niece of the conservative Catholic Duke of Norfolk. Henry was utterly infatuated with her and then had her executed when it turned out that she was not a virgin and had sex with at least one of his young nobles; love turned even more quickly to vengeance on this occasion than it had with Anne Boleyn. Henry finally died after marrying Catherine Parr, a widow who managed to outlast him, although she also came close to disaster on at least one occasion. This necessarily schematic overview of Henry’s career lists the main points that would be well known to Shakespeare’s audiences. Some of the details of his dealings with foreign powers would be better known to the well educated among them. So also would the more intricate dealings of his nobility. Shakespeare and Fletcher, who co-wrote All Is True, better known as Henry VIII, do include some of these. What matters for the playwrights is not historical accuracy, but the dramatic presentation of well-known elements of Henry’s reign in ways that would make sense to their contemporaries. Henry’s stature was still immense by the time the play was written. But what matters for the later period is the ongoing effects of the various events set in motion during Henry’s reign. The two most important groupings would be religion and the succession; Henry started a spiral of historical and political changes that had a fundamental effect on England and, indeed, Britain. 285

Henry VIII Throughout the majority of his career, Shakespeare was very careful to steer clear of very recent English history. The reason for this was pure pragmatism: Elizabeth I was Henry’s daughter. Her censorship apparatus, although not very effective, would certainly have come down hard on any plays that got too close to the bone on her turbulent family history, for both political and religious reasons (the two are inseparable in this period). But by the time James I had been on the throne for a few years the climate relaxed a little, and several plays about Henry were written, as well as some that even included Elizabeth. There developed something of a nostalgia for the Tudors (apart from Mary I), despite sour memories of some of Henry’s actions and the various problems at the end of Elizabeth’s reign. The play co-written by Shakespeare and Fletcher picks up on this context, while at the same time managing not to become too embroiled in the politico-religious controversies of Henry’s reign. Indeed, Henry VIII treats Katherine of Aragon very sympathetically and even Wolsey has some redeeming features; his death at least has some dignity. But the play ends with Cranmer voicing a completely fictitious prophecy about Elizabeth’s great future in front of a doting father (HVIII 5.4.14–62). It is almost as though the contemporary title of the play invites the audience and reader to note that very little of it is in fact true. What really matters is how the first part of Henry’s reign is managed on behalf of a later period; the meanings generated are very specific to the sensibilities of London audiences at the point where James Stuart has been on the throne for about a decade. (c) Wilson (2002) is a full examination of life at Henry’s court, including the maze of domestic politics that developed through the reign. For the stuttering progress of the Henrician Reformation, see Duffy (1992), 379–447. Weir (1996) traces out the ongoing effects of Henry’s reign upon those of his successors up to the accession of Elizabeth I in 1558. For a commentary on the relationship between Henry’s reign and the Fletcher–Shakespeare play, see McMullen (2002), Introduction, 57–147.

heraldry (a) Originally a very basic form of battlefield identification worn by knights, using very few rules and distinctive shield colours and patterns. Even earlier than the Renaissance the field had taken on 286

heraldry something of a life of its own as part of chivalry in general. Various colours had been added and shields were no longer divided in the same simple manner. Crests were invented, and the whole complicated business of tracing ancestry in order to establish who could legitimately claim a coat of arms had resulted in colleges of heralds being established in various countries, including England. (b) On occasion, Shakespeare uses heraldry as a means of defining social difference. Quite early on in the action of All’s Well That Ends Well, Lafew lets Parolles know in no uncertain terms that he has his exact measure: Go to, sir, you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate. You are a vagabond and no true traveller. You are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I’d call you knave. I leave you. (AW 2.3.258–64)

The vocabulary of class used here is obvious, and Lafew reinforces it by reference to heraldry. Parolles’ response when Lafew exits is relief; although the French lord has realized Parolles’ true nature and told him that he knows what he is, nevertheless he has not yet made it more widely known. More generalized uses of the term exist in the plays as well. In Hamlet, part of the background to the play’s opening events is a history of conflict between Denmark and Norway. This was settled in the reign of the elder Hamlet when he killed the elder Fortinbras in single combat, a moment, says Horatio, ‘Well ratified by law and heraldry’ (HAM 1.1.87). From the context, it is clear that what is meant here is not heraldry as such, but chivalric agreement; by synecdoche, heraldry stands in for the code as a whole. The word appears in more metaphorical terms as well: Helena compares her relationship with Hermia to a doubled heraldic device at AMND 3.2.213–14; and the beauty of Lucrece’s face is described by a heraldic extended simile at RL 64–70. (c) A good general introduction to heraldry is MacKinnon (1975). For some of the sillier manifestations of heraldic fashion in the Elizabethan 287

heraldry period, see Yates (1993), 88–111. See Edelman (2000), 169–72, for an entry on the herald. See also Richmond (2002) at 39–41 for the coat of arms.

heretic (a) A person whose religious opinions and practices contradict the official teaching of the church. The precise definition of who was a heretic could vary tremendously even in the partially reformed church establishment of Henry VIII. A person’s status could also vary from reign to reign, as happened with Archbishop Cranmer, who ended up being burned as a heretic by Mary Tudor. Heretics were mostly defined as Christians whose beliefs were illegal, although the word could also be used of the practitioners of another religion. This latter usage is possibly appropriate to the various witch trials of the period, at least some of whom may simply have been survivals of pagan practice. Technically, the Christian churches could not punish a heretic. In England, there was the possibility of recantation, in which case the person should be allowed to go free after some form of public penitence. But a person condemned by the church to die as a heretic was turned over to the state for the penalty to be carried out. The case of Cranmer was a particularly important one, partly because of his status and partly because of his political history: as the man who saw through the annulment of Katherine of Aragon’s marriage to Henry VIII, he was especially hated by their daughter Mary. He in fact recanted as he was allowed to do but Mary’s vindictiveness was such that she had him burned anyway; when he heard that this was to be his fate, he made the defiant gesture of repudiating his recantation. Mary’s persecution was in fact not particularly vicious by the standards of, say, the Spanish Inquisition, but it was particularly reviled in England, helping to harden opinion against her attempts to restore the Catholic faith as well as increasing the hatred for her marriage to Philip II of Spain. Mary died bitterly regretting that her legal heir by the terms of their father’s will was the Protestant Elizabeth, whom Mary regarded as a heretic and hated for being Anne Boleyn’s daughter. (b) Despite all of this extremely well-known contemporary history, Shakespeare studiously avoids representations of heresy and heretics as much as possible. As with his choice never to use the word ‘bible’, there 288

heretic were solid enough reasons for this circumspection. The state censorship was not especially successful, but the one area in which one could be sure there would inevitably be full scrutiny was religion. The appearance of Joan of Arc in 1 Henry VI is relatively unproblematic. She was burned as a witch well before the Reformation, and the dramatizing of her career suited the play’s elements of jingoistic nationalism and hatred for the French. Another well-documented medieval instance occurs in King John: Then, by the lawful power that I have, Thou shalt stand curs’d and excommunicate, And blessed shall he be that doth revolt From his allegiance to an heretic, And meritorious shall that hand be call’d, Canonized and worshipp’d as a saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life. (KJ 3.1.172–9)

The resonances with Henry VIII and Elizabeth I are obvious to any member of Shakespeare’s contemporary audience. The last section of the Cardinal’s pronouncement in particular echoes the pope’s sentence against Elizabeth. What is important here is the way in which Shakespeare displaces current religious and political concerns onto a medieval monarch who defied the papal claim to absolute authority. In their depiction of Cranmer in Henry VIII, Fletcher and Shakespeare are very careful not to go too far, as indeed is the case with the rest of the issues raised in the play. By foreshortening Henry’s reign and ending the play with Cranmer’s (ahistorical) prophecy about Elizabeth, the two playwrights are able to avoid addressing the complex problems posed by Henry’s later behaviour. This is fortuitous from the point of view of dramatic economy and it also allows the playwrights to represent episodes from Henry’s career in a way that manages to steer clear of the censorship. Of course, the play’s Jacobean nostalgia for Elizabeth is clear, although her reign is still contentious enough that Shakespeare never tackles it directly, even when James has taken the throne. As for Cranmer, they represent opinions of him by others, as when Wolsey mentions him in aside to the audience as a heretic at 3.2.102. A similar comment is made by Gardiner at 5.1.45. 289

heretic (c) Apologists for Sir Thomas More tend to forget the role he played in the persecution of heretics once he attained power. This was simply an extension of the hatred he demonstrated in his writings before and after that point; for the ways in which he used high office to try to extirpate every trace of evangelical Protestantism, see Wilson (2002), 357–9. For the Marian persecution, see Weir (1996), 293–7. For the trouble caused by the sentence against Elizabeth in the dangerous years of the 1580s, see Weir (1999), 333–5.

holiday (a) Derived from the holy-day associated with an important saint in the catholic calendar. Some were specified by the church as compulsory days off work for the purposes of religious observance, but there were also local holy days for important patron saints such as that of a diocese. Holidays were also permitted by local authorities, often coinciding with a town’s important festival, when there would be more than just a single day off work. These were agricultural in origin, and tended to come around the times of the year when an area would have surplus to sell. (b) Holiday time in the medieval period, and still into the Renaissance, was associated with a relative freedom from normal daily strictures and routine. This freedom was of course circumscribed by what was officially permissible, at least in theory, and was allowed only on days specified by religious or civic authorities. The holiday spirit was one of carnival, with its logic of inverted social hierarchy; the energies generated did not necessarily always stay within the bounds intended by the contemporary establishment. One of the most famous examples of this in Shakespeare occurs at the beginning of Julius Caesar: Flav. Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? Cob. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Caesar, and to rejoice in his triumph. Mur. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! (JC 1.1.27–35)

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holiday As Tribunes, Flavius and Murellus are officers of the people, their representatives in the system of the Republican Roman constitution, but here they are obviously out of step with those they are supposed to represent. The sense of this conflict is reinforced by their use of verse, while the cobbler speaks in prose. This is often played for laughs, as in the BBC Shakespeare version of the play, but there is a serious point. Technically, Caesar should not be having a triumph, the term for a procession granted by the Senate to a victorious general returning from campaign. The play does not state if the senate has allowed Caesar such a triumph, but even if it has, it is because it has no choice. Caesar’s victory over his Roman enemies, such as Pompey the Great, who is mentioned slightly later in this scene, has rendered him supreme in the state of Rome. He is in fact not entitled to a triumph at all, because his defeated enemies are other Romans. But the plebeians, such as the cobbler, do not seem to care about this, and their tribunes attack them for forgetting Pompey’s own victories. In this way the play opens with internal strife, and educated members of Shakespeare’s audience would have known that Caesar was incredibly popular with the Roman common people, in spite of what the tribunes say. This holiday is therefore overshadowed by division in the state, a social consequence familiar enough in the Renaissance. Although AsYou Like It is a comedy, the logic of carnival it incorporates is also affected by state politics. Having been overthrown by his brother, the rightful Duke has taken refuge in the Forest of Arden as an outlaw in the style of Robin Hood. His daughter Rosalind, however, is still at court. Although the new duke despises her, he barely tolerates her because of her friendship with his daughter, Celia. Both are virtuous, and they flee together from court and end up in the same Forest of Arden. In order to further their flight, Rosalind disguises herself as a young boy. All of this has elements of carnivalesque logic, that of inversion of state power and gender roles. The situation is complicated still further when Orlando, who loves Rosalind, ends up in the woods too. There is a well-known comic wooing subplot as he practises the skills he wants to use to woo Rosalind. She sets him up: Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, and I were your very very Rosalind? (AYLI 4.1.69–71)

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holiday Here the use of the term ‘holiday’ is very precise, denoting to the audience a very familiar world of upside-down unreality. Cross-dressing was simply an acknowledged part of this whole logic, one that makes perfect sense in its own terms. Another element of this holiday world that appears in Shakespeare is that of the display of the unknown: Trinc. Were I In England now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. (TEM 2.2.27–32)

Trinculo the jester stumbles upon Caliban, thinking that the latter is some kind of strange animal of the kind displayed at holiday carnivals in England to the credulous. The combination of the fool figure and the reference to colonizing practice make the passage extremely topical, as well as being a sardonic acknowledgement of the English audience watching the play. (c) The most famous book on Renaissance carnival is Bakhtin (1968). A more recent work is Laroque (1993), which has a specifically Shakespearean focus. For the festive nature of Shakespearean comedy, see Barber (1959). The world of the holiday that informs Shakespeare’s stage is described in Weimann (1978), 15ff. Mullaney (1988) relates the development of the London theatres to the licensed logic of carnival. Sohmer (1999) delineates the traditional calendar of holy-days and how it relates to Hamlet at 225–6. He also discusses the inverted parody of religious ritual at 29–31.

honour (a) As is so often the case with the more ubiquitous terms utilized in this period, the large range of meanings of this word is due to its conflation of two major collocations. The first is the sense of honour as something associated with those of high rank. The second is more personalized, as denoting qualities of character that are specific to an 292

honour individual. There also arises the possibility of a tension between the two, because someone of high rank may not necessarily act within the assumed codes of honourable behaviour. Conversely, a lower-ranking person may demonstrate aptitudes and abilities that are conventionally associated with the aristocracy. This last issue is important when one takes into account the possibility of upward social mobility based on talent, something that is almost impossible in this society without some form of patronage, or at least recognition of honourable deeds by someone higher up the social scale. When applied to a man from the upper classes, this usage often carries a sense of reputation based upon military accomplishments. When applied to a woman (of any degree) it often means chaste behaviour, another example of the demarcation of meaning along the lines of gender ideology. (b) The equation between honour and rank occurs at the end of Macbeth, when Malcolm reorganizes the upper reaches of the Scottish aristocracy: ‘Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland in such an honour nam’d’ (MAC 5.9.29–30). The emblematic Temple Garden scene in 1 Henry VI sees a similar instance: Let him that is a true-born gentleman And stands upon the honour of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this briar pluck a white rose with me. (1 HVI 2.4.27–30)

According to this speech by the Duke of York, true honour is defined by rank and lineage, and any man who has both will act honourably by taking his side; for comparison, see Belarius’ comments on the two young princes at CYM 4.2.176–81. The very next scene narrows the focus even further, forcing the audience to confront a fundamentally different view of the royal succession from that propounded by the Lancastrians. Mortimer, who was proclaimed heir to Richard II before Henry of Lancaster usurped the throne, is dying, and he has a final audience with the same Richard of York. Mortimer notes the effects upon himself and then upon the Duke of York of the triumph of the House of Lancaster: ‘even since then hath Richard been obscur’d, Depriv’d of honour and inheritance’ (1 HVI 2.5.26–7). Honour has become something of a test case: what it means and who has the right 293

honour to define it will rest ultimately on which dynasty one believes should occupy the throne. The implication is that honour is not such a stable, fixed term as aristocratic ideology would have it. Their own behaviour during the inexorable tide towards civil war indicates that the word is available for contestation. This is exactly the logic adopted by Mark Antony in his funeral oration for Caesar, with its insistent sardonic play on the honour of Brutus and the other conspirators (JC 3.2.82–99 and again from 3.2.124–6). The two rival English dynasties do not constitute completely coherent factions. Warwick the ‘Kingmaker’, the main military supporter who helps Richard’s son Edward to the crown, forsakes the Yorkist cause, as does Edward’s own brother George, Duke of Clarence. On the Lancastrian side, there is a great deal of internal fighting, for example between Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, and Bishop (later Cardinal) Beaufort. In the earlier generation, there is the famous example of the conflict between Henry IV and his son, emblematized in the scene where the future King Henry V takes the crown from his father’s pillow and puts it on his own head: Lo where it sits, Which God shall guard; and put the world’s whole strength Into one giant arm, it shall not force This lineal honour from me. This from thee Will I to mine leave, as ’tis left to me. (2 HIV 4.5.43–7)

The prince is mistaken in thinking that his father is already dead. When the latter wakes up, he cries out and his son is found to have taken the crown. The set piece that follows is crucial in the way that it allows Henry IV to castigate his son, before their final reconciliation. But the passage in which the son puts the crown on his head denotes much more than the personal relationship between the two men. Prince Henry’s vocabulary is one of religious invocation coupled with military force; this combination is what justifies for him the ‘lineal honour’ of the House of Lancaster’s occupation of the throne. The insistence on lineage comes from the defining core of what it means to be royal or noble: one carries on the line of inheritance from one generation to the next. In this sense any individual nobleman or indeed monarch is subject to an overriding imperative: the continuation of the dynasty, an 294

honour obligation that is only too familiar to a Renaissance audience weaned on the history of the Tudors. So when a figure such as Lear curses his own daughter with sterility, ‘from her derogate body never spring a babe to honour her!’ (KL 1.4.280–1) the implications are startling. All of these associations are available whenever the word appears, although the individual connotations depend on the particular instance. The collocation as a whole gives rise to specific phrases, such as to swear upon one’s honour: Buck. The King hath yielded unto thy demand: The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower. York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner? Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. (2 HVI 5.1.40–3)

There is more here than a simple telling of the truth: both men swear to the truth by invoking their honour, a concept that defines who they are (also see oath). Another phrase that appears every so often is to pawn one’s honour: ‘I rais’d him, and I pawn’d Mine honour for his truth’ (COR 5.6.20–1), says Aufidius of Coriolanus. This is a variation on the same set of assumptions that underpin swearing upon one’s honour, although in this case one is effectively swearing on one’s honour to the trustworthiness of another. Buckingham calls Richard to account using exactly the same phraseology when claiming from the new king the rewards promised him: ‘My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, For which your honour and your faith is pawn’d’ (RIII 88–9). A person can also share in the honour of a high noble by belonging to his affinity. This sense lies at the root of Vernon’s challenge to Basset: Now sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, Disgracing of these colours that I wear In honour of my noble lord of York, Dar’st thou maintain the former words thou spak’st? (1 HVI 4.1.28–31)

Honour is a commodity that accrues to a noble’s followers. But commodity implies exchange, or at least mobility, and what this short scene does is to suggest that honour is a dangerously volatile concept in a country that is now sliding towards civil war. The exchange between 295

honour Vernon and Basset demonstrates that the rivalry between the Lancastrians and the Yorkists is beginning to affect those further down the social scale from the high nobility themselves. The rift is not only deepening, it is widening into a dangerous fissure that cuts right across all levels of the wealthy ruling classes. These two men are prepared not only to challenge each other’s public wearing of the white and red roses, but to do so in the vicinity of the royal court. Such a public display of honour can be glossed with reference to SON 25.2. Deeds of honour can be displayed by people from the lower reaches of society as well, although the precise interpretation placed upon them can vary, as when the Dauphin wants to honour Joan of Arc at 1 HVI 1.6.5 – the English would hardly concur. A similarly contested declaration comes from Shylock in his initial jubilant reaction to the disguised Portia’s judgement at MV 4.1.224. Another example comes when Iden slays Cade. He says to his sword: Ne’er shall this blood be wiped from thy point, But thou shalt wear it as a herald’s coat, To emblaze the honour that thy master got. (2 HVI 4.10.69–71)

Iden is indeed correct in this assumption, as he is richly rewarded and ennobled by the king as a reward for this loyal service. It is common for those with less status to address their social superiors according to an assumed estimation of honour, with a phrase such as ‘your honour’; see the porter at 1 HVI 1.1.5 and Isabella’s first acceptance of Angelo’s sentence on her brother: ‘Heaven keep your honour!’ (MM 2.4.34). Gendered distinctions occur in uses of the term as well. For men, especially nobles, there is an assumption that a properly honourable sphere of action is the military. This is an important element of King Henry’s distinguishing between his own wayward son and Hotspur: ‘What never-dying honour hath he got Against renowmed Douglas!’ (1 HIV 3.2.106–7). The assumption here is that the amount of honour gained in a fight or on campaign depends on the extremity of the danger that is faced: ‘ ’Tis the more honour, because more dangerous’ (3 HVI 4.3.15) says one of the watchmen of Edward of York’s behaviour. Lafew states a similar assumption when Bertram returns to France: ‘A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv’ry of honour’ 296

honour (AW 4.5.99–100). According to the Chorus in Henry V, ‘honour’s thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man’ (HV 2.0.3–4) when the English are preparing to attack France. Before Agincourt, Henry says ‘The fewer men, the greater share of honour’ (HV 4.3.22). All of these references rely for their force upon a conflation of assumptions of honour and manly activity, ‘virtue’ in its fully etymological sense. For a woman, conversely, honour denotes chaste behaviour. The reason for this, of course, is that patriarchy defines femininity, and hence women, as essentially passive, as opposed to the masculine active principle associated with men. A woman’s honour therefore depends on her behaving in ways that are appropriate to this kind of definition and in practice this usually means sexual behaviour: Finding myself in honour so forbid, With safest distance I mine honour shielded. (LC 150–1)

But as the woman goes on to lament, keeping her honour so protected is easier said than done. Her comment can be glossed with reference to Mariana’s warning to Diana in All’s Well That Ends Well: ‘The honour of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so rich as honesty’ (AW 3.5.12– 13). In other words, a maid is defined by the retention of her maiden honour and, as her use of the term name indicates, her reputation depends upon it. Honour, indeed, is an extremely common word in this play, more so perhaps than most of the others, such that the play becomes in one sense ‘about’ honour, or at least what defines it, for men and women. Jachimo’s violation of the sanctity of Imogen’s bedchamber is the direct result of a wager about chastity with Imogen’s banished husband, Posthumus: this secret Will force him think I have pick’d the lock and ta’en The treasure of her honour. (CYM 2.2.40–2)

Jachimo’s invasive metaphor defines sexual possession of a woman as a treasure to be unlocked. Subsequent events demonstrate that Imogen’s honour will be compromised by her husband’s acceptance of the 297

honour outward signs of Jachimo’s success. A similar play on honour occurs towards the end of King Lear: Reg. Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth, Do you not love my sister? Edm. In honour’d love. Reg. But have you never found my brother’s way To the forfended place? Edm. That thought abuses you. Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct And bosom’d with her – as far as we call hers. Edm. No, by mine honour, madam. (KL 5.1.8–14)

It is difficult to unpick the multiple levels of irony here. Neither character has operated via the truth in their respective rise to eminence, and they both know this about themselves and each other. And yet here is Regan effectively asking Edmund to tell her the truth about his relationship with her sister; and Edmund’s response is to swear upon the concept of an honour he does not have and does not accept as governing his behaviour anyway. In such a situation, honour is an empty signifier, a meaningless concept that can be inhabited by those out for their own ends. The Machiavellian individual’s exploitation of a code in which the rest of society behaves is common enough in the plays; what this one does is to subject the vexed issue of honour to manipulative treatment. Compare Claudio’s rejection of Hero at the altar: ‘She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour’ (MA 4.1.33), and this is one of the less offensive things he says about her. Of course, what this does in performance is remind the audience that he and the other men are the ones who have got it wrong. They are the ones who have been deceived by a sign and semblance, an outward show whose representation takes place off-stage, signalling that it is available for multiple, potentially incorrect, interpretations. England is a Protestant state, and as such is the site of the development of a Protestant emphasis on chastity within marriage. The emerging discourse associated with it has older roots, but it is important to note that honour is a synonym for a chastity that is not only ascribed to maidenhood. This development underpins Juliet’s response to her mother when she brings up the issue: ‘It is an honour that I dream not of’ (RJ 1.3.66). A fuller exploration comes in the comedies: 298

honour Pardon me, wife, henceforth do what thou wilt. I rather will suspect the sun with cold Than thee with wantonness. Now doth thy honour stand, In him that was of late an heretic, As firm as faith. (MW 4.4.6–9)

Ford’s apology to his wife is made in public, a necessary corrective to his previously public jealous behaviour. A married woman’s reputation is a public matter in this society. The various discourses of honour have their downside, and it does not necessarily come in the form of shifts in attitude. There can also be outright assaults on it, especially the effects of the upper class and their military aspirations: Fal. I would ’twere bed-time, Hal, and all well. Prince. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit.] Fal. ’Tis not due yet, I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, ’tis no matter, honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died a’ Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. ’Tis insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will’t not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I’ll none of it, honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. [Exit.] (1 HIV 5.1.125–41)

All through this play the Falstaff scenes have been interspersed with scenes of high politics and the royal court. But the impending battle brings the two levels of society together and the result is not just a battle full of high heroic sounding honour, but Falstaff’s dissection of it. His point is straightforward: honour is a concept, battles are physically real and there is nothing that honour can do about the violence heaped on the body. The way he ends his speech is equally important: ‘honour is 299

honour a mere scutcheon’. This implies that the coat of arms so beloved of those who aspire to honour in this society is an ultimately empty façade; ‘mere’ radically lessens its importance. In other words, Falstaff is not in the play simply to present the comedy associated with the young prince’s supposed feckless youth. The fat knight also serves to utter a counter-discourse to that of the high nobility. (c) Stone (1967) devotes a whole chapter to the honours ranking system in Renaissance England, from 37–61. Wilson (2002) has a chapter on the council system in the reign of Henry VIII, at 76–85; this is the context for Henry’s honouring of Wolsey and the latter’s rise to power as the lynchpin between the king and his council of state. Amussen (1988) provides the context for women’s honour in her comments on the importance of reputation: see her chapter on the gendered order prevailing in families and villages, 95–133. Dollimore and Sinfield (1996) analyses the ideological foundations of masculinity and violence in Henry V, the prerequisite for the system of rank and military honour. Longstaffe (2003) includes some comments on honour in his description of the drama’s political plays. Sacks (2000) takes Philip Sidney as an exemplar of the way honour operated under Elizabeth.

horse (a) One of the most important animals available to a largely agrarian society. Horses were necessary for carriage, transportation, communication and warfare. The types ranged from pack-horses and draught horses through to warhorses and fast post horses, which in this period were accessible only to specially chosen messengers, usually for diplomatic or other courier missions. Cost varied accordingly; a noble’s warhorse could be more expensive than all of his other war gear put together. The range of types and uses of horses also makes them useful for metaphorical language. (b) The rivalry between Prince Henry and Hotspur that is an ongoing theme of 1 Henry IV produces this passage: Come let me taste my horse, Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.

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horse Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, Meet and ne’er part till one drop down a corse. (1 HIV 4.1.119–23)

This is how Hotspur imagines their encounter in the coming battle, in concert with the view of combative chivalry that he espouses. This kind of description is typical of the assumed chivalric discourse, one that belongs more to the ideal conditions of the tiltyard than the battlefield. The play in fact goes on to represent the two of them meeting in individual combat, albeit on foot, but this is dramatic convention; it did not happen in this battle, or most others. Something similar did almost occur at Bosworth, when it appears that Richard III launched a final charge directly at Henry Tudor and his bodyguards. Richard killed Henry’s standard-bearer in the charge and had three horses killed under him before finally being surrounded and butchered by foot soldiers. His famous cry ‘A horse, a horse! my kingdom for a horse!’ (RIII 5.4.7) is probably based on fact, but it indicates Richard wanting another horse so as to keep fighting, not so as to flee. Skill at horse riding was an important accomplishment for anyone of high rank; both Elizabeth and Mary Tudor were superb riders. There was even a proverbial expression, referred to by Richard of York, Richard III’s father: It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen, Unless the adage must be verified, That beggars mounted run their horse to death. (3 HVI 1.4.126–8)

Richard’s defiant taunting of Margaret of Anjou depends for its force upon her lack of dowry when she married Henry VI. The assumption is that a beggar lacks the training to be able to ride a horse correctly, keeping it going until it dies, an apt metaphor for the state of England as Richard sees it under Margaret’s control. The further implication, of course, is that Henry is no more than a horse being ridden by someone else. The courtly arts proper to horse riding are described in A Lover’s Complaint: ‘Well could he ride, and often men would say, “That horse his mettle from his rider takes; Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,

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horse What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!” And controversy hence a question takes, Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by th’ well-doing steed. (LC 106–12)

The woman who narrates the complaint is here almost describing the notorious Lord Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who was Elizabeth’s Master of Horse. He was famous for both his horsemanship and his predatory sexual charm. See the fatal consequences for Arcite of his inability to control his horse after his victory over Palamon as narrated by Pirithous at TNK 5.4.48–85. Dudley’s position entailed much more than simply being the noble in charge of the horses in the queen’s household: ‘The general of our horse thou art’ (AW 3.3.1) says the Duke of Florence to Bertram. This was a highly coveted position, especially given the military and social importance of the mounted part of the army. In an era where the state relied upon trained men furnished by the aristocracy, or by mercenaries, the equipment of the troops depended very much on what they could afford. The term applied to Dudley and Bertram descends from the Latin magister militum, but in the Middle Ages it acquired much more importance because of the greatly increased power of the cavalry. So much so, in fact, that the generic term ‘horse’ is used in the plural to mean the cavalry, the flower of the realm; see 1 HIV 4.3.19–24. This passage is a discussion between Vernon, Worcester and Percy of the relative condition of their army and that of the king, just before the Battle of Shrewsbury. To a modern audience, much of it seems to be unnecessary quibbling. But in terms of the preparations for a major battle, it is in fact extremely important. Hotspur wants to attack the Lancastrian royal forces immediately, but Vernon counsels caution. His cousin’s contingent of cavalry has not yet arrived, and the extra horses of Worcester’s troops are still tired from their journey. Hotspur still wants to attack, citing the equal tiredness of the enemy’s horses; Worcester’s counter to this is that the king’s forces are stronger. The emphasis here on cavalry is crucial in terms of the perceived importance of the cavalry charge on a late medieval battle. This may seem strange, given the predominance of the longbow, but what is at stake is not merely military power, but the social prestige associated with the knights. Following on from this is the fact that each knight will come 302

horse with his allotted number of retainers, who will fill out the foot of the army. So if the cavalry are not all yet here, and if some of it is tired, this a shorthand way of saying that a tired army is waiting for much needed rest and reinforcements. A similar issue is brought to the fore in 1 Henry VI, when the English nobility are so busy fighting among themselves that they fail to come to the aid of Talbot’s hard-pressed forces in the field: Lucy. Talbot perisheth by your default. Som. York set him on, York should have sent him aid. Lucy. And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims, Swearing that you withhold his levied host, Collected for this expedition. Som. York lies; he might have sent, and had the horse. (1 HVI 4.4.28–33)

One of the advantages of mounted troops in such a situation is that they can reach a battlefield relatively quickly, but by their bickering Somerset and York have lost the opportunity. When Parolles thinks he has been captured in All’s Well That Ends Well, the first question he is asked is how strong is his army’s horse (AW 4.3.129–30). None of this is surprising, given the sheer cost of raising and equipping such troops: ‘They sell the pasture now to buy the horse’ (HV 2.0.5) according to the Chorus in Henry V. But by the time of Agincourt, the English army is so depleted by disease and the necessity to garrison their conquests that the French by comparison seem unbelievably wealthy. Too much so, in fact, and the overconfidence it brings will cause their downfall. This is the root of their vainglory the night before the battle at HV 3.7, where the luxury of their armour and horses leads them to bet on how many prisoners they will take the next day. The French aristocracy were famous for their powerful knights, a direct result of the economic wealth of the country as a whole. This range of meanings makes the horse a useful source of metaphorical language. One example occurs at 1 HIV 1.1.9–11. Another, more telling, comes when Henry IV is described to the deposed Richard II as riding his predecessor’s horse, Barbary, at RII 5.5.78–94. Richard himself notes the implications for his own situation, and England’s, as subject to this man. The exchange comes directly before Richard’s murder. Other uses include a reference to a post horse by 303

horse Rumour at 2 HIV Ind.4 and a stalking-horse at AYLI 5.4.106. This last is a specially trained horse used in hunting, to run before the hunters so as to conceal the sight, sound and scent of them from the quarry. (c) See Edelman (2000), 174–6. A book that deals in great detail with the history of the prestigious warhorse is Hyland (1996). The cost of horses is glossed at Contamine (1993) at 96–7. For issues around horse breeding, see Ridley (2002, 2), 244–5. For horses as a form of transportation, see Picard (2004), 35. For Richard III’s final charge at Bosworth, see Bennett (1997), 114–18.

hospital Originally operated by the religious houses. One of the major problems facing the later parts of the English Renaissance was how best to replace the work of these foundations, since their demise removed something of a social safety net for the society’s most vulnerable elements, both physically and mentally ill. London, for example, did try to take over at least some of the work, although the result was patchy at best. Probably the most well known is Bedlam, a particularly unpleasant lunatic asylum. Shakespeare uses the word only once. It occurs when the men in Love’s Labour’s Lost have been told to wait a year to find out if their loves will still want them, at LLL 5.2.871. There are, however, many more references to Bedlam in particular, including Edgar’s disguise as a bedlam beggar in King Lear. The place itself is mentioned at 2 HVI 5.1.131. More metaphorical uses occur at 2 HVI 3.1.51 and HV 5.1.19; in both cases, ‘bedlam’ is a simple synonym for ‘lunatic’. Picard (2004) describes ‘bedlam’ at 107–8.

host The owner and manager of an inn or tavern. In a more extended usage, a host is anyone who extends hospitality to another person. There are also several other very specific denotations, when the word means ‘myriad’. The Host of the Garter Inn appears in The Merry Wives of Windsor and his counterpart is a character in both of the Henry IV plays. They could be the same person, or at least be played by the same actor. The more general sense of the word meaning someone who displays hospitality occurs rather ominously in the tragedies. Macbeth is King 304

host Duncan’s murderous host, and Gloucester in King Lear is host to the man who puts out his eyes. Such violations of hospitality are meant to demonstrate the extreme nature of the deeds that are perpetrated in both plays. The word’s meaning of ‘myriad’ appears when a messenger arrives with bad news for Cleopatra: Though it be honest, it is never good To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt. (AC 2.5.85–8)

She has just beaten up the man and threatened to stab him, because she knows that he does not carry any information she would really like to hear. Another denotation is that of a large group of men, meaning an army. This is quite common, appearing several times in Henry V alone; see HV 4.2.43 for a representative example. By extension, it can also be used of the ‘host of heaven’ (HAM 1.5.92). For the ideology of hospitality, see Heal and Holmes (1994), 282–9.

hostess Feminine form of host. In theory, a woman could act as an independent owner and manager of an inn or tavern. What was much more likely was a woman who acted as hostess in a more generalized sense, especially in networks of kin relationships. Hospitality in this sense was often dispensed by better off women as part of their household duties. Mistress Quickly appears to be running her own establishment in 2 Henry IV and to a lesser extent in Henry V; she also appears as one of the minor characters in The Merry Wives of Windsor. More conventional, although more ominous, is the role dispensed by Lady Macbeth; see for example Duncan’s greeting to her at MAC 1.6.10. Heal and Holmes (1994) describes women’s importance as hostesses at 94–5.

hounds Trained hunting dogs, for which the English were well known. There are various kinds of such dogs, although in Shakespeare 305

hounds they usually take the form of dogs that chase down deer and other quarry and are fed bits of the carcass as a reward. The gentry and upwards loved their blood sports. A proper pack of hounds is an expensive luxury to breed, train and maintain. They appear in several of the plays, almost always in the context of a noble hunting expedition, such as when Theseus and his court enters the woodlands at AMND 4.1.103; the Induction scenes to The Taming of the Shrew; the ‘wild hunt’ scene of TEM 4.1.254–7; and the grand hunting expedition at TA 2.2. Hounds are mentioned as being present, or at least sound effects are used to make them seem close at hand offstage, in all of these examples. Venus and Adonis takes its premise from the goddess’ falling in love with the young huntsman as he leads his hounds in the chase; see also the reference at PP ix.6. The cost of keeping such a pack is alluded to among other accoutrements of the upper classes in SON 91.4. The use of hounds is so well known that it is available for metaphorical uses such as the extended simile at 1 HVI 4.2.45–52, when Talbot and his troops are surrounded by the French. This is doubly apt, because a type of hound bears that family’s name, and they used a hound as a heraldic crest. Brutus has hunting dogs in mind when he tells the conspirators: Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds (JC 2.1.173–4)

The bloody reality belies this claim to some kind of ritual death. Heal and Holmes (1994) includes some information on the English gentry’s fondness for the bloody business of hunting with hounds in a section on recreation, at 289–94.

house (a) A dwelling. Shakespeare often uses the word in its more

figurative sense, that of a royal or noble dynasty. This usage has great significance for the English history plays in particular. For the House of Commons and the House of Lords, see parliament. (b) Any noble family which passes down specific titles through the generations can be known as a ‘house’, as when Worcester accuses the king 306

house of removing his favour from his house, meaning the Percies of the north and their associated affinity such as himself (1 HIV 5.1.30–1). However, the most well-known great houses in the English history plays are those of Lancaster, York and, eventually, the Tudors. The Bishop of Carlisle notes the divisions created by rivalry between these houses: O, if you rear this house against this house, It will the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth! (RII 4.1.145–7)

The bishop’s prophecy is directed against the usurpation of the throne by Henry, Duke of Lancaster, and refers to the division of the royal dynasty of the Plantagenets. All of this is a direct result of two historical factors. The first is Edward III’s creation of the great royal dukedoms for his sons, apart from the ‘Black Prince’, heir to the throne. The second is the behaviour of Richard II, son of the Black Prince, who at a very young age succeeds his grandfather in a court dominated by his powerful uncles, especially John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. Richard does not act in ways that suit the aristocracy and is eventually forced to resign the crown to Gaunt’s son Henry. Richard is then murdered. The problem that this bloody history poses for the succession is that it throws it open to contestation. Even though Henry of Lancaster becomes king, the other ducal families descended from Edward III can, and do, argue that they have at least as much right to the throne by the rules of inheritance. The eventual result is the Wars of the Roses between the House of Lancaster and the House of York. The general flow of this history would have been known to Shakespeare’s contemporary audience, although perhaps not all of the details would have been accessible to everyone. In order to try to make them available, Shakespeare often has recourse to retellings by various characters, some of them relatively minor. One of the most vehement is the denunciation of Suffolk by a lieutenant at 2 HVI 4.1.70–103 just before the disguised duke is killed. The lieutenant blames the outbreak of civil war directly on Suffolk’s meddling in the affairs of state and gives a long list of disastrous policy measures that have overtaken England in the period of his ascendancy over the weak King Henry VI. In the midst of his tirade, he notes the military power accruing in support of the House of York: 307

house The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, As hating thee, are rising up in arms; And now the house of York, thrust from the crown By shameful murther of a guiltless king And lofty, proud, encroaching tyranny, Burns with revenging fire (2 HVI 4.1.91–7)

He also revisits the basis of the Yorkist claim to the throne, which is the maze of dynastic politics already mentioned that is a result of the murder of Richard II. The lieutenant is not exactly neutral, but his recounting of a Yorkist version of recent political history does serve a useful purpose, reminding the audience that there is more than one possible interpretation. Indeed, there is so much confusion that the leader of the dangerous rebellion of the commons, Jack Cade, is able to claim in the very next scene that he is a scion of the House of Mortimer (2 HVI 4.2.39). This is not to be taken too seriously, since even as Cade utters his claim it is undercut by his supporters’ asides to the audience. But it nevertheless reminds the audience of the importance of the Mortimers, who were named directly as heirs to the throne by Richard II before his expedition to Ireland. The basis for his action is strict primogeniture: if his line were to fail, then as the next eldest of the Plantagenet descendants of Edward III, the Mortimers would automatically be heirs. Also, failing them, the next in line of seniority is the House of York, not the usurping Lancastrians, a claim that has already been strengthened earlier in the trilogy by the last Mortimer resigning his claim to Richard of York at 1 HVI 2.5.96. But there is a further complicating factor, as the lieutenant’s speech to Suffolk makes clear: right by lineage is not the same thing as right by might. In England, the successful claimant to the throne is most often the next in line, coupled with acclamation by the lords of the realm and by parliament. But there have been situations in which the two elements of lineage and acclamation do not coincide, and when the line that occupies the throne has its claim contested by a militarily more powerful house, the result is civil war: York. With thy brave bearing should I be in love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy. Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem,

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house But that ’tis shown ignobly and in treason. York. So let it help me now against thy sword, And I in justice and true right express it. Clif. My soul and body on the action both! York. A dreadful lay! Address thee instantly. [They fight, and Clifford falls] (2 HVI 5.1.20–7)

This emblematic scene is important for two reasons. Firstly, despite the chivalric language of mutual respect, the outcome will be fatal for one of the participants. Secondly, regardless which of them does fall victim, a new cycle of violence will be initiated. York has four sons, all of whom except Rutland are powerful military leaders, while Clifford has one son who is an important successor to his father’s unflinching support for the House of Lancaster. In other words, what this scene does is set up the next generation of the conflict, embroiling the noble houses in yet more vengeful action. There is a breathing space in the action as Henry VI acknowledges the House of York as his heirs. But the next play in the cycle represents York as being pressured into taking final action by his three outspoken and ambitious sons Edward, George and Richard. Edward, his own heir, says: Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now. By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end. (3 HVI 1.2.12–14)

This is an important point and demonstrates Edward’s political acuity. Even if the House of Lancaster has usurped the throne, continued occupation of it will make the Lancastrians stronger. King Henry has a son of his own, and the unspoken assumption is that the king may use his power and authority to re-establish his own dynastic right once the moment of danger has passed. All of these issues are concentrated in what is perhaps the most famous reference to a dynastic house in the plays: Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this son of York;

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house And all the clouds that low’r’d upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. (RIII 1.1.1–4)

The soliloquy is unusual in that it begins a play, rather than coming after the exposition, which is the usual location for a machavellian speech. But it serves the purpose of setting up the ensuing action of the play in relation to Richard. The underlying structural logic is that the subsequent downfall of the House of York is entirely Richard’s doing, as he goes about an increasing catalogue of crimes that builds upon his penchant for murder already demonstrated in 3 Henry VI. This is a convenient method of deflecting any blame at all away from the political classes as well as obviously picking up on the Richard-bashing made so popular by that master of the arts of political spin, Sir Thomas More. The implication is that the rapacious thrusting ambition of the House of York creates the conditions for its own destruction, all helped by events that even the most ardent supporter of Richard finds difficult to explain away (such as, who really killed the children in the Tower?). The thrust of the attack on Richard comes to its fruition in the emblematic dreaming scene the night before Bosworth: Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee. Good angels guard thy battle! Live and flourish! (RIII 5.5.136–8)

After cursing Richard, the ghost of Clarence utters these words to Richmond, the man who will instigate the rule of the House of Tudor as King Henry VII. Here we have an important member of the House of York praying for a Lancastrian victory. Moreover, Clarence describes Richmond as an ‘offspring of the house of Lancaster’, which glosses over the tenuous claim of the Tudors themselves to the throne. Henry Tudor was the son of Margaret Beaufort, heiress of the line of the Beauforts barred from the throne by Act of Parliament in favour of their cousins; the Beauforts were the progeny of one of John of Gaunt’s liaisons. This is a very weak lineage. But Henry Tudor was nothing if not an opportunist: O now let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true succeeders of each royal house,

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house By God’s fair ordinance conjoin together! And let their heirs (God, if thy will be so) Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac’d peace, With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days! (RIII 5.5.29–34)

Henry’s marriage to Elizabeth of York ensures that the competing claims of the two houses are merged in the military success of his acquisition of the throne, although the course of his reign and that of his son demonstrated that there were still other possibilities. It may also explain the extremities to which Henry VIII was prepared to go in order to ensure the survival of his house. There are other plays as well as the English histories in which the behaviour of noble houses plays a significant role. The faction fighting between the Montagues and Capulets in Romeo and Juliet provides another element of the violence to which those of aristocratic rank were prone. Romeo’s appearance at the Capulet masque arouses Tybalt’s suspicions. He is overridden by old Capulet himself: Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, ’A bears him like a portly gentleman; And to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern’d youth. I would not for the wealth of all this town Here in my house do him disparagement (RJ 1.5.65–70)

Capulet makes use of a pun on house as both dynasty and dwelling. Both the Capulets and Montagues have been warned not to continue their feuding by the Prince and if Romeo were to be hurt or killed while in Capulet’s house the consequences would be dire indeed, even though he is an interloper. Capulet is also abiding by the customs of hospitality; to break these is a particularly heinous crime (see host). But the hostility between the two houses has its own momentum, fuelled further by young hotheads such as Tybalt. The result is the death of Romeo’s kinsman Mercutio at Tybalt’s hands, and Mercutio’s verdict on the conflict: ‘A plague a’ both houses!’ (RJ 3.1.91), repeated again slightly later at RJ 3.1.99–100. Lord Capulet’s pun on ‘house’ is repeated by Lorenzo in The Merchant of Venice, where it has a peculiar force of its own: 311

house I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed How I shall take her from her father’s house, What gold and jewels she is furnish’d with, What page’s suit she hath in readiness. (MV 2.4.29–32)

By taking Jessica in disguise from her father’s house and marrying her, Lorenzo will ruin her father’s house, in the sense of familial lineage. This double usage is much more than a pun; it strikes at the fundamental building block of Shylock’s existence. In the same way, Calpurnia’s failed attempt to stop Caesar leaving his house on the Ides of March (JC 2.2.8–9) will lead to his assassination and the possible downfall of the house of the Julii. A similar effect is achieved when Macbeth kills Duncan: Still it cried, ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house; ‘Glamis hath murther’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more – Macbeth shall sleep no more.’ (MAC 2.2.38–40)

(c) For the dynastic history of the Nevilles, one of the most important noble houses in England and the family to which the ‘Kingmaker’ belonged, see Hicks (2002), 7–30; this family is a good example of the kinds of associations that could be built up by a house in the late medieval period. Weir (1998) is a recent full account of the Houses of Lancaster and York and the Wars of the Roses; see especially Part One, The Origins of the Conflict, 21–189, for the dynastic roots of the contest. On the claims of the Tudors, such as they were, see Bennett (1997), 58– 62. Wilson (2002) recounts the judicial murder of the Duke of Buckingham by Henry VIII at 188–91; he was one of the last true contenders to the throne. For a candid account of the difficulties encountered in staging the two tetralogies for a modern audience, including the impenetrable lists of noble names, see Bogdanov and Pennington (1992). Wilson (2005) is a history of a house close to Elizabeth I, and a major player in Renaissance politics from the reign of Henry VII. Murphy (2003) concentrates on the dynastic problems faced by the House of Tudor in the reign of Henry VIII, including the possibility that his illegitimate son might have been given precedence over his sisters before he died, and before the birth of Prince Edward. 312

household

household The domestic economy of a house or family, including the objects and contents used in the dwelling-place. There is a more specialized meaning in earlier periods than ours, including the Renaissance, indicating the people who dwell in a house or who are attached to a house in its extended sense of a noble family. Retainers and servants of this kind can themselves be of quite high rank. King Henry professes amazement at the riches gathered by Wolsey for use in his household at HVIII 3.2.126. This is the kind of usage that has survived into the modern period. There is even an equivalent to our phrase ‘household names’ at HV 4.3.52. But the most common usage in the Renaissance is to refer to the households of the great, as when Worcester breaks his staff of office and defects to Henry of Lancaster with all of his household servants at RII 2.2.60. These will not necessarily be personal servants so much as the full retinue expected of a great nobleman. And in the period Shakespeare is dramatizing in the English history plays, such retinues have an important military function. They can become embroiled in faction fighting: see 1 HVI 3.1.86–93 and, for comparison, RJ 1.1. Such allegiance is noted in the badge one wears, as Clifford notes at 2 HVI 5.1.201. For some comments on the economic management of a household among the gentry, see Heal and Holmes (1994), 283–9. For the state required of a great household, see Murphy (2003), 66–104. housewife A married woman whose main role in life is to look after the household economy. There are massive variations in practice, because of the different expectations that depend on one’s rank. Shakespeare’s texts do have standard expectations of a lower-class housewife’s duties. The fairy who first encounters Puck mentions his tricks on a ‘breathless housewife’ (AMND 2.1.37) who is trying to churn butter. The octave of Sonnet 143 is an extended simile in which a harassed housewife has to set down her baby so as to chase after one of her hens. These are an order of magnitude away from the Countess of Rossillion’s mocking reference to herself as a ‘noble huswife’ (AW 2.2.60), where her only duty seems to lie in passing the time with her fool. There is a metaphorical usage in Timon of Athens when Timon refers to ‘The bounteous huswife Nature’ (TA 4.3.420), which is based on the fecundity associated with a well-run household establishment. 313

housewife Amussen (1988) goes into great detail concerning the role of the housewife in various kinds of households, at 68–70. Her comments suggest the sheer scale of the job in a period in which the average household was a unit of work as much as a unit of consumption.

humour (a) Cast of mind, a wider potential spread of meanings than the modern narrower term denoting comedy. This general meaning is itself derived from a specific medical usage with a very long history, which is the psychology of the humours. Basically, the theory behind it holds that the human body is made up of the four elements, and each element has an associated ‘humour’. Each humour in turn is associated with a type of behaviour. If the bodily elements are out of balance and one holds sway, then its associated humour flavours the mind of the person so affected. For example someone who is held to have an excess of black bile would be described as melancholic, the favourite mental illness of intellectuals who think a little bit too much more than is good for them – the form of madness affected by Hamlet. This does mean that psychology is ultimately rooted in the body and any such imbalance is, technically, a form of madness, regardless of how beneficial it may in fact be to the person or their relations with others. (b) The general meaning of ‘humour’ to denote a person’s overall cast of mind or mood can be found throughout the texts. When the artisans are deciding what to perform before Theseus, Bottom says ‘my chief humour is for a tyrant’ (AMND 1.2.28–9). The disguised Rosalind uses the word in a similar manner when Orlando is wooing: ‘I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to consent’ (AYLI 4.1.68–9). During the ‘trial’ scene, Shylock says ‘say it is my humour’ (MV 4.1.43) when he describes the reason why he is so insistent on his bond; he later glosses his commentary by saying that there is no real reason apart from his hatred for Antonio (MV 4.1.59–61). One of the most well-known occurrences is when Richard of Gloucester turns in soliloquy to the audience after wooing Lady Anne: Was ever woman in this humour woo’d? Was ever woman in this humour won? (RIII 1.2.227–8)

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humour There are other examples when this kind of meaning begins to shade over into the psychology of the humours. Petruchio’s servant Peter describes the relationship between his master and Kate: ‘He kills her in her own humour’ (TS 4.1.180). Nym, one of the ‘Eastcheap’ characters, is always talking about his humour, which is clearly phlegmatic: ‘The humour of it is too hot’ (HV 3.2.5). This is his response to the attack on the breach in the walls of Harfleur. More overt references to the theory of the humours also exist. A good example comes when the King of Navarre reads out Armado’s letter: So it is, besieged with sablecoloured melancholy, I did commend the black oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of they health-giving air (LLL 1.1.231–4)

The melancholic pose is obviously recognizable enough to be lampooned. A similar effect is achieved by the drug Friar Laurence gives to Juliet: ‘through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour’ (RJ 4.1.95–6). In The Two Noble Kinsmen the Doctor describes the malady of the Jailer’s daughter as a ‘melancholy humour that infects her’ (TNK 5.2.38). (c) Adams (1989) contains an excellent discussion of the theory of the humours and its pseudo-medical basis at 36–41.

hunting Possibly the favourite pastime of any English man or woman who could afford it. There were various ways in which animals could be massacred, butchered, or hunted with precision by archery. One’s skill was almost as important as the thrill itself, but overall what counted the most was the copious quantity of blood. Hunting is a necessity of survival for the fugitive Belarius and the two young princes at (CYM 3.3.97). More often, however, it is simply an indulgence of those of high rank; see the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew and AMND 4.1.103ff. Richard of Gloucester, Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley manage to free Edward IV because he is allowed to hunt as a recreation during his captivity. 315

hunting Heal and Holmes (1994) details the vast range of blood sports available to the English gentry at 289–92.

husband (a) The man in a married couple. Because of the intensely patriarchal nature of this society, the husband is not only assumed to be the superior partner, he is legally recognized as such. A husband takes over ownership of all of his wife’s money and property and, indeed, of the woman herself. Marriage is therefore not necessarily a free agreement between two loving people, although this could be a factor. The role of the husband accords with the assumptions of patriarchy: since a man is supposed to be active, the husband is the one who goes out and earns the money. In the case of a family of high rank, he is the one who protects the lineage of the family. These wide-ranging social obligations make marriage a much more public institution than it is now, and the result is that Shakespeare’s texts recognize wide variations in the meaning and practice of the term. (b) The standard ideology of a contemporary marriage is that husband and wife provide mutual support for each other: Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother, Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing (SON 8.9–12)

Despite the attempt at some form of mutuality here, the vocabulary of rank nevertheless makes its usual appearance. What matters is order, and this is what underpins the note of the happy family. The play on ‘sire’ as ‘father’ and monarch is especially instructive. In other words, the standard view of the family may be that it needs mutual ordering, but it does not necessarily follow that the order so created is a free partnership. Rather, the husband and the wife both recognize their roles, and that of the wife is subservient. The order in which the familial elements are noted is also interesting: father first; then child; then, finally, the mother, who is of course happy at the arrangement. This sonnet is one of a group directed at the young man so addressed to marry and beget heirs for his house, so one should not be too 316

husband surprised at the aristocratic insistence on the prior importance of the man and then the child. One of the most important duties of the husband is to make sure that order is maintained in this structure, which inevitably means keeping the woman under control. But this is not always easy, as Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, finds out in 2 Henry VI; his removal from office is hastened by his wife’s ill-conceived meddling. He does try to keep her from mischief, as at 1.2.41–50, when she tells him about her dream that she became queen, but this is not enough to stop her. A similar issue arises in King Lear, but is made more complex still by the fact that the women who are out of control are the ones carrying the real power in the kingdom: ‘I must change names at home, and give the distaff Into my husband’s hands’ (KL 4.2.17–18). This is Goneril’s dismissive definition of the relationship between herself and her husband, the Duke of Albany. Goneril’s sister and rival, Regan, is well aware of the state of Goneril’s marital affairs. This is her comment as she tries to weasel information out of Goneril’s steward, Oswald: ‘I know your lady does not love her husband’ (KL 4.5.23). The two sisters represent a twofold challenge to patriarchal assumptions about essential female passivity in this play. Regan’s husband, Cornwall, is already dead, so she is easily available for remarriage to Edmund, the one man who has demonstrated some similarity of temperament and ambition to the sisters. Goneril, however, is still married. Moreover there is a Renaissance political imperative to make her husband seem good, at least in comparison with Cornwall. Albany is the mythical ancestor of the kings of Scotland, and indeed the title was still current – Esme Stuart, Duke of Albany, had been a massive influence upon the young King James, and was possibly his lover as well. The play is careful to make its Albany seem morally less repugnant than was the case in Shakespeare’s source material. But all of this renders Goneril even more dangerous to the patriarchal structure because her husband signally fails to keep her under control. Lear divided the kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and by the rules familiar to a Renaissance audience their power should have passed to their husbands, but the two women are able to keep so much of it to themselves that they threaten the patriarchal imperatives. There may be a trace of Celtic matrilinear logic here, but the effect on a Renaissance stage is to make these two women seem truly monstrous, something that Lear’s own language demonstrates beyond all doubt. 317

husband There are further resonances. England had just seen one queen who was so determined to hold onto her own right to power that she never married. Elizabeth’s choice rendered England susceptible to all sorts of dangers as a result, at least to the minds of her worried subjects, including such luminaries as Cecil. It was unthinkable to men such as he that a woman in her position should never marry, because a diplomatic marriage alliance was what the men thought was needed for the country’s safety. But Elizabeth had the example of her own sister before her. Mary Tudor’s marriage to Philip II of Spain had been a complete disaster from the perspective of English domestic politics, especially given his religion. He did try to keep out of England’s affairs as much as possible, demonstrating remarkable tactful awareness of the delicate balance of forces in his wife’s country. He was in fact never fully granted the crown matrimonial, and so was not fully able to add England to his impressive list of territories. The marriage treaty stipulated that England should still remain the preserve of the queen solely, but this was a grey area since powerful patriarchal precepts required that a woman be fully subject to her husband. Mary Queen of Scots would later adopt the same formula in her dealings with Lord Darnley, the father of James VI. Any truly powerful woman with a right of her own to rule inevitably attracted a whole series of anxieties when it came to the issue of her marriage and the rights of her husband; Goneril and Regan exemplify exactly this situation. In Othello, the actions of Desdemona in marrying the title character can be equally upsetting to the system. And this is in spite of her attempts fully to remain subject to her husband. Because she takes the man of her own choice, she automatically causes a great structural upset: My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty: To you I am bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn me How to respect you; you are the lord of duty; I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my husband; And so much duty as my mother show’d To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor, my lord. (OTH 1.3.180–9)

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husband The problem posed by Desdemona is embodied in her choice of the word ‘duty’ here. A fully patriarchal view would simply be that her duty should have forbidden her from marrying Othello anyway. She has done so secretly, without her father’s consent, thus depriving him of the chance to give her away in accordance with the ritual transfers of women as property that are so central to the wedding rites of this period. She must of course be aware of the way in which she goes dead against the norms of her society, and indeed this is the very thing that Iago will later seize upon to discredit her in the eyes of Othello. Even though he is the one who profits from her choice, Othello nevertheless is easy prey to anxieties that she may act of her own free will again in ways that he will not be able to control. This makes his jealousy structurally central to patriarchy; it is not simply a facet of some kind of character psychology. Desdemona’s free will is what attracts Othello to her; it is also what leads him to murder her. The lesson here seems to be that there is an impasse in the options available to a woman in this society and the play demonstrates what can happen when a husband even imagines that his wife is slipping from under his grasp. Cymbeline traces out the same terrain, although in this case the clandestine marriage, which also takes place just before the play begins, involves the woman who is heir to the throne. But husband–wife relations can be fraught in other ways too. A great deal depends on the circumstances pertaining at the time of the marriage: Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command. Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France (AW 2.1.193–6)

This comedy is of course a fantasy. Helena has been able to cure the King of France in return for a royal boon. She chooses to interpret this as giving her the right to command, in the king’s name, a husband that would normally be denied her because of her low birth and lack of money. Despite her beauty, which is referred to many times during the course of the play, the only real commodity she has to trade in the aristocratic marriage market is her knowledge, and this she exploits to the full. Even so she is very careful to stipulate to the king that she is not 319

husband so arrogant as to choose royalty, but of course she is already in love with Bertram, Count of Rossillion, the son of her guardian. This is an extremely unusual situation and the play manipulates it for all its worth: Helena might be able to command Bertram into marriage, but she cannot control him once he has become her husband The result is a highly complex interrogation of the ideologies and practices that support the institution of marriage in this society as the play undoes the standard opposition between the terms husband and wife. Unusually, it is the position of husband that is opened up to question: When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband; but in such a ‘then’ I write a ‘never’. (AW 3.2.57–60)

The terms set out in Bertram’s letter once he has absconded to the wars will become a series of tests that Helena’s ingenuity will have to overcome. But to a Renaissance audience there is another set of associations, one that is obscured by a modern reader’s probable understanding of marriage as a set of personal relationships. Bertram is extremely careful to stipulate that Helena will have to conceive and deliver his child if he is ever truly to become her husband. Here we have again the aristocrat’s obsession with reproduction of lineage. A husband’s duty is not simply that of a marriage with a partner, but the husbandry of a family line, recalling the passage from Sonnet 8. There is here a submerged etymological play upon the roots of the word, which also is imported into the practices of animal husbandry. Compare Shakespeare’s use elsewhere of the term as a verb: ‘for my means, I’ll husband them so well, They shall go far with little’ (HAM 4.5.139–40). To husband is to harbour resources; to husband a woman is to conserve a family’s resources. The woman is subsumed into the familial ideology, she has no right of existence in and of herself, again recalling the lineal ideology of Sonnet 8. To return to All’s Well That Ends Well: Laf. Your reputation comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her. Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desp’rate creature,

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husband Whom sometime I have laugh’d with. Let your Highness Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour Than for to think that I would sink it here. (AW 5.3.176–81)

This exchange takes place just prior to the play’s denouement and serves, as so often in plays with a twist in the tail, further to emphasize the young man’s intransigence. Bertram laughs off the suggestion that he should marry Diana, but as Lafew notes, great damage has been done to Bertram’s own reputation. There is more than one similarity with Measure For Measure, another of the so-called ‘problem plays’. It uses the same bed trick, but it does so in order for the Duke to force Angelo to fulfil a prior marriage obligation; see MM 3.1.213–23. This is a notoriously grey area, one that Renaissance politicians were keen to manipulate if and when a pre-contracted marriage no longer suited them: He is your husband on a pre-contract: To bring you thus together ’tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. (MM 4.1.71–4)

The Duke’s assurances to Mariana are not absolute, but relative. Perhaps there is already a sense that the Duke has his own reasons for tricking Angelo by this method. But the end result is that, in the same way as happens to Bertram, Angelo is made to become an unwilling husband. The bed trick ensures that he fully consummates his precontracted marriage, thus becoming fully and legitimately married, even though he does not realize it until the end of the play. The plays also, more conventionally, demonstrate an awareness of the cold diplomatic realities that lie behind marriage in the upper classes, when Agrippa suggests that Antony marry Octavia at AC 2.2.124–33. Agrippa’s conventional listing of Octavia’s virtues inevitably draws attention to the real reason for his proposing such a marriage: diplomatic alliance. Even as the lines are spoken, the audience knows from previous scenes as well as historical hindsight that the mutual attraction between Cleopatra and Antony will be far too strong for this belated attempt at ‘perpetual amity’. Such is exactly the marriage 321

husband market familiar from contemporary practice. The unspoken logical corollary is the husband’s interest in what the match will allow him to gain. Compare Hamlet’s nasty definition of Gertrude’s position in the closet scene: ‘You are the Queen, your husband’s brother’s wife’ (HAM 3.4.15). By the matrilinear rules of succession in Denmark, it is by marrying Gertrude that Claudius has become king; simply killing his brother was not enough. The whole complex of motivation, self-interest and manipulation that lies behind such husbandry comes under scrutiny in the plays, especially when a powerful woman is involved: But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. O me, the word choose! I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curb’d by the will of a dead father. (MV 2.1.21–5)

Here the dead hand of patriarchy reaches from beyond the grave. Conventionally and by law, the women who did have relative freedom as far as marriage was concerned were heiresses of age, and widows. But in The Merchant of Venice, Portia is nevertheless circumscribed by her dead father’s will. The performance tradition tends to make her very subtle and intelligent in the way that she manipulates the men who comes to try the lottery of the caskets, perhaps as a way of making her success in the trial scene (4.1) more understandable. But the corollary has to be that the men who arrive at Belmont are susceptible to such tricks; this, of course, includes Bassanio. The play’s ending via the ring plot reinforces this possible interpretation, something to which a contemporary audience would have been alive. So one way to play the relationship between Portia and the man who eventually does become her husband is for control to be firmly in her hands. Emilia in The Two Noble Kinsmen is another woman faced with a seemingly impossible choice: Say, Emilia, If one of them were dead, as one must, are you Content to take th’other to your husband? They cannot both enjoy you. They are princes As goodly as your own eyes, and as noble

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husband As ever fame yet spoke of. Look upon ’em, And if you can love, end this difference. (TNK 3.6.272–8)

Emilia is a sworn votaress of Diana, the goddess of virgin chastity. By ordering her to choose between two men, neither of whom she loves, Theseus is clearly imposing patriarchal control in the most fundamental way. So in a sense she has no power to choose, and in one of the final set pieces she prays to her goddess: I am bride-habited, But maiden-hearted. A husband I have ’pointed, But do not know him. Out of two I should Choose one, and pray for his success, but I Am guiltless of election. (TNK 5.1.150–4)

She proceeds to pray that if she has to marry one of the two cousins, let it be the one who loves her more. This is in fact what happens, in accordance with the logic that has been called ‘romance’ by critics. Some more mundane relations that end in marriage can be found in the comedies: Anne. Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool. Mrs. Page. I mean it not; I seek you a better husband. (MW 3.4.83–4)

Anne’s mother is seeking a husband for her, while her father is doing exactly the same, as his wife notes: I’ll to the doctor, he hath my good will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. That Slender (though well landed) is an idiot; And he my husband best of all affects. The Doctor is well money’d, and his friends Potent at court. He, none but he, shall have her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. (MW 4.4.84–90)

Eventually, in the confusion at the end of the play, Anne gets her own way and marries the man she wants as her husband. The various 323

husband complications and negotiations that take place demonstrate the pressures that exist in the choice of a potential husband. (c) See Amussen (1988) for the economic role of a husband at 68–70; his relations with his wife are delineated at 41–7. See also Stone (1990), 81–2. A particularly famous breakdown in marital relations was that between Bess of Hardwick and her fourth husband, the Earl of Shrewsbury: see Lovell (2005), 267–72. For a discussion of the pressures on Elizabeth I to marry, see Weir (1999), 45–7. The behaviour of Henry VIII as husband to Jane Seymour is described in Weir (1997), 346–7. For the problems presented to the xenophobic English by Queen Mary’s choice of Philip II as husband, see Weir (1996), 218–28. On Darnley as Mary Stuart’s husband, see Dunn (2004), 318–20. Neely (1993) is a book-length study of women and marriage in Shakespeare’s plays; she also has a great deal to say about the husbands who appear in this context. For the social context that informs Othello’s treatment of Desdemona, see Jardine (1996), 19–34.

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I incest Illicit sexual congress within the forbidden degrees. There are two kinds of these: close relationship by blood (genetic); or close relationship by kinship through marriage (affinity). Pericles begins with a scandalous case of incest, but even more well known is the occurrence in Hamlet. The Ghost says to his son: Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damned incest. (HAM 1.5.82–3)

Old Hamlet here insists upon the corruption of his royal bed by a form of incest by affinity. Gertrude has married her dead husband’s brother and this is well within the forbidden degrees; it is exactly this issue that so vexed Henry VIII when his marriage to Katherine of Aragon produced only one daughter who survived into adulthood. When Henry had married Katherine he was enabled to do so by means of a papal dispensation, but the grounds on which it had been issued were open to interpretation. But whether or not one accepts that either Henry or Katherine was guilty of incest here, he certainly was in his love for Anne Boleyn, because her sister Mary had been his prior mistress. Technically, having sex with two sisters is within the forbidden degrees of kinship, even though no marriage had taken place. Taboos of incest have been a particular fascination of psychoanalytical critics of Hamlet. For a full discussion, see Holland (1976), 59–63, 325

incest 88–95 and 163–206. For a more radically materialistic analysis, see Jardine (1996), 39–40; she glosses her comments in relation to Henry VIII’s marriage to Katherine of Aragon. See Starkey (2004), 203–20, for Henry’s decision to divorce Katherine of Aragon.

Indian (a) A byword in the plays for something exotic. Originally this would be from the east, but there are also examples that have their basis in the New World to the west that is just beginning to be colonized by the English. (b) One of the most well known of these references to the east is the ‘Indian boy’ who is the cause of the conflict between Oberon and Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Other examples are Henry VI’s description of a bejewelled crown at 3 HVI 3.1.63, and Bassanio’s reference to ‘the beauteous scarf Veiling an Indian beauty’ (MV 3.2.98–9). Looking to the west, English colonialism registers the misogynistic utterance of the Porter in Henry VIII: Or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? (H VIII 5.3.33–5)

His reference is to the display of exotic foreigners, in this case an Indian whose penis is so large that it excites all the women – a staple of the discourse. When Helena admits her love for Bertram to his mother, her guardian the Countess, she makes a metaphorical use of native Indian idolatry (AW 1.3.204–7). This one depends for its force on the usual Christian assumption that all natives are religious ignoramuses. When he is recounting what he has done to Desdemona, Othello says: Then must you speak Of one that lov’d not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealious, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand (Like the base Indian) threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe (OTH 5.2.343–8)

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Indian As with the previous example, this one assumes a discourse of ignorance as the basis for its comparison. All of these examples demonstrate enough of an awareness of Indians from both continents that standard references to them can be made. This is something that can indeed be capitalized upon: What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish, he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of not-of-the-newest poor-john. A strange fish! Were I in England now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. (TEM 2.2.24–33)

Trinculo’s inability fully to comprehend what he has found in Caliban is echoed elsewhere by the other characters’ failure adequately to define the nature of the island on which they find themselves. Trinculo’s immediate assumption is that this is some kind of fishy monster of the kind displayed to make money in England. Stephano’s subsequent entrance with alcohol continues the reference, since the Native Americans were supposedly easily affected by alcohol. (c) For questions of how to historicize racism and Shakespeare’s texts, see Loomba (1992), 42–54. Barker and Hulme (1996) is an essay that helped set the agenda of post-colonial Shakespeare studies by interrogating The Tempest and its critics in the light of encounters with the Americas.

influence (a) An astrological term. The effect of the heavens upon the people of the earth. Shakespeare only uses the word once to mean its more common modern denotation, that of political influence. (b) The machiavellian Edmund has absolutely no time for his superstitious father’s belief in astrological influences at KL 1.2.118–33. This speech is important not only for the insight it gives into Edmund’s 327

influence characterization. It is equally crucial for what it does not say. By avoiding any reference to some form of Christian divinity, in keeping with the supposed pagan period in which it is set, Edmund removes himself from that kind of ‘influence’ as well. He also studiously ignores any form of social influence. He is of a new breed, an individualist who recognizes the belief system of others and the structure of behaviour that entails. By acknowledging it and refusing to accept it, he is able to understand its logic and make it work for his own individual ends. This will be extremely important for the play as it develops, and is entirely in keeping with the actions of Goneril and Regan. In other words, Edmund’s outright assault on astrological influence is representative of his relationship with other forms of supposed influence or accepted modes of behaviour and action. Other references to astrology exist in the texts. There is one such at Sonnet 15.4, but perhaps the most famous is by Prospero: I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. (TEM 1.2.181–4)

Prospero lays claim to deep knowledge and power over forces that are normally beyond the reach of humans. But even his power has its limits. The one time that Shakespeare does come close to the more modern meaning of political influence comes in the Sonnets: Yet be most proud of that which I compile, Whose influence is thine, and born of thee (SON 78.9–10)

This comes at the point in the collection that registers competition from others. The poet’s relationship with the young aristocratic friend is being compromised and, hence, his patronage is being placed in danger. In this context, the friend’s influence has important social resonance. (c) Picard (2004) lists almanacs as one of the forms of cheap publication easily available to any household at 239. They were incredibly popular, listing all sorts of astrological formulae that were supposed to have influence on one’s life. They still exist today. For an analysis of 328

influence The Tempest that contests the received view of Prospero’s power as benign, see Barker and Hulme (1996).

inn Lodging house. As well as being located in towns or cities such as London, inns of various kinds were scattered around strategic locations on all of the main travel routes across the country. ‘Inns of Court’ is a specific phrase denoting the London law schools. It tends, rather imprecisely, to include those associated with the Temple, the complex of buildings originally owned by the Knights Templar – hence the name. Inns appear in several of the plays, especially the Centaur Inn in The Comedy of Errors and the Garter Inn in The Merry Wives of Windsor, both of which are in urban locations. One of the murderers in Macbeth makes a figurative use of an inn for travellers: ‘Now spurs the lated traveller apace To gain the timely inn’ (MAC 3.3.6–7), meaning that the time is approaching late evening. Goneril makes a comparison with the kind of drunken behaviour for which inns were famous: ‘this our court, infected with their manners, Shows like a riotous inn’ (KL 1.4.243–4). Her comments come as she is upbraiding her father for the behaviour of his entourage. Old Justice Shallow makes reference to his time at the Inns of Court at 2 HIV 13–15; the young student lawyers were well known for their riotous behaviour. For inns on the highways, see Ridley (2002, 2) at 44. London’s inns are detailed in Picard (2004), 255–6. She describes the Inns of Court at 231–4. Ireland (a) The large island to the west of the mainland British Isles. Also, the nation comprising that island and various others. Ireland, Wales and Scotland all felt the force of English expansionism after the Norman Conquest. Scotland remained an independent kingdom until the union of the crowns in 1603, while Wales was effectively absorbed into the English state, certainly by the time of Henry VIII. Ireland’s fate was somewhere between the two, a divided country that could never be fully pacified. A major barrier to English control was the old Celtic culture and language of the Irish, who could never really identify themselves with the English as much as the latter would have liked. Religious differences between the Irish and the English intensified the old divisions after the Henrician reformation and in the reigns of 329

Ireland Elizabeth and James the existence of a Catholic country just to the west remained a source of anxiety. English representations of Ireland from the Renaissance continually characterize it as a barren land full of recalcitrant natives who need to be civilized in accordance with the dictates of English superiority. Recent cultural and critical commentators have analysed the ways in which English discourses on Ireland served as a prototype for the language of the nascent British Empire. (b) The so-called Anglo-Irish ascendancy, the descendants of the AngloNorman invaders of Ireland, never really controlled much of the country beyond the area known as ‘the Pale’. This was the region immediately surrounding Dublin; apart from a few forts, the rest of the country was a law unto itself. One relatively peaceful method by which the English sought to control this huge area was to recognize Irish chieftains as noblemen in their own right, trying to make them dependent upon England as small client-states; another technique was to encourage their own divisions. If the Irish could be kept busy fighting among themselves, then they were less of a threat to English attempts at hegemony. The final resort was brute force, especially in response to uprisings that the English would characterize as rebellions against their overlordship. Any outright English military involvement in Ireland was a dangerous undertaking. Partly this was because of the relative difficulty of logistical support in land that was not fully under cultivation, rendering communication and fodder hard to manage. Another problem was the methods used by the so-called Irish ‘rebels’, who tended to use guerrilla tactics of attrition as a means of dealing with English military might. If an English monarch risked an army being sent into the country headed up by a member of the high nobility, there was always the possibility that the nobleman could turn that army against the English crown itself. This is what happens at 2 HVI 5.1 when the Duke of York returns at the head of an army augmented by Irish troops – instead of dealing with the rebels, he ended up enlisting their aid in his own claim to the English throne. This military power is what forces Henry VI to recognize him as heir to the throne. In Elizabeth’s reign, the powerful Irish forces marshalled by the Earl of Tyrone (who was brought up at the English court) are perceived to be so threatening that she sends the Earl of Essex at the head of a large and expensive army to deal with the man she sees as a traitor. This is the root of the famous reference at HV 5.0.29–34. Unfortunately for Essex, all he could manage was an 330

Ireland accommodation with the Irish as his own army started to disintegrate through attrition. Elizabeth was furious, and the whole thing was to lead directly to his abortive coup and execution for treason. Of course, Ireland could be a useful posting for a nobleman who is perceived to be too powerful at court in England. This is what happens to Surrey in Henry VIII: 1.Gent. Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, Lest he should help his father. 2.Gent. That trick of state Was a deep envious one. 1. Gent. At his return No doubt he will requite it. This is noted, And generally, whoever the King favours, The Card’nal instantly will find employment, And far enough from court too. (HVIII 2.1.43–9)

The Gentlemen’s running commentary appears at intervals throughout the play, allowing the playwrights to vary their techniques of exposition. Their use as a kind of chorus to the actions at court serve to relay the opinions of the populace at large; here they note Wolsey’s method for removing a possible rival to his own pre-eminence. The difficulty, which Wolsey manages, is to make sure that whoever is sent as Lord Deputy of Ireland to govern the country for the king is forced to do so on a shoestring budget. That way, there is no possibility that he can accomplish what Richard of York did to Henry VI. A further alternative is that chosen by Richard II: the king can invade Ireland at the head of a royal army and try to pacify the place completely. But that is easier said than done, and carries with it the added danger of the king’s absence from England. This is exactly what is exploited by Henry of Lancaster and the ultimate result is the king’s forced abdication and murder. In the midst of these political considerations, Shakespeare’s texts do register some comments on the nature of the Irish and life in Ireland: S.Dro. she is spherical, like a globe. I could find out countries in her. S.Ant. In what part of her body stands Ireland? S.Dro. Marry, sir, in her buttocks, I found it out by the bogs. (CE 3.2.114–18)

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Ireland Dromio of Syracusa is here misogynistically describing a woman’s body by reference to the globe of the earth. This is what leads to the scatological joke about Ireland. OED gives a much later eighteenth-century date for the use of ‘bog’ as ‘toilet’. The peat bog at the back of a house in parts of Ireland (and Scotland) could be easily used as a latrine, which would make this passage an early use of the term; interestingly enough, OED does not consider this possible derivation. The confluence of bogs and buttocks here otherwise makes no sense. The Irish mercenary Captain MacMorris similarly attacks the country from which he comes at HV 3.2, being made to execrate the place for an English audience. This is of course part of the subsuming of the various geographical parts of Britain under the overall leadership of the English king. (c) The context of Richard II’s Irish expedition, and its consequences, are described in Bevan (1990), 141–50. The involvement of Essex in Ireland is related in Weir (1999), 437–46. For comments on Ireland in the Renaissance and how it is re-imagined in the plays set in earlier periods, see Sinfield and Dollimore (1992), 125. For a commentary on Spenser’s A View of Ireland, see Shepherd (1989), 4–25. For questions of national identity involving England and Ireland, see Holderness (1995).

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J jailer (a) One who runs or works in a prison. Various kinds of prisons or jails existed for people who committed different crimes; for example, debtors’ prisons tended exclusively to house those committed by their creditors. Some prisons could hold more than one kind of prisoner, but they all had one thing in common: the jailer was personally responsible for the prisoners and could be held liable for any escapes. Some jailers could receive some sort of stipend for his work, but it was not a good wage, and the practice was for the prisoners themselves to pay if they wanted more than a basic subsistence and a space to sleep. Indeed, most prisons would have different levels of cells, ranging from a mass paddock to a comfortable suite of rooms for the wealthy or those of high rank. The most important prisons were reserved for those of very high degree, but these were more fortresses of the crown than prisons, like the Tower of London. Another possibility for very important prisoners was for them to be kept under house arrest by one of the nobility, which is what happened to Mary, Queen of Scots and indeed Queen Elizabeth herself during the reign of her sister. (b) Two jailers appear in CYM 5.4 and imprison Posthumus. They then leave him alone, which is when he has his vision. They return to take him to be hanged but are interrupted by a messenger from the king. Their language is typical gallows humour, and one of them notes the damage to his ‘profit’ if all were so freed (CYM 5.4.205). A jailer is 333

jailer one of the minor characters in The Winter’s Tale and has been given very strict instructions restricting access to Hermione. The best Paulina can manage is to speak to Emilia, who passes on the news of the birth of a baby girl to the king and queen (WT 2.2.24–7). This turn of events is not covered in the jailer’s instructions and he does not have a response when Paulina asks him to give her the baby (WT 2.2.54–6). Although several scenes in Measure For Measure are set in prison, there is no jailer character. Instead, the Provost in charge of the prison appears, and his position seems to be quite an important one, more like a modern prison governor. However, he is very familiar with his prisoners and the disguised Duke comments favourably on the Provost’s generous treatment of them: This is a gentle Provost: seldom when The steeled jailer is the friend of men. (MM 4.2.86–7)

This is probably a direct result of the tendency of the officers of the law in this play to try to ameliorate the harsh dictates of Angelo, the Duke’s deputy. A jailer is a recurrent minor character in The Two Noble Kinsmen. His existence links the main plot line into a secondary one that acts as a kind of commentary on love and its effects. His daughter frees Palamon because she has fallen in love with him, an action that could have dire consequences for her father. Although the worst does not happen (like Arcite, Palamon is pardoned by Theseus), her unrequited love causes the daughter to go mad and there is an episodic plotline to restore her to sanity again by trickery. (c) For London’s prisons, see Picard (2004), 284–6. She includes some comments on the role of the jailers, especially in the debtors’ prisons.

jealousy (a) In general, suspicion or mistrust. Almost always used in the affairs of love or marriage. The one element that all of the instances of jealousy in Shakespeare have in common is the public nature of their performance. In this period, the relations between the sexes can be intimate in terms of the body, but the overall recognition that a relationship is taking place is not usually purely personal. The 334

jealousy modern associations of public behaviour are inadequate to express the full range of social resonances of relationships in the Renaissance. When one partner suspects the other of secret dalliance, the tendency is for the matter to become very public indeed. In the plays, jealousy is often gendered as masculine, with men accusing women of impropriety much more often than women accuse men. And even if a woman suspects that something untoward is taking place, she is usually expected to put up with it, especially if the man is from the upper classes. The more socially important the couple, the more widespread is the social net affected if there is a jealous accusation of improper behaviour. This gendered politics of reputation was an extremely important facet of Renaissance society, in ways that are not so easily understood by later British cultures. Because of the importance placed by this patriarchy on women’s sexual behaviour in particular, accusations of impropriety are taken very seriously indeed. Unfounded jealousy is therefore a dangerous social problem. (b) The plot lines of many of the plays are directly influenced by the appearance of jealousy. If those involved are of high rank, then the effects can be widespread. Leontes’ jealous rage in The Winter’s Tale is one such example, as is Oberon’s jealousy of Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream; her response is ‘These are the forgeries of jealousy’ (AMND 2.1.81). Demetrius’ jealous hatred of Lysander is an important issue in the play; they both love Hermia, but she loves Lysander. The problem is that Hermia’s father prefers Demetrius. This is a good example of the range of people who can be affected by an ostensibly personal emotion. In Much Ado About Nothing, Claudio publicly rejects Hero at the altar because he (amongst others) has completely misconstrued a public performance staged by Borachio to make him jealous. The fact that it takes place offstage is a signal to Shakespeare’s audience that what matters is not just the event itself, so much as its potential interpretations. Othello’s jealousy of Desdemona is a direct result of Iago’s manipulations: ‘his unbookish jealousy’ (OTH 4.1.101) he calls it. One of the plot lines in The Merry Wives of Windsor is Master Ford’s jealousy of his wife, which complicates Falstaff’s efforts to achieve with Mistress Ford exactly what her husband fears. This of course leads to much slapstick, but it is also a very good example of the social consequences of a public display of jealousy: ‘He’s a very jealous man’ (MW 2.2.89–90) is how Master Ford is described by Mistress Quickly to 335

jealousy Falstaff. This nuance would not be lost on a Renaissance audience: Mistress Quickly is servant to Doctor Caius, and so she is not a member of the Ford household. Master Ford’s jealous nature must therefore be a well-known public matter indeed. Between them, Mistress Ford and her friend and neighbour Mistress Page set up a lesson both for Falstaff and the jealous husband: Mrs. Ford. I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff’s being here, for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now. Mrs. Page. I will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff. (MW 3.3.187–91)

What is important here is Mrs Ford’s response to her husband’s very public display of jealousy (even to the extent of bringing in his neighbours to help search his house). She directly involves someone else, effectively utilizing her own social network to counter her husband’s. The revenge of both women on both men will be very public indeed. (c) Amussen (1988) details the crucial social importance of reputation, especially to women, at 98–101. From 101–4 she examines lawsuits of public defamation. Jardine (1996) contains an essay on the public nature and gender politics of Othello’s jealousy at 19–34.

jester A professional fool who is employed at the court or household of an important personage to provide light entertainment. The most famous jester in Shakespeare does not even appear. In the ‘gravedigger’ scene (HAM 5.1), the discovery of a skull that belonged to Yorick, Old Hamlet’s court jester, prompts Hamlet’s famous bout of emblematic melancholy. Feste in Twelfth Night is a jester employed by Olivia, although he seems to make quite a bit of money out of Orsino as well, so perhaps his professionalism is based on shrewd intelligence. The masque in Much Ado About Nothing features an encounter between Beatrice and Benedick, in which she clearly recognizes him and insults him by calling him the prince’s jester (MA 2.1.137). For an example of the skills of Richard Tarlton, one of Elizabeth’s jesters, see Hattaway (2003). 336

Jew

Jew (a) A Hebrew. Christian Europe was not kind to the Jews, ostensibly because they were the ones responsible for the death of Jesus, having failed to recognize him as the Messiah. The ancient state of Israel was subsumed into the Roman Empire, although the Jews were allowed to practise their religion in peace, so long as they did not disturb the Empire. This ceased when the great Jewish revolt ended with the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple and the extinction of the last vestiges of the Jewish state. From that moment is dated the diaspora, as those of Jewish descent continued to exist as a people, but without a homeland. In the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Jews fulfilled important social functions in that they could act in ways forbidden to Christians, such as moneylenders, or as professionals such as doctors. The network of Jewish communities provided a ready source of specialists in international and mercantile travel. However, as aliens they also attracted a great deal of opprobrium and racist hatred, usually for exactly the same reasons they were valued. Many insular Christian Europeans feared the Jews because they did not fit into neat social categories: they could be born and raised in any country, but still did not necessarily have the right to claim citizenship. In a xenophobic age, this made the Jews automatic targets. (b) Several examples exist in the plays of references to the Jews that pick up on the anti-Semitic associations common in Europe. Falstaff tries to make his lies about his cowardice in the Gadshill robbery more effective by swearing that he is telling the truth ‘or I am a Jew else’ (1 HIV 2.4.179), because Jews are proverbial for lying. Benedick uses the term in a similar way when he decides that he is in love with Beatrice: ‘if I do not love her, I am a Jew’ (MA 2.3.263). One of the ingredients of the witches’ cauldron in Macbeth is ‘Liver of blaspheming Jew’ (MAC 4.1.26), because the Jews blaspheme by not recognizing Christ, and because they are lecherous by nature (the liver was held to be the seat of sexual passion). This litany is a standard catalogue of techniques of the demonization of the outsider. In this society, representation of the Jews is fuelled by ignorance. It is based upon anxiety about the status of the Jew as outsider, someone who is able to act in ways that are not customarily available to good Christian subjects. These examples are simply typical of European culture’s assumptions. The single most famous Jew in literature is of course Shylock. The twentieth century has seen some attempts to rescue his characterization 337

Jew from its racist origins. This is understandable given the events of the Second World War in particular, but it does not necessarily sit well with Shakespeare’s text. A prime example is the representation of Shylock’s discovery of his daughter’s elopement with the Christian Lorenzo at MV 2.8.12–22. Solanio’s obvious relish is echoed by the other half of the double act, Salerio. But it should be remembered that this is yet another of those occasions in Shakespeare where important offstage events are reported later by those who claim to have been there, and these two have already demonstrated their hostility to Shylock. Their gloating says at least as much about them as it does about him. But it also permits the play to register at least at some level just how important this elopement is for Shylock. The reference to the two stones is obviously a pun on the male genitalia, but Jessica has effectively emasculated her father in another way as well, since by eloping and converting to Christianity, Jessica extinguishes Shylock’s family line. The result is a hardening of Shylock’s hatred for the Christian merchants among whom he lives. This is especially true of Antonio, who has already sealed the bond with him. It gives rise to Shylock’s famous speech about what it is that defines himself as a Jew and his relations with the Christians, at MV 3.1.58–73. This passage is often taken as evidence that Shakespeare intended Shylock’s pursuit of his bond with Antonio to have a firm basis in character psychology – he is a victim who finally gets his chance to lash out at his tormentors. In other words, the damage done to Shylock by his very status as an outsider leads to a humanist analysis of his motivation. This is taken as evidence of Shakespeare’s famous judicious even-handedness. Whether or not one accepts this particular reading, the passage does function in performance to focus the audience’s attention on Shylock’s relationship with the society in which he lives, albeit as an eternal alien. But there remains an interesting, perhaps even surprising, question: ‘Which is the merchant here? And which the Jew?’ (MV 4.1.174). The disguised Portia is unable to distinguish between the moneylender and the merchant, Jew and Christian, alien and Venetian. Perhaps this question registers the ultimate xenophobic terror, that of miscegenation: what if there is no real difference, and the Jew tells the Europeans more about themselves than they would care to admit? This is to return to the same territory as the earlier passage by Solanio. All of these figures are dramatic representations, not real people. They may function powerfully to dramatize important elements of socialized meaning, but those 338

Jew elements are changeable. The Shylock Shakespeare’s company performed for its contemporary audience is perhaps no longer a possibility, because of the accrual of crucial meanings that post-date the moment and the culture for which this play was written. (c) The most accessible book on these issues is Shapiro (1996); he describes how the formulation of the Jew as ‘other’ is not stable in Shakespeare’s plays and English culture more generally in his Introduction, 1–12. For an example of what could happen to a Jew in Elizabeth’s England, see Somerset (2002), 641–3; she describes the events leading up to the execution of the hapless Portuguese Jewish doctor Roderigo Lopez, the queen’s physician. For a standard critical view of the role of Shylock, see Wells (1994), 158–62.

jewel (a) A valuable small item made of precious materials. These often take the form of gemstones set in gold or silver, but the term is more generic than specific. Shakespeare never uses the word ‘jewellery’. (b) Shakespeare’s texts contain many instances of jewels being passed across as tokens of affection, or as part of a love pledge. This is common practice among those who can afford such pieces and they can hold high symbolic value. A good example is the jewel given to Imogen by Posthumus. This is a ring that is stolen by Jachimo, as he admits to Cymbeline in the finale (CYM 5.5.142–3). The use of the term ‘jewel’ is obviously imprecise, as also happens when Margaret of Anjou is describing her dangerous voyage to England: I took a costly jewel from my neck, A heart it was, bound in with diamonds, And threw it towards thy land. (2 HVI 3.2.106–8)

The cost and rarity of items such as this makes the term available for more figurative uses: It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night As a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear (RJ 1.5.45–6)

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jewel Romeo’s description of Juliet when he first meets her is full of this kind of comparison between dark and bright. When the lovers wake up in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, they all utter slightly confused descriptions of the night that has passed. The best Helena can manage is ‘I have found Demetrius like a jewel’ (AMND 4.1.191). The Duke of Norfolk describes the machinations of Wolsey regarding the idea of divorce to Suffolk and the Lord Chamberlain: He counsels a divorce, the loss of her That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years About his neck, yet never lost her lustre (HVIII 2.2.30–32)

This is disingenuous writing on the part of the two playwrights on two counts. Firstly, it is clear that Katherine had lost her looks, at least as far as Henry was concerned. And, secondly, the divorce was Henry’s own doing, not Wolsey’s. The second instance could perhaps be put down to circumspection on Norfolk’s part, since it is dangerous to comment too closely on the doings of a monarch like Henry, but even that has unpleasant implications. Finally, the term is used as a sexual metaphor. In All’s Well That Ends Well Diana describes herself in this way: ‘My chastity’s the jewel of our house’ (AW 4.2.46). The economic implications should not be ignored, since the virginity of an upper-class woman does have great value in the marriage commodity market of that class. (c) Picard (2004) contains a section on valuable furs and jewels at 159–61. See also Ridley (2002, 2) for the various ways in which such items could be worn, at 130–1.

jeweller A craftsman who specializes in the production of jewels. Such men were highly valued, partly because they had the skill to work in several areas such as gold, silver, gemstones, and enamel work. Also, however, because they were so highly paid, they acted, like the goldsmiths, as a kind of banking fraternity for the nobility in a period in which London had no banking houses as such. Only one jeweller appears in the plays, at TA 1.1. He is one of a group of men who discuss Timon while he is still offstage, a common 340

jeweller enough introductory technique. Like the others who are present, his services do not come cheap, and this is meant to convey the lavishness of Timon’s spending right from the outset. Stone (1967) mentions the involvement of the jewellers in the credit system at 234.

joiner An artisan who specializes in woodwork. There is a difference here from a carpenter, who tends to do the heavier items such as timber frames for houses or large cabinets or cupboards. There is also a more generalized usage denoting anyone who connects things together. The aptly named Snug is one of the artisans who performs so ineptly before Theseus and his court in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. His trade is joinery, and he is the only one who appears in Shakespeare’s texts. Parker (1996) notes the semantic importance of joining in the period at 76–115, the more figurative usage derived from the occupation denoted as the word’s most basic meaning. Language that joins together disparate elements has obvious importance.

jointure (a) A portion of cash, income or property (or a combination of these) settled upon a woman either as part of a marriage settlement or as specified in the case of widowhood. Often the two senses amount to the same thing, the important element being that the jointure is the sole preserve of the woman throughout her life and potential widowhood from the moment of her marriage. Shakespeare uses the term somewhat imprecisely to mean a marriage portion, although it may carry this fuller sense as standard. In the plays, it is usually agreed as part of the marriage negotiations, and in effect forms a gift to the woman from her betrothed that is realized when the nuptial takes place. Obviously the drawing up of a jointure requires some form of legal document, and this plus the value of the gift itself makes it the preserve of the rich and powerful. The single most important thing about any jointure is that it entirely belongs to the woman in question. Unlike a dowry, ownership cannot pass directly to the man unless the woman gives up her legal right to all or part of her independent ownership. This matters in the case of a widow who remarries, because she is the one woman who has absolute control over her own financial affairs. The financial and legal negotiations that 341

jointure precede such a union can be unusually protracted and executed in excruciating detail. (b) Jointures are mentioned in a few of the plays, encompassing a large part of the social spectrum. The scene in The Merry Wives of Windsor when Shallow and Slender try to deal with Anne Page is a good example (MW 3.4.31–65). The potential for comedy is immense, with Anne’s real love interest, Master Fenton, standing by as Shallow tries to speak for Slender. One element is the jointure; as Shallow says: ‘He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure’ (MW 3.4.48–9). Anne notes rather sardonically that Slender should be able to woo her himself, and then finds out that he is not really interested – the match is the doing of his uncle and her father. The value of the jointure can climb steeply the higher up the social scale one goes: I am my father’s heir and only son. If I may have your daughter to my wife, I’ll leave her houses three or four as good, Within rich Pisa walls, as any one Old Signor Gremio has in Padua, Besides two thousand ducats by the year Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointer. (TS 2.1.364–70)

Tranio, here disguised as Lucentio, makes quite an offer in competition with Gremio, another of Bianca’s suitors. This passage should not be taken in isolation, because it follows hard upon Petruchio’s negotiations over Kate. Needless to say, neither Bianca or Kate is present while all of this is happening – the financial negotiations are, typically, hammered out between the men. At the top of the heap comes the all-important marriage of a king. In this case, diplomacy and tact are normally required: Then, Warwick, thus: our sister shall be Edward’s. And now forthwith shall articles be drawn Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpois’d. (3 HVI 3.3.134–7)

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jointure The French king is here negotiating in person over the proposed match between his sister and Edward IV of England, represented by Warwick the ‘Kingmaker’. Some delicacy in matching the relative weights of dowry and jointure seems to be required, but the negotiations are interrupted by unwelcome news from England. Edward IV’s famous libido has got the better of him while Warwick has been absent in France on this mission, and Edward has married an attractive English widow of much lower rank than himself. Warwick’s fury at being so treated results in him changing sides and joining the Lancastrians at the French court. Needless to say, none of this is historically accurate. (c) Parker (1996) describes jointures and the women associated with them in Shakespeare at 112–13. One of the most famous marital disasters in Elizabethan England was that between Bess of Hardwick and the Earl of Shrewsbury. He seems to have spent a great deal of effort trying to gain control of her jointures from her previous marriages once their marriage had broken down. He was happy enough to marry such a wealthy widow when it suited him, but when they were estranged he had no compunction in insulting her because of the difference in their degree. See Lovell (2005), 282–306. A major part of the problem was the expenses he accrued as keeper of Mary Stuart; he even had to borrow money from his wife because Queen Elizabeth did not pay him enough to cover his costs.

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K king (a) Most often, the hereditary ruler of an independent kingdom. Kings are male and those under them in the social hierarchy are automatically their subjects. There are variations in practice. For example, a man may become king of a country through marriage, but that does not necessarily give him full power. This is what happened in the case of Philip II of Spain when he married Mary Tudor, and also Lord Darnley when he married Mary Stuart. This is important, because society in the Renaissance was patriarchal and it would normally be the case that any property or title held by a woman would pass with her to the man she married (see husband). In the case of Mary I’s England and the later Mary’s Scotland, this did not automatically happen; thus, the two queens were able to maintain their independence and continue to rule in their own right as queens regnant even though they were both married. The political theorists of the day had real trouble even contemplating women who ruled because of ingrained assumptions about women’s inferior mental, physical and emotional abilities when compared with those of men. The usual method of dealing with the challenge posed by such women was to acknowledge that they were women, but that the position they occupied (under God’s guidance, of course) was that of a king or prince. In other words, the theory of the two bodies was invoked: a queen might have a physically female body, but her public persona was that of a (male) king. The defining element in all of this is inevitably the masculine; such a state ruled by a woman was always inevitably known as a kingdom. 344

king Not all independent states were kingdoms; for example, many of the Italian city-states were dukedoms. A few anomalies such as the democratic Swiss Confederation also existed. In Poland, the king was elected by the aristocracy and in theory attained the full rights and privileges of any hereditary king when he was elevated to the throne; he did not even have to be Polish. However in most European kingdoms the standard formula prevailed, which is not to say that politics flowed smoothly. Various situations did arise in which entitlement to a throne could be contested by someone who felt that he had a right. A combination of heredity and military power (and, thus, acclamation) would usually do the trick if it seemed that the succession of one king by another was not going to be straightforward. It is one thing to become king and quite another to hold on to the position. Medieval and Renaissance English history was full of kings who failed to do so because they failed to live up to the ideals perpetrated by the nobility. This is crucial because no English king was truly able to rule in a truly autocratic fashion. The root cause of this was economic and military; its manifestations were ideological. When England was conquered by William (the Lucky) Bastard of Normandy, the country was divided up amongst his followers, who were expected to control large areas of the conquered land in the king’s name; thus was born English feudalism, albeit grafted onto the Saxon system that was already in place. Communications and logistics problems rendered this arrangement necessary, but it created its own systemic problems, especially at the kingdom’s geographical peripheries. The marcher regions bordering Wales and the independent northern Kingdom of Scotland required the local English nobility to have great power so as to counter the exterior threats. But this also made the nobles responsible into very powerful men in their own right. It is possible to read across English medieval and Renaissance history a delicate balance of forces that is easily upset if one element or another becomes too powerful or too weak. For example, the dominant feudal ideology was one of military might; the lives of these nobles and kings were steeped in other people’s blood. If a king came to the throne by right of heredity but then turned out to be incapable of negotiating these forces he would be in for a rough ride, since over-mighty subjects could be very hard indeed to control. And if a king were perceived to be militarily inept, then the danger to the centre was all the more acute, from other states as well as from within. There was still a prevailing notion of the king as war 345

king leader among his peers, a residual concept dating from the comitatus of the Late Roman and early medieval periods. Even the relatively recent King Henry VIII felt the need to prove himself on the battlefield. Kings who tried to rule in other ways often found themselves in serious trouble. (b) Kings appear in many of the plays, in one form or another. Shakespeare turned to English history to write about specific kings at various parts of his career, and they feature in other plays as well. These figures all have one thing in common: they hold enough interest for the Renaissance theatre to put on plays about them that are financially successful. The reasons for this interest will vary, but what matters is not who these kings were or what they did, so much as what they represent for Shakespeare’s audiences. The earliest historical English king he deals with is King John (reigned 1199–1216). The play was written a few years after the so-called First and Second Tetralogies, in around 1596. It deals with a whole range of issues dear to the hearts of English Renaissance audiences: the nature of autocratic rule; illegitimate lines of inheritance; war with the French; and a nascent English anti-papal nationalism. The play re-presents the history of John’s reign by dramatizing current concerns that could not be dealt with so openly if referred to recent history. The technique is one of displacement in time, common enough in drama of the period. If one accepts Edward III as at least partly written by Shakespeare, then this play deals with the next most remote king; it was written in and around 1595. Edward reigned from 1337–77 and is very significant from the point of view of potential audience interest. There are two reasons for this. The first is that Edward was one of those periodic eruptions into English history of a war hero who succeeded a relatively weak king; in fact, until the advent of Henry V, he was in good company with Edward I and, possibly, Richard the Lion Heart as kings of England with a good solid medieval reputation for spilling blood. Henry V seems to have eclipsed them all in the popular imagination. The second reason is that the eight plays comprising the two tetralogies chronicle a history that is a direct result of the reign of Edward III. The single most important element here is the creation of the great ducal houses for his sons, especially Lancaster and York, and the succession of Edward by his young grandson, Richard. Richard II, the first play in the Second Tetralogy, deals conversely with 346

king a king who is as weak as he is autocratic (reigned 1377–1400). This is important; a powerful king, or at least one who is perceived to be so by the nobility, could successfully act in a manner approaching absolutism, at least on occasion. But one who was not so powerful or charismatic, at least in the terms preferred by the warrior elite, could run into serious trouble. This is what happened to Richard. He came to the throne as a minor and displayed remarkable bravery during the Peasants’ Revolt while still a boy. But his minority was bedevilled by faction fighting among the aristocracy, led by his powerful royal uncles. Their prestige was immense, even in relation to that of the king; John of Gaunt, the fourth son of Edward III, was famous throughout Europe and was even offered the kingdom of Portugal at one point. All of this was a direct structural legacy of the reign of Richard’s grandfather. When Richard attained his majority he quite naturally attempted to redress the balance, establish his personal control and achieve some form of vengeance into the bargain. It is possible to see his reign as a microcosm of exactly the structure delineated by the delicate balance of forces between king and nobility. Unfortunately for him, the situation was exacerbated by his lavish spending at court and on the arts and architecture; he was perceived not to be doing the kind of manly things expected of the king who followed the great Edward III. In other words, he was seen to be soft. Things got even worse when he vindictively disinherited his cousin Henry of Lancaster, the son of John of Gaunt, after he was banished. A large-scale uprising in Ireland completed the gloomy picture and Richard went there at the head of a royal army, leaving the ineffective and inept Duke of York as his deputy in England. Crucially for future events, Richard recognized the next most senior Plantagenet line of the Mortimers as his heirs before he left for Ireland. Things went to pieces for Richard very quickly. Henry returned and quickly gathered massive support from the disaffected nobility, especially the powerful Percies from the north. Richard tried to react by returning with his army to England, but the troops deserted en masse; Richard’s ministers were executed and the Duke of York resigned. Richard surrendered to Henry and then was forced to abdicate, being murdered afterwards at Pontefract Castle (sometimes rendered ‘Pomfret’). The resonances for Shakespeare’s audiences are acute. These events saw the Lancastrian usurpation and set in motion a logic that would culminate in the Wars of the Roses and, eventually, the Tudor accession. The power displayed by the nobility, especially those 347

king remote from the centre, was a very serious concern for the Tudors; several major uprisings, with a Catholic religious flavour, erupted from there in the reigns of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I. The new Henry IV became quickly worn out trying to hold on to his new throne (reigned 1400–13), as well as his own endemic poor health. There was a series of dangerous rebellions, the first of which was led by his former northern allies. The two Henry IV plays give two major reasons for this: that after becoming king, Henry did not continue to favour the Percies and their affinity; and, secondly, that many of the aristocrats felt Henry had duped them by initially claiming only to want to restore his inheritance, and then using them to become king. Another problem for Henry was his fraught relationship with his wayward son and heir, who was very ambitious and wanted full power for himself. This came to a head when Prince Henry had to relinquish power after becoming Lord Protector while his father was incapacitated; he was not at all happy when Henry IV recovered, albeit for only a few years. This is the period in Prince Henry’s life that was later represented as his wild and wanton youth. He was wild, but mostly with other high-ranking young men. It does seem that he was reconciled with his father before his death. When Henry V became king in his own right, he immediately acted on his father’s advice by preparing for war with France as a means of distracting attention away from the very dubious claim he had to the throne (reigned 1413–22). But first he had to deal with an extremely dangerous conspiracy enacted by elements of the House of York on behalf of the Mortimers; it is extremely important to remember that by the logic of strict lineal primogeniture, both Mortimer and York should have had precedence over Lancaster. It seems as though the conspirators were betrayed at the last moment by Mortimer himself; they were summarily executed. This is the political background to Shakespeare’s misrepresentation of events at HV 2.2; it does not suit the play’s dramatic focus to take too much attention away from Henry’s glorious military career by reminding the audience of the Lancastrian usurpation. This dealt with, Henry invades France, taking advantage of the outbreak of war between France and the Duchy of Burgundy. The result is Agincourt and, ultimately, Henry’s recognition as heir to the French throne and his marriage to the daughter of the King of France. What is important here for Shakespeare’s audience is the celebration of Henry’s military glory and the defeat of France; his reign is represented 348

king as the high point of English imperial greatness, something that has especial resonance for the emerging British Empire. See also the entry on Henry V. But Henry’s military career had its costs. The most immediate was financial: when Henry suddenly died the exchequer was empty because of the expenses of the war and England simply did not have the resources to maintain a large continental dominion. The second was longer term and, ultimately, even more damaging: his only son and heir was a baby. The result was a replay of the reign of Richard II, except even worse, as dramatized in Shakespeare’s three Henry VI plays. The young Henry VI (reigned 1422–71) seems to have inherited some form of mental instability from his maternal grandfather, the French king, a factor that may have played its part in Henry V’s success in France – the opposition was not all it could be. Additionally, faction fighting at the English court was a very serious problem. Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, had been named as Lord Protector by his brother Henry V. He was embroiled in a series of disputes with the powerful Beaufort family, cousins to the senior Lancaster line – the Beauforts were the progeny of John of Gaunt’s liaison with Katherine Swynford. They were legitimized during the reign of Henry IV by Act of Parliament, but only on the express condition that they and their heirs were barred from the throne. They were led by the redoubtable Bishop of Winchester, later Cardinal Beaufort, who opposed the continuation of war with the French. Eventually Gloucester was seriously embarrassed by the actions of his social climbing wife, Eleanor Cobham, permitting him to be removed from office and power when Henry VI reached his majority. In the meantime, the last of the Mortimers added moral strength to any possible Yorkist claim to the throne by bequeathing his right to them. Things got much worse for the English when a French resurgence led by Joan of Arc coincided with even more faction fighting among the English lords. The Lancastrian regime was supported by a group led by Somerset, who took over the mantle of the Beauforts after the cardinal’s death. They were opposed by the emerging power of Richard, Duke of York, supported by the northern nobles, especially the famous Earl of Warwick, the ‘Kingmaker’. This York was the son of Richard Earl of Cambridge who had been executed by Henry V at Southampton without trial; his son, also a Richard, was now the senior member of that Plantagenet line. The House of York was fast becoming a magnet 349

king for elements of the aristocracy for whom the military success of the Lancastrians had faded with the troublesome reign of Henry VI. English power in France was eclipsed and peace was made via a marriage alliance between Henry and Margaret of Anjou, whose penniless father was nominally King of Jerusalem. This marriage proved to be extremely contentious because for many it symbolized the depths to which English prestige had fallen. Moreover, Margaret was schooled in the ways of the French court and quickly embroiled herself in English faction fighting, alienating the House of York even further. Her reputation is probably not entirely deserved, mainly because of the ingrained misogynistic bias of patriarchy, but she was able periodically to gain ascendancy over her weak husband. Henry was prone to bouts of insanity and indeed one of these was so severe that York had to be named Lord Protector; Margaret and her allies made sure that once Henry had sufficiently recovered, York was removed from power. The rift between York and Lancaster was now too great and the result was the Wars of the Roses. The sequence of events in Shakespeare is now as follows. The first bout of fighting results in the execution of the Duke of Somerset, at least in the plays – in reality, there were three dukes in quick succession, but as so often with a plethora of historical characters, Shakespeare merges them into one. The triumphant Duke of York is made heir to Henry, and thus ensures that his house will inherit on the king’s death. There is a lull in the action, but the three most rapacious of Richard’s sons egg him on to seize the throne now. He tries, but this time he is defeated and murdered along with one of his sons, Edmund of Rutland, and his head displayed on York town gates wearing a paper crown. In quick succession, the new Duke of York wins and is crowned Edward IV; the great Warwick and Edward’s brother Clarence both join the Lancastrians to defeat Edward IV; he is imprisoned, but escapes and turns the tables again; Clarence is forgiven and rejoins his brother; Warwick is killed; Henry VI and his son Edward are both murdered; and Edward IV brings an ostensible end to the fighting with what seems like the extinction of the direct Lancastrian line of succession. Shakespeare makes the figure of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, the third son of York, a growing malevolent presence in all of this. He is the one reputed to have murdered Prince Edward and Henry VI. This leads to Richard III, which is even less historically reliable than any of the other plays. Richard is shown to contrive Clarence’s death, 350

king which leads to Edwards’s and the eclipse of his queen’s faction, many of whom are murdered. This is all nonsense, since Clarence had betrayed Edward IV again by plotting treason and was thrown into the Tower; he was murdered in 1478, five full years before Edward died of an apoplexy brought on by his prodigious appetite for women and drink. Incidentally, the legend of Clarence being drowned in a butt of malmsey wine is probably correct, although the truth may be a little more prosaic. Large barrels were used as baths and Edward’s murderers probably surprised Clarence when he was at his most vulnerable. Vicious as he was, even a table knife would have been a serious weapon in his hands, so better to kill him when he is most compromised. His career rivals the popular perception of his brother Richard. There is no evidence at all that Richard had anything whatsoever to do with this. It did not lead to Edward’s death, since apoplexy does not last five years. According to the play, as all of this is happening, Richard even has time to woo and marry Anne, wife to Edward of Lancaster, Henry VI’s son. The play makes this a particularly heinous endeavour, but in reality Anne was Richard’s childhood sweetheart from the north of England, and was forced to marry Edward of Lancaster when Warwick turned tail. Richard makes an ally of another scion of the Plantagenets in order to help himself achieve the throne; the Duke of Buckingham is descended from Thomas of Woodstock, another of Edward III’s sons. He and Buckingham are represented as destroying Lord Hastings, a loyal supporter of the memory of Edward IV; together, they place Edward’s sons in the Tower of London and manage Richard’s accession to the throne by declaring them illegitimate and having them murdered – Richard’s subsequent defenders have pointed out that Buckingham had the opportunity and motive as much as Richard for being responsible for their deaths. Whatever the truth of this may be, Richard betrays Buckingham once he has been crowned King Richard III by refusing to pay him off their agreed price for his co-operation. Buckingham rebels and is killed. Strangely enough, if Buckingham had waited longer he would have seen and perhaps been able to join the successful expedition of Henry Tudor. He almost jumps out of a hat like a magic rabbit to end the fighting and found the glorious new dynasty of the Tudors. He was descended on his father’s side from Henry V’s queen, Catherine of France. After her first husband’s death, she married an obscure Welsh nobleman called Twdor. Her grandson would become the future 351

king Henry VII. On his mother’s side he was descended from the Beauforts. A more marginal ‘pedigree’ would be difficult indeed to find, but there was enough opposition to Richard III to swing the balance in favour of the Tudor invaders. Henry had been lurking in exiled opposition in France and then Brittany; the troops he was given there were a gamble to make trouble for the new King Richard, whose military reputation made the French in particular very nervous indeed. Henry’s stepfather, Lord Stanley, held the balance of power. Richard did not trust him and took his son George as a hostage to ensure good behaviour; he knew that his sympathies probably lay with Henry, his wife’s son by her first marriage. In the event the Stanley family forces either lay inactive at the Battle of Bosworth, or joined in at the crucial moment on Henry’s side. Richard was killed and Henry married Elizabeth of York, Edward IV’s daughter, thus joining the two lines together and strengthening his own rather dubious lineage. This historical overview has been written in a deliberately impressionistic style. What matters in all of this as far as Shakespeare’s plays are concerned is not accuracy of detail. The salient points outlined above are the ones that are most easily available as popular perceptions of the history of the English kings to Shakespeare’s audiences. High politics and bloody fighting make for good action plays and many of the audience members were familiar enough with these elements to be able to follow the action, even in relation to relatively obscure nobles whose appearance and quick exits baffle many a modern audience or reader. Shakespeare amalgamates figures, telescopes time and misrepresents many of the figures involved. He does so for the sake of dramatic economy and focus; if there is a pro-Lancastrian bias, that is because these plays were all written while their descendant, Elizabeth I, was on the throne. She was the granddaughter of Henry Tudor, so it is probable that Shakespeare wrote the English history plays, especially the two tetralogies, with careful circumspection in order not to invite too much attention from the authorities. Even so, alternative views to the official ones do surface, especially when the Yorkists are given some time to justify their claims to the throne and when some of the Lancastrian crimes occur. The more educated and historically aware members of the audience would note these instances. The only thing that really matters in all of this is what the doings of these kings mean to Shakespeare’s contemporaries. Kings are important figures in other plays as well, the reason being 352

king the source material available to Shakespeare. Most of these stories involved various people of high rank, since their lives attracted most of the attention. They therefore made for good drama. As with the English history plays, the kings who appear in the rest of his works do so because they generate certain associations of peculiar interest to Shakespeare’s audiences. These meanings may well be lost to later audiences and readers, such as the underlying assumptions in All’s Well That Ends Well. It would come as no surprise to a Renaissance English audience that the King of France in this play is suffering from an unspecified, but still severe malady; they would assume it to be genital in origin. The fairytale cure by a virgin with special knowledge is hardly innocent in its implications. Cymbeline of Britain is a strange figure in many respects, not least because he never seems to do anything. He is acted upon and responds to others, but he takes very little action of his own. This is clear right from the outset by two Gentlemen of the court acting as choral figures, at CYM 1.1.1–14. So much is described by these two figures that it is difficult to unpack it all. In performance terms, Shakespeare utilizes the common enough technique of introducing the characters and events by hearsay, that is, by the representation of offstage events. As with Henry VIII he has some chorus-like figures appear, gentlemen who are not necessarily of the court, but are high enough in their own degree to be able to glimpse what is going on, understand it and analyse it. This gossip technique is very effective, because it emphasizes the connection between the characters and the audience; the second gentleman and the paying audience are hearing about these events for the first time. Secondly, although the play is set in a remote period, the relative lack of illusionistic methods such as an overabundance of appropriate props and costumes makes the narrative seem closer to home – it is all the more easily understood by the audience because it is so like the ways in which events at their own court would be disseminated. And then there are the events themselves. This is a king who cannot keep his own daughter and heir under enough control to stop her marrying beneath her dignity, a very serious issue for a king and one that is close to recent English experience of the Tudors’ problems with the succession. He has re-married, to a widow who has a son by her own previous marriage; they both want this son to marry the princess. And this last intention flies in the face of what is known to the courtiers, 353

king although they do not dare to show it. In other words, the man in question is not fit to be the husband of a princess, which is in fact what the First Gentleman goes on to relate. This is a court in crisis: the succession is in doubt; the queen has her own agenda; and the courtiers are even more two-faced than usual. The implications are obvious to a contemporary audience: the king has lost control. Events are beyond him and he can only at best react. It makes King Cymbeline a curious nonentity. As the man at the apex of the social pyramid, he is exactly the person who should be active, and yet he is anything but. What this does is open up the notion of kingship itself to question, as various people in the play compete to define events for the king so that they can manipulate him. This is dangerously close to a possibly subversive rendering of what really happens at royal courts, but of course the displacement technique permits the play to dramatize the possibilities opened up while at the same time appearing to be about another culture at another time. It is possible to map Cymbeline’s Britain onto that of James I after his first few years in power and to take the play as a figurative commentary on James’ behaviour at court. The Stuarts were well known for their favourites, court ‘stars’ who could do no wrong in the monarch’s eyes, but who attracted plenty of enemies in the process, something that is common enough in the system of monarchy. However, the play does not simply reflect James’ court; the dynamic relationship between drama and its immediate context is far too complex for a play such as this to be so completely passive. Instead, plays such as Cymbeline manage the many issues raised by concepts of kingship; they explore them, dramatize them, and permit different comments upon them. There is no point in over-generalizing on the basis of one play. Each drama involving a king is different and the action lays open a different slant on the matters raised. In Hamlet, the techniques and performance requirements of revenge tragedy inevitably flavour the subject: Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King himself for your succession in Denmark? (HAM 3.2.340–2)

Hamlet is responding to the attempts made by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to sound out the real cause of his malady. Hamlet in turn 354

king knows that they have unwittingly been set up to do this by Claudius. This passage strikes at the heart of Hamlet’s dilemma: Claudius has come between him and the succession, by marrying Gertrude – the succession passes through the female in Denmark. If Claudius had not done so, just as Hamlet’s father originally did, then young Hamlet would, as the son of a queen, automatically have become the next king. So his epigrammatic comment to Rosencrantz is correct: he does indeed lack advancement. The student does not quite fully understand the implications and replies in puzzled fashion. Hamlet’s problem is common enough in revenge tragedy: he has secret knowledge of what really happened, and yet is not entirely sure that he can trust the source of that information. Additionally, the person he is required to kill is the king. He stands at the point of a classic tragic impossibility: he must kill the king in order to avenge his father’s murder, and yet to kill an anointed king is just as horrific a crime as murdering a brother. Compare Claudius’ own ironic comment: ‘There’s such divinity doth hedge a king That treason can but peep to what it would’ (HAM 4.5.124–5). This entire situation is what produces Hamlet’s supposed characteristic procrastination, and is the very stuff of classic Renaissance revenge tragedy. It produces a situation in which all parties involved are trying to spy on one another, to find out the real truth behind their various façades, and this is exactly a politics of courtly behaviour that would not be lost on a socially aware Renaissance audience. In Julius Caesar the title character is killed because he might be about to become a king: Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Caesar for their king. Cas. Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so. Bru. I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well. (JC 1.2.79–82)

The Romans had detested the very idea of kingship ever since Brutus’ ancestors expelled the Tarquins; it was this that led to the formation of the Republic. Caesar’s pre-eminence is such that he is rumoured to be about to be given such a title by the senate, and it is this possibility that sets Brutus against him, although the motives of the other conspirators may not be so high-minded. This is crucial because the events that 355

king follow mark the end of the Republic and the beginning of the Empire under Octavius Caesar, Julius’ heir. The Renaissance saw a lively debate over the relative merits of different forms of government such as aristocratic, monarchic, republican and imperial. This was not simply an academic interest that grew out of the new learning of the humanities; it impinged directly on the social framework. Various writers related the arguments to the state of the commonwealth in general and, in a way that would seem very strange to a later period, the constitution of the individual household as well: And dart not scornful glances from those eyes To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor. (TS 5.2.136–7)

These are Kate’s words to Bianca and the Widow at the end of The Taming of The Shrew. They are a direct reference to the kind of argument put forward in the debate over government that the household is a microcosm of the state. Both are patriarchal and paternalistic, and both require the subjection of women, willing of course. King Lear is a play that dramatizes what happens when this ideal so beloved of patriarchy is disrupted by the king himself, at KL 1.1.127–39. Lear wants a happy retirement: to continue to be king, but without the responsibility. He gives away his power via the two daughters who have said they love him to their husbands. What the play’s action does is ruthlessly unfold the impossibility of what he has done: a king cannot afford to retire in this way. One is monarch until one dies, whether or not one likes it. There can be periods of regency or protectorship, as happens in the histories during a minority or when the king is incapacitated for a time, but one kingdom cannot maintain both a king and others with his power. Additionally, Goneril and Regan are really the ones who inherit the power. Cornwall may be an appropriate partner for his wife, but she is foremost, as is her sister. The disruption this entails lays open the gender politics that sustains the notion of kingship, something that Lear recognizes at KL 4.6.107–29. This famous speech shifts from adultery to military power and back again; he knows how much lechery can take place, and yet he does not have enough soldiers to police it. This is partly because he gave them all away, of course, but also because no state truly has the power to deal with sexual corruption effectively. The play’s vocabulary of monstrous nature combines with 356

king misogyny: both intertwine with state power to the extent that they are no longer distinguishable. In his insanity he does recognize that a dame’s face is no certain guide to her behaviour, and that what lies beneath is corrupt. This is a powerful speech, but also very revealing for what it does not say; after all, it is his initial actions that allowed his daughters to gain the power they needed in order to act as they did. This is the root of his madness: the king, the ultimate patriarch, guarantor of the commonwealth, gave all of his power to women who turned out to be other than they seemed. The result is tyranny, because such women must of course be represented as somehow unnatural, as if they are something other than social beings. The play’s imagery of nature is crucial in this respect. Women of high status are important in a patriarchal monarchy because it is through them, in one way or another, that patrimony passes down. They are absolutely crucial to the functioning of the system and yet at the same time they must not be allowed any power of their own. Any hint of independence, or even a suspicion of it when it does not exist, is enough for full vengeance to be enacted upon them: ‘Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, King of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia, and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the King, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.’ (WT 3.2.12–21)

The indictment against Hermione reads like so many familiar treason trials from the period, especially those concocted by Henry VIII when he wants a potential rival to the throne judicially murdered – people such as Buckingham or, later in his reign, Surrey. The point is not to find out whether the person arraigned is guilty, because that is already assumed; it is simply to show that justice has been done. But regardless of whether or not the accusation has any truth, the audience already knows that Hermione did not conspire with Camillo; rather, it was 357

king Leontes who wanted Camillo to kill Polixenes for him. This is another parallel with recent Tudor history: Mary Queen of Scots was a ‘guest’ of Elizabeth I and her sexual history was scandalously famous, despite her attempts later in her life to represent herself as some kind of catholic martyr. Simply put, Leontes is utterly convinced of his wife’s guilt and puts her on trial in a manner that is very similar to Henry VIII’s attempt to divorce himself from Katherine of Aragon. These are all parallels, not direct correspondences, but what they demonstrate is that Leontes’ actions would be of dramatic interest both to Shakespeare and his audiences. The emphasis on the status of royal women and the problems they pose for a patriarch in King Lear and The Winter’s Tale occurs also in Macbeth. It is set in a pseudo-Celtic milieu, while imagined as partly feudal. It has, to borrow Lear’s powerless language, ‘monstrous’ women in the form of the witches and Lady Macbeth. But it also has a tyrant who unnaturally seizes power in the foulest possible way and continues to act in the same way in order to hang onto his power. By disrupting the social order from below, he causes as much confusion as Lear’s daughters. However, there may be other aspects that resonate with the sensitivities of a Renaissance audience. After all, Macbeth is needed by Duncan’s state. Regardless of how the king is played, Duncan is never shown to be active in defence of his own kingdom. He relies on powerful nobles at the periphery to protect Scotland from outside invasion. But they themselves also need to be policed, in accordance with the logic of a feudal arrangement. The rebellious Thane of Cawdor who is being dealt with offstage at the beginning of the play is one such, and of course Macbeth will become even more so, because successful. One way to stage all of this is that the state needs killing machines like Macbeth, just as Rome needed Coriolanus. The problem the state then faces is how to keep such men under control: violence is endemic to the system, but it also has to be limited or it gets out of hand. The problem faced by the king is how best to accomplish this: There’s no art To find the mind’s construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. (MAC 1.4.11–14)

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king This is the king’s epitaph on Cawdor. But Duncan makes a crucial error, and it is one he is about to repeat: a king cannot afford to take a man at face value. To put absolute trust in someone with the military power to stage a dangerous rebellion inevitably threatens the stability of the kingdom. None of this would be lost on Shakespeare’s audiences, especially given the recent history of James’ reign in Scotland, the reason also usually given for the appearance of the witches in the play. There is a further and deeply disturbing element: how does a usurper like Macbeth secure the future of his own dynasty? The parallels with the Tudors and others are obvious, although the play delicately avoids too topical a reference by displacing the energies of this issue onto Macbeth’s personal ambition. In other words, it is possible to see the logic of Macbeth’s actions as picking up on a systemic structuration that is then ‘explained’ by reference to character; but the system is prone to these problems in the first place. Macbeth encounters structural problems of his own once he is king and is trying to found a dynasty, as he himself realizes at MAC 3.1.46–63. Unlike Duncan, Macbeth notes the military capability of Banquo, as well as the possibility of Banquo opposing him. Interestingly, Macbeth focuses on succession as the real threat posed by his friend – for him, security and dynasty are one and the same. It accords with the aristocratic ethos of lineage as a founding concept. This is important in the context of the play’s initial production, because Banquo was the legendary ancestor of the Stuarts, who will ultimately take over from the royal house of Scotland represented by Duncan and his sons. The importance of the succession becomes something of a key concept in the play as it develops from this point; see especially Macbeth’s reaction to the witches when they show him Banquo’s descendants at MAC 4.1.112–34. There is of course still an alternative line. Duncan’s sons are still alive and Malcolm’s presence at the English (Saxon) court will ultimately lead to Macbeth’s downfall. There is an important exchange between he and Macduff at MAC 4.3 as the latter tries to persuade Malcolm to take full action against the usurper. Malcolm produces a series of reasons as to why he should not do so. Furthermore, even if he did, and were successful, what guarantee is there that he would make a good king? He rehearses a whole series of excesses to which he says he is prone and Macduff replies to each. This seems rather odd until one remembers the contemporary debate about the nature of kingship, something to which James I of Britain added in his own writings. By 359

king locating a crucial debate at the moment of crisis evoked by Macbeth, Shakespeare opens up the play to various possibilities, dramatizing ways in which alternatives might be seen. (c) See Cohen (1997), 1015–20, for commentary on the resonances of King John for a late Elizabethan audience. See Bevan (1990) for a full narrative of the reign of Richard II. An accessible book-length treatment of the Wars of the Roses is Weir (1998). See Dockray (1995) for a more concise introduction to the causes of the Wars of the Roses, and Horrox (1995) in the same volume for commentary on some of the figures involved. Ross (1999) is a comprehensive narrative of the life of Richard III. Bennett (1997) sets the Battle of Bosworth in context, including some details of the dubious Tudor claim to the throne at 58–62. Norwich (1999) is a worthy attempt to relate Shakespeare’s two tetralogies to the source material that inspired them; his literary analysis tends to the more conventional. Wilson (2002) is a wideranging and informative analysis of life at the court of Henry VIII. Murphy (2003) is a book about a little-known aspect of that life, Henry’s illegitimate son by Elizabeth Blount. Weir (1996) delineates the problematic succession politics surrounding Henry’s heirs. Levin (1994) deals with Elizabeth’s methods of monarchical rule in the context of patriarchy. Plowden (2001) narrates the problematic relationship between Elizabeth and Mary Queen of Scots. Gilliver et al. (2005) contextualizes the various debates over Julius Caesar’s intentions towards possible kingship at 170–5. Mikalachki (2003) relates Cymbeline to various discourses that impinge upon national identity in the Renaissance, as well as linking the play to gender politics. Margolies (1992) reads King Lear as social commentary in relation to its contemporary context at 14–42. For an extremely precise rendering of Macbeth as symptomatic of systemic violence, see Sinfield (1992), 95–108. Clark (1981), although showing the venerability of its underlying critical assumptions, contextualizes Macbeth in relation to the reign of James VI of Scotland; see also Aitchison (1999) at 127 for some more up-to-date comments with reference to James’ own writings on kingship. Barroll (1991) investigates the relationship between Shakespeare’s company and the new James I at 23–69; his argument is a useful counter to the traditional assumptions about the social importance of the King’s Players. For contemporary Renaissance books on statesmanship, see Bodin (1955) and Elyot (1834). 360

kingdom

kingdom (a) An independent sovereign state whose government is monarchical. In the Renaissance such a state was always gendered as masculine, regardless of the sex of the ruler at any one time. This means that a queen regnant was considered to be a man in her ruling capacity, although the standard precepts of the patriarchal system would normally require her to give up her power to her husband if she were to marry. This was not always what happened in practice. Most of the time, however, the prevalence of the system of male primogeniture meant that a kingdom would be ruled by a man. (b) Kingdoms appear frequently in Shakespeare, not least because a great deal of his source material deals with kings, queens and other high-ranking personages. Kingdoms are particularly important in the English history plays, although they are mentioned in many others besides. This would make perfect sense to Shakespeare’s audience, who after all lived in one. A kingdom is often caught in the political events that dominate the lives of the upper classes, although historians are still arguing over the effects of, say, the Wars of the Roses on the country and populace at large. Even so, fighting over who has the right to rule is an important element of the drama: King. Then you perceive the body of our kingdom How foul it is, what rank diseases grow, And with what danger, near the heart of it. War. It is but as a body yet distempered, Which to his former strength may be restored With good advice and little medicine. (2 HIV 3.1.38–43)

There is a double reference here: to the body of the kingdom, troubled by the disease of rebellion; and also to the body of the king. The latter is at the mercy of ill health and the combination of fighting to preserve the peace and fighting to preserve himself wears him out. There is a reason for this distemper in the body of the state, of course, and this king is the cause. He usurped it and had the previous king, Richard II, murdered. Added to this is his tempestuous relationship with his son and heir, the future Henry V. They are reconciled (in the play, at least) before the death of Henry IV, but not before the dying king laments the future state of his realm under his wayward son: 361

kingdom For the fift Harry from curb’d license plucks The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! (2 HIV 4.5.130–3)

In fact, Henry V will turn out to be that paragon of medieval monarchs, a cold-blooded killing machine who manages to wipe out large sections of the French aristocracy. His father would applaud – it is his idea to use foreign war to distract the minds of the people from the usurpation (2 HIV 4.5.212–15). Even so, a powerful conspiracy emerges when the younger man does finally become the next king. Since the play’s focus is on Henry’s military assault on France, Shakespeare plays down the threat posed in the Southampton scene of Henry V at HV 2.2.167–78, which is of course complete nonsense, at least when compared with what really happened. French gold was involved, but to fund a conspiracy on behalf of Mortimer, Richard II’s declared heir, against the usurping Lancastrians. If successful, the result would have been Henry’s death, but not the catalogue of disasters he chooses to say would follow. The French of course were simply trying to topple a regime they knew to be unfriendly to themselves. They were currently fighting the Burgundians, something of a traditional ally of the English, and could not afford a second front. The French were probably under no illusions about the trustworthiness of the Mortimer faction either, but they were hoping that at the very least any trouble caused by the conspiracy would delay Henry’s expedition. It almost worked, but it seems as though the timid Mortimer himself betrayed the conspiracy, even though he was the ostensible benefactor of it. Needless to say, none of this is mentioned by Henry in the speech Shakespeare wrote for him. Even so, at least some of Shakespeare’s audience would have been aware of the history lying behind the drama. Ultimately, Henry’s assertion that he seeks no revenge for himself is a complete obfuscation. But the attempt to distract opposition by adventures abroad does not work for long. Henry V dies relatively young, leaving the succession to his infant son Henry VI, as well as an empty treasury. The pressures on this next king are so immense that he loses everything. The Lancastrian usurpation comes back to haunt their line once the glory of military success has faded. By 3 HVI 1.1.164–75 the pendulum of 362

kingdom military might has swung against the House of Lancaster. Henry VI is now in the position of Richard II, except this time the king is allowed to live as the Duke of York (temporarily) accepts his status as heir. This situation does not last and the action of the play comes thick and fast as the Wars of the Roses really explode into action. There are many such occasions in the plays where the succession is linked explicitly with the future of the kingdom. This is definitely of interest to Shakespeare’s audiences: firstly, because of the marital misadventures of the Tudors and, later in his career, the unification of the kingdoms of England and Scotland when James Stuart becomes the first king of a united British kingdom on the death of Elizabeth I of England. This has great contemporary importance because England no longer has to worry so much about a hostile Scotland when embroiled in foreign wars: For you shall read that my great-grandfather Never unmasked his power unto France But that the Scot on his unfurnish’d kingdom Came pouring like the tide into a breach (HV 1.2.146–9)

This is Henry’s comment on Scotland as he holds his council of war prior to the attack on France. It is a reference to the value of the ‘auld alliance’ to the French in the time of Edward III. It has contemporary Renaissance resonance because Scotland was potentially hostile to England right up to the reign of Elizabeth I; its queen, Mary Stuart, had been wife to the heir to the French throne who had become, briefly, King of France before dying young; on his accession the couple quartered their arms with those of England to signify that they regarded that kingdom as their right as well. Mary Stuart had to return to Scotland after her husband’s death, but the relationship between her and Elizabeth was always fraught. It became even more so when she fled to England after one her many political mistakes; there she remained as a prisoner until eventually she was executed for plotting to seize the throne of England one time too many in 1587, only twelve years before this play was performed. The action outraged Europe even more than Mary’s prior scandalous behaviour, and it led to the great crisis of Elizabeth’s reign as the Spanish Armada bore down on an England in the grip of worries about treasonous Catholics who 363

kingdom might rise up in support of an invasion. James VI, however, was very circumspect in his dealings with Elizabeth: he protested of course at the execution of his mother but did nothing about it, and received his reward in 1603 when he attained the throne of England as well as that of Scotland. This removed any residual English worries that the Scottish dynasty might elevate weak and poor Scotland over them; British monarchs have pretty much governed from there ever since. (c) For a full overview of the causes of the Wars of the Roses, see Weir (1998), 21–189. She details the Southampton plot against Henry V at 61–3. Britnell (1995) is an article on the economic factors and consequences of the Wars of the Roses. The claim of the Tudors to the kingdom of England is delineated at Bennett (1997), 58–62. Somerset (2002) describes the moment of the unification of the kingdoms of England and Scotland as James Stuart succeeds Elizabeth, at 723–5. Palliser (1992) is a comprehensive overview of the state of England under the later Tudors.

knave (a) Originally this word denoted a servant, especially a menial to a knight. It comes to mean anyone who acts in a mean or dishonourable fashion. This is another of those terms that is an extension of a prior class relation in earlier usage. The assumption seems to be that a knave is someone who does not act as a knight should; it is often used as an insult, especially towards someone who should know better. In other words, it exactly describes normal knightly behaviour, as opposed to the chivalric ideal. When addressed to a servant, it can have a friendly ring to it; it is also used almost as a synonym for fool when used of a clown or jester. (b) A particularly unpleasant use of the term as an insult can be found in Cymbeline when the Queen says directly to the audience that Pisanio is ‘A sly and constant knave’ (CYM 1.5.75) because of his loyalty to Posthumus. Emilia uses the word in exactly the same way: The Moor’s abus’d by some villainous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. (OTH 4.2.139–40)

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knave She is of course correct in her supposition, but even she does not realize that the perpetrator is her husband, Iago. Sir Toby shows something of his true colours towards the end of Twelfth Night when he is hurt by Sebastian: ‘Will you help? An ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a thin-fac’d knave, a gull!’ (TN 5.1.206–7). He finally lets poor Sir Andrew know exactly what he really thinks of him, and the impression is not a pleasant one – this is what really lies beneath the veneer of this fat blustering knight. The ultimate knightly knave is Falstaff, as the Hostess notes at 2 HIV 3.3.120–4. She plays on the standard opposition of the terms knight and knave in order to note that he is both. Hamlet uses the same associations when he has just killed Polonius: This counsellor, Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, Who was in life a foolish prating knave. (HAM 3.4.213–15)

Hamlet’s punning language notes that although Polonius may have held high rank, he nevertheless was a fool. Another such figure is Parolles in All’s Well That Ends Well. As Lafew says to him: ‘You are not worth another word, else I’d call you knave’ (AW 2.3.262–3). In fact, the word is something of a touchstone for this play as it bounces between the knave Parolles and the knave Lavatch: ‘What does this knave here?’ (AW 1.3.8) is just the first of several descriptions of the countess’ jester. Other uses of the term in relation to comic figures are common in the plays. Lear asks: ‘Where’s my knave? my Fool?’ (KL 1.4.42). Berowne greets Costard with identical language at LLL 3.1.143–4. And Sir Toby praises Feste: ‘The knave counterfeits well; a good knave’ (TN 4.2.19). There are also occurrences in which the tone is meant to be jocular: ‘this knave came something saucily to the world before he was sent for’ (KL 1.1.21–2) is Gloucester’s description of Edmund to the Earl of Kent. Gloucester might mean it jokingly, but it remains to be seen what Edmund is going to do about such treatment. A more open use of the word as a sort of term of endearment occurs in Julius Caesar, when Brutus describes his slave Lucius as a ‘Gentle knave’ at JC 4.3.269. 365

knave (c) For the social importance of relations between masters and servants, see Amussen (1988), 159–61. She gives several examples of the abuse of the system.

knight (a) The lowest level of the aristocracy, being those without titles. The degree of knight could be inherited or bestowed. In feudalism, a lord would be expected to supply a certain number of knights for the army when called up, depending on the extent of his holdings and his power base. The contingent of knights would be composed of his sub-tenants, the men who held their land from him and had reciprocal arrangements with him, just as the lord had with the king. This was the theory at least, although it varied in practice. The knights were the backbone of the military classes; when an army was said to be comprised of a certain number of knights, its military power was in fact greater because the knights would also supply troops as part of their own commitment. The warrior knight was expected to supply his own equipment, an important consideration in a state that relied upon such men for its armed forces. On the battlefield, the knights were supposed to be supreme, the power of their armoured charge being directed against all and sundry. In practice, the situation was different, as other arms played their part. Some of the most shocking (to contemporaries) defeats were at the hands of the lowly infantry, something of an upset to the established social order. This is what happened when the Scots spearmen inflicted the great defeat of Bannockburn on Edward II’s over-confident army, or when the French were severely defeated during the ‘Hundred Years’ War’ by the English longbowmen. Usually part of the problem was the excessive confidence of the knights themselves, in this case a generic term meaning cavalry from the aristocracy. They would be led by their own lords, and social arrogance played a great part in their downfall in such battles. Knighthood was supposed to be an order based on gallantry as well as social right, and a whole spurious code of behaviour had grown up around it, a common enough ideological effect. See chivalry for details. (b) The ubiquity of the knight in medieval society makes him a useful figure, and there are many references in Shakespeare. These take various forms, picking up on some of the individual elements of the word’s meanings. The most basic denotation is the military one of any 366

knight aristocratic fighter, especially concerning the reputation of an outstanding one: ‘Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight’ (1 HVI 2.3.7) says the Countess of Auvergne of Talbot. Prince Henry gives a similar accolade to Hotspur: ‘This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight’ (1 HIV 3.2.140). The deadly relationship between Hotspur and the Prince of Wales in 1 Henry IV does contain elements of the chivalric ethos, as well as the knight’s function as a fighting machine, a battlefield killer. There are further examples, as when the Duke of York has the French, including Charles, swear allegiance to his Majesty, As thou art knight, never to disobey Nor be rebellious to the crown of England, Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. (1 HVI 5.4.169–72)

Of course it will come as no surprise to Shakespeare’s audience that the perfidious French will break such an oath. But such swearing is notoriously easy to break, because knightly behaviour was in reality anything but chivalrous. It is the function of the fat knight Falstaff to demonstrate a counter-discourse to the chivalric; he too has a habit of swearing ‘as I am a true knight’ (2 HIV 1.2.44). He is easily capable of undercutting chivalry, as he demonstrates when taking poor Colevile prisoner at 2 HIV 4.3. Falstaff is also well aware of the status of the knight in romance tales, when in parody he names Bardolph the ‘Knight of Burning Lamp’ (1 HIV 3.3.27) because of the state of his face. This tradition is well enough known – see Lysander at AMND 2.2.144 and the stock stage figure mentioned by Hamlet at HAM 2.2.320–1. In fact, this tradition is so omnipresent that it becomes a way of imagining the legendary past, a technique used throughout plays such as Pericles, The Two Noble Kinsmen and Troilus and Cressida. Because knighthood is supposed to be some sort of honourable order, a nobleman was supposed to win his spurs. Even royalty needs to be knighted, as when Henry VI knights his son Prince Edward of Lancaster before battle at 3 HVI 2.2.61–2. In theory, good service demonstrated by one of lower rank can result in that man being knighted, and this is what happens to Iden after killing Jack Cade (2 HVI 5.1.77–8). This does not happen very often in the plays. 367

knight (c) See Edelman (2000), 188–9. For the social position of ‘knight’ in the English Renaissance, see Stone (1967), 38–43. For their military function in the Middle Ages, see Contamine (1984), especially 47–50, where he describes in condensed form their military obligations under the emerging framework of feudalism. Elias (1994) describes the brutal reality of knightly behaviour at 76–7 and again at 261. See also Innes (1997), 1–3.

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L lace There are two kinds of lace. The first is the string or twine that is used to tie pieces of clothing together (now mostly shoelaces). The second is the intricate work used to ornament clothing, for example the ruffs for which the earlier part of this period is famous. This second meaning lends itself to figurative language because of its expense and ornate construction. The meaning of laces used to tie clothing appears when a female character bemoans a state of affairs: Stan. Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richard’s royal queen. Q.Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder, that my pent heart may have some scope to beat, Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. (RIII 4.1.31–5)

The first person to react to Stanley’s news to Anne is Edward IV’s widow. Her clothing reference is to the lacing used to make women’s clothing tightly conform to the shape of the body. Paulina comes out with a similar statement at WT 3.2.173 when she bursts in to the court with the news that Hermione has died offstage. Another familiar meaning is the ruff made of lace, to which Cleopatra (anachronistically) refers at AC 1.3.71. This is a good example of the use of contemporary Renaissance costume to represent any other period. 369

lace More figurative usages are based on the availability of this kind of lacework to those who can best afford it. In other words, it can be a metaphor for soft luxury: Ah, wherefore with infection should he live, And with his presence grace impiety, That sin by him advantage should achieve, And lace itself with his society? (SON 67.1–4)

Picard (2004) gives an example of just how complex lacework could be in a section on ruffs at 138–41.

lackey A servant. The term is not necessarily abusive, although as so often with words describing lower-class occupations, it can be turned into an insult. The word’s basic meaning of ‘servant’ appears several times in the plays; see HV 4.1.272 and TS 3.2.65. A slightly insulting usage occurs when Parolles thinks he has been captured. During his ‘interrogation’ he insults one of the Dumaines: ‘In a retreat he outruns any lackey’ (AW 4.3.289–90). This could be a reference to a knight’s servant who stays at the back of the army out of the fighting while looking after his master’s equipment. However, OED also gives an obsolete use of the word to mean ‘camp follower’, which would make it even more pejorative here. King Richard uses the word particularly as a term of abuse in his oration to his forces before the Battle of Bosworth, at RIII 5.3.317, in the middle of a list of insults about the enemy army. Becoming some sort of domestic servant was one way to make a living; see Amussen (1988) at 48–9.

lady (a) In general use, a polite term for any woman. It has a myriad of very specialized uses in relation to rank, since the original sense was as the female equivalent to a lord. (b) The wrangling over Henry VI’s marriage produces heated argument, mostly over the relative rank and title of the two ladies put 370

lady forward by Gloucester and Suffolk. As Gloucester points out, the king is already pre-contracted when Margaret of Anjou’s name arises: You know, my lord, your Highness is betroth’d Unto another lady of esteem. How shall we then dispense with that contract, And not deface your honour with reproach? (1 HVI 5.5.26–9)

These issues are not to be taken lightly when a king’s marriage is at stake. Such a use of the term assumes that the ladies in question are of high degree; similar examples occur when noble women appear in the plays, such as Lady Percy in 1 Henry IV. Other ladies appear at various points in the plays, populating them with a range of light or nonspeaking parts, filling out the expected background of life at court; for just one such grouping, see CYM 1.5. In direct conversation, the use of the word is not dependent on the relative ranks of the people involved. When the King of France addresses the Countess of Rossillion in All’s Well That Ends Well, he does so as ‘My honour’d lady’ (AW 5.3.8). A slightly more elevated phrase is: ‘sovereign lady’ (2 HVI 3.1.161), which Gloucester uses to Margaret of Anjou when he has fallen from favour; there is perhaps a touch of the sardonic in his choice of the word sovereign, since King Henry is supposed to be so – the implication may be that he is already ruled by his wife relatively early on in their marriage. When Lear is dividing his kingdom between his daughters, he couches his decision in similar terms. He says to Goneril: Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests and with champains rich’d, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady. To thine and Albany’s issue Be this perpretual. (KL 1.1.63–7)

The word here implies ownership, as Goneril becomes a kind of overlady of a vast expanse of territory. Her behaviour will be anything but that conventionally associated with a lady. For comparison, see Hotspur’s comments on a courtier sent to him as a messenger from court, who speaks in effeminate ‘lady terms’ (1.3.46). Hermione defines the behaviour appropriate to a high-ranking lady during her trial: 371

lady For Polixenes (With whom I am accused) I do confess I lov’d him as in honour he requir’d; With such a kind of love as might become A lady like me; with a love even such, So, and no other, as yourself commanded (WT 3.2.61–6)

Hermione’s speech depends upon an ideal conjunction between rank and behaviour, a common enough assumption in the language of this period. In fact, it is something of a defining feature for her: a preexisting code of behaviour based on socially appropriate conduct is basic to her identity. Although Hermione invokes this category ‘that might become a lady’, this is not what happens all of the time in all of the plays. Indeed, there is a great deal of variation in practice, as events pressure the assumed unity of rank and behaviour. As is to be expected, the underlying element is the woman’s sexual behaviour, which is exactly the grounds for Leontes’ distrust. It appears elsewhere, for example when Hamlet cuts through court ceremonial to sexuality in his conversation with Ophelia at the performance of the Mousetrap: ‘Lady, shall I lie in your lap?’ (HAM 3.2.112). The same happens in Henry VIII: Suf. How is the King employ’d? Cham. I left him private, Full of sad thoughts and troubles. Nor. What’s the cause? Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife Has crept too near his conscience. Suf. [Aside.] No, his conscience Has crept too near another lady. (HVIII 2.2.14–18)

This exchange between the three noblemen is crucial, but its significance is difficult for a modern audience to unravel. Suffolk, who makes the ironic aside to the audience, is Henry’s greatest friend, and is married to the king’s sister. By noting Henry’s sexual attraction to Anne Boleyn, he undercuts the standard discourse that the matter of his marriage is really about its morality. Anne herself is very careful to make sure that she does not give in to Henry’s advances until he has 372

lady married her, which he does in secret before her coronation. Another Lady Anne who is wooed by a powerful man of high rank appears at RIII 1.2. These ladies demonstrate that ultimately their own feelings are irrelevant in this society; what matters is what the man wants, and in the abstract that is exactly what happens when Anne is wooed by Richard of Gloucester. Such doings undo the usual assumptions of courtly love, showing them to be an empty convention. See, for example, the standard conceit of the lady’s eyes employed by Orlando at AYLI 5.2.24, or Mercutio’s mockery of Romeo: ‘Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flow’d in’ (RJ 2.4.38–9). It would be difficult to find a more complete objectification of the woman than Cressida’s passage through the invaders: ‘Is this the Lady Cressid?’ (4.5.17). The woman’s function as an object of exchange in a patriarchal system is seldom realized with such dramatic clarity, just as the so-called ‘Dark Lady’ sonnets recognize the possibility of a sexual attraction to someone who is not a conventional lady at all. Incidentally, ‘lady’ is a word that Shakespeare never uses in these poems. (c) For the lives of aristocratic ladies, see Stone (1967), 269–81. Tellingly, this is a chapter on marriage and the family, implying that it was in relation to these that aristocratic women were defined. Ridley (2002, 2) comments on the position of women in England generally at 296–300. Weir (1996) has a substantial index entry at 379 on The Lady Elizabeth, which of course was Elizabeth’s title after her mother’s fall. See also Lovell (2005) for the career of the formidable Bess of Hardwick, one of the greatest ladies in the kingdom.

lawyer (a) A man in the legal profession (in this period they are always men). The term is used somewhat imprecisely by Shakespeare. The main law schools were the Inns of Court in London, attended by young men notorious for their riotous lifestyles as well as by those anxious to qualify and gain a solid reputation with which to practise the profession. An education at law had become an alternative to the stuffy establishments at Oxford and Cambridge; apart from the humanities, these universities were still basically theological colleges. There is more than a residual distrust of lawyers in the plays, because they can be represented as having access to an esoteric knowledge that gives them a 373

lawyer major advantage over ordinary people – it also allows them to make quite a lot of money. (b) A lawyer appears in the Temple Garden scene of 1 HVI (2.4), the emblematic moment at which the Wars of the Roses are supposed to begin. He intervenes on behalf of the Yorkist claim: Unless my study and my books be false, The argument you held was wrong in you; In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too. (1 HVI 2.4.56–8)

This is not to say that he is absolutely correct, since what he utters is an interpretation. It is also possible that his advocacy of the rights of the Duke of York should not be taken at face value, since a lawyer’s opinion can always be challenged. However, the terms in which his judgement is couched cite precedence, a critical element of English jurisprudence. In other words, his declaration on behalf of the white rose of York will remind the audience of the interruption of the principle of primogeniture represented by the Lancastrian usurpation of the current king’s grandfather, Henry IV over Richard II. The most famous civil legal trial in Shakespeare at MV 4.1 also relies on this principle. Most of the time, however, the appearance of lawyers is negative. They are immediate targets for Cade’s rebellion. As Dick says, ‘The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers’ (2 HVI 4.2.76–7), a sentiment that would be sure to get a cheer in most performances. This is part of a general distrust of the educated and well off: All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, They call false caterpillars, and intend their death. (2 HVI 4.4.36–7)

There is an element of the anarchistic Land of Cockayne about all of this, even though the independent spontaneity of the rebellion is undermined by the play’s insistence that Cade was set up by the Duke of York. Part of the gravedigger scene in Hamlet includes a discourse by the prince on lawyers: There’s another. Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his

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lawyer quillities, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? Why does he suffer this mad knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? (HAM 5.1.98–103)

Hamlet’s riddling language is well suited to the linguistic tricks of a lawyer. Modern criticism has tended to concentrate on Hamlet’s comments on what he assumes to be the skull of Yorick, as a meditation on death. But here the language is much more earthy and physically violent, as well as a good example of black humour. However, the plays do not all make use of such trenchant attacks on legal language or education; sometimes, figures such as Justice Shallow speak for themselves. (c) See Picard (2004) at 231–4 for the Inns of Court. Heal and Holmes (1994) give examples of the relationship of the gentry to the legal profession at 133–4. One of the most famous lawyers in the English Renaissance was Sir Thomas More. For his legal career, see Wilson (2002), at 56–61 and again from 138–42.

lease (a) A contract of use with a specified end date. Such a con-

tract could theoretically be of any duration. There is a figurative use of, roughly, ‘lease of life’, meaning one’s lifespan. The usual duration of a land lease for a specified rent to a tenant was of three lifetimes, or 99 years, whichever was shorter. The problem with this from the landlord’s viewpoint was that inflation could effectively reduce the relative value of the income over the period of the duration of such an arrangement. (b) A famous confrontation between Richard II and his uncle, John of Gaunt, takes place when the latter is on his deathbed. Despite his own prestige and power, Gaunt has remained faithful to Richard as king, even when the younger man’s actions have proven to be improvident, to say the least. But when he is dying Gaunt lets Richard know exactly what he thinks of him and his policies: O had thy grandsire with a prophet’s eye Seen how his son’s son should destroy his sons,

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lease From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, Deposing thee before thou wert possess’d, Which art possess’d now to depose thyself. Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, It were a shame to let this land by lease; But for thy world enjoying but this land, Is it not more than shame to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou now, not king. (RII 2.1.104–13)

This is a series of massive insults, picking up as it does on the preeminence of Edward III, Richard’s grandfather. It also acts as a kind of reactive prophecy, the playwright’s advantage of hindsight allowing Gaunt to be given a speech predicting Richard’s deposition. In the event it will be Gaunt’s son who does the deposing. What is more, Gaunt lashes his nephew (cousin here means any close blood relation) with a taunt of being merely a landlord. The insult works quite well even in modern performance because of the way the rhetoric builds up to it, but there is added resonance for a contemporary audience. The reason for this is the ingrained disdain of the true nobility for someone who has to work to earn a living, whether as a merchant or as a landlord. In effect, Gaunt is accusing Richard of being a ‘bean-counter’, to use a modern equivalent, a petty bureaucrat who counts out ways to eke out the cash available. He also testifies that this will destroy Richard, and he is correct; the use of the word ‘lease’ signifies that Richard’s time will be short. The word appears in the Sonnets as well. Shakespeare uses it here again to represent a short period of time: So should that beauty which you hold in lease Find no determination (SON 13.5–6)

This is a common enough conceit in the poems to the young man: if he does reproduce, his beauty, which he holds only for the time of his own life, will perish with him. He needs to pass it on. The word appears again in the famous Sonnet 18: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date. (SON 18.3–4)

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lease Again, the implication is that the summertime of the young man’s youth will not last very long. This is reminiscent of Cade’s comments when he is forced to come out of hiding because of his hunger at 2 HVI 4.10.2–6; basically, he would rather eat now than live for a thousand years. (c) Stone (1967) describes the relative fall in income over the period for manorial holdings, including rents derived from leaseholdings, at 71–3. Palliser (1992) goes into detail concerning the various kinds of land ownership and rental in the manorial system at 201–6.

legate A term derived from the Roman army. A legate was a general with full plenipotentiary power as deputed by a commander-in-chief or a provincial governor. The Catholic Church took the term over as with so much Roman usage, and applied it to those high-ranking churchmen specified by the pope to carry the full weight of his authority while on specified missions. Protestantism would see this as an abuse of power, an encroachment on the rights of a sovereign. A papal legate makes an appearance at 1 HVI 5.1, having made Bishop Beaufort of Westminster a cardinal. In King John, one of the major figures is Cardinal Pandulph, the papal legate who excommunicates the English king. Perhaps the most well known to the English in Shakespeare’s audiences is Cardinal Campeius in Henry VIII, who was sent to England to sound out the king’s wish for a divorce; he was supposed to act in concert with Cardinal Wolsey. The latter falls from grace when he is accused of the arcane crime of praemunire, loyalty to an outside power over that of the King of England. Senior members of the nobility have a field day at Wolsey’s expense, Surrey accusing him as follows: ‘that without the King’s assent or knowledge, You wrought to be a legate’ (HVIII 3.2.310–11). All of this would feed into the reformed faith’s suspicion of the Catholic Church, especially given the pope’s death sentence on Elizabeth I. For Cardinal Campeggio’s (Campeius in the play) legateship to Henry’s court, see Wilson (2002), 247–54.

leno A pander or bawd, an unpleasant lower-class character who prostitutes others. The term occurs only twice in Shakespeare, who tends to use its synonyms more often: once, in the dramatis personae to 377

leno Pericles, and the other in Henry V. This latter example is particularly vicious, when Bourbon refers to a coward acting as a leno who will hold open the bedroom door while his most beautiful daughter is defiled by a slave (4.5.11–15). All of these associations are common in the play, with its emphasis on true worth and illegitimacy. For the context of illegitimacy and commingling of blood in Henry V, see Dollimore and Sinfield (1992).

lieutenant Military rank was not fixed in this period, so it is misleading simply to assume the modern usage of a rank just below that of captain in the army, or commander in the navy. The word may well be derived from the practices of ‘bastard’ feudalism, when the place of a tenant required to attend for military service is taken by someone else, usually a professional soldier who is paid to do so. In Shakespeare, the word has several possible uses, all of them variations on a theme. Most often, it signifies a commanding general’s deputy, a much higher rank than in the modern military. As such it is a position, not a rank. It is also applied to specific offices, such as Lieutenant of the Tower of London. Unsurprisingly, this figure makes several appearances in the plays: see 1 HVI 1.3; 3 HVI 4.6 and 5.6 and Richard III. The usage of the term as a deputy general occurs in Coriolanus, where Aufidius has a lieutenant; see also Ventidius’ carefully politic advice to Silius about lieutenants not outshining their masters at AC 3.1.12–27. The most well known such lieutenant is probably Cassio in Othello. Iago describes him as: Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine (A fellow almost damn’d in a fair wife) That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster – unless the bookish theoric, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he. Mere prattle, without practice, Is all his soldiership. (OTH 1.1.19–27)

Iago’s venomous volubility marks him off immediately to the audience as a manipulative machiavel who is not to be trusted. Iago tells Roderigo 378

lieutenant that Cassio was given the position of lieutenant to Othello instead of himself, and that is why he hates him. Othello, however, says several times that he has known Cassio for a very long time, implying that they have served together. This would give the lie to Iago’s assertion that Cassio has never practised the art of war. See Edelman (2000), 202–5, for several entries about this term. Duffy (1998) describes the lasting medieval influence on ranks in the armed forces from 35–57. See especially his comments on the lieutenant at 45–6. Sir Robert Brackenbury was Lieutenant of the Tower of London before and during the reign of Richard III; he died at Bosworth fighting for Richard (see Pollard (1995, 2), 171.

lion Proverbially the king of the beasts; an emblem for might, power and majesty. Part of the royal arms of England is three lions; the lion rampant is the Scottish equivalent. A standard simile appears when Mortimer describes Glendower as ‘valiant as a lion’ (1 HIV 3.1.165). Falstaff playfully uses similar language slightly later in the same play: Fal. As thou art Prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion’s whelp. Prince. And why not as the lion? Fal. The King himself is to be fear’d as the lion. Dost thou think I’ll fear thee as I fear thy father? (1 HIV 3.3.146–50)

The use of the lion as emblem for royal power is well enough known for the banter to flow smoothly between Falstaff and Hal. Another standard reference occurs when Warwick loses to the sons of York: Thus yields the cedar to the axe’s edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, Whose top-branch over-peer’d Jove’s spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter’s pow’rful wind. (3 HVI 5.2.11–15)

Warwick sees himself as more than princely in a series of emblematic representations of his power over royalty. 379

lion A more comic use is probably the most famous lion in Shakespeare. The playlet in A Midsummer Night’s Dream plays with the lion’s might: You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Then know that I as Snug the joiner am (AMND 5.1.219–23)

Snug is very careful to let the onstage audience know that he is not really a lion, because he and his fellow players mix up reality and representation. Thus the play as a whole draws attention to its status as artifice, a common enough self-referentiality in Renaissance drama. For the full royal arms of England, see MacKinnon (1975), Plate 1. The second plate shows the arms of Scotland. Henry VIII kept lions in a menagerie at the Tower of London: see Wilson (2002), 1. He picks up on the obvious symbolic implications.

livery (a) A uniform worn by members of the household of a lord or by members of one of the great London livery companies. A lord’s livery would be in colours associated with his coat of arms. The uniform is a sign of service and this makes the word available for more figurative uses as well. (b) The Duke of York warns Richard II of the consequences of his seizure of the lands of the exiled Henry of Lancaster: York. If you do wrongfully seize Herford’s rights, Call in the letters-patents that he hath By his attorneys-general to sue His livery, and deny his off’red homage, You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, And prick my tender patience to those thoughts Which honour and allegiance cannot think. K.Rich. Think what you will, we seize into our hands His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. (RII 2.1.201–10)

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livery Richard is determined to enact complete vengeance on his banished cousin. He takes advantage of the death of Henry’s father, John of Gaunt, completely to dispossess the Dukedom of Lancaster. York points out that this action will have dire consequences, but Richard ignores him. The unspoken point is that if Richard is prepared to do this to one of the great royal dukedoms created by his grandfather, Edward III, then large swathes of the nobility will be ready to oppose him; after all, any of them could be next. The reference to Henry’s letters patent and livery is based upon his right to succeed his father; since he himself is currently in exile, he needs to use attorneys general to sue on his behalf. But by ignoring all of this Richard places himself in the position of a tyrant who rules by whim and circumstance rather than by custom and law. It leads eventually to his cousin’s return to England, as he takes advantage of Richard’s absence in Ireland: I am denied to sue my livery here, And yet my letters-patents give me leave. My father’s goods are all distrain’d and sold, And these, and all, are all amiss employed. What would you have me do? I am a subject, And I challenge law. Attorneys are denied me, And therefore personally I lay my claim To my inheritance of free descent. (RII 2.3.129–36)

This argument is extremely important, because it allows Henry to gather support from among the nobility who are also present. There is still a great deal of debate as to whether he intended this early on to usurp the kingdom, or whether he simply took ruthless political advantage of a favourable developing situation. In any case, the usage of the term ‘livery’ is emblematic of his struggle to claim his basic right to inherit his father’s dukedom. Hotspur will later pick up on exactly these issues at 1 HIV 4.3.60–105 during his dangerous rebellion against the man who is now King Henry IV. Cade uses the word in his tospy-turvy promises to his rebels during the reign of Henry of Lancaster’s grandson, Henry VI: I thank you good people – there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score, and I will

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livery apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord. (2 HVI 4.2.72–5)

He inverts the usual use of the term to promise that there will be no distinctions between the people (except himself as king, of course). Richard of Gloucester makes a particularly nasty comment about the power of the queen’s relations: I’ll tell you what, I think it is our way, If we will keep in favour with the King, To be her men and wear her livery. (RIII 1.1.78–80)

The meaning is obvious: Edward IV is ruled by his lower-class queen. Mercutio uses the word in a similar way when he encounters Tybalt: Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my man. Mer. But I’ll be hang’d, sir, if he wear your livery. (RJ 3.1.56–7)

To be someone’s man means to serve and wear their livery. Tybalt has seen Romeo coming and simply says so; Mercutio puns on Tybalt’s meaning, thereby drawing attention to the rivalry between the two Houses. More figurative uses also occur, such as when Theseus lays down the law of Athens to Hermia: she can either be put to death for disobeying her father, or ‘endure the livery of a nun’ (AMND 1.1.70). Angelo also uses the word when he tells Isabella that he loves her (MM 2.4.138); Isabella repeats it when she recounts Angelo’s hypocrisy to her brother: ‘’tis the cunning livery of hell’ (MM 3.1.94). The wearing of liveries had to be common enough in Shakespeare’s London for these metaphorical uses to make sense to his audiences. (c) It is difficult to overestimate the importance of the livery companies of London to civic life. Picard (2004) gives a huge index entry at 382–3 that contains a couple of dozen elements of their contribution. Heal and Holmes (1994) deals with the wearing of liveries as part of the life of a household of the gentry at 283–4. Thomson (1995) describes several attempts on the part of monarchs to curb the power of the great 382

livery houses by banning or at least restricting the use of liveries; see 120–3 and 403–5.

London (a) Capital of England, and easily the largest city in the country. London grew massively in size during the Tudor period, becoming a magnet for anyone who came from the provinces and wanted to make a living – people such as Shakespeare, for example. The entertainment districts of London were famous, as well as being hated by the more sober-minded puritans for their supposed licentiousness. The main area lay just outside the City proper, in Southwark on the south bank of the Thames. It was reached by London Bridge, and here were located all of the possible recreations one could want: theatres, brothels, cockpits, bear-baiting arenas, gambling dens. In fact, all of the best entertainment money could buy aside from life at court, somewhere else that good religious citizens distrusted. There were also designated entertainment areas inside the City boundaries known as the ‘liberties’, such as the Blackfriars, where Shakespeare’s company owned a stone indoor theatre. The only times that the City authorities had jurisdiction over these areas was in times of plague or civil unrest. London was run by a corporation of businessmen, organized by liveried companies that had royal charters – these were the descendants of the medieval guilds. They were headed up by the Lord Mayor. London was also the location of important buildings of state, such as the great fortress of the Tower, and the law schools. In religious matters, the people of the city tended to the more radical end of the reforming spectrum. (b) London is the location in which Prince Hal carouses with his lowlife companions. This is noted by his father not long after he has acquired the crown, at RII 5.3.1–12; see Eastcheap. The prince sees the metropolis as a good place in which to have fun, especially when robbing the merchants and others drawn to the commercial hub: ‘traders riding to London with fat purses’ (1 HIV 1.2.127), as Poins calls them. Because it is the capital city, London has great strategic significance for any monarch who wishes to rule effectively. The great processions of state are staged here, such as the coronation of Anne Boleyn at H VIII 4.1 and the christening of the baby Princess Elizabeth at HVIII 5.4. London was well known as a centre of support for the 383

London House of Lancaster during the Wars of the Roses, probably as a direct consequence of the hatred of the city’s wealthier citizens for the forced loans and autocratic rule of Richard II; see Margaret of Anjou’s comments at 2 HVI 5.3.81–3. But life in London could be a noisy affair. It is the scene of faction fighting between the Duke of Gloucester and his rival, the Bishop of Winchester, at 1 HVI 1.3 and was famous for the rioting of its prentices. Captain Gower has a very jaundiced view of people like Pistol who could make a living begging in the streets of London: Why, ’tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and Then goes to the wars, to grace himself at his return Into London under the form of a soldier. (HV 3.6.67–9)

This kind of behaviour is familiar enough to Shakespeare’s audiences, especially given the various misadventures undertaken by Elizabeth’s forces in Ireland, not to mention her nobility getting themselves involved in wars on the continent. (c) Picard (2004) is a very full and lively description of life in London during this period. See Duffy (1992) at 453–8 for London’s reactions to the more radical religious reforms of the government of Edward VI.

lord (a) An appellation for a man of rank higher than that of the gentry; the equivalent of lady, although the masculine term is more restricted in its use. This includes high-ranking churchmen. The House of Lords is the upper chamber of parliament, and in this period only those with either a hereditary right or of high enough ecclesiastical standing can sit there. The word can also be used between spouses to denote the man of the couple, although usually only when he is of high degree. It is specifically added to the titles of the highest offices in the land, such as the Lord Chancellor. This is done to mark a difference from any other, lower, office that carries the same basic title. In more general usage, usually as a mild form of profanity, ‘the Lord’ refers to Jesus. (b) A good example of the word’s use as a general term of high rank occurs throughout 1 Henry VI with Lord Talbot, hero of the wars in 384

lord France. Following this logic, it can be used of generic faceless courtiers such as those who appear in Cymbeline at 1.2 and 2.1 with Cloten. King Henry uses it in its sense of ecclesiastical standing when he asks: ‘Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?’ at HV 1.2.1. The word’s utility in marriage occurs many times; see, for example, the interaction between Hotspur and his wife at 1 HIV 2.3, and the queen’s comments on Pisanio as reminding Imogen of ‘her lord’ the banished Posthumus at CYM 1.5.77–8. One of the most famous single uses in this sense is Oberon’s question to Titania: ‘Tarry, rash wanton! Am not I thy lord?’ (AMND 2.1.63). Desdemona very precisely delineates the requirements of patriarchy in the council chamber of Venice: My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty: To you I am bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn me How to respect you; you are the lord of duty; I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my husband; And so much duty as my mother show’d To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor, my lord. (OTH 1.3.180–9)

Desdemona’s lord is her father up to the point at which she transfers to a husband, who becomes her new lord. The patron of Shakespeare’s company until the accession of James I was the Lord Chamberlain. This is one of a number of offices that have ‘Lord’ as part of the title. Many others appear in the plays, such as the Lord Protector in 1 Henry VI. The man who holds this office is Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, brother to Henry V and uncle to the young king Henry VI. He is in conflict with Henry Beaufort, Bishop (later Cardinal) of Winchester over the war with France; as a member of the clergy, the Bishop thinks that the war should be ended. Also, he is effectively the faction leader of the Beauforts, the powerful noble family who are cousins to the direct line of the Lancastrian dynasty. Their enmity erupts into open fighting between their retainers and, almost, themselves as well at 1 HVI 1.3 as they meet outside the Tower of London. This is a good example of the use of ‘Lord’ with official titles, since the Lord Lieutenant of the Tower (Woodvile) is heard from inside 385

lord the complex, and the Lord Mayor of London turns up to quell the disturbance with his officers. Later on in the same play, Cardinal Beaufort greets the Duke of York as ‘Lord Regent’ (1 HVI 5.4.94), a title York carried while the weak king was mentally incapacitated. The Lord Chief Justice is something of a thorn in the flesh for Falstaff in 2 Henry IV, especially when he is confirmed in his office by the newly crowned Henry V. The Lord Chamberlain, an important post because it is effectively head of the household of the monarch, appears at various points in Henry VIII. The Lord Marshal, the highest military position in the land, is present at RII 1.3 when Norfolk and Herford are due to fight in single combat, which is the preserve of the Lord Marshal. By overruling this combat, King Richard demonstrates his tendency to autocracy. The term is available for more figurative language as well, as when Berowne rails against Cupid as, among other things, ‘lord of folded arms’ (LLL 3.1.181). The ultimate figurative use is probably religious, since the Lord with a capital is Jesus: ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’ exclaims Puck famously at (AMND 3.2.115). (c) Stone (1967) is the pre-eminent book on the aristocracy of Shakespeare’s England and up to the Civil War. He has an important chapter on the system of offices from 183–232. Palliser (1992) has some comments on the membership of the House of Lords at 13.

Lords, House of: see parliament love (a) A word used in all sorts of circumstances. It can denote liking, sympathy, loyalty, respect, political affiliation, trust, patriotism, and even passionate personal love (in its modern sense). The range of differentiations is important; love in this period is particularly charged with a host of social resonances that go well beyond the purely personal. The rise of individualism after the Renaissance has constructed something of a barrier for later periods when looking back at Shakespeare’s uses of the word. Some cultural and literary historians warn against a too simple assumption that love usually means what it seems to mean to us, even when it would appear that what is meant is personal. This can make many of the plays (and the Sonnets) difficult for us to unpack, because of their overt concern with ‘love’. It is possible to see the word 386

love as socially contested, a kind of site of criss-crossing concerns that overlap and contrast with one another. (b) There are occasions in the plays where the word’s use seems almost perfunctory. It is certainly often a conventional expression of loyalty or respect, shot through with the politeness of rank: This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, Made me to answer indirectly, as I said, And I beseech you, let not his report Come current for an accusation Betwixt my love and your high Majesty. (1 HIV 1.3.65–9)

Hotspur is here excusing his behaviour when confronted with some lord or other after a battle, demanding a report for the king of what has transpired. Typically, in the heat of the moment Hotspur answered rather hotly and this has seemed to King Henry at least to be a possible cooling of Hotspur’s loyalty. Hotspur himself encounters a similar use of the word when he receives a letter from a lord who is somewhat unwilling to commit to rebellion: ‘But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.’ (1 HIV 2.3.1–3)

‘Love’ here functions as a synonym for ‘respect’; it also smoothes over the surface of the various political dealings that are taking place. Someone who makes an assertion of love with this connotation is not necessarily to be trusted. Hotspur himself, who states his love to the king, leads a dangerous rebellion that costs him his life. Richard of Gloucester uses the word in a similar way when dissembling before the queen’s family at RIII 2.1.62; this occurs when his dying brother Edward IV is trying to make peace between all of the factions at his court. Henry V is very precise in exactly this collocation of meanings when the Southampton conspiracy is uncovered: Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons ’gainst this poor wretch!

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love If little faults, proceeding on distemper, Shall not be wink’d at, how shall we stretch our eye When capital crimes, chew’d, swallow’d, and digested, Appear before us? We’ll yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care And tender preservation of our person, Would have him punish’d. (HV 2.2.52–9)

To contextualize: a drunken soldier has been condemned by the three lords who are conspiring against the King. The audience has already been informed that treachery is afoot, so the scene is designed to take advantage of dramatic irony as Henry invokes love. There are occasions when this usage shades over into genuine respect between those of roughly equal social degree. Hotspur again provides an example, when he tells the Scot, Douglas, ‘a braver place In my heart’s love hath no man but yourself.’ (1 HIV 4.1.7–8). It is clear from his use of ‘braver’ that he is talking about mutual admiration based on military prowess. Commonly, this kind of admiration lends ‘love’ a sense of political association or affiliation: Brutus, I do observe you now of late; I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have. You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. (JC 1.2.32–6)

The ‘love’ between Cassius and Brutus may be some form of personal mutual respect (although they can be critical of each other), but ensuing events demonstrate that this ‘love’ is the basis for political action. In this sense, ‘love’ is the opposite of emulation. When the conspiracy is being organized, Cassius notes the danger posed by Mark Antony: ‘Yet I fear him, for in the engrafted love he bears to Caesar’ (JC 2.1.183–4); at this point Brutus interrupts him. This is an important moment, because this is the decision point for the whole conspiracy. When there is a wide disjunction in rank between those involved, ‘love’ is imbricated within another set of socially defined parameters: 388

love Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow when thou comest to thy father. If thou love me, practice an answer. Prince. Do thou stand for my father and examine me upon the particulars of my life. (1 HIV 2.4.373–7)

There follows one of the most famous comic scenes in the plays. But what is interesting is the sense in which ‘love’ functions in different ways for both Falstaff and Prince Hal. The fat knight is worried enough about the upcoming civil war, but he is perhaps even more so about the king’s possible dislike of the prince’s companions, including himself. So Falstaff’s love for the prince is shot through with self-interest, as events towards the end of 2 Henry IV will show. Hal, on the other hand, is using his low companions as a way of getting intimately to appreciate the views of the majority of his people, as opposed to the nobility. He is quite open about this to the audience, and famously says so directly to Falstaff after their mutual play on the king in court (1 HIV 2.4.481). When ‘love’ is mentioned in a context that crosses class boundaries, it does not always conceal something potentially negative; see the Second Lord’s aside to the audience when Cloten complains about Imogen’s love for Posthumus (CYM 1.2.25–7). See also Ophelia’s uncomprehending response to her father’s probing: ‘My lord, he hath importun’d me with love In honourable fashion’ (HAM 1.3.110–11). In both cases ‘love’ seems to approach nearest its modern conception, but even so events demonstrate that a romantic love that cuts across classes is subject to wider social and political pressures. Hamlet’s response to his own dangerous situation is to feign a form of madness that takes on something of a life of its own: This is the very ecstasy of love, Whose violent property fordoes itself, And leads the will to desperate undertakings As oft as any passion under heaven That does afflict our natures. (HAM 2.1.99–103)

Polonius certainly takes love to be the root cause of Hamlet’s melancholy, but even so he sees personal love as a dangerous emotion. 389

love All of the meanings so far explored impinge in one way or another upon the action of King Lear. Lear makes the mistake himself of assuming that a protestation of love really means some form of personal affection. The word appears initially in the short initial scene between Gloucester, Edmund and Kent, when the last named says ‘I must love you, and sue to know you better’ (KL 1.1.30) after being introduced to Edmund. The rest of the court enters and Lear first uses the word in relation to the suits of France and Burgundy for marriage to Cordelia at KL 1.1.46. Most famously, Lear then asks each of his daughters in turn to tell him just how much they love him. Their inheritance then depends on their verbiage: Gon. Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty, Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare, No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; As much as child e’er lov’d, or father found; A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable; Beyond all manner of so much I love you. Cor. [Aside.] What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent. (KL 1.1.55–62)

Goneril gets her reward, of course, but what is interesting about her rhetoric is that it means nothing. She defines her love negatively, that is, by comparison with that which it is not. Her words are very carefully chosen to give an impression of great weight and ultimately this is what counts with her father. Cordelia’s response is equally revealing: she says directly to the audience that she will simply love, and say nothing. This is important in performance terms. An aside in this theatre is not some kind of momentary glimpse into the inner psyche of a character. It is a direct statement to the audience, and by implication it is a judgement by one character on what is being said or done by others. When it is her turn, Regan adopts the same strategy as her sister. She also operates by comparison, but the terms in which she does so are based on her sister’s previous speech: Reg. I am made of that self mettle as my sister, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love; Only she comes too short, that I profess

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love Myself an enemy to all other joys Which the most precious square of sense possesses, And find I am alone felicitate In your dear Highness’ love. Cor. [Aside.] Then poor Cordelia! And yet not so, since I am sure my love’s More ponderous than my tongue. (KL 1.1.69–78)

Regan’s vocabulary plays on terms of value, such as ‘mettle’ with its aural pun on ‘metal’, ‘prize’, ‘worth’ and ‘possesses’. These can be taken to apply to love; they can also be purely materialistic terms. Cordelia’s second aside very precisely pinpoints the issues at stake: for her, love is not dependent on a ponderous tongue. The exact repetition of a speech on love followed by an aside, then followed by Lear’s decision, patterns the scene in such a way as to focus expectation on a third statement. But of course Cordelia follows on from her spoken decision to the audience not to follow her sisters’ lead. This results in the explosion of Lear’s temper as he disinherits his youngest daughter. Yet another meaning of the word then appears when Kent speaks out against what is happening: Royal Lear, Whom I have ever honour’d as my king, Lov’d as my father, as my master follow’d, As my great patron thought on in my prayers – (KL 1.1.139–42)

Kent’s love is that of the loyal feudal retainer; a bit too loyal, in fact, for Lear’s taste. Rather than hear something he knows he will not like, the old king interrupts Kent’s speech. The earl’s response is uncompromising: be Kent unmannerly When Lear is mad. What wouldest thou do, old man? Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour’s bound, When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state, And in thy best consideration check This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgement, Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least,

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love Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds Reverb no hollowness. (KL 1.1.145–54)

Kent’s vocabulary is hardly respectful. His response focuses the audience’s attention once again on the concept of love, or rather the competing values placed upon it by the various characters. Shakespeare’s audiences are well aware of the nuances of the spoken word; what matters here is the way that the play explicitly draws their attention inexorably towards the status of the various rhetorical techniques used to define ‘love’. And when rhetoric is involved, language inevitably becomes bound up with the positions that lie behind it, as is very much the case with the two older sisters. In other words, language is not transparent or neutral. Rhetorical manipulation is always managed by and on behalf of some agenda. By failing to recognize that this is the case, even when one of his trusted retainers tries to intervene, Lear fails as a sovereign. He reacts to others, he does not impose his will upon them. He has become an irascible old man looking for some kind of love when his first duty must be to his kingdom. In this situation, ‘love’ criss-crosses between personal and social meanings in ways that would make perfect sense to a contemporary audience. What constitutes love, and ultimately who has the final say on its definition, becomes something of a test case for the play as it develops. It is one of those terms that reappear constantly in the play, another one being ‘nature’. The usual critical terminology that these are ‘recurring motifs’ or similar, is not precise enough to deal with the meanings generated by this kind of linguistic logic. The word ‘love’ reverberates through the play, bouncing from one set of meanings to another. Edmund notes that ‘Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund As to th’ legitimate.’ (KL 1.2.17). The disguised Earl of Kent and Goneril’s steward Oswald end up fighting each other: Osw. Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house? Kent. Ay. Osw. Where may we set our horses? Kent. I’ th’ mire. Osw. Prithee, if thou lov’st me, tell me. Kent. I love thee not. (KL 2.2.1–7)

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love Kent goes on to describe the kind of courtier which he perceives Oswald to be, and it is quite a list. In this meeting, Kent’s definite ‘I love thee not’ inverts the usual polite usage of ‘love’ to denote respect. In the new world of Goneril and Regan inhabited by men such as Oswald, ‘love’ comes to mean something else: ‘I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love.’ (KL 3.5.24–5) says Cornwall to Edmund, when the latter has betrayed his father. Residual meanings similar to Kent’s at the beginning of the play do still exist. Goneril’s husband, Albany, is the only one of the four highest ranking people in the kingdom who is not utterly self-seeking in some kind of quest for supreme power. He praises Gloucester for the service to Lear that cost him his eyes: ‘Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou show’dst the King’ (KL 4.2.94–5). Here love means something like duty; but continued duty to meanings associated with the old regime now carries a price. Lear himself finally realizes this when he meets up with Cordelia: If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me, for your sisters Have (as I do remember) done me wrong: You have some cause; they have not. (KL 4.7.71–4)

The actions of Goneril and Regan are not based upon anything done to them by their father; therefore, so much more extreme should be Cordelia’s revenge after what he does to her at the start of the play. In effect, what all of this does is open up a massive contradiction at the heart of patriarchal ideology. Lear the old king, the ultimate patriarch, presents Cordelia with an impossible dilemma. He orders her to speak as he does her sisters. Their speech gains them great independent power. But for Cordelia, to speak means to compete with her sisters. If she speaks, she is like them, an unruly woman; if she does not, she disobeys her father. Either way, she is damned. Love is therefore a site of contestation for massive social pressures. The forces unleashed by Lear drive him through madness into the arms of the one daughter he really does wrong. And, of course, being true to her stock role of the good daughter, she does nothing about it. After all, she is played by a man. Even King Lear does not exhaust the possibilities of this word. Brutus invokes it in his funeral oration for Caesar: ‘Not that I lov’d Caesar 393

love less, but that I lov’d Rome more’ (JC 3.2.21–2). Patriotism is the reason Brutus gives for assassinating the dictator. In The Tempest, Prospero says that the reason for his usurping brother allowing he and the baby Miranda to live was ‘So dear the love my people bore me’ (TEM 1.2.141). But then this assertion comes from a man who has admitted that he completely ignored state business in favour of his studies. Prospero is also the only one who gives a version of these events, so whether or not one should trust him is a moot point. A similar set of meanings emerges in Henry VIII: All the commons Hate him perniciously, and, o’ my conscience, Wish him ten fadom deep. This duke as much They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham, The mirror of all courtesy (HVIII 2.1.49–53)

The Second Gentleman’s comparison of Wolsey with Buckingham is interrupted by the latter’s procession towards the Tower of London for his execution. The play has been very careful to arraign Buckingham against Wolsey and the distinction the Second Gentleman makes between the two of them reinforces their opposition. However, the terms in which his comparison is couched are very interesting because they imply that public support for Buckingham has been the key factor in his downfall. This was in fact one reason for his death, but the comparison was to the detriment of the king, not the cardinal. Buckingham was a very serious potential candidate for the throne, much more so when one remembers the very precarious claim of the House of Tudor. At the time Buckingham was judicially murdered by Henry, the only person standing between him and the crown was Henry’s young daughter, Mary. The people’s interest in Buckingham that is denoted by the word ‘love’ here is an important factor in all of this; as the initial glamour of Henry’s succession to his parsimonious father began to wear off, Henry simply decided to get rid of him. Many of the plays do of course register a sense of love that is similar to our conception of romantic passion between two individuals. But such a love affair can have socially embarrassing consequences, and this is what occasions the plot line of Measure For Measure; see Claudio’s conversation with Lucio at MM 1.2.145–56. The confusions produced 394

love here would have made perfect sense to a contemporary audience. There were various possible stages towards a full marriage; much medieval and Renaissance diplomacy was concerned with the minutiae of such pre-contracts and betrothals. Certainly in England the status of Juliet’s relationship with Claudio would be considered a marriage; it just had not been made fully public yet. Juliet’s pregnancy reveals the truth of their situation a little earlier than they would have liked; unfortunately for them, it also coincides with Angelo’s decision to implement the full laws of Vienna on immoral behaviour. But passion stirs Angelo himself when he meets Claudio’s sister Isabella, surprising him with its vehemence (MM 2.2.176–86). This is exactly the kind of passionate love Othello has, and loses, for Desdemona: Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again. (OTH 3.3.90–2)

The power of his love is turned by Iago’s insinuations into a force for jealousy. The means Iago uses to do so are important: he plays upon the social conventions that have been violated by Desdemona’s marriage. Romantic love in this period is always potentially imbricated in a wide network of social relations; the higher up the social scale one goes, the wider the ripples. For the upper classes, there is a whole discourse of love. Courtly love, as it is usually called, carries with it a whole baggage of associations. They are a very well known part of literary culture, so much so that they impinge directly on pretty much any upper-class liaisons. They are also easily available for parody such as the play within a play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, or Romeo’s posturing to Benvolio: ‘Out of her favour where I am in love’ (RJ 1.1.168). There then follows a long exchange between the two in which Benvolio gently mocks Romeo’s conventional love posture by using the terms of the convention himself. None of this makes any sense unless to an audience for whom the discourse is already wearisomely familiar. This part of the play is obviously meant to contrast with what happens to Romeo when he infiltrates the ball thrown by Lord Capulet at RJ 1.5 and sees Juliet for the first time. Courtly love discourse is not always positive; as so often with a rhetorical construction, the pose can mask serious problems: 395

love ‘But woe is me, too early I attended A youthful suit – it was to gain my grace; O, one by nature’s outwards so commended That maidens’ eyes stuck over all his face. Love lack’d a dwelling and made him her place; And when in his fair parts she did abide, She was new lodg’d and newly deified. (LC 78–84)

This is spoken by a woman who said yes to a ‘suit . . . to gain my grace’, a vocabulary that is straight out of the courtly love tradition. It is very clear that in this instance at least the convention masks a ruthless pursuit of sex, and a woman in this society who consents to sex without marriage could effectively become outcast. This is because of the value placed on women’s sexual status by patriarchy, a social construction that lies beneath even extreme instances of wooing such as RIII 1.2. In courtly love poetry, the woman beloved of the writer is placed on a pedestal and worshipped. The language used is adapted from medieval romance, as the woman becomes a lady to be served by her suitor. This is especially the case if there is a disparity in rank between them. Even so, patriarchy requires the woman to be a passive recipient of the verses; at the very most, she can deny the poet’s suit, or ignore him. But she is not supposed to take action herself, at least by patriarchal logic, since the very definition of femininity in this system is pure passivity. By the time Shakespeare was becoming established as a playwright in London, a vogue for courtly love sonnets reached the height of poetic fashion. But this is quite late in terms of the convention’s history. At the same time as plenty of sonnets are being written that stay within the parameters set by the tradition, others are produced that lay bare the assumptions behind it. This is not exactly a new twist, since poets are supposed to play with the conventions they inhabit, which is about as close to a definition of originality one will find for the period. But in the case of sonnet collections, it does produce some surprisingly powerful, even unsettling, poetry. Shakespeare’s own sonnets are usually dated to the period, roughly, of the closure of the theatres due to a particularly bad outbreak of the plague (1593, or thereabouts), although this does not necessarily mean that all of them were written at that point. They are mostly addressed to a young man who is represented as being of much higher social status than the poet. Some of them (the later ones in 396

love the collection) are written to a disturbing woman. The language of love associated with the sonnet convention is therefore adapted by Shakespeare to suit his subjects; the problem for us at the other end of the rise of individualism is that it is extremely difficult to pinpoint where romantic, personal love comes in all of this, if it does at all. This issue is not trivial, since if Shakespeare is sincerely writing in love to a young man, he is homosexual or bisexual. But there is a further problem: sexuality as an index of identity can only be dated from a much later period; what matters in the Renaissance is one’s rank. Therefore the sonnets to the young friend are shot through with a language of love taken from the traditional methodology of sonnets addressed to a woman, in which the poet serves the beloved. If the young man is of such superior degree to the poet, then a whole logic of patronage necessarily impinges on the language we would normally assume to be romantic. All of this is extremely difficult for us to unpick at this distance in time, although a start can be made with numbers 1–17. These form a sub-group organized around an interwoven theme; they are poems designed to try to persuade the upper-class young man to do his duty and beget an heir in order to continue the lineage of his house. The problem is that he doesn’t want to: For shame deny that thou bear’st love to any, Who for thyself art so unprovident. Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belov’d of many, But that thou none lov’st is most evident; For thou art so possess’d with murd’rous hate, That ’gainst thyself thou stick’st not to conspire, Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate Which to repair should be thy chief desire. (SON 10.1–8)

This poem identifies the young friend’s self-interest in terms of repair to a ‘beauteous roof’; by refusing to marry and have children to continue the line, he is accused of hating himself. ‘Love’ in these circumstances is a relationship between the young man and his own lineage. Shakespeare’s sonnets move very quickly from one set of ideas to another, which has led many commentators to wonder about their status as a collection of poems in sequential order. One of the best known is Sonnet 20, which has excited a great deal of commentary around the issue of the poet’s sexuality: 397

love But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure, Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their treasure. (SON 20.13–14)

The ‘she’ referred to in the poem’s final couplet is nature. She has endowed him with an instrument to pleasure women, but the poet nevertheless wants love to be between the young man and himself, even as the ‘use’ of his love goes to women. Another important collocation in these poems is that of patronage: Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, To thee I send this written ambassage To witness duty, not to show my wit; (SON 26.1–4)

The vocabulary here is one of deference to superior rank, following on from the conventional postures in the sonnet tradition. In this context, ‘merit’ is socially constructed, rather than a personal quality. The poet’s love is clearly overdetermined by an unequal relationship; it is not, in this poem at least, some form of personal bond. The poems to the young man, numbered from 1–126, oscillate across all of the associations of the term ‘love’ that are bound up with its social construction in this period. Sonnet 108.4 replicates the language of number 26. Even another of the best known, number 116, can be seen to operate within this overall context: Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments; love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. (SON 116.1–4)

A modern reader would see this in straightforward terms of personal love; the poet in this reading would be saying that his love’s truth forbids him from changing, even if his lover has done so. A Renaissance reader might instead see it as a patronage relationship, one in which the patron is changing, while the lower-class poet cannot afford to do so. It could of course be both, but the point is that to assume that all of the occurrences of ‘love’ in these poems are automatically personal may be 398

love to misunderstand them by reducing the range of meanings in an ahistorical fashion. The so-called ‘Dark Lady’ sonnets (127–54) present another set of problems in deciphering what the lexical item ‘love’ might denote. These poems are written with a very precise knowledge of the traditional conventions (see 130). However, the drive to register some sort of originality produces this beloved as a set of dark eyes: Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. (SON 132.1–4)

This is an exceptionally knowing development of a standard courtly love conceit, the power of the lady’s eyes. But such blackness inevitably carries emblematic associations of deep untrustworthiness in this period. A situation is produced in which the poet is supposed to be attracted to the woman by the logic of the form, while at the same time he notes her falseness: When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, (SON 138.1–2)

The sense of disquiet that lies behind such a complex relationship gives rise to the disgust of Sonnet 129 as well as other instances of confusion: In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note; But ’tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who in despite of view is pleas’d to dote; (SON 141.1–4)

This is an important observation by the poet, because it notes a massive disjunction between his gaze and his heart. The privileged position reserved for the male gaze in patriarchy has failed here. This is a woman who cannot easily be defined by a man in concert with the power of a full literary tradition behind him; it is no wonder that he 399

love finds her so unsettling. This context produces the impossible love of Sonnet 147: My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, (SON 147.1–2)

Love here is not a fixed, easily definable emotion. It is not even a stable piece of vocabulary, because it acts as a site across which so many conflicting meanings are played out. One should be very wary of such extreme linguistic complexity when dealing with a term that at first sight seems so straightforward as ‘love’; to reduce it to the purely personal is radically to misread its potentiality in this period. (c) Stone (1990) lays out a framework for investigating the relationship between family and love at 76–88. He uses phraseology such as ‘affective relationships’ in order to try to avoid the inevitable misunderstandings that arise because of the semantic changes around ‘love’. Stone (1967) also delves into some of these areas, this time in relation to the aristocracy, at 269–302. For the relatively relaxed attitude to sex before marriage, but after a marital agreement had been reached, see Amussen (1988), 108–11. Heal and Holmes (1994) locate the existence of personal affection in marriages among the gentry at 62, but they do so in a context in which economics and status have a prior importance. Henry VIII found out the hard way that falling in passionate love is not something that is advisable for a king to do; for his marriage to Catherine Howard, see Starkey (2004), 649–84. Elizabeth I’s supposed love affairs were inevitably dominated by matters of state. She does seem to have fallen genuinely in love quite late on with one of her suitors, the Duke of Anjou. She was finally unable to marry him because of English xenophobia; see Somerset (1997), 392–421. Charney (2000) is a relatively accessible literary critical reading of love in Shakespeare. Howard (2000) looks at love and marriage in Shakespeare in terms of generic conventions at 303–8. For the role of personal affective love leading up to marriage in the plays, see Neely (1993), 1–23. Henderson (2003) is a useful introduction to the concepts and conventions of love poetry. Spiller (1992) is a book-length treatment of the relationship between courtly love and the development of the sonnet form. For an important overview of categories of sexuality in the 400

love period, see Bray (1995). Sedgwick (1985) follows on from the first edition of Bray’s work and relates it specifically to Shakespeare’s sonnets at 28–48. See also Bruce Smith (1994), 228–70. Barrell (1991) provides a provocative analysis of Sonnet 29 as embodying a language of patronage via the term ‘love’, at 18–43. For a full discussion of the relationship between courtly love and the Renaissance sonnet and how this affects Shakespeare’s poems, see Innes (1997).

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M mace Originally a medieval weapon designed to bash plate armour that cannot easily be pierced; blunt trauma was one way to cope with such armour. Maces were usually one-handed, with a wooden haft and a metal head, although great maces for use with two hands also existed. These were the ancestors of the ceremonial maces borne by various officials for official functions. Henry V makes reference to a ceremonial mace during his speech on ceremony at HV 4.1.261. Others appear as stage props in the ceremonials in Henry VIII; see the scene directions for 2.4 and 4.1 in the order of the coronation, points 3 and 5. For the development of the mace, along with line drawings of models from different centuries, see Norman and Pottinger (1979), at 69, 95 and 126.

magistrate A presiding judge at law. He can be a senior member of the profession, especially when serious crimes are involved. In county courts the magistrate is usually a Justice of the Peace. Richard of Gloucester uses a piece of legal sophistry to persuade his father to outright rebellion near the beginning of 3 Henry VI: An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate

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magistrate That hath authority over him that swears. Henry had none, but did usurp the place. (3 HVI 1.2.22–5)

The ensuing outbreak leads to the Wars of the Roses being renewed in earnest. In The Tempest Gonzalo makes a utopian speech based on the old legends about the Land of Cockayne, which includes the statement ‘no name of magistrate’ (TEM 2.1.150). For the status of the magistracy, including Justices of the Peace, see Heal and Holmes (1994), 168–89, and Edelman (2000), 184–5.

majesty (a) A term used in reference to a monarch by others, or in direct personal address. (b) A monarch is automatically assumed to be majestic and to act with majesty – the term accords with the position. But the plays dramatize many occasions when this is not the case, especially when some form of usurpation has taken place: Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves The scourge of greatness to be us’d on it, And that same greatness too which our own hands Have holp to make so portly. North. My lord – King. Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye. O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow. (1 HIV 1.3.10–19)

Worcester reminds Henry IV that his faction helped make him king. Henry nevertheless refuses to act in any way that would detract from his pre-eminence, however it was acquired. The exchange between them masks a fundamental problem: can a king raised up high by his peers from their own ranks be truly a king, or must he always be beholden to those who helped him? Henry’s vocabulary assumes an absolute priority of degree as he compares majesty with a ‘servant brow’. But his attempt to put Worcester in his place fails and the result is a deadly rebellion: 403

majesty And God defend but still I should stand so, So long as out of limit and true rule You stand against anointed majesty. (1 HIV 4.3.38–40)

Blunt’s words to the rebels when he has come before them as a messenger from the king are very much to the point. He is basing his reply to them on the theory that it really does not matter that Henry IV usurped the throne, because he is now the anointed king. This is important, because it allows the House of Lancaster at least some form of justification for its occupation of the throne after the deposition of Richard II. The ceremony of the coronation includes the anointing of the monarch with sacred oil and in medieval Catholic times, this was considered to be effectively a sacrament, marking out the recipient as approved by God. There is therefore an assumption that the ceremony involved wipes out any prior sins. This is not simply religious sophistry, because it is one of the roots of later theories of absolutism, including the stance taken by Henry VIII in relation to the papal supremacy. The problem with the previous king, Richard II, was that he did not act in the ways that were assumed to be appropriate to a king by his nobility. There is a disjunction between his autocratic behaviour and the support he needs in order to be able to continue to rule: I had forgot myself, am I not king? Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. Is not the king’s name twenty thousand names? Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, Ye favourites of a king: are we not high? (RII 3.2.83–8)

This might be stirring rhetoric, but by this point in the play what Richard needs really is twenty thousand men; the name of king is not enough to shore up his failing state. His favourites know this, hence the downcast looks to which he refers. King Henry VI has one of his morbid fits when he finds out that Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, is dead. Suffolk tries to comfort him, and this is Henry’s response: 404

majesty Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say! Their touch affrights me as a serpent’s sting. Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. (2 HVI 3.2.46–50)

The play has shown Suffolk’s men smothering Gloucester, murdering him in his bed. This is one of many crimes attributed to this particular duke, one of which was also being the queen’s secret lover, probably the real father of Prince Edward of Lancaster. Henry does not mention any of this in the passage just quoted. However, he not only recognizes the power Suffolk has accumulated, he also equates it with majesty. It has taken the death of Gloucester to waken the weak king up to the fact that Suffolk has been ruling him, and through him, the kingdom, a country described by John of Gaunt in his famous dying speech as ‘This earth of majesty’ (RII 2.1.41), among other things. (c) See Thomson (1995), 93–101, for some comments on the instability of the monarchy in the period covered by the two tetralogies. For the tone of the first decade of the reign of Henry VIII, see Wilson (2002), 97–111. The kind of majesty cultivated by Elizabeth I is explored in Levin (1994), 10–38.

manners (a) Behaviour. Good personal manners are polished and refined; this sense is often associated with the court or those of high rank generally. The word also has a slightly broader meaning when applied to the group behaviour of people who live in an area or town, effectively ‘customs’. (b) Worcester uses the word with its standard personal association while trying to persuade Hotspur to ameliorate his rash behaviour: You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault; Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood – And that’s the dearest grace it renders you – Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, want of government, Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain,

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manners The least of which haunting a nobleman Loseth men’s hearts and leaves behind a stain Upon the beauty of all parts besides, Beguiling them of commendation. (1 HIV 3.1.178–87)

Rashness may be admirable in a warrior knight, but it does have its limits when it comes to delicate diplomatic negotiations. Worcester’s advice is political, the other part of knightly behaviour. After all, there is no point in being just very good at killing people; one also has to have a certain kind of courtliness in order to get others to agree with you and do things for you. In other words, Hotspur always acts in a manner that is too violent, even though violent affective action is a major part of his life. Jessica voices similar distaste at MV 2.3.19. An even more extreme example comes when the Lancastrian Clifford insults Richard of Gloucester: Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! (2 HVI 5.1.157–8)

This is obviously based on the Tudor propaganda that depicted Richard as deformed. But it also serves an important point in performance by singling out a character who is gradually going to acquire more and more importance as the tetralogy moves beyond the halfway point. Another example comes from All’s Well That Ends Well, when the countess’ jester decribes what he thinks is the proper way to conduct oneself in that environment: Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court. He that cannot make a leg, put off’s cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court; (AW 2.2.8–13)

What matters here is that courtly manners mask the danger of saying anything at all that really counts. In other words, some of the negative associations of the court are linked with its delicate manners. 406

manners The more generalized usage of the word to refer to customs occurs when Antipholus of Syracuse arrives in Ephesus. He acts like a tourist: Within this hour it will be dinner-time; Till that, I’ll view the manners of the town, Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, And then return and sleep within mine inn, For with long travel I am stiff and weary. (CE 1.2.11–15)

This is one of those instances of a word that has had its range of meanings narrowed over time. (c) Elias (1983) traces the development of manners in Europe; by ‘manners’ he means a mode of behaviour that forces some self-restraint on the violent upper classes. Picard (2004) has some information in Renaissance table manners at 182–5, as well as a section on manners in general from 207–9.

mansion (a) Shakespeare uses this word rather imprecisely, to denote any large house owned by the upper classes. The term also lends itself to figurative use. (b) When the word is used by Lady Macduff, it presumably means a manor house, which in Scotland could be something of a fortress. This is of course slightly anachronistic, given the period in which it is set, but it is typical of the ways in which the landscape and habitations of the country are re-imagined for London audiences: L.Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land? Rosse. You must have patience, madam. L.Macd. He had none; His flight was madness. When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. Rosse. You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. L.Macd. Wisdom? to leave his wife, to leave his babes,

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mansion His mansion and his titles in a place From whence himself does fly? (MAC 4.2.1–8)

Lady Macduff is correct – her husband’s action can only be interpreted as treason, at least in the political climate of the play at that point. This is in fact what happens, and the end result is the massacre of Macduff’s family, which itself triggers Macduff’s vengeance. These events have always puzzled commentators, because Lady Macduff is absolutely right when she says that her husband’s actions make no real sense. But there is a certain dramatic logic to them, as they demonstrate the continuation of Macbeth’s cruelty after he has achieved the throne. Juliet uses the word figuratively in her soliloquy on her love for Romeo: ‘I have bought the mansion of a love, But not possess’d it’ (RJ 3.2.26–7). Romeo repeats the word in the next scene when he thinks of suicide (RJ 3.3.108), using it as a metaphor for his body. So does Sonnet 95, but in a relatively negative sense: O, what a mansion have those vices got Which for their habitation chose out thee, Where beauty’s veil doth cover every blot, And all things turns to fair that eyes can see! (SON 95.9–12)

Here the fair outward appearance of the young man, imaged as a mansion, hides a more murky inner reality. (c) Picard (2004) lists some of the mansions in and around London at 54–6. Elizabeth’s reign saw a massive rebuilding programme as her nobility embarked on the great so-called prodigy houses. Bess of Hardwick’s beloved Chatsworth was one of these; for some details of its magnificent architectural ornamentation, see Lovell (2005), 77–8.

marble A hard, patterned stone, used for grand architecture, statuary and funerary monuments. Marble is very hard and smooth when polished with techniques that bring out the contrasting colours of the ingrained patterns. It is a particularly expensive stone to use, because it has to be cut in a certain way in order to take advantage of its hardness 408

marble without damaging it. The work required to bring it to the most valued state of presentation is considerable. Only the very wealthy and powerful can afford it. The association with those of high rank and its durability provide a set of figurative uses. Posthumus’ vision in Cymbeline is a visually powerful set piece. One of his family spirits who call on Jupiter to give Posthumus his due is his dead father, Sicilius: ‘Peep through thy marble mansion’ (CYM 5.4.87). Marble must be a grand material if Jupiter’s house is made from it. Most of the other uses of the word in Shakespeare occur in references to funerary monuments. See HAM 1.4.50; HVIII 3.2.433; and MM 5.1.233. Probably the most well-known instance occurs in the Sonnets: Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this pow’rful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time. (SON 55.1–4)

This is an old poetic conceit, albeit a paradoxical monument, since debate still rages about the identity of the young man of the sonnets. The plays contain several metaphorical uses of the stone, usually to denote its hard-wearing qualities. See 3 HVI 3.2.50; KL 1.4.259; and AC 5.2.240. Stone (1967) describes the outrageous costs associated with aristocratic funerals and monuments at 263–4.

mariner: see navy marquis A degree of nobility between duke and earl. The controversial Lancastrian Suffolk was originally a marquis; he was later raised to the level of a dukedom by Henry VI (see 2 Henry VI). In some of the history plays that deal with later periods, the Marquis of Dorset is a figure who appears several times. He is one of the many nobles who cause so much difficulty for modern audiences; keeping track of exactly which is which is not easy. However, he is an important personage in his own right. He is one of Queen Elizabeth Woodville’s sons by her first marriage and manages to survive Richard’s purges; he flees to join 409

marquis Richmond abroad and is one of the nobles who returns with him to claim the throne. A later Marquis of Dorset appears in Anne Boleyn’s coronation procession at HVIII 4.1. There does not appear to be a separate title for a woman of this rank; Dorset’s wife is mentioned as ‘Lady Marquess Dorset’ at HVIII 203; the variant spelling seems to be used for women. The Marquis of Dorset who appears in Richard III was in fact left behind in France by Richmond when he launched his final invasion; Shakespeare’s inclusion of Dorset amongst Richmond’s followers is a fabrication. See Ross (1999), 208n.

marriage (a) In this period marriage was not necessarily the result of a mutual love, even though much of the literature and drama is concerned with love in its more romantic forms. Instead, economic calculations played a large part as did the relative degree of the prospective couple, especially when one or both was from the gentry or higher. This means that many marriages were arranged, often by the parents of those involved. Shakespeare’s dramas register many of these forces that impinge on marriage. (b) At the top of the social scale, a marriage is important because it carries with it not only the usual considerations of status and wealth, but diplomatic alliance as well. This makes royal marriages especially important and the interests at stake are immense: Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect And surer bind this knot of amity, The Earl of Arminack, near knit to Charles, A man of great authority in France, Proffers his only daughter to your Grace In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. (1 HVI 5.1.15–20)

Gloucester’s statement to his young king is important because it comes in the midst of a discussion about peace with France. Diplomacy plays a large part in such marriages and the wedding would often follow the conclusion of a treaty stipulating some sort of alliance. Manoeuvres of this kind had been part and parcel of medieval European international 410

marriage relations for centuries. In this instance Gloucester, as Lord Regent, is also playing the part of a kind of surrogate father to Henry VI by looking after his nephew’s interests for him. But the proposed match collapses when Suffolk returns from the wars in France with an alternative in the form of Margaret of Anjou. The play follows a common supposition in making Suffolk fall in love with Margaret, although it is not yet entirely clear if she reciprocates. At the very least, Suffolk’s charisma has an obvious effect on the impressionable king and this, combined with the marquis’ description of Margaret’s beauty, makes Henry change his mind to prefer the second suggestion (1 HVI 5.5). The decision gives rise to all sorts of problems, and not only because Henry was effectively pre-contracted to the first choice; such contracts were often set aside, repudiated or simply ignored if the winds of international politics changed. The situation here has changed, but not for reasons of policy. By changing his mind on what seems suspiciously like a whim, Henry is beginning to demonstrate a capacity for being easily influenced that is going to lead to a great deal of trouble in the long run. One of the main reasons for this is not only the relatively impoverished state of Margaret, but also the alliance she makes with Suffolk as the man who arranged her rise in status, as well as probably being her lover. The effects on the kingdom, at least so far as the nobility is concerned, are disastrous: ‘shameful is this league, Fatal this marriage’ (2 HVI 1.1.98–9) says Gloucester at the start of the second of the three Henry VI plays. This is only a short section from a long speech in which Gloucester lays out the political implications of this marriage and, unsurprisingly, he is mostly concerned with England’s reputation in the hierarchy of states; he is the king’s uncle, and thus brother to the great conqueror Henry V. But there is another, more insidious side to all of this, which Gloucester recognizes in reference to Suffolk’s ascendancy over the impressionable king at 2 HVI 1.1.109. A new round of faction fighting within the House of Lancaster and its supporters is about to break out. Gloucester himself was not immune to this, almost occasioning a civil war in his hatred for his powerful cousins, the Beauforts, but this time round the impetus will prove to be irreversible. It will lead to Gloucester’s death on Suffolk’s orders, or so at least the play suggests. The liaison between Margaret and Suffolk will so weaken the power base of the king that a dangerous vacuum appears, and this will be the opportunity for the Plantagenet House of York to claim the throne. Whether or not all of this is historically correct is irrelevant; what 411

marriage matters is the dramatic presentation of well-known events and their consequences, and the marriage between Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou is one such event. Strangely enough, history repeats itself in distorted form when Edward of York finally attains the throne. Henry VI is allowed to live even as Edward IV is crowned, and his great supporter Warwick the ‘Kingmaker’ goes to France to negotiate a diplomatic marriage alliance on behalf of this young king; see 3 HVI 2.6.87–98. It is a very powerful marriage alliance that Warwick proposes. The lady in question happens to have the King of France as her brother and, as Warwick notes, the diplomacy involved will ensure the full safety of the Yorkist hold on the English crown. This is an indirect reference to the Lancastrian exiles, including Margaret of Anjou and her son Edward of Lancaster, who have fled to the French court to seek an alliance of their own. If Edward IV marries Bona, that avenue is closed to the Lancastrian cause, which effectively heads off any real possibility of foreign aid to potential rebels at home. Warwick’s idea is a superb piece of marital diplomacy on the grand medieval model and it almost works: From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My lord and sovereign and thy vowed friend, I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, First, to do greetings to thy royal person, And then, to crave a league of amity, And lastly, to confirm that amity With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, To England’s King in lawful marriage. (3 HVI 3.3.49–57)

Warwick’s initial speech to the King of France goes down well. His proposal is couched in the correct language and links the marriage with the political context in the expected manner. Margaret of Anjou, who is present at the French court, interrupts, pointing out that the only possible reason Edward of York could have for this suggestion is ruthless self-interest (to borrow a modern phrase). But the French king is himself a player at realpolitik. He says that he realizes this, but then Edward is the man sitting on the English throne at the moment, regardless of any sympathy he or anyone else in France might have for Margaret’s plight. 412

marriage The next interruption, however, undoes the proposed marriage project, as a messenger arrives for Warwick from home. The news is disastrous, as everyone present is informed that Edward has in the meantime married the widow of a minor lord who has died in the fighting. Edward’s famous libido has got the better of him, and Warwick is absolutely furious. So much so, in fact, that he changes sides on the spot and betroths his own daughter, Anne, to Edward of Lancaster. With the weight of Warwick’s military power now thrown behind the Lancastrians, plus the insult itself, King Louis decides to help them out; see 3 HVI 3.3.251–65. The combination of forces arrayed against the Yorkists is now formidable, and will lead (temporarily, at least) to a Lancastrian restoration. Warwick does have an extremely exalted view of his own importance, but then he is correct when he says that he was the one man who made Edward of York a king. There is also a certain logic to the Kingmaker’s position: if the throne is being bandied around by weak fools like Henry and a former duke who is unable to keep his wandering eye to himself, then why should not someone like himself judge such men? The coinage of royalty has by now become so debased that a monarch’s behaviour can easily be questioned. And in the meantime, a noble, not a king, holds the greatest military power in the kingdom. Questions of state marriage are therefore a convenient way of dramatizing the condition of the state itself, a kind of metonym for royal conduct. Even so, these are not correct representations of the historical events that in fact occurred; Warwick was in England at the time of Edward IV’s marriage and was present as a senior figure at the new queen’s coronation. The split between he and Edward was the result of Edward freezing him out from pre-eminence slightly later than this. Warwick is not the only high noble to feel this way in the drama. Back in England, Edward’s marriage to Lady Grey fragments the other mainstay of his power, his relationship with his two surviving brothers, Clarence and Gloucester. They note the implications of what he has done, at 3 HVI 4.1.9–33. Passages such as this have lost their force for modern audiences that are four hundred years removed from Shakespeare’s contemporaries, never mind the period between the Renaissance and the Wars of the Roses. But to those watching the plays at their first performances, characters such as the three sons of York would still have a very real set of associations about them: Edward’s animal sexuality and physical prowess; Clarence’s temper and cunning; and 413

marriage Gloucester’s vicious lust for power. These are all caricatures of course, but they were well enough known to work on stage. The interaction here between the three brothers marks the first time that they have come into conflict with one another. Edward is right to note that Clarence is unhappy about his marriage, and that Gloucester is scornful (his sarcastic quotation of the marriage rite is typical of the character created for him). But at the same time, the two younger brothers are correct; this is going to stir up vast amounts of trouble. So much so, in fact, that Clarence betrays his brothers and sides with Warwick on his return, even conducting a marriage alliance of his own with Warwick’s other daughter. Edward loses his throne because all of his military force has left him due to Warwick’s defection, and Gloucester becomes a fugitive. As with the Lancastrian regime before them, the Yorkists turn on one another in a savage bout of faction fighting, one that leads to their own removal from power. But here the correspondence with the earlier marriage between Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou ends. Edward is no Henry. After Gloucester helps him to escape his own imprisonment, the two of them flee abroad and return at the head of an army, just like the Lancastrians did. And in the final battle, Edward wins and the House of Lancaster is obliterated. A question needs to be asked here: what, if any, are the consequences for society at large of royal marriages such as these? At first sight, the answer would be: very little. Historians are still debating the effects of the Wars of the Roses on the country and population at large. England certainly does seem to have suffered from economic decline in the period, but that could simply be a cycle separate from the wars themselves. So, are these marriages simply excrescences of the political classes? And here the answer changes, because the blood letting of the wars between Lancaster and York has one final consequence: the Tudors. The marriage alliance that is coming between Richmond and Elizabeth of York as Richard III dies at Bosworth is absolutely critical to subsequent English history, as the audience would know, even if only as a distorted remembrance of these historical events. The Tudor hold on the throne is made stronger by a marriage between York and the (supposed) heirs to the Lancastrian cause, the illegitimate distaff cousins of the Beauforts at several removes via the female line. And if this sounds like a very tenuous claim, it is indeed. But the House of Tudor does survive. 414

marriage So there is a real reason why all of this infighting amongst the nobility and the royal ducal houses is so recognizable to Shakespeare’s audiences: it is the immediate context for developments leading to their own period. The Tudors have their own very serious problems with dynastic politics; Henry VIII even goes so far as to break off from Rome because of it. So royal marriages are bound up with not only high politics, but also religion, and this latter issue is a very serious one for a state undergoing the Reformation. The legacy of the Wars of the Roses, through the Tudors, is a very serious series of anxieties about the succession, as well as religion. Indeed, the two become inseparable; see the various comments by some of the high nobility in the play at HVIII 2.2.12–22. Rather than produce a coherent narrative about Henry’s marital worries, the playwrights make the various characters at this point speak different viewpoints. This is much safer ground than any single specified position, given the nervousness of the rickety state censorship apparatus over issues as important as this. The problem for modern audiences is how best to unravel it all. A twofold operation is required. The first level is to work out what is happening in the passage itself. The figure of Norfolk is a conflation of two dukes: the victor of Flodden and his son, the uncle of Catherine Howard and father to the celebrated court poet Surrey, both of whom are executed in Henry’s purges towards the end of his reign (territory the play conveniently avoids by stopping with the birth of Princess Elizabeth). Suffolk is Charles Brandon, Henry’s greatest friend and fellow-warrior in the tournaments. He married Henry’s sister Mary after her first husband, the old King of France, died soon after that wedding. They come onto the stage from one entrance; the Lord Chamberlain, head of the King’s household, comes on from the other, and they all meet half way. Their conversation as a whole, confusing as it is, picks up on three main elements: the king’s worries about his marriage; Wolsey’s role in all of this; and Suffolk’s comment about the (unnamed) Anne Boleyn. Norfolk and the Lord Chamberlain seem not to hear the comment, which is why editors often interpolate a stage direction to note it as an aside, a direct address to the audience. As for Henry’s tender conscience, this can be glossed by reference to the incestuous marriage of Gertrude and Claudius that has taken place just before the beginning of Hamlet. Henry did not murder his brother Arthur, but he did marry his brother’s widow. And in the case of Hamlet the problem is even more acute because in Denmark access to the throne is matrilinear; 415

marriage Claudius becomes king because he marries Gertrude. If he had not done so, young Hamlet would automatically be king, as the son of a queen. The situation is directly analogous, although displaced. One of the crucial questions in all of this was whether or Katherine of Aragon and Prince Arthur had in fact had sex before the young man died so suddenly. He said they did, but then he would; she always maintained that they did not. This is important because if Katherine were telling the truth, then their marriage had never been consummated anyway, and Henry’s fears were definitely groundless. Unconsummated marriages were relatively easily annulled. Non-consummation would definitely rule out the possibility of incest by affinity. The second layer of meaning is the relationship between all of this, and the time period of the play’s production. It is not enough simply to note the events that occur in the so-called history plays; one must also note that their events are re-presented through the distorting lens of a subsequent period. There is therefore an over-layering of effects. In this respect, Brandon’s aside acquires great importance, because of the ongoing, if discreet, debate about King Henry’s real motivation for ridding himself of Katherine of Aragon. Was it really doubts of conscience? Was it in fact Tudor paranoia about the succession? Or was it lust for Anne Boleyn? Perhaps it was some sort of combination of these factors. Additionally, Brandon’s knowing aside attains extra weight because of his own personal intimacy with the king, as many in the audience of Fletcher and Shakespeare would be well aware. This detracts from the Wolsey element in a very subtle way. It is understandable that the cardinal should get some of the blame for what is happening, especially given the play’s prior representation of the conflict between him and the nobility. But Suffolk’s statement to the audience undercuts any straightforward assumption that Wolsey is responsible for the king’s conscience drifting into doubts about his current marriage. In fact, it is exactly Henry’s insistence on the ‘great matter’ of his divorce that ultimately destroys Wolsey. The cardinal was well aware of the difficulty the issue raised for him and he employed stalling tactics for as long as he could. This did not work in the long run, mainly because Henry was desperate to marry Anne so as to produce the long-awaited (male) heir before Anne too risked becoming too old to produce one. All of the foregoing is not simply a matter for the upper classes, if only because Henry’s famous marital career leads to the Reformation. It is also the reason for Elizabeth being succeeded by James Stuart, the 416

marriage monarch who occupies the throne at the time Fletcher and Shakespeare wrote this play. The issue of the succession and, thus, royal marriage, is of absolutely crucial importance to this society, as Elizabeth well knew in her own multiple marriage negotiations. By refusing to marry, Elizabeth laid the groundwork for the unification of the kingdoms of England and Scotland to form the emerging power of the United Kingdom. Incidentally, the route of the Stuarts to the throne was equally rocky, and involves some tortuous marriages en route. James is the descendant of Margaret, the other sister of Henry VIII, who married the King of Scotland. Henry’s will stipulated that no progeny of hers should ever succeed to the throne of England, but this was never ratified by Act of Parliament. In fact, it goes explicitly against the logic of patriarchal primogeniture that requires descent to be reckoned through women once the male line has failed. As Henry’s elder sister, the succession should then be traced through Margaret. This is, eventually, what was to happen. The important aspect about all of this as it pertains to the drama is how the two playwrights choose to deal with the issues raised. They know that they have to tread carefully. So in a sense they adopt the same strategy that worked for Shakespeare earlier in his career with the First Tetralogy: rather than deal directly with current royal marriages and claims to the throne, they displace the concern onto the historical root causes of their present situation. They do so in a manner that is cleverly circumspect; close enough to allow some extra comment, such as Suffolk’s aside, but also far enough back as to avoid any potential charge of sedition. Far too much is at stake. These history plays are not just ‘about’ the Wars of the Roses, or part of the reign of Henry VIII. Neither are they simply dramatizations of those events and people. They are a method for dealing with and catering for the intense interest of their own audiences in the events and personages that combined to produce the contemporary political and social landscape. They are re-writings, re-presentations of prior events and as such they constitute a negotiation between the past and the concerns of their present. Hence the range of techniques adopted in the play All Is True, almost none of which is, the play we know more as Henry VIII. One such is the well-known fact that the play was performed in the very chambers in which the divorce trial took place (HVIII 2.4). Ironically enough, the 417

marriage Blackfriars now belonged to a bunch of theatrical entrepreneurs, the company of which Shakespeare was a member, a direct result of the dissolution of the monasteries. Technically, there was no divorce. Rather, the marriage was annulled, although the language used is one of divorce, as the same three noblemen note in another exchange at HVIII 3.2.56–71. They come together again for more chorus-style comment on important events. The technique is common in this play in particular, since a group of gentlemen also appears every so often to fulfil the same choric role. But of course the three noblemen do not simply report events, they discuss them and comment upon them in ways that are not available to the gentry; hence Suffolk’s displays of personal knowledge. But to a Renaissance audience, such descriptions of offstage events are never to be taken at face value, because the interlocutor almost always has an agenda, or at least a specific position from which to view the events. In other words, the audience is very sensitive indeed to the rhetoric used to relay what has happened, and such caution is definitely justifiable when listening to the character of Suffolk in this play. That is, of course, the point: these are dramatic fictions, not real people, and as such they function to represent different possibilities. Suffolk’s rendition of Campeius’ return to Rome leaves out some crucial information. He left because the pope wanted the whole process to be as long and drawn-out as possible; he simply did not want to have to come to definite conclusion. The Emperor Charles V controlled the pope, and it was his aunt who was married to Henry VIII. So he wanted one decision. But the pope also did not want to alienate Henry, who obviously wanted the opposite outcome. So Campeius’ return may have been a stalling tactic, what we would colloquially call a ‘cop out’, but it was hardly part of some kind of plot by Wolsey. At least some of the audience would know this, although its partiality could be explained by hatred for the cardinal. Also, it inevitably leads to Wolsey’s downfall for the simple reason that he fails to deliver on what the king wants, unlike Cranmer, whose rise is being noted here. The real reason for Wolsey’s inability to solve the issue is the religious difference between he and Cranmer. The cardinal is obviously catholic; Cranmer is already leaning towards reform. Wolsey cannot give Henry what he wants, because it would mean going against the church, but this is not a consideration for Cranmer. It is in this manner that the play introduces the delicate matter of the impetus towards reformation, an oblique 418

marriage tactic that neatly solves the playwrights’ mutual problem of how best to deal with it in the context of its overwhelming importance in their own period. The politics of marriage among the upper classes makes similar appearances in the other plays as well, as when Agrippa suggests a marriage alliance between Antony and Caesar via Octavia at AC 2.2.124–38. Octavia is not even present when Agrippa makes his suggestion, but at least he has the grace to say that he has been thinking about it for a while. The speech is an excellent example of diplomatic marriage alliance negotiation at its most pragmatic. Everyone there already knows that Antony fell for Cleopatra while still married to his first wife, Fulvia, and that he is still attracted to the Greek empress of Egypt. The suggestion is comparable to the marriages (and divorce) already discussed in the English history plays, but it is perhaps even less subtle in its gender politics. The few times Octavia appears in the play make her pale by comparison with the vibrant representation of Cleopatra. But, additionally, her colourlessness adds to the sense of a diplomatic marriage bargain. Because, after all, the one person who really does not matter in any of these marriages is the woman. She only counts in so far as she relates to what is of prior importance to the men involved. The example of Octavia demonstrates coldly and conclusively the same underlying structure that prevails in the histories as well. These women have value in two ways: as objects of exchange between men; and as possible breeders of the next generation of male rulers. Anything else, such as real or actual beauty, character or even love, would be an added bonus, but these things are not essential to her position and role as commodity. That is why Agrippa’s description of Octavia sounds in performance to be practised and perfunctory; he is going through the motions, because the conventions require him to do so, but nobody allows this to detract their attention from the political horse-trading that is going on here. And when a woman fails in what is pre-determined for her as her duty, someone like Henry VIII will get rid of her, no matter how long they have been married. In this system, it is her fault that she does not produce the much-needed male heir. And since she functions as part of a system, there are plenty of spare parts who could fulfil her function better. In any case, Octavia has no chance from the outset, given the prior relationship between her new husband and Cleopatra: 419

marriage I will to Egypt; And though I make this marriage for my peace, I’ th’ East my pleasure Lies. (AC 39–41)

Antony admits this in soliloquy directly to the audience, in the very next scene. And he is not the only one who realizes that this is what is going to happen: Eno. He will to his Egyptian dish again. Then shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar, and (as I said before) that which is the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of their variance. Antony will use his affection where it is; he married but his occasion here. (AC 2.6.126–31)

Menas is an interesting choice on the dramatist’s part to act as a sounding board for this choral interlude with Enobarbus. As one of Pompey’s officers, he is well placed to make relatively neutral comment on relations between Antony and Caesar. His observation, just prior to Enobarbus’ judgement, about the value of a quiet woman speaks volumes of the standard role of a woman as wife in this particular patriarchy. But as Enobarbus goes on to say, that is not enough for Antony. This frank exchange is critical, because it pinpoints an emerging problem for the practice of diplomatic marriage. Antony is one of the two most powerful men in a world that is about to see the birth of the Roman Empire and yet here he is, acting against his own political interests. He has just been told by a soothsayer that Caesar will beat him in any competition, and he says to the audience that he believes what he has been told; nevertheless he acts in such a way as to set himself up for political and military conflict with Caesar. For Antony, the marriage to Octavia serves a certain political purpose but that is not enough. He needs something more, something that approaches companionship, which is what he has with Cleopatra. And this is exactly the issue that is beginning to come to the fore in the period in which the play is written, as opposed to that in which it is set. There is a growing impetus to companionate marriage. Still patriarchal, it nevertheless begins to shift perceptions and expectations towards a form of marriage that is less coldly calculated for 420

marriage advantage. It could be argued that it is exactly this long-term social shift that impinges on Shakespeare’s plays, but perhaps that would be too much of a generalization. Rather, the plays shift to and fro across a growing rift in marriage practice between the two forms, an ideological faultline that opens up many possibilities for dramatic exposition. A good example occurs in Romeo and Juliet. Here we encounter a headlong rush on the part of two youthful lovers to marry, even against the hatred between their families. The play sets the situation up almost as a test case of the emerging discourses of companionate love and marriage. Both Juliet and Romeo are single children; they are thus heirs to their families; and any parental opposition is liable to be incredibly fierce, even more so than would normally be the case in an aristocratic marriage that takes place without parental consent. There has of course been a discourse of courtly love since the Middle Ages, an ideology that seems to value personal love above all else. But as with all ideologies, this one functions to conceal a contradiction between the terms of representation on the one hand, and the material practices that are masked by it on the other. And the practices of aristocratic marriage are materialistic in the extreme. Neither Juliet nor Romeo even considers just going to their parents and saying they want to marry. Marriage is something for their parents to arrange for them. And in the case of Juliet, the situation is even more acute because of the gender bias of the system; her marriage with Paris is already being arranged by her father as the play begins. The love between Juliet and Romeo is anything but ‘star-cross’d’ (RJ Prologue, 6); it goes fundamentally against centuries of patriarchal aristocratic practice. The youth of the two protagonists sharpens the problems presented to them. For Juliet, this is demonstrated very early on in the play. She is still only fourteen years old, although her mother has trouble remembering even that, something that demonstrates the lack of any real affective bond between aristocratic parents and children; this is hardly the nuclear family of a much later age. Juliet’s response to her mother’s suggestions about marriage is enlightening: La. Cap. Marry, that ‘marry’ is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married? Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. (RJ 1.3.63–6)

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marriage A standard critical interpretation of Juliet’s response to her mother’s question would be that she is too young to have thought of marriage. But as her mother goes on to note, she and many others in Verona have had children by the age Juliet is now. Besides, Juliet’s function within the system, her destiny (to use slightly more personal terms) is to marry and beget children. She has no other purpose in life, particularly since she is an heiress. Her response is a signal to the audience that something else is going on here, and only an alertness to the incredible importance placed on the future of a woman such as Juliet by her high-ranking family can begin to allow later readers and audiences to glimpse what would have been very apparent to a contemporary audience. To us, Juliet’s answer might be understandable; to them, it would have been almost incomprehensible because marriage will have been drilled into her from the moment she was born. She might mean that it is not something she wants yet, but then what she wants is precisely irrelevant. This scene shows that Juliet, albeit subtextually, may well have a propensity to unconventionality, despite her upbringing. It turns out that her unconventional twist is towards romantic love, something that should absolutely be immaterial to the marriage prospects arranged for her by her family. But when she falls in love, she immediately wants to marry the object of that love: Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, By one that I’ll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite, And all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay, And follow thee my lord throughout the world. (RJ 2.2.142–8)

All this, and they have only just met. In addition, it may well be a trifle unrealistic, since the play comprehensively demonstrates just how constricted is Juliet’s home life, as compared with Romeo’s, another instance of gender difference. It is going to be extremely difficult for her to achieve anything like the independence she craves: she will somehow need to get away from her family before she can wander around the world with Romeo. And her father in particular demonstrates nothing but fury when it looks as though Juliet has even a 422

marriage mild form of independence (RJ 3.5.149–95). Compare also Othello’s outburst: O curse of marriage! That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! (OTH 3.3.268–70)

But one may well be missing the point by reading in too many assumptions about character choice and psychology. These are not real people, they are dramatic fictions, and as such they function dynamically within and against a long literary tradition based on courtly love romance. This is signalled by the closing two lines of the speech; they are almost straight out of a romance about a knight errant and his lady. Perhaps Juliet’s problem is that she is just not a very good literary critic, because she is taking the discourse of courtly love at face value, without realizing the material conditions that underpin them. But there may be more to it than this, once one recalls the context of emerging discourses of companionate marriage. What both of these characters do is to represent a massive developing conflict between two concurrent conceptions of the structure of marriage: arranged versus personal. To Shakespeare’s audiences this was obvious; we have missed a whole host of crucial social resonances because of our fetishising of the individual. Romeo and Juliet has become the play that is held to valorize romantic love against all the odds, and their attempt is all the more noble because the forces arrayed against them ensure their failure. But to assume that this covers all of the meanings generated by the play in the period for which it was written would be a mistake. After all, it does take several more centuries for rising individualism finally to affect the aristocratic marriage market in Britain. The social pressures on the love between Juliet and Romeo begin to close in ever more tightly on them after the death of Tybalt, and Romeo’s banishment. The Friar tries to work out a political strategy for dealing with these circumstances: Go get thee to thy love as was decreed. Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her. But look thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not pass to Mantua, Where thou shalt live till we can find a time

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marriage To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou went’st forth in lamentation. (RJ 3.3.146–54)

The Friar is asking for a lot; this is quite a list of major political achievements to try to accomplish. There is also of course the added dramatic irony of the audience’s knowledge of the impending marriage between Juliet and Paris. But again, there is an added point to be made that would have been obvious to a contemporary audience: the Friar tells Romeo to ensure that he consummates the marriage. This is not trivial, since marriages (such as Henry VIII’s, remembering the comments about Arthur and Katherine of Aragon made above) could be annulled on pretty much any technicality by those powerful enough to do so. By the laws of the church at any rate, non-consummation was one of them. By getting Romeo to go and sleep with his new wife, Friar Laurence is pre-empting one possible way that they could indeed be split asunder. The various possibilities and options surrounding the marriage of Juliet with Romeo should act as a warning against a too easy misreading of marriage as somehow only personal. One can understand intellectually at this remove that such forces were acting on those wanting to marry, but because of the inevitable filter of individualism there is still a tendency to read plays such as Romeo and Juliet as personal, no matter how hard one tries. It is difficult for later audiences and readers to realize just how far social pressures impinge on these two characters; the analysis of the Friar’s injunction to Romeo to go and sleep with Juliet should help to demonstrate just how much associations of marriage have changed in the intervening four hundred years since the play was written. In fact, this play is not the only one that registers multiple possibilities regarding the process of marriage. This is an important point: there were stages to a marriage in the English Renaissance, it was not simply a wedding and then that was that. The bed-trick that is utilized to solve marital plot complications in both All’s Well That Ends Well and Measure For Measure can only work in performance when one realizes just how complex marriage really is in the period. In Measure For Measure there is the added problem of Angelo’s hypocrisy, as the Duke notes while disguised as a friar, at MM 3.1.213–23. 424

marriage He states that Angelo dumped Mariana because the money was no longer there, to use a crude twenty-first century analogy. One cannot claim to be virtuous if the only thing one cares about is cash. Of course, the audience has only the disguised duke’s word concerning this issue and Angelo does give his version at the denouement: My lord, I must confess I know this woman, And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition, but in chief For that her reputation was disvalued In levity. Since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour. (MM 5.1.216–24)

If Angelo is lying, then he is doubly damned in hypocrisy, since this is the first time that anyone has said anything at all about Mariana having a bad reputation. According to Angelo this was the chief factor in the marriage being called off. Presumably he was the one who finished it, although he does not actually say so. This is all of a piece with his attempts to brazen it all out, but then neither he nor anyone else is yet aware of what the Duke has been up to in the meantime. For marriage negotiations and confusion further down the social scale, one only has to look at The Merry Wives of Windsor. This play has several plot strands, all of which are to do with impending or continuing marriages in one form or another. The centrality of marriage is therefore critical to this play, which is hardly surprising. It is one of the few plays by Shakespeare in which later audiences can catch a glimpse of more ordinary people, as opposed to the high-ranking personages that populate the action of so many of his others. Even now, more than four hundred years later, marriage is an important event in one’s life, although of course its social importance has changed radically. In the Renaissance it was of central concern to everyone, not least because it was unlikely that anyone would marry more than once just because of shorter lifespans and high mortality rates from disease and childbirth. In anthropological terms, marriage in this period is a crucial threshold experience that is begun by a ritual that is fundamentally social in origin. No wonder his plays are obsessed with it in one form or another. 425

marriage The Merry Wives of Windsor ends with Anne Page’s mother and father both discomfited as their daughter manages to marry the man she wants, as opposed to either of those chosen by her parents. And she does so in the fullest possible sense, as her new husband says: You would have married her most shamefully, Where there was no proportion held in love. The truth is, she and I (long since contracted) Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. Th’ offense is holy that she hath committed, And this deceit loses the name of craft, Of disobedience, or unduteous title, Since therein she doth evitate and shun A thousand irreligious cursed hours Which forced marriage would have brought upon her. (MW 5.5.221–30)

This is about as clear a statement of the priority of romantic love over economic calculations that one is likely to find in the English Renaissance. But this is a comedy, and as such the end is something of a fantasy resolution as everyone is reconciled to what has happened. It may well be that, as some modern historians suggest, the practice of marriage amongst the less socially exalted always did tend to include love in this sense as a major component. But the full truth of this will be difficult to unravel, because it is the aristocrats who grab the spotlight; most of the evidence we have comes from them. (c) For the marriage negotiations around Henry VI, see Weir (1998), 106–7. She notes two details ignored (or perhaps unknown) by Shakespeare: that the impetus for marriage came from Henry himself; and that the candidacy of Margaret of Anjou was put forward by Cardinal Beaufort, not Suffolk, although he was all for it. According to Weir, the marriage with Margaret presented very little trouble to the king’s council at this point, something that again contradicts Shakespeare’s representation. She does note (112) that Gloucester’s supporters were not happy about it, but that Duke Humphrey himself said nothing at the time. Perhaps Shakespeare’s interpretation is coloured by later events once Margaret was ensconced in England; for these, see Weir (1998), 222–58. But for contemporaries at least, the marriage negotiations and the marriage itself started off well enough. For the political 426

marriage history that Shakespeare condenses into Warwick’s fury while in France, see Hicks (2002), 258; he notes the popular perception of what occurred, which does tally with Shakespeare’s (incorrect) view. For the accession of the Tudors after Bosworth and the reign of Henry VII, see Bennett (1997), 123–40. For the consummation, or otherwise, of the marriage between Arthur, Prince of Wales, and Katherine of Aragon, see Weir (1997), 33–4. She deals with Henry and Katherine’s divorce proceedings and Anne Boleyn from 143–374; see also Starkey (2004), 197–549, and Fraser (1993), 92–223. Wilson (2002) narrates the effects of the divorce case on Henry’s courtiers and officials, especially Wolsey, at 236–76. For Cardinal Campeggio (Campeius in Henry VIII) adjourning the divorce case to Rome, see Weir (2001), 294; here she also notes the effect the action had upon Wolsey. Levin (1994) devotes a chapter to the various marriage negotiations of Elizabeth I from 39–65. For the succession of the first king of a united British kingdom, see Coward (2003), 99–124; he gives a useful family tree showing the relationships between Tudors and Stuarts at 118. For the initial Blackfriars performances of Henry VIII, see McMullan (2002), 10. Dollimore (1994) glosses the power relations surrounding Antony’s marriage with Octavia at 251–2. For the emergence of the companionate marriage, see Stone (1990), 217–24. He dates its full composition to the periods after the Renaissance. Novy (1995) engages with Stone and Shakespeare in ways that should prove useful for future analyses of the affective family and plays such as Romeo and Juliet. A relatively conventional reading of that play is Wells (1994), 76–83; he sees the play as some kind of private tragedy. For the various stages in marriage negotiations, see Amussen (1988), 104–17; she also has some comments on popular conceptions about the process of marriage at 110 and 125. Erickson (1987) contextualizes the ending of The Merry Wives of Windsor in relation to patriarchy at 116–7. For a description of anthropological overviews of marriage, see Garber (1997), 5–12. She comments on the early marriage of Juliet and Romeo, as well as arranged marriages, at 119–21. Neely (1993) is a full treatment of marriage and interruptions to it in Shakespeare’s plays. For a theorizing of the concept of ideological faultlines, see Sinfield (1992).

masque Originally a ball at which all of the guests wore costumes and masks, popular especially in Renaissance Italy. The fashion 427

masque spread to other countries in Europe quite quickly. In England, the court of Henry VIII was particularly well known for them, at least in the earlier part of his reign. In later periods it developed into a more specific set of rituals, including music, dancing and amateur dramatics. By the time of James I, it was a very aristocratic form of elaborate and costly entertainment. Elements of the later courtly form of the masque occur in Cymbeline at 5.4 with Posthumus’ dream; in Henry VIII with Katherine of Aragon’s vision; and The Tempest wedding masque at 4.1, with its antimasque elements as Caliban and his compatriots are driven off. The fateful meeting between Juliet and Romeo takes place at a masked ball in the older Italian style, appropriately enough, at RJ 1.5. For the ideology and practice of the court masque, see Smialkowska (2005).

mayor The elected head of an incorporated city. The mayor of London is called the ‘Lord Mayor’ because of that city’s historical importance. A mayor is elected from the highest ranks of the civic and trade guilds and holds office for a year. The man so elected is the head of the city’s civil government and only specified cities have the privilege to elect their own mayor. Other towns and cities would be governed by a deputy of some kind, usually a governor or lieutenant on behalf of the monarch. The Lord Mayor of London appears in several of the plays. The mayors of several other towns are noted in the First Tetralogy as the action spreads to them, usually in the form of violent fighting. In 2 Henry VI the Mayor of St Albans is seen and in 3 Henry VI the mayors of York and Coventry. Picard (2004) notes the kind of men who could be elected Lord Mayor of London at 264.

medicine (a) In this period, medicine is generally referred to as some form of liquid that is ingested to relieve a disease or physical problem. Such medicines were often prepared from herbs and various recipes were available. The most potent were usually held to be in the form of secret formulae studied by eminent practitioners. 428

medicine (b) Helena in All’s Well That Ends Well describes to the Countess of Rossillion the manuscripts left to her by her father, who was a famous physician, at AW 1.3.220–9. She admits that her intention to go to Paris to try out one of the cures on the king is not entirely altruistic, because the countess’ son, Bertram, is also there; and Helena has just admitted to her patron that she loves her son. When she arrives at court, she is herself described as a form of medicine: I have seen a medicine That’s able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch Is powerful to araise King Pippin, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen in ’s hand, And write to her a love-line. (AW 2.1.72–8)

Lafew’s words to the French king are lascivious in the extreme: ‘stone’ and ‘rock’ are euphemisms for the testicles, while Helena’s breath and touch will arouse Charlemagne’s great pen. The nature of the king’s illness is deliberately somewhat obscure, but it would be apparent to a contemporary Renaissance English audience, since the French were supposedly the greatest lechers in Europe. The folklore element of an ailing king revived by a virgin with secret knowledge is an old one in any case. A negative medicine is slipped to Regan by her sister towards the end of King Lear: Reg. Sick, O sick! Gon. [Aside.] If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine. (KL 5.3.95–6)

The competition between the two of them leads to Regan’s poisoning, quickly followed by Goneril’s suicide. Here ‘medicine’ is a generic term for any herbal preparation, and this one is not designed to prolong the health. (c) For contemporary medical preparations, see Adams (2000), 80–2 (herbal) and 86–7 (chemical). 429

mercenary

mercenary One who fights for money, as opposed to the military requirements of a feudal obligation. The nobility often looked down on such soldiers, although they could often be very professional in their own way, especially when organized into mercenary companies. These were very important in the various wars in Italy in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. A good example of the class snobbery about mercenary troops can be found after Agincourt, when the French herald visits Henry V: I come to thee for charitable licence, That we may wander o’er this bloody field To book our dead and then to bury them; To sort our nobles from our common men. For many of our princes (woe the while!) Lie drown’d and soak’d in mercenary blood; So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of princes (HV 4.7.71–8)

The differentiation between peasants and mercenaries here may not just be intended as a rhetorical effect. It may in fact be a very precise reference to some of the paid troops who were present at this battle on the French side. The Genoese crossbowmen were particularly well known and in fact would have presented the French army with its best counter to the English longbowmen. However, the French aristocracy squeezed the mercenaries out of the way in their over-confident haste to close with the numerically inferior invading army. The French defeats of Crecy and Poitiers, among others, in the Edward III phase of the so-called ‘Hundred Years War’ led them to appreciate the importance of longbowmen to the English. The French did try to negate the English archers by recruiting mercenary crossbowmen in particular; see Contamine (1993) at 129; he gives a high ratio of such specialists in the French army. The particular circumstances at Agincourt can really only be explained by over-confidence, as the French feudal host simply assumed that it could roll over the smaller army of Henry V by pure weight. See also Edelman (2000), 217–19.

mercer A dealer in the various kinds of cloth. They were of great economic and social significance in this period. Economic, because of 430

mercer the importance of the cloth industry. And social, because the London cloth merchants were the best source in the country of not only good-quality English products, but also imports of luxury foreign items, exactly the wares needed by a clothing-conscious elite. In fact, OED even goes so far as to note that mercers’ services were so critical to aspiring courtiers that a young gallant’s debt to them was proverbial. A mercer is mentioned in Measure For Measure by Pompey as creditor to one of those in prison: Then is there her one Master Caper, at the suit of Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-colour’d satin, which now peaches him a beggar. (MM 4.3.9–12)

Master Caper’s name immediately marks him out as a gallant, and he is mentioned in passing as just another debtor undone by ordering too many expensive suits from the mercer. His name is equally appropriate. Stallybrass (1996) details the importance of the clothing industry, especially in terms of its relationship to the theatres.

merchant (a) A specialist in large-scale transactions of goods over great distances, especially by sea. The growth in this kind of trading activity through the Middle Ages was slow and steady, gaining extra impetus as the Europeans began their age of discovery and colonization. The unification of the crowns of England and Scotland would produce a British mainland state that would go on to capitalize further on this large-scale historical development, so much so that the period between the demise of feudalism and the rise of industrialized capitalism is often described as ‘mercantilist’. (b) Commercial rivalry between Ephesus and Syracuse is so fierce in The Comedy of Errors that Ephesus has enacted a statute of the confiscation of goods and a possible death penalty against any of its competitors found inside its city limits (CE 1.2.1–7). But the play that most prominently features a merchant, in its title at least, is The Merchant of Venice. The title is something of a misnomer in that most of the action takes place either through Bassanio, the impoverished young gentleman, or 431

merchant Shylock, the Jewish moneylender. The merchant Antonio makes little impact, except in so far as he expedites the importance in plot terms of the other two. But then, this is perhaps as it should be: as a merchant, Antonio is a go-between, a fixer of deals that are of great importance to others. Also, in the abstract, the three of them cover the various monetary dealings that are common in the Venetian state, either by borrowing or lending, in terms of aristocratic landownership and mercantile practice at its most risky and potentially profitable. The play is deeply concerned with methods of exchange and Antonio plays a pivotal role in relation to both of the main plotlines, because without him Bassanio could not fund his adventure to Belmont, nor could Shylock enact his bond of the pound of flesh. Perhaps our sense of individualistic characterization blinds us to the importance of Antonio in these terms, but if it does it is understandable, especially given the history of the last hundred years or so and the prominence this inevitably places on Shylock. If the business of exchange is so crucial, the disguised Portia’s inability to tell Shylock from Antonio at MV 4.1.174 begins to make some sort of sense. Bassanio makes up the final part of the threesome and the contemporary importance of landownership through marriage explains the play’s final act, something that is often cut in modern performances because it seems so insipid by comparison with the trial scene. The great aristocratic landowners in most medieval and Renaissance states looked down on the merchants; Venice was of course an exception. But in countries like England, there was still a strong residual sense of social prestige as derived from landed wealth, and the concomitant prejudice against merchants was quite strong. Caesar articulates it at AC 5.2.180–2. There was a form of snobbery that prevailed against nobles dealing in trade, although it was fine for them to invest in risky ventures led by companies such as the Merchant Adventurers. In a sense this is only to be expected; it takes a long time for money in any form to become an index of power. Accordingly, this period could be described as one of transition from landownership to more fluid forms of wealth in general as a dominant conception in matters of rank. (c) Braudel (1985), Vol. 2, is an essential overview of the mechanisms of the mercantilist period. Picard (2004) mentions the Merchant Adventurers at 264. 432

messenger

messenger (a) Many messengers appear in the plays, simply because of their utility in a period of uncertain transportation and communication. Sometimes the information they carry is out of date, but it is always of import to someone on the stage. A good system of messages is crucial on the battlefield and in politics and both verbal and written communications are common. (b) Messengers of various kinds appear often as extremely minor parts. However, they are an added resource when dramatic considerations require something a little more elaborate, as happens at the very beginning of 1 Henry VI. The assembled lords are attending the funeral of Henry V when it is interrupted by a series of three messengers, each of whom brings worse and worse news from France. However, Shakespeare gives the first messenger in particular quite a powerful speech denouncing the inactivity of the aristocracy: Amongst the soldiers this is muttered, That here you maintain several factions; And whilst a field should be dispatch’d and fought, You are disputing of your generals. One would have ling’ring wars, with little cost; Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; A third thinks, without expense at all, By guileful fair words peace may be obtain’d. Awake, awake, English nobility! (1 HVI 1.1.70–8)

It is most unusual for an unnamed messenger such as this one to utter not only his message but also a direct opinion of those to whom his message is conveyed. What this does, of course, is reinforce the seriousness of the developing situation in France. Dramatically, it is a very economical and efficient method of breaking up the initial set piece scene of the funeral, as well as of setting the context for the play to the audience from the outset. Representation of offstage events is an important technique on this stage, and this example demonstrates a complex use of a minor messenger to enhance the dramatic exposition. Later on in the same play, Shakespeare makes another use of a messenger that is unusual. This time, there is a specificity that is normally lacking to the character himself as he is given a soliloquy after delivering his speech to the Duke of York: 433

messenger Thus while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory Henry the Fift. Whiles they each other cross, Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. (1 HVI 4.3.47–53)

Most editors give this messenger the identity of Sir William Lucy, one of the lords fighting alongside Talbot. Probably this is done to give the messenger more force than is usual; it would certainly help with the fact that he is given a soliloquy. But it would also augment the urgency of his mission; Talbot has not sent any minor messenger, but a member of the aristocracy. This then enhances further the direct address to the audience about the consequences of sedition and infighting, something that has great resonance when coming from a member of the upper classes. It helps to begin to draw the audience’s attention towards the conflicts that are beginning to arise in and around the figure of the Duke of York. Messengers are an obvious way to represent events that have taken place offstage. However, there are occasions when the method may seem a little heavy-handed, as happens when the deaths of the Duke of York and Edmund of Rutland are recounted to the three surviving brothers at 3 HVI 2.1.56–67, a passage that can seem unnecessary. Since the audience has already seen these events acted out, why repeat the information? Surely doing one or the other, a direct dramatization or an indirect representation, would be enough? But there may be a good reason why Shakespeare has chosen to write in this short scene. It shows the Yorkist cause at its lowest ebb, but immediately afterwards appears the figure of Warwick to lead their cause on to victory. By reinforcing the death of the duke and one of his sons, the message lays the groundwork for an almost miraculous revival of the House of York. This is important for Shakespeare’s audiences, who were well aware of the crucial role played by Warwick the ‘Kingmaker’ in this phase of the Wars of the Roses. His importance is underlined in this scene in ways that pay tribute to the power of his persona. The message that is conveyed can be of great importance, but so too can be the reception it receives. When Cleopatra beats up the poor 434

messenger messenger who has brought her the news of Antony’s marriage with Octavia (AC 2.5.61–74), he runs off before she can knife him. Antony behaves in an even worse fashion when he has Thidias whipped at AC 3.13.104; after all, this is Caesar’s messenger. To do something like this to a messenger is a grave insult because it demonstrates contempt for the person who sent him; see also King Lear at 2.2.150 when the disguised Kent is put in the stocks by Regan and Cornwall. Another set of dramatic possibilities is generated when messages go astray. This is what happens when messages are sent in Richard III: K.Edw. Is Clarence dead? The order was revers’d. Glou. But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear; Some tardy cripple bare the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried. (RIII 2.1.87–91)

The ‘tardy cripple’ is of course a reference by Richard to himself. The play has him interfering with the countermand so as to make sure that his brother Clarence is murdered, thus removing one of the obstacles between Richard and the throne. In historical terms, this is of course complete nonsense, but Richard’s cheek usually gets a laugh in performance. Another, less malevolent example comes in Romeo and Juliet when the Friar’s letters to Romeo do not arrive in time (RJ 5.2.14–16). This can seem a perfunctory plot intrusion in modern productions, but it would have made perfect sense to a contemporary audience, especially since the reason given is paranoia about plague. In a period such as this, there is no guarantee that important information will arrive when it is needed, or perhaps even at all. (c) The best way to send messages quickly across England was via the important highways, but these could be in a terrible state of repair. For comments on the post-horse system that was available to travelling officials, see Ridley (2002, 2), 44. One of the most famous journeys made along these routes was Robert Carey’s ride from London to Edinburgh with news of the death of Elizabeth I. He made it in less than three days; see Somerset (1997), 724.

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mines

mines Any form of delving into the ground for precious metals or gemstones was known as mining. However, there was also a specifically military use in siege work, when tunnels would be constructed underneath the walls of a defending fortress. These could then be opened up for troops to attack, or more commonly, the supports would be fired or blown up so as to collapse the ground around the walls, creating a breach. Mortimer refers metaphorically to the ‘mines of India’ at 1 HIV 3.1.167. This will be a standard comment based upon the riches of the east, which were proverbial. Iago comments on the effects his insinuations are having on Othello by comparison with ‘mines of sulphur’ at OTH 3.3.329. The military usage appears at the siege of Harfleur at HV 3.2.57. Stone (1967) comments on the attractiveness of mining ores and minerals to landowners keen on getting as much income from their estates as possible at 163–70; there does seem to have been a massive increase in this kind of activity during the reign of Elizabeth. For mines as part of siege craft, see Contamine (1993), 105–6, and Edelman (2000), 221–3.

minion A darling favourite, often but not always with a pejorative sense. The sergeant who reports back to Duncan’s court describes Macbeth as ‘Like Valor’s minion’ (MAC 1.2.19). When Margaret of Anjou becomes Queen of England, she is extremely sensitive to those who do not accept her new status, especially Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, who until that point was the premier woman in the kingdom. The conflict between the two women is just one of the unpleasant effects of the faction fighting that is rife at the court of Henry VI, and at one point Margaret calls the Duchess a ‘minion’ and gives her a box on the ear (2 HVI 1.3.138). Cymbeline calls Posthumus a ‘minion’ at CYM 2.3.4. Kate uses the same word to Bianca at TS 2.1.13. It is also one of the many things Capulet says to Juliet when she does not initially accord with the marriage arrangements he has made for her (RJ 3.5.151). All of these examples carry negative overtones. For some information on the generally violent and insulting personal conduct of people in this period, see Ridley (2002, 2) at 292–3.

436

mistress

mistress (a) A term with many more meanings than the usual narrow modern one of a married man’s female lover. In general, it is used as a term of address or reference to any woman, regardless of the relationship between her and the speaker. It also has some more specific uses, mostly derived from a sense of a woman for whom one works in one way or another. This could be simply in the nature of one’s employment, or in a more figurative sense, the woman whom one serves. This last shades over into meanings of courtly love. (b) Various women are noted in the dramatis personae to the plays with the appellation ‘Mistress’: see for example Mistress Quickly in the two Henry IV plays and Henry V; Mistress Overdone in Measure For Measure; and Mistress Ford, Mistress Margaret Page, Mistress Anne Page and Mistress Quickly (again) in the Merry Wives of Windsor. The last group is interesting because it shows that the word is used indiscriminately of any woman, regardless of marital status. Puck says of Titania ‘My mistress with a monster is in love’ (AMND 3.2.6) and Helena calls the Countess of Rossillion ‘Mine honourable mistress’ (AW 1.3.139); in both cases, the word is used of a woman to whom one owes service. This relationship is what defines the word’s use in such instances; the gender of the person who owes the service is irrelevant. Wolsey uses the term in this way when he realizes that Henry might be intending to marry Anne Boleyn: The late Queen’s gentlewoman? a knight’s daughter, To be her mistress’ mistress? the Queen’s queen? (HVIII 3.2.94–5)

He notes this in direct address to the audience and goes on to worry about Anne’s religious tendencies. The meaning that comes closest to the modern expression occurs in many of Shakespeare’s texts. It is derived from the conventions of courtly love. The mistress is the recipient of the love of the wooer: ‘Who could be out, being before his belov’d mistress?’ (AYLI 4.1.81) asks Orlando of Rosalind. She is disguised as a boy, but is in fact Orlando’s mistress in this sense as he practises his love-suit before what he thinks is another man. There are other occasions in which the posture seems to be nothing more than an empty convention: ‘I have heard a sonnet begin so to one’s mistress’ (HV 3.7.41) says Orleans, as 437

mistress if it is standard practice for a member of the upper classes to be practised in these conventions. In the Sonnets, number 20 has caused a great deal of debate because it explicitly mentions the fact that it is addressed to a man, who is described as ‘the master mistress of my passion’ (SON 20.2). Some commentators see it as evidence of a homosexual love affair, while others locate it in relation to the literary practices of the sonnet convention, albeit applied to another man. Shakespeare’s Sonnets are well aware of this tradition; see Sonnet 130 for a full rendering of how his mistress is not standard. Finally, it should be noted that the conventional position of power ascribed to the beloved woman is available for more figurative uses. During his embassy to France, Exeter says that England’s King Henry does not care about the power of France ‘Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe’ (HV 2.4.133). (c) For servants’ relationships with their mistresses, see Amussen (1988), 157–9. For the arguments over Sonnet 20, see Innes (1997), 113–14.

monarch The sovereign ruler of a kingdom, either male or female. A synonym for king or queen. Everyone else was considered a subject; the only person superior to a monarch, at least in political theory, was God. Of course, problems could emerge when the power of an over-mighty subject eclipsed that of a ruler, as indeed happened several times in English history. Warwick the ‘Kingmaker’, famous from the Wars of the Roses, is one example. This word does not appear very often in Shakespeare, but it has value in figurative language in addition to its basic denotation. The Duke of York uses it when confronted with his own impending death by Margaret of Anjou and Lord Clifford: ‘Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult?’ (3 HVI 1.4.124). This is a direct reference to Margaret’s father who, despite his many titles, had little actual political power. Cleopatra complains about the power of young Caesar, commenting that ‘When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch’ (AC 1.5.30–1). Just before the Southampton plot is uncovered, Cambridge, one of the those involved, says to King Henry ‘Never was monarch better fear’d and lov’d Than is your Majesty’ (HV 2.2.25–6). A more figurative use occurs in The Merchant of Venice: 438

monarch Then music is Even as the flourish when true subjects bow To a new-crowned monarch (MV 3.2.48–50)

If the performance tradition is correct, then Portia leads Bassanio to choose the correct casket in this scene partly by the use of music with subliminal clues. This then would make him a ‘monarch’ who is easily manipulated by the powerful woman who is about to become his wife. For the long-term development of European monarchies, see Anderson (1979).

monastery A religious institution that houses monks. These were wiped out in the Reformation of Henry VIII and the proceeds were used to bribe the nobility and the wealthy to accept his changes. The word does appear a few times in the plays because of the period or country in which they are set. Once Bassanio has left for Venice to try to save Antonio, Portia puts into action her plan. She absents herself from her estates by telling Lorenzo that she and Nerissa are planning to retire to a monastery close by while their husbands are away (MV 3.4.31). The disguised Duke in Measure For Measure tells the provost that Angelo is about to receive letters detailing the whereabouts of the Duke (himself). He says that one possibility is that the Duke has retired to a monastery (MM 4.3.201–2). In Titus Andronicus one of the Goths from Lucius’ invading army finds Aaron and his child by Tamora in a ‘ruinous monastery’ (TA 5.1.21). For the dissolution of the monasteries in the context of Henry’s initial reformation, see Duffy (1992), 383–423.

monument (a) A memorial to one who has died. There are various specific meanings of this term, the most common being either a monumental building or tomb to a specific individual, or a family crypt. The word also has figurative uses based on the funerary meaning. (b) The monument to which Cleopatra retreats and on which Antony dies may well just be meant to denote a large Egyptian building (AC 4.15). It could also be a mausoleum intended specifically for Cleopatra’s 439

monument resting place after her death, in the manner of the Pharaohs (Shakespeare erred, like many of his contemporaries, in representing her as Egyptian). Claudius says that he intends to raise a ‘living monument’ over Ophelia’s grave at HAM 5.1.297. When Buckingham is being led off to the Tower of London, he says that he wishes Henry no ill: ‘when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodness and he fill up one monument!’ (HVIII 2.1.93–4). Family crypts appear in several of the plays, most notably at the end of Romeo and Juliet. Towards the end of Much Ado About Nothing, Claudio and the Prince arrive at ‘the monument of Leonato’ to pay some respects to Hero; since Leonato is still alive, this must mean a family crypt of some kind. When he has been proclaimed emperor, Lucius says: My father and Lavinia shall forthwith Be closed in our household’s monument. (TA 5.3.193–4)

Other meanings of the more figurative kind pick up on the associations of these two collocations, especially in terms of the ornamentation associated with such monuments. Perhaps the most famous is Viola’s coded description of herself to Orsino: Vio. My father had a daughter lov’d a man As it might be perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. Duke. And what’s her history? Vio. A blank, my lord; she never told her love, But let concealment like a worm i’ th’ bud Feed on her damask cheek; she pin’d in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sate like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. (TN 2.4.107–15)

The reference to statuary is quite common elsewhere also: see AW 4.2.6; MM 5.1.233; and CYM 2.2.32. An unusual usage appears when Cade loots Stafford’s body for its armour in 2 Henry VI: ‘This monument of the victory will I bear’ (2 HVI 4.3.11). This particular occurrence must have a sense of a memorial in general, not necessarily an architectural one. 440

monument (c) For funerary monuments amongst the aristocracy, see Stone (1967), 263–4. Heal and Holmes (1994), 338–40, is a description of the kinds of tombs likely to be found slightly lower down the social scale.

moveables Portable household goods. Depending on the rank of the person to whom they belong, these can be very valuable. When he infiltrates Imogen’s bedchamber, Jachimo realizes that a description of some of her physical attributes would be more persuasive than ‘Above ten thousand meaner movables’ (CYM 2.2.29). This is after he has taken down a full inventory of the contents of her room. When Richard of Gloucester concludes his alliance with the Duke of Buckingham, he says: And look when I am king, claim thou of me The earldom of Herford, and all the moveables Whereof the King my brother was possess’d. (RIII 3.1.194–6)

Buckingham does indeed claim his due later in the play at RIII 4.2.88– 91, only to be ignored. The root causes of the Wars of the Roses can be traced to the usurpation of the throne by Henry, Duke of Lancaster, from Richard II. This king makes the mistake of going against the law by trying to disinherit Lancaster when his father dies and he is in exile abroad: Towards our assistance we do seize to us The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess’d. (RII 2.1.160–2)

This display of vengeful autocracy will eventually cost Richard his kingdom. Lancaster returns while the king is trying to win a war in Ireland and the nobility flock to him because of the king’s flouting of the rules of inheritance. See Picard (2004), 57–75, for the range and variety of goods to be found in households.

music (a) A common recreation of all classes. Of course, more 441

music elaborate work and more refined and numerous instruments increased the cost. The English were well known in this period for their love of music and the quality of their compositions. (b) Music plays a large part in many of the plays. As a going concern, Shakespeare’s company had access to a reasonable number of instruments and at least some of the actors were able to play one or more instruments. These made various sound effects possible as well as enabling the playing of various compositions. Most of the theatres had gallery space for the musicians – the orchestra or pit was filled up with the audience members who paid least to get in. It is also possible that the company hired musicians for special performances, when particularly elaborate pieces were required, or for the indoor and court performances. Music was part of a reasonable education, and Shakespeare builds upon this fact when he has Lucentio disguise himself as a music teacher so that he can get close enough to Bianca to woo her in The Taming of the Shrew. The most noticeable instances of music in the plays occur when an interlude is woven into the ongoing plot of the play in performance, such as when Hotspur, Worcester and Mortimer are conducting alliance negotiations with the Welsh led by Glendower (1 HIV 3.1.228). Cloten tries rather clumsily to follow advice he has been given, and engages some musicians to play outside Imogen’s bedchamber windows at CYM 2.3.19–26. Portia manipulates Bassanio’s choice of the correct casket by means of music at MV 3.2.63–72. Music is used to awaken Hermione at WT 5.3.98. One of the enchanting elements of the island in The Tempest is the music heard throughout that play, in various forms. A masked ball with music is the occasion of Juliet and Romeo meeting for the first time at RJ 1.5. Sometimes a play will include a major musical piece, usually when an elaborate dance sequence is intended. These instances often utilize elements of the masque: see the Dance of Hymen in AYLI 5.4.108ff; Posthumus’ dream at CYM 5.4.30–122; the dance at which Henry VIII meets Anne Boleyn for the first time (HVIII 1.4.76); and the vision of Katherine of Aragon at HVIII 4.2.81–3. Metaphorical references to music also occur. Hamlet castigates Rosencrantz and Guildenstern for trying to play him as though he were a recorder at HAM 3.2.363–72. Iago makes an aside to the audience about Desdemona and Othello when they have safely arrived in 442

music Cyprus: ‘O, you are well tun’d now! But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music’ (OTH 2.1.199–200). Music is played to Richard II in his imprisonment, giving rise to a long disquisition on his situation that is full of musical metaphors (RII 5.5.41–66). And perhaps the most well known is Orsino’s pathetic pose of love: ‘If music be the food of love’ (TN 1.1.1); the speech goes on for 15 lines, a gift to deliberate over-acting. (c) Picard (2004) gives examples of music at home at 241 and in inns at 256. For the well-known episode at which Elizabeth I arranged for the Scottish ambassador Melville ‘accidentally’ to encounter her while demonstrating her virtuoso control of the virginals, see Plowden (2001), 89. For information on musicians in theatrical companies, see Gurr (1995), 67–71.

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N name (a) As with modern usages, names can be personal or familial. There are also colloquial occurrences, such as swearing in God’s name, or saying something in the name of the king. These are straightforward enough, but they begin to point to a whole stratum that is not only personal, but social in its very nature. The word almost equates to our modern understanding of reputation at points; with men, this is usually based on military prowess or social rank. With women it is almost always constituted by reference to their sexual behaviour; see honour. There are also very specific nuances pertaining to family lineage. Such a broad spread of potential meanings lays the word open to being appropriated for figurative language. (b) Many of the associations just noted occur in the English history plays. Here the situation is so complex that a single instance of the word can produce more than one meaning at the same time: The skipping King, he ambled up and down, With shallow jesters, and rash bavin wits, Soon kindled and soon burnt, carded his state, Mingled his royalty with cap’ring fools, Had his great name profaned with their scorns, And gave his countenance, against his name, To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push Of every beardless vain comparative (1 HIV 3.2.60–7)

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name This passage is part of a long speech in which Henry IV judges the reign of his predecessor Richard II, the man he supplanted on the throne. The double use of ‘name’ here refers to the position or designation of king, not a personal name; the person is subsumed into the public persona to such an extent that a king is his position. The same play also provides a clear use of the word as meaning something akin to reputation: Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt; and would to God You were of our determination! Some of us love you well, and even those some Envy your great deservings and good name, Because you are not of our quality, But stand against us like an enemy. (1 HIV 4.3.32–7)

These are Hotspur’s words at a parley with Blunt, who is representing the king. In one sense the passage should be seen within the context of chivalric politeness. But it also demonstrates the importance of military reputation to men of high rank. Even though he and Blunt are on opposing sides, Hotspur acknowledges Blunt’s prowess. The Prince of Wales says the same of Hotspur when he wants to challenge him to single combat at 1 HIV 5.1.97–100. In the first of the Henry VI plays, the name of Talbot unites a family name with the reputation of a great warrior. So much so, in fact, that a single English soldier picks up some rich spoils when all he does is shout Talbot’s name: I’ll be so bold to take what they have left. The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword, For I have loaden me with many spoils, Using no other weapon but his name. (1 HVI 2.1.78–81)

As soon as they hear the word, the French run away, leaving a lucky English soldier with a fortune in clothes and accoutrements. A less nationalistic interpretation might be that the English, especially Talbot, have so terrified the French that great amounts of loot are available for the taking, which is indeed one way to look at the English chevauchees across the French countryside. The conjunction of this family name 445

name and renown reaches its apex at 1 HVI 4.5 when the French have surrounded the small English army, and Talbot and his son debate what to do next. When they both stay in accordance with valorous action, renown wins out over the preservation of the family line; they both know that this battle will see their deaths. The more generalized use of the word as a denotation of high rank occurs at 2 HVI 4.1.19 when the disguised Duke of Suffolk is taken prisoner. The economic value of wealthy prisoners is referred to here, as the captors squabble over ransoms. The aftermath of the Battle of Bosworth sees a list of the dead being produced, but it is a partial one of four names in response to Richmond’s question: ‘What men of name are slain on either side?’ (R III 5.5.12). The rest of the dead obviously do not matter so much. Lineage is of great concern to Helena in All’s Well That Ends Well. She is in love with Bertram, the son of her patron, the Countess of Rossillion, but she is also acutely aware of the social disparity between them: Count. I say I am your mother. Hel. Pardon, madam; The Count Rossillion cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from honoured name; No note upon my parents, his all noble. My master, my dear lord he is, and I His servant live and will his vassal die. He must not be my brother. (AW 1.3.154–60)

Over the course of the next few lines it becomes clear that the countess means that she wants to become Helena’s mother-in-law; she is already aware that Helena is in love with her wayward son. The countess is appalled by Bertram’s later behaviour towards this virtuous and worthy woman, even if she has little worth as society reckons it. She even goes so far as to say to Helena: He was my son, But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. (AW 3.2.66–8)

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name Here name functions as rank as opposed to reputation; the two are not necessarily synonymous. This differentiation is especially important when women are involved, because their ‘name’ depends on their sexual and social reputation much more than their rank: ‘No, by my faith, I must live among my neighbours; I’ll no swaggerers, I am in good name and fame with the very best’ (2 HIV 2.4.73–6). Mistress Quickly’s main concern is the amount of noise generated by men like Pistol; her reputation is her name, and she cannot afford for it to be ruined. To return to Helena; when she arrives at the French court, she is prepared to stake even her maiden reputation on her father’s cure: King. Upon thy certainty and confidence What dar’st thou venter? Hel. Tax of impudence, A strumpet’s boldness, a divulged shame, Traduc’d by odious ballads; my maiden’s name Sear’d otherwise; ne worse of worst – extended With vildest torture, let my life be ended. (AW 2.1.169–74)

Helena is either very confident in her father’s prescription, or perhaps desperate to gamble all on its success. In such a society, any attempt at gain by a woman with no real rank requires ultimate effort. It pays off, at least initially, but she then has to pursue Bertram after his flight so as to consummate their marriage fully. His sexual behaviour while abroad is appalling, and the importance of name to a woman in such a context is reinforced; ‘The honour of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so rich as honesty’ (AW 3.5.12–13), says Mariana to Diana. The logical conclusion to such a statement is that even a woman’s rank is not so important as her ‘honesty’. Early on in his relationship with her, Antony shows that he is well aware of the reputation Cleopatra has among the Romans: ‘Name Cleopatra as she is call’d in Rome’ (AC 1.2.106) he says to one of the play’s ubiquitous messengers; at this stage at least he seems to appreciate a courier who is able to tell the truth. Desdemona is less able to talk about such problems: Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor’d her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,

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name That true hearts cannot bear it. Des. Am I that name, Iago? Iago. What name, fair lady? Des. Such as she said my lord did say I was. Emil. He call’d her whore. A beggar in his drink Could not have laid such terms upon his callet. (OTH 4.2.115–21)

Desdemona cannot even utter the word, instead referring to it as a name. Emilia’s response is enlightening, because Othello has publicly humiliated his wife by slandering her in this way. What is at stake here is not only the truth, but also the power to define a woman. Hamlet, of course, sees such matters differently: ‘Frailty, thy name is woman!’ (HAM 1.2.146), but then at least he does not yet feel confident enough to say anything about his mother’s behaviour (or his uncle’s) too publicly. The issue of exactly what defines a name in this public sense exercises Shakespeare in the Sonnets as well as the tragedies: In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were it bore not beauty’s name; But now is black beauty’s successive heir, And beauty slander’d with a bastard shame (SON 127.1–4)

There is a disjunction in the practice of representation between the ‘old age’ and ‘now’. Previously, a description accorded perfectly with the object or concept so described; now it is the opposite. Aside from being rather an idealized view of the past, this sonnet focuses on the issue of beauty as it pertains to succession, heirs and bastards, all in a context of shame – exactly the same context that arises in Othello. Naming as the power to define is given one of its most famous renditions in Shakespeare by Theseus: The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to aery nothing A local habitation and a name. (AMND 5.1.12–17)

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name Theseus’ description of poetic representation accords with the neoplatonic theory of poetic possession, the faculty that permits a poet to see beyond the mundane world to that of the ideal. But as so many of the plays show, a name is not something that is found poetically to inhere to a concept or a materially existing substance; it is socially produced. Names in this more wide-ranging social context can be dangerous, precisely because there is so much more to them than the personal, a fact that inflects Juliet’s naming of Romeo in the balcony scene at RJ 2.1.33–49. Juliet wishes to love the person rather than the name, since Romeo’s family name is that of an enemy to her family. The confusing conflict between persons and names in her speech marks Montague and Capulet with their mutual history of violence, even as Juliet seeks an essence that is separate from names and definitions. But as the play goes on inexorably to show, in this society such change is not going to happen. The social bears down on the personal to such an extent that tragedy results. Both families lose their names, in that each loses the only survivor in the next generation. The lines will be extinguished. This is worth remembering, because the play is often seen as a tragedy only of the two protagonists, in purely personal terms, as they struggle against the dead weight of their families’ enmity. Similar concerns surface in Julius Caesar. The play’s title hero has attained supremacy in Roman society, which greatly vexes Cassius in his crucial conversation with Brutus at JC 2.1.142–57. Cassius notes Caesar’s power and the effect it has had on Rome. But the speech is also constructed with knowing hindsight, since Caesar’s name in history means a great deal more than simply the name of one man. Caesar’s name is the designation of the Roman Empire that is about to come into existence. This is what is meant when Cassius compares past Roman history with many great men to a present that has only one. The underlying implication, of course, is the rhetorical point of Cassius’ persuasion of Brutus to join in a conspiracy of the many against the one. This is why the power of Caesar’s name reverberates throughout the play after he dies: the conflict thereafter is who shall attain pre-eminence anew, who shall be the next Caesar. This emphasis on the wider meanings of such a name may also explain the strange case of poor Cinna the poet, killed by the mob after Caesar’s funeral, simply because he has the same name as one of the conspirators (JC 3.3). A name is a great deal more than the person who happens to be called by it. 449

name (c) See Stone (1967) at 97 for commentary on the shift of violent military power away from the aristocracy to the crown, although of course many of the nobility still saw warfare as part of the selfdefinition of their class. For lineage as a definition of family name, see Heal and Holmes (1994) at 51. Weir (1998) describes some of Talbot’s strategic achievements in France at 89. For the crucial importance of reputation in one’s local society, see Amussen (1988), 98–107, especially for the importance of chaste conduct as the definition of the reputation of women. Loomba (1994) explores the relationship between Cleopatra and Rome at 288–9. Jardine (1996) analyses the historical context of contemporary English Renaissance anxieties about slander of women with specific reference to Desdemona at 19–34. Hawkes (1992) discusses Theseus’ speech on imagination at 17–18. Innes (2005) is a full discussion of the possible meanings of names in Julius Caesar.

nation A people that shares a reasonably distinct sense of geographical and cultural identity. The earliest use may be more racial than political, but the sense begins to move towards the modern idea of the nation state as a broad historical shift. Shakespeare’s plays are written part way through this change, and register both senses, depending on the immediate context. King Henry VI gives a reasonably standard English view of the French when he visits Paris to be crowned: ‘remember where we are – In France, amongst a fickle, wavering nation’ (1 HVI 4.1.137–8). This is doubly ironic, given the propensity of his own court to faction fighting, and also since the argument between Vernon and Basset has just reminded the audience of the two sides of Lancaster and York. In Othello, Brabantio notes that his daughter was: So opposite to marriage that she shunn’d The wealthy curled darlings of our nation (OTH 1.2.67–8)

This of course implies that Desdemona has been attracted by someone who is other than familiar to her in the form of Othello. One of the reasons Shylock gives in his list for wanting some form of vengeance on Antonio is that ‘He hates our sacred nation’ (MV 1.3.48). This is an 450

nation interesting usage because it shows that ‘nation’ still can refer to a people rather than a nation state as such. So too does one of the most well-known instances of the word: Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation – Mac. Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain and a basterd and a knave and a rascal. What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation? (HV 3.2.120–4)

All four of the captains are stereotypes and here Fluellen demonstrates his Welsh loquacity while Macmorris shows Irish pugnacity. He also articulates an attack on his nation (people) that replicates the standard English representation of the Irish as a bastard, knavish nation, because there is no unified Irish state or country. The Scot, Jamy, is a good fighter, at least according to Fluellen. Gower, the English captain, is of course the one who keeps the peace as all four of them unite under Henry V to kill Frenchmen. Joughin (1997) is a collection of essays on Shakespeare’s representations of nationality. Holderness (1995) is concerned not only with Shakespeare’s explorations of the various national identities in the British Isles, but also modern representations of Shakespeare.

navy (a) In the Middle Ages, the monarch called on the resources of

major feudal lords as well as the merchants when a fleet was needed. There were officials responsible for the conduct of war at sea, but the resources of the state were not really up to the task of equipping and maintaining a fleet for war. There was another reason for this situation: maritime technology was not particularly advanced in terms of weaponry. Most ships doubled as troop carriers and a battle at sea most often turned into something like a land melee as the various opponents closed and grappled with one another. This was the only way to proceed if one side or the other were serious about initiating sea-going combat. In the Mediterranean, of course, things were different because of the utility of galleys; here, proper ramming tactics encouraged sea battles that saw more tactical options that were not really possible in the open seas around England. 451

navy This all changed with the advent of gunpowder. Artillery had been used on ships before, in the form of catapults and ballistae, but cannon were more effective and many more of them could be put on ships of war. Henry VIII in particular was responsible for the foundation of something like a modern Royal Navy, although it did go through periods of relative stagnation. The ships themselves were not the only problem. A steady supply of experienced and adventurous sailors (or mariners, a common synonym) was needed. Henry’s initiatives set up a context in which the later successes of Elizabeth’s privateers (or pirates) were made possible. (b) Antony and Caesar make peace with Pompey at AC 2.6. Although this seems a minor occasion in the midst of the developing struggle between the two main triumvirs, it does have historical resonance. The Pompey who appears here is the son of Pompey the Great, Julius Caesar’s main rival in the First Triumvirate. By vanquishing him, Caesar became the most powerful man in Rome, for which he was assassinated. Pompey’s son has built up a powerful navy while the conspirators have been fighting Antony and Caesar’s heir, which is the action in Acts 4 and 5 of Julius Caesar. Pompey’s son is perhaps the final hope of any senators who wish for the return of the Republic in its fullest sense, especially since his pre-eminence at sea is unchallenged. By making a deal with him, the last alternative to the Second Triumvirate is removed. This is important, because it leaves the field open for a confrontation between Antony and Caesar in the remainder of Antony and Cleopatra. The third member of the triumvirate, Lepidus, is a political lightweight by this point. There is also a contemporary Renaissance resonance, because of the successes of the English navy over the might of Spain in Elizabeth’s reign. (c) For the navy of Henry VIII, see Wilson (2002), 98–107. For the navy under Elizabeth, see Somerset (1997), 577–93. Also see Edelman (2000), 236–7.

nobility (a) A generic term for those of high social rank, above the degree of a knight. The term of address for this group is lord. Surprisingly, perhaps, Shakespeare does not use this word all that often, preferring instead more precise gradations. There is also a 452

nobility secondary denotation of the kind of personal conduct that is expected of someone of this rank; ideally the rank and the behaviour should go together. (b) When Prince Hal is wounded in battle with the rebels in 1 Henry IV, he refuses to leave the field: And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, Where stain’d nobility lies trodden on, And rebels’ arms triumph in massacres! (1 HIV 5.4.11–14)

In fact, he took an arrow in the face that penetrated right through almost to his neck, narrowly missing several major organs and arteries. In any case, the volume of death at this battle (the battle of Shrewsbury) was severe enough for his rhetoric in the play to be a close approximation of the carnage. When Henry VI has just been crowned in France, faction fighting breaks out anew in the form of Vernon and Basset, adherents of Lancaster and York respectively. Henry admonishes everyone present because he realizes that the infighting that has bedevilled his court could well lead to the loss of France: Beside, what infamy will there arise, When foreign princes shall be certified That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henry’s peers and chief nobility Destroy’d themselves, and lost the realm of France! (1 HVI 4.1.143–7)

The issue here, and all the way through the English history plays, is with how little nobility the nobility behaves. As is so often the case, Falstaff provides a comedy that punctures the ideology of the aristocracy: ‘Stand aside, nobility’ (1 HIV 2.4.389) he says to the onlookers in the tavern, just before he impersonates the king. During the first court scene in Hamlet, Claudius tries to deal with a young prince who is already showing recalcitrant behaviour of his own: 453

nobility You are the most immediate to our throne, And with no less nobility of love Than that which dearest father bears his son Do I impart towards you. (HAM 1.2.109–12)

This sounds fine in the immediate context of court business, but it occurs immediately after a scene in which the dead previous king has been shown wandering the castle. And although young Hamlet does not yet know this, a sensitive audience will already have picked up a smell of something rotten lurking around Claudius’ court. Claudius’ real behaviour turns out to be anything but noble, unless one accepts the definition of noble conduct delivered by the hated Suffolk: ‘True nobility is exempt from fear’ (2 HVI 4.1.129). (c) For the nobility of the English Renaissance, see Stone (1967). For the development of a reasonably civilized code of noble conduct, see Elias (1994).

nunnery A closed religious establishment for women, often used by the nobility to place daughters and sometimes widows. The rules followed in a nunnery varied, depending on the order to which it belonged. Along with many other forms of religious foundation, nunneries achieved a reputation for licentiousness and loose living and were dissolved during the Reformation. There is only one direct representation of life in a nunnery in Shakespeare, and that comes in Measure For Measure. Isabella wishes to join the Order of the Poor Clares, which was just about the most restrictive of all, and even then she wonders about its rules being rather lax (MM 1.4). Her absolute belief in this form of religion should be taken into account by audiences and critics when she comes up against the equally extreme, but secretly corrupt Angelo. There is only one other use of the term in the entire body of work, and that is Hamlet’s famous vituperative attack on Ophelia: ‘Get thee to a nunn’ry, why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners?’ (HAM 3.1.120). Coming as this does as part of his antic disposition, it manages to be hugely ambiguous, picking up on the negative associations common in the Renaissance conception of the nunnery as effectively a brothel. 454

nunnery Jones (2003) gives some very good examples of the Reformation assault on the nunneries, amongst other institutions at 362–3, especially the charge of sexual licence.

nurse (a) One who looks after someone. This will usually be a wet nurse, a woman who feeds and looks after a child from a wealthy family so that the mother does not have to do so. Such a nurse may well stay through childhood; given the relative paucity of affective bonds between children and parents in wealthy households, the nurse is often the one person with whom a child bonds in the ways later periods would consider normal behaviour within the nuclear family. The word has associated uses, in relation to caring for someone and bringing them up. It can also mean to nurse someone through an illness, but Shakespeare tends to use this element figuratively. (b) The use of wet nurses by the aristocracy is a well enough known fact for Jack Cade to use it when he claims to be a Mortimer at 2 HVI 4.2.136–47. Neither Cade nor anyone else truly believes his story that he was a twin stolen away, but in a sense that does not matter. What is really of concern to the aristocracy is the powerful forces unleashed by the rising, as the common people react against the conduct of the nobility of Henry VI; according to the play, Cade’s rebellion has been stirred up by the Duke of York, with Cade acting as a pretender to the throne. The fear of a child of high rank being taken away while being nursed in this manner resurfaces in Cymbeline: ‘Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother’ (CYM 3.3.103–4) says Belarius of Cymbeline’s two sons. Just before he accuses Hermione of adultery with Polixenes, Leontes insults her by saying that he is glad she did not nurse their son Mamillius (WT 2.1.56). In Titus Andronicus, a nurse has a speaking part when she brings the child of Aaron and Tamora onto the stage (2.2). In order to keep the secret of his liaison with the Empress, Aaron kills the nurse and swaps the child with another newborn. The most well-known role of nurse, however, is in Romeo and Juliet. Juliet’s nurse gave birth to a daughter who died immediately (RJ 1.3.19–20), so she was hired to feed and care for the infant Juliet. She has stayed with the Capulet household ever since, to help bring up their only child, who is now herself of age (according to her parents) to 455

nurse marry. The nurse is an important figure in the play because she acts as a messenger between Juliet and Romeo; she is the one person Juliet can trust, at least initially. The bond between the two of them is shown to be much closer than that between Juliet and her mother. The nurse also has a further dramatic function: she serves to remind the audience of the ways in which noble young girls were treated, as opposed to boys. By enclosing Juliet within a domestic space as much as possible, the play contrasts her life with that of the free-roaming Romeo, whose parents never seem to know where he is. The nurse’s social rank relative to Juliet’s family is shown by the fact that the audience is never given her name, only her occupation. A common figurative use comes with reference to sleep: ‘O sleep! O gentle sleep! Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee’ (2 HIV 4.3.5–6) says the ailing King Henry. The Doctor who is charged with looking after old King Lear in his insanity says to Cordelia: ‘Our fosternurse of nature is repose’ (KL 4.4.12). Other figurative uses of the word occur. In As You Like It, the old family servant Adam offers his life savings to his young master: ‘Which I did store to be my foster-nurse’ (AYLI 2.3.40). John of Gaunt uses the term in his famous speech of olde Englande: ‘This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings’ (RII 2.1.51). (c) For the practice of wet-nursing amongst the gentry, see Heal and Holmes (1994), 77–80. See Stone (1990) at 83 and 272 for the child’s attachment to the nurse.

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O oath (a) A solemn promise or undertaking made with especial reference to something one holds sacred or in great regard. An oath does not in this period have to be sworn with a religious element; a noble, for example, might swear by his or her honour. Whatever the oath is sworn by, it was believed to be binding even to the peril of one’s soul. In more general terms, there is a weaker sense that just means an expletive. Henry VIII required every subject to swear an Oath of Succession when he married Anne Boleyn. Also, every holder of an office had to swear an Oath of Supremacy accepting Henry as supreme head of the Church of England. Under Elizabeth, the Oath of Supremacy was re-administered. (b) One of the most controversial oaths in English history was that supposedly sworn by Harold Godwinson on holy relics that he would not contest any claim made by William the Bastard to the English throne. This is not covered by Shakespeare, but the oath sworn by Henry of Lancaster at Doncaster is of great importance for the two tetralogies of English history plays: The noble Duke hath sworn his coming is But for his own; and for the right of that We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; And let him never see joy that breaks that oath! (RII 2.3.148–51)

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oath Northumberland here justifies his support for Henry’s return to the Duke of York, who has been left in charge of England while King Richard is in Ireland. But Henry will go on to break this oath and seize the throne. And even though Richard abdicates in Henry’s favour, his deposition is forced. These actions will reverberate right through the reigns of three Henries including this one, precipitating the Wars of the Roses and, eventually, leading to the Tudor and then Stuart accessions. Rebellions against the House of Lancaster invariably return to the issue of this oath and Richard’s deposition (and murder): You swore to us, And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, That you did nothing purpose ’gainst the state, Nor claim no further than your new-fall’n right, The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster. (1 HIV 5.1.41–5)

Shakespeare makes Worcester avouch this directly to King Henry just before the Battle of Shrewsbury. The importance of this particular rebellion lies in the military power of Worcester and his allies, who were the main force behind Henry’s rise in the first place. Henry’s grandson becomes another Richard, but succeeds in buying himself some time by disinheriting his own son (assuming that he was not in reality fathered by Suffolk) in favour of the Duke of York: K. Hen. I here entail The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever, Conditionally that here thou take thine oath To cease this civil war, and whilst I live To honour me as thy king and sovereign, And nor by treason nor hostility To seek to put me down and reign thyself. York. This oath I willingly take and will perform. (3 HVI 1.1.194–201)

Just as Henry IV had the support of the powerful military might of the northern nobles, so too now does the Duke of York, especially in the form of the formidable Warwick, the ‘Kingmaker’. But the respite is brief; the play goes on to make York’s three boldest sons reason with him against his oath, particularly Richard of Gloucester: 458

oath An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate That hath authority over him that swears. Henry had none, but did usurp the place. Then seeing ’twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. (3 HVI 1.2.22–7)

The Lancastrian usurpation has come back to haunt those who benefited from it. However, Shakespeare has condensed time and events for the sake of dramatic economy. York was not persuaded by his sons to break his oath; rather, he had only begrudgingly accepted the compromise of being acknowledged as Henry’s heir because the magnates, including Warwick, were not prepared to give him full support in a usurpation of his own. The crucial difference between what happened to Richard II and what occurs under Henry VI seems to be based on two elements. The first is that Henry, unlike Richard, did not threaten the interests of the lords in general. And, secondly, York did not have the appeal of the man who became Henry IV and was in fact generally disliked amongst his peers. York left the capital in what seems to have been an attempt to confront a massively superior Lancastrian army under Queen Margaret and young Prince Edward of Lancaster, neither of whom had been present in London. Presumably York did this in order to destroy them and thus remove the main stumbling blocks to his assuming the throne, but lost the battle and his life instead. Shakespeare’s representation of the conversation about oaths between York and his sons is therefore a fabrication, albeit believable; but it does serve the dramatic purpose of cohering the confusing political events into a single occurrence, as well as more fully introducing these sons to the audience. Their future roles will be crucial for the remainder of the play. Many of the other plays contain oaths of various kinds. Some are forsworn like those in the history plays: see Jachimo at CYM 2.4.63–4 and the King of Navarre and his courtiers by the end of Love’s Labour’s Lost. An oath that might possibly be kept (if it were put to the test) is that sworn by Celia to her disinherited cousin Rosalind in As You Like It: You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and truly when he dies thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken

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oath away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection. By mine honour, I will, and when I break that oath, let me turn monster. (AYLI 1.2.17–22)

Celia seems to intend to be true to her word, absconding with Rosalind rather than stay at the court of her usurping father. In The Merchant of Venice, Shylock certainly is true to his word: An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven! Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice. (MV 4.1.228–30)

This play is in fact full of oaths, as Shylock’s outburst testifies. There is the case of the trial scene as a whole, and the oaths sworn by Portia’s suitors: Ar. I am enjoin’d by oath to observe three things: First, never to unfold to any one Which casket ’twas I chose; next, if I fail Of the right casket, never in my life To woo a maid in way of marriage; Lastly, If I do fail in fortune of my choice, Immediately to leave you, and be gone. Por. To these injunctions everyone doth swear That comes to hazard for my worthless self. (MV 2.9.9–18)

This play is bound together by the swearing of oaths and the sealing of contracts. It is almost as though the worlds of Belmont and Venice produce a plethora of entanglements that have to be negotiated by those who live amongst them, often in ways that seem to be increasingly ingenious, if not manipulative. The performance tradition certainly has Portia manoeuvre her way through the casket plot to get the husband she wants, as well as coming up with the solution to the case of Shylock v Antonio. Portia also manages to get Bassanio and Graziano to swear on their new wives’ rings, and then works her way through this as well. One way to interpret her abilities would be to applaud the 460

oath representation of a powerful woman. Another possibility, perhaps more aware of the social constraints on Portia, would be to trace out the ways in which she has to operate in order to get the best deal for herself in the patriarchy of Venice. (c) See Ridley (2002, 2), 229–30, for the official oaths required by Henry VIII and Elizabeth I. For the historical events surrounding so the so-called ‘Act of Accord’ recognizing the Duke of York as heir to the throne of Henry VI, see Weir (1998), 247–54. For the belief system underlying the efficacy of oaths, see Palliser (1992), 395.

occupation One’s job of work. There are relatively few ordinary workers in the plays, since most of their material is concerned with the doings of the high and mighty, a tiny minority of the populace. These are people with incomes from either landed wealth or business management. When normal people do appear, it is usually as light relief: see the Porter in Macbeth (2.3.1–36) and the Gravediggers in Hamlet (5.1.1–183). These stand out all the more because they work in the midst of ongoing tragedy. There are also the token workers in the comedies, such as the rude mechanicals of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, who seem to work better for modern audiences than the interplay between the four aristocratic lovers. However, the daily working lives of most people are by and large invisible, simply because of the subject matter of the plays. There is the single exception of The Merry Wives of Windsor, but even here we see mostly the urban middle classes. There are no plays about the ordinary workers, but when they do impinge on the lives of their social superiors, they can be a force to be feared. Such is the rebellion of Jack Cade and his men in 2 Henry VI or the force of the people in Coriolanus. But mostly the minor city and country workers who appear on the fringes of the plays remain on the periphery. Palliser (1992) includes two very useful tables that provide an overview of urban occupations in England in the reign of Elizabeth. The first, at 283, expresses the weight of population in percentage terms who work in the broad categories of Textiles; Clothing; Leather; Metal; Woodwork; Building; Food and Drink; Distribution and Transport; Professional; and Other. The numbers vary by region and date. The second table, at 284, gives the leading occupations in six towns at 461

occupation slightly different dates across the period; the basis for the calculation is given in an appendix at 461–3. The list of occupations in this table is like a snapshot of the essential trades in everyday life. Interestingly, in all but one town, the leading occupation is from the broad grouping of those who make items that are worn, or deal in the materials that go towards making them. The single exception is the butchers of Nottingham. Palliser’s figures are based on the numbers of craftsmen or freemen attributed to the various occupations.

office (a) This word has a wide range of uses. It can denote a high office of state; a minor office of local government; or, in general, any role or position that one has a duty to perform. There are also various figurative instances drawing on these various connotations. (b) The highest offices of the state are those of the court or the royal household, or the military or civil positions given out by the monarch. The most important of these entitle the holder to carry a staff of office. Worcester breaks his and joins the growing power of the returned Henry of Hereford against King Richard II. This is reported at RII 2.3.26–8 by his kinsman Hotspur to his father, the Earl of Northumberland; the reason given is the pronouncement that Northumberland is to be considered a traitor for himself supporting Henry in his return from exile. Worcester reminds Henry of this at 1 HIV 5.1.34 when he rebels against him as well. The reason for this second rebellion is the way in which Henry took the throne from Richard, after swearing that he only wanted his rightful dukedom of Lancaster, which Richard had appropriated to his own use when Henry’s father died. The northern connection is crucial, because of the military power represented by Worcester, Northumberland and Percy, and their affinity. The word is also applied to an important religious position as at 1 HVI 3.1.55. Minor offices are represented in the plays as well. When he finds out that Henry IV is dead, Pistol assumes, like the rest of his friends, that the new king will favour them. Accordingly, he insults Justice Shallow and his office: ‘A foutre for thine office!’ (2 HIV 5.3.115). The Sheriff who is ordered to oversee the punishment of Dame Eleanor begs pardon of her for doing his office at 2 HVI 2.4.102. In Measure For Measure, Angelo orders the Provost to do his job or he will get someone else to do it for him: ‘Do you your office, or give up your place’ (MM 2.2.13), he 462

office says, when the Provost wishes to double-check the order for Claudio’s death. The more generalized meaning of discharging a role, duty or position also occurs quite often; this usage can be applied to any level of office. Antony lies to Octavia when he says that ‘The world and my great office will sometimes Divide me from your bosom’ (AC 2.3.1–2), when he is really thinking of returning to Cleopatra. In Coriolanus, the Tribunes of the People, Brutus and Sicinius, are alarmed at the possibility that Martius may become Consul: ‘Then our office may, during his power, go to sleep’ (COR 2.1.222–3). He is the greatest enemy the people have amongst the patricians. Exeter finishes off his embassy declaring war on France with, ‘So far my King and master; so much my office’ (HV 3.6.135–6). The word is applied to the position of the monarch by Macbeth: Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongu’d, against The deep damnation of his taking-off (MAC 1.7.16–20)

Lear, on the other hand, ends up by realizing that in the kingdom he gave to his daughters, ‘There thou mightst behold the great image of authority: a dog’s obeyed in office.’ (KL 4.6.157–9). (c) For the important offices of state, see Stone (1967), 183–232. For the various kinds of municipal officers, see Picard (2004), 259–76.

orphan One without parents. If such a person had wealthy enough relatives, or had been left some wealth, they were often raised as a ward in another family. The wardship system in England was very lucrative because it existed as an office of the crown. The lord who held the office could skim off the income from lands, properties etc. from an orphan to whom he was guardian until they reached their majority. William Cecil did very nicely indeed out of this arrangement. Helena in All’s Well That Ends Well is an orphan and has been brought up in the household of the Countess of Rossillion. Complications set 463

orphan in when she falls in love with the countess’ son, Bertram. A similar situation pertains to Posthumus in Cymbeline, although in his case he has actually married Imogen, the king’s only daughter, who is heirpresumptive. In both cases the ward is of lower status and rank than the household and person with whom they fall in love. Picard (2004) describes the possibilities open to orphans from the lower classes in London at 224–7. See Brimacombe (2003), 47, for Cecil’s post as Master of the Court of Wards.

outlaw One who lives outwith the law, usually as a fugitive from justice. More specifically, an outlaw is someone who has been banished but has chosen not to leave the country, and so lives, as we would say, on the run. In any case, the distinction is often blurred in practice, and often has a sort of romanticized appeal as in the legend of Robin Hood. Hotspur reminds Sir Walter Blunt that his father welcomed the outlaw who later became King Henry IV after swearing that he only wanted his rightful dukedom; see 1 HIV 4.3.54–65. Valentine becomes leader of a band of outlaws in The Two Gentlemen of Verona and there is a kind of idealized version of how to live in the deep wild woods as a member of the court of the banished Duke in As You Like It. Ridley (2002, 2) devotes a chapter to the various kinds of vagabonds who lived outside the law, from 275–87.

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P parish An ecclesiastical or local government term: a subdivision of a county or town. Sometimes the two jurisdictions overlap or are identical, but sometimes they are not. As the tier of local authority and administration with which most people identified, the parish gave a sense of geographical neighbourhood to people’s lives, and they tended to feel that they belonged to their parish before any other concept of communal relationship. This was especially true the further down the social scale one goes: the dual concept of place in society denotes both rank and physical location. For the vast majority of the population, their parish was where they lived out their entire lives. The lower-level workings of the parish exist as a given, operating behind the scenes of Shakespeare’s plays which have what we would describe as lower- or middle-class elements. A good example of how its horizons condition the outlook of the ordinary citizen can be found in 1 Henry VI when Joan of Arc is confronted by her father just before her death, at 1 HVI 5.4.2–13. Joan’s father automatically invokes the parameters of his social identity in the face of her refusal to acknowledge him. The play’s propagandistic representation of the French heroine is underpinned by a very strong social fabric, and the parish is just one of the places she transgresses. Her rank and gender should stop her from having any say in high politics; by disavowing her family and her locality, she flies in the face of every form of normative behaviour that would be ascribed to her. For local support and individual obligations to the parish as a 465

parish religious body, see Duffy (1992), 131–4. Picard (2004) has a section devoted entirely to the London parishes, at 269ff.

parliament (a) The history of the development of parliamentary democracy in the United Kingdom has been a long and uneven process. There are two Houses: the Commons and the Lords, and the relationship between the two has changed over time. The initial medieval English manifestations of the parliament were in terms more of a grand council convened to advise the monarch and vote a subsidy over and above any royal income, as well as to enact any new legislation. The feudal power of the great lords combined with the power of the church to make the House of Lords substantially more important than the Commons. Secular lords had a hereditary right to a seat, as did clergymen of the rank of bishop or higher. These two groups, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, combined to make up the House of Lords, which was naturally a bastion of entrenched privilege and conservatism. The House of Commons, which was composed of members elected according to geographical areas, was not necessarily more radical than the Lords, but it certainly was less powerful. The balance swings the other way as the centuries progress, and the Renaissance can probably be considered almost half way down this road. What is important for the Tudors and Stuarts is the legislative role of parliament and its fiscal role in determining the monarch’s subsidy, if any. Struggles over rights and prerogatives between the two Houses, and between them and the monarch, still take place in this period, and indeed explode into another series of civil wars. But a ruler like Elizabeth can be quite forceful when she perceives parliament to be impinging on areas that she considers to be hers alone, the succession being the main one. (b) Parliament is mentioned mostly in the English history plays, as well as once in The Merry Wives of Windsor. This relative paucity of occurrences is not too surprising, since many of the plays are set in other countries or at times at which parliament as such did not really exist. One of the most important scenes in the history plays seems to be set in parliament: the deposition of Richard II (RII 4.1). Technically, Richard is not deposed, rather resigning the crown to his cousin, who becomes Henry IV; but no one present is under any illusion that 466

parliament Richard’s is a free decision. This action sets in motion a chain of events leading in the long term to the Wars of the Roses and the accession of the Tudors, followed by the Stuarts. When Henry IV is dying, he advises his son to use foreign war as a way of dealing with any perceptions of the usurpation. When Henry V becomes king in turn, he says, ‘Now call we our high court of parliament’ (2 HIV 5.2.134). This feeds into the audience’s hindsight of Henry’s wars in France; they will be aware that this parliament will be the one to give him his war subsidy. Parliament is held on stage in 2 Henry VI at 3.1, which is when the final news of total defeat in France is reported. The English lords have been so busy fighting one another that the French have completely recovered from the depredations of Henry V. But rather than learn from this, a new cycle of faction fighting erupts, leading to the Wars of the Roses proper. Various parliaments are convened during this conflict, for example at 2 HVI 5.3.25, but these are all subject to whichever of the Houses of York or Lancaster happens to be in the ascendancy. It is only when the fighting for the crown finally ceases that royal authority is restored, at least enough for the normal parliamentary machinery to start working again. (c) For the power of the peerage and their right to sit in the House of Lords, see Stone (1967) at 28–9. Neale (1963) is the classic treatment of the House of Commons in the reign of Elizabeth.

parson This word could be applied to any clergyman, but Shakespeare follows popular practice in making the few parsons who appear in the plays into figures of fun. Holofernes in Love’s Labour’s Lost is a good example of the type. He is a dull pedant, always speaking in sententious pig Latin. The Welsh parson Hugh Evans in The Merry Wives of Windsor is a typical English representation of a Welsh windbag, a common enough caricature. For the continuation of the Reformation in the reign of Elizabeth, see Duffy (1992) from 565–93. He notes the gradual shift from the Catholic insistence of the sacred from the sacraments to the scriptures at 586, but of course this required some improvements in the education and standing of the lower clergy, many of whom were open to the kind of ridicule levelled at them in Shakespeare. 467

patron

patron (a) One who stands in a relation of superiority to a client. Mostly, the word is associated with someone who acts as a patron to artists and writers, at least in this period. It has a more specific sense of promoting a career, rather than the more vague modern sense associated with phrases such as ‘patron of the arts’, which really just means someone who consumes the arts. There are various ways in which patronage operated, from simply acknowledging a relationship with or dedication from a poet, to a more formal acceptance of a practitioner of the arts into one’s household. This last may well be what happened to Shakespeare in and around 1593 when the theatres were closed due to plague. Many commentators think that he was patronized by the young Earl of Southampton at this point, perhaps even writing the young man sonnets to him. He certainly appears as a dedicatee to Shakespeare’s non-dramatic literary output at this time. Having a major figure as patron to one’s theatrical company was also important. Unless of the rank of gentry or its equivalent in the trades, one was supposed to be in service to some sort of master or other. Technically, the actors were masterless men and thus could come under the legislation against vagabonds, something that the City worthies would be happy to do. But this situation could be circumvented by the legal fiction of ‘belonging’ to the household of a noble; thus, for example, Shakespeare’s company was known as the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, and then managed somehow to gain the considerable coup of becoming the king’s servants when James succeeded to the throne after Elizabeth. (b) Very few of these contemporary meanings of patronage appear in Shakespeare’s texts. He uses the word mostly in a political sense, akin to the Roman system of clientage: Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confess who set thee up and pluck’d thee down, Call Warwick patron, and be penitent? And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York. (3 HVI 5.1.25–8)

This is Warwick’s rejoinder to Edward of York in their confrontation at Coventry, before the final battle that confirms the total victory of the House of York over the Lancastrians. Warwick, known as ‘the Kingmaker’, made Edward king and then changed sides; he reminds 468

patron Edward of this by his use of the term ‘patron’, indicating that he stands in the superior position. In King Lear, Kent calls Lear his ‘great patron’ at KL 1.1.142; later on in the same play, Gloucester describes Cornwall as his ‘worthy arch and patron’ at KL 2.1.59. In both of these instances, the relationship denotes affinity in the feudal sense. (c) For the system of political patronage, see Palliser (1992), 352–5. Barroll (1991) questions the importance that has traditionally been placed on King James’ patronage of Shakespeare’s company; see 23–69.

peasant (a) One who works the land; a rural commoner. As with so many words that refer to the lower classes, when this word is used by one of the nobility it often carries overtones of abuse. It can also simply be used as the opposite of gentry to denote anyone who is not of high social rank. (b) When the Shepherd who is the father of Joan of Arc is presented to his daughter just before her death, she invokes categories of rank in order to insult the man: ‘Peasant, avaunt! – You have suborn’d this man Of purpose to obscure my noble birth’ (1 HVI 5.4.21–2). The second part of her outburst is aimed at the English who have captured her. The same opposition is the basis for the joke played on the drunkard Sly in the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew. There are occasions on which the difference is serious, as when Regan kills the servant who has just fatally wounded Cornwall in an attempt to stop his torture of Gloucester; she exclaims ‘A peasant stand up thus?’ (KL 3.7.79). This man would not have been a peasant, technically, because he works in a noble household, but then Regan is not one for the niceties of degree. There is also an assumption that those of high birth will show their quality, even when they have been brought up in less salubrious circumstances. This notion appears with Perdita’s life in The Winter’s Tale as well as the king’s two sons in Cymbeline. Orlando castigates his older brother for the way he has treated him: My father charg’d you in his will to give me good education. You have train’d me like a peasant,

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peasant obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. (AYLI 1.1.66–70)

The fight between the two of them picks up on something of a social problem. The elder brother, Oliver, has inherited almost everything, but has not felt morally obliged to act generously towards his younger brother. To Orlando, the way he has been brought up is more appropriate to a peasant than a gentleman. Hamlet famously compares his own conduct with that of a ‘rogue and peasant slave’ (HAM 2.2.550) in one of his soliloquies. This opposition of rank also occurs in military use. Here ‘peasant’ means the common soldier of a feudal army: In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-temper’d courage in his troops (2 HIV 1.1.112–15)

This is how Morton relates the effect of Hotspur’s death on his army at the Battle of Shrewsbury. In the aftermath of Agincourt, the French herald comes to ask for the right to bury the dead, saying that ‘our vulgar drench their peasant limbs In blood of princes’ (HV 4.7.77–8). (c) For an overview of life among the Elizabethan peasantry, see Palliser (1992), 205–18. Coward (2003) notes the gradations in wealth and land ownership amongst rural workers in England, and compares them to the more traditional kinds of ‘peasant’ to be found on the continent, at 53.

peer (a) A member of the secular nobility. This is a more precise term than lord, which can also be applied to churchmen of the rank of bishop or higher. The peerage is not a homogeneous social class. There are wide variations in wealth and status amongst them, as well as important regional alliances. They tend to operate in groups that are held together by perceived bonds of affiliation. If they are not held in check by a strong ruler, conflict between these groups, or indeed dissatisfaction with the monarch, can erupt into faction fighting or even outright civil war. 470

peer (b) The alienation of the majority of the great magnates is what brings down Richard II. This is a king who tries to act in an absolutist manner several centuries ahead of time, when the peerage still command their own great military capability, independently of the monarchy. Even an old gardener knows enough about sensible medieval government to be able to tell the queen what has happened: In your lord’s scale is nothing but himself, And some few vanities that make him light; But in the balance of great Bullingbrook, Besides himself, are all the English peers, And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. (RII 3.4.85–9)

This is something of an object lesson in balance of power politics; by failing to maintain some support for himself amongst the aristocracy, this king becomes unable even to hold onto his throne. Richard has thought that his position is enough and that everyone will obey him because they are supposed to, but the self-interested motivations of the magnates are working against him. Richard simply is not majestic enough or militarily powerful enough to act in this way successfully. He ends up being deposed by the House of Lancaster, and is murdered soon afterwards. Henry IV, the man who supplants Richard II, has serious problems of his own. The reason for this is that upon his return to England, he swore an oath that he was only seeking the restoration of his patrimony. Instead, he sees Richard’s weakness and seizes the throne. He pays for this with years of rebellion. Unlike Richard, though, he rides out the tide of dissension, ably helped by his sons, especially the prince who becomes Henry V. But he dies young, leaving England in the hands of an infant son whose court sees divisive faction fighting right from the outset. Even while still young, Henry VI is able to recognize the damage that is being caused by the mutual hatred of the Duke of Gloucester and the Bishop of Winchester: O, what a scandal is it to our crown That two such noble peers as ye should jar! (1 HVI 3.1.69–70)

Henry’s use of the term ‘peer’ to refer to a churchman is not in this case incorrect. The reason for this is that the ambitious and powerful bishop 471

peer (later a cardinal) is the leader of the Beaufort family, who are cousins to the ruling Lancastrian dynasty – he is a peer in his own right. Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, is uncle to the king and is Lord Protector of England during his nephew’s minority. He hates the Beauforts with a passion, and the enmity between the two sides almost spills over into civil war. Gloucester eventually falls from power because of his wife’s treasonous misconduct and (according to Shakespeare, at least) is murdered on the orders of the voracious Suffolk. And this is only the first cycle of internal violence. The next generation, as it were, occurs when the king has grown to maturity. He demonstrates an inability to rule his peers that compares with that of Richard II, albeit for different reasons. Henry is not an absolutist, he is simply weak and inept, as well as being subject to periodic bouts of insanity. The vacuum this creates at the top leads to more faction fighting, this time between the Beaufort supporters of the Lancastrian regime and Henry’s queen, the inimitable Margaret of Anjou (plus Suffolk, her supposed lover), on the one hand, and the supporters of the rights of the Duke of York to the throne, especially the powerful Warwick, on the other. This spills over into outright civil war as the spiral of violence grows ever stronger. No longer is the conflict between peers; now the object of struggle is the throne itself, as the Wars of the Roses break out in earnest. And in the meantime all of this faction fighting sees the end of England’s empire in France. When the fighting dies down and the Tudors are on the throne, there are still problems between the king and his peers, but this time the king (Henry VIII) is strong enough to overcome them; the peers find the Duke of Buckingham, guilty of treason (HVIII 2.1.26–7). The play does not show this trial, rather preferring to report it via the choral gentlemen. In fact, Henry had Buckingham judicially murdered because the duke had at least as much entitlement to the throne as himself, indeed more so. This final aspect of the relationships between the monarchy and the peers is important: by the Renaissance, dynastic anxiety gives rise to events such as Buckingham’s death, but the peerage as a whole is quiescent enough. (c) For the peerage in Renaissance society, see Stone (1967), 28–36; see also Palliser (1992), 100, for social mobility among the peerage. Coward (2003) notes the economic pressures that forced James I to sell peerages from 1615 for cash at 146. 472

pewter

pewter An alloy of tin and lead used for making relatively cheap household implements. Especially useful for plates, bowls and so on. Prince Hal asks Francis, a tavern servant, how long he still has to work in his apprenticeship. When he finds out that the man still has five years to go, the prince replies: ‘by’r lady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter’ (1 HIV 2.4.45–6). The word also appears amongst Gremio’s list of his household accoutrements at TS 2.1.355. Ridley (2002, 2) mentions pewter wares while describing the poorer households at 145. physician: see doctor pirates Technically, pirates were different from privateers. The latter were given letter of authorization from a sovereign permitting them to act against the shipping and trade interests of a specified nation. However, the distinction really post-dates the Renaissance, and in any case it was hardly ever accepted as such by those on the receiving end of the associated violence. The great eruption of Elizabethan seamanship produced men who were regarded as terrible pirates by the Spanish in particular, especially Sir Francis Drake. There are references to pirates in several of the plays, for example when King Henry VI invokes them metaphorically at (2 HVI 4.9.33). The dead man, Ragozine, who is swapped for Claudio in Measure For Measure in the play’s second substitution incident is described as ‘a most notorious pirate’ (MM 4.3.71). Pirates are important to one of the strands of Pericles when they kidnap Marina and sell her to the brothel at 4.1 and 4.2. They also make an important intervention off-stage in Hamlet when they encounter the prince at sea on his way to England with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Hamlet relates the incident to Horatio by letter at 4.6.13–31. Although the play is ostensibly set in medieval times, the prevalence of piracy in English waters may well be a submerged reference to contemporary Renaissance issues. In Twelfth Night, Antonio the sea captain who befriends Sebastian very precisely denotes the distinction between pirate and lawful enemy when he is confronted by Orsino at 5.1.69–76. See Edelman (2000), 257–61, and Jowitt (2003), 140–90. 473

plague

plague (a) A word Shakespeare uses generically, to refer to any virulent disease. It is used as a swear word and in figurative language as well. There is also a verbal usage that has survived into modern times: to plague a person with something or other whose sense is supplied by the context. The instances of all of these meanings can vary from the superficial to the deadly serious. An outbreak of plague was one of the few occasions that the City of London authorities could close down the theatres, since they were located in areas outside their jurisdiction except in emergency circumstances. A long pestilence could ruin entire companies, as seems to have happened in 1592–4, although Shakespeare himself seems to have survived by seeking aristocratic patronage. (b) Several well-known instances of the word being used in swearing appear in the plays. This shows that plague is so feared that swearing by it has acquired the force of profanity: ‘A plague a’ both houses’ (RJ 3.1.91) says Mercutio when he has been fatally wounded by Tybalt, repeating his words at RJ 3.1.99. Since this is coming from a dying man, he really means it, and this moment is usually taken to be the point at which the play turns from romantic comedy to tragedy. Mercutio in a sense gets his wish, as both houses will die out after the deaths of their heirs, Juliet and Romeo. Caliban is equally forthcoming with vitriol: You taught me language, and my profit on’t Is, I know how to curse. The red-plague rid you For learning me your language! (TEM 1.2.363–5)

The word also appears as a milder expletive. Given the seriousness of contracting the plague, the only way that swearing by it can be noted as less serious at some points than at others is by the immediate context: ‘What a plague means my niece to take the death of her brother thus?’ (TN 1.3.1–2) asks Sir Toby Belch. He repeats the imprecation when he is drunk: ‘a plague o’ these pickle-herring!’ (TN 1.5.120–1) he shouts, presumably as he lets off one of the specialities for which he is named. Figurative uses also vary in their seriousness. Edmund certainly means it when in soliloquy he makes his various statements about normal conduct and then his own illegitimacy: 474

plague Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom, and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? (KL 1.2.2–6)

By describing customary behaviour as a plague, he is explicitly clear about his opinion of normality. Iago is hardly less unpleasant when he describes his opinion of Bianca to the audience: It is a creature That dotes on Cassio (as ’tis the strumpet’s plague To beguile many and be beguil’d by one) (OTH 4.1.95–7)

A beguiling plague that affects many is a reference to venereal disease, a typical comment by Iago on how people really behave. After all, there is only his word for Bianca to be taken as a courtesan. A perhaps less vicious insult is that delivered by the newly crowned Henry IV of his son and heir, the Prince of Wales: ‘If any plague hang over us, ’tis he’ (RII 5.3.3). This sets the scene for the next two plays of the Second Tetralogy. (c) For the dread felt by people for the plague in Shakespeare’s time, see Adams (2000), 53–6. Barroll (1995) is a full treatment of the interrelationship between plague and the theatre in the Stuart years of Shakespeare’s career.

pope (a) Head of the international Catholic Church and Bishop of Rome. The papacy is an important political institution in this period, and not just because of the confluence of religion and politics. The Papal States in Italy were extensive, which made the popes major players in the secular politics of the Italian peninsula. In Catholic practice, the popes were considered to be effective ruler of the spiritual domain of Christendom; several of them took this a stage further and argued for their overlordship in the temporal domain as well. The popes had several powerful weapons with which to force compliance from recalcitrant monarchs. These included excommunication of the individual person, 475

pope and even interdiction, which effectively placed an entire country under sentence of excommunication. The various reforming movements began as a reaction against the perceived temporal power and corruption of the church as an institution, and these quickly gathered pace against the papacy itself. There were many reasons why this should be so. Firstly, there was an argument that the Bishop of Rome was only one of many bishops, and had no right to claim pre-eminence (a direct contestation of the popes to be ‘heirs’ of St Peter). Secondly, there was the political performance of the medieval Italian papacy, which became so badly contaminated by meddling in temporal affairs that many saw it as having lost any spiritual force. Thirdly, and perhaps the most important, was the Protestant emphasis on the primacy of scripture. The logical corollary to this position, as the popes correctly saw, was an attack on the structure of the church that had evolved over the centuries. Some Protestants even went so far as to demonize the papacy as the antichrist because of the non-scriptural power it had accrued to itself. All of these elements resonate in English history from the Middle Ages onwards. As with many other European states, especially those on the geographical periphery of Europe, England had its fair share of anticlerical movements such as the Lollards, a kind of early Protestantism. There was also the matter of papal jurisdiction in the temporal plane over a God-anointed king. By the Renaissance, humanist learning had produced an educated class who were receptive to the growing reform movement, and the combination of these last two elements during the reign of Henry VIII was to prove explosive. The reason was that king’s overwhelming desire for a male heir, something that drove his infamous marital career and led to a break from the Roman papacy. Even so, Henry wanted his Church of England to remain essentially Catholic in outlook; he simply replaced the pope as head with himself. But such events were too all-encompassing to remain easily under control, and the result was massive religious and social change. England’s opposition to the papacy even resulted in a death sentence being promulgated by the Roman Catholic Church against Elizabeth I. (b) No Shakespeare play contains a direct representation of a pope. Presumably the reason for this is that it would simply be too controversial, given the state of religious bickering. The source material for most of the plays allows him to sidestep the issue, but there are 476

pope occasions on which references to the papacy are necessary, if not the appearance of a pope on stage. A good example comes with King John’s attack on papal authority at KJ 3.1.147–60, which sounds very much like the kind of thing Henry VIII would utter. Anachronism aside, however, John was known for his robust defence of the royal prerogative right across the board, including against his own nobility. This caused great trouble, leading to the Magna Carta, but it also made him something of an early test case in the ongoing struggle between temporal and spiritual authority. So although Shakespeare is retrospectively associating this king with something very much like the Renaissance English Reformation, he does so in terms of an underlying structural historical logic. The means by which the playwright chooses to manage the issue is via the emergent discourse of nationalism; in this respect, the use of the term ‘supremacy’ is extremely telling. Other references to the pope occur in the course of the English history plays. In 1 Henry VI, a major underlying contention is between Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, and Bishop Beaufort of Winchester, later elevated to cardinal. Their confrontation is dramatized in order to demonstrate the faction fighting of Henry VI’s reign, pretty much from the outset. They quarrel mostly over the war with France, but there is also a tinge of violent emulation, since the cardinal is a member of the powerful Beaufort family, cousins to the House of Lancaster. Gloucester is Lord Protector of England during the king’s minority. He is the brother of Henry V, and so is associated with the power of English militarism. His contest with the cardinal must be seen within this context, which inevitably adds a tinge of nationalism similar to that in King John: Glou. Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal’s hat;. In spite of Pope or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I’ll drag thee up and down. Win. Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the Pope. (1 HVI 1.3.49–52)

Here we see a nationalist noble attacking a cardinal who appeals to the pope; the combination is obviously calculated to appeal to the play’s Renaissance audience. The play that most consistently makes use of these issues is of course Henry VIII, although even here Shakespeare and Fletcher are very 477

pope circumspect about how they handle relations between king and pope. They manage the issue by displacing it all onto the figure of Cardinal Wolsey, in terms familiar from 1 Henry VI. Wolsey’s own personal pride is held by the nobles in the play to be responsible for the various events that take place and he gets his comeuppance when his letters to Rome fall into the hands of the king: The Cardinal’s letters to the Pope miscarried, And came to th’ eye o’ th’ King, wherein was read How that the Cardinal did entreat his Holiness To stay the judgement o’ th’ divorce; for if It did take place, ‘I do’, quoth he, ‘perceive My king is tangled in affection to A creature of the Queen’s, Lady Anne Bullen’. (HVIII 3.2.30–6)

Suffolk’s words refer to events that have taken place offstage, a method that allows the playwrights to skip over the historical events while pinning the blame on Wolsey. In fact, Queen Katherine herself appealed directly to the pope for judgement in her case, circumventing both Wolsey and the papal legate, Cardinal Campeius. The latter had been give secret orders by the pope to prevaricate for as long as possible. What is important here is that the play tries to avoid blaming the king for these events as much as possible, since the overall result is the break from Rome. The play conveniently ends with Cranmer making an utterly ahistorical prophecy of the future greatness of Elizabeth I. (c) Duffy (1992) is a narrative of the English Reformations started off by Henry VIII. Plowden (2001) describes the effects of the excommunication of Elizabeth I by Pope Pius V in 1570 at 171. Weir (1991) devotes an entire section to the ‘great matter’ of Henry VIII’s divorce proceedings from Katherine of Aragon and his entanglement with Anne Boleyn, from 143–338.

poverty (a) The normal condition of much of the populace in this period. It is seldom noticed by the wealthy upper classes who inhabit Shakespeare’s plays, but when it is, it is held to be fearsome indeed. 478

poverty (b) The rebellion led by the Archbishop of York, the Earl Marshal, Lord Hastings and Lord Bardolph in 2 Henry IV is held to be taking place at more or less the same time as conflict with the Welsh led by Glendower and the French. Hastings’ comment on all of this is: So is the unfirm King In three divided, and his coffers sound With hollow poverty and emptiness. (2 HIV 1.3.73–5)

This is an important observation, and not only because Hastings is referring to the serious strategic situation in which Henry IV finds himself. There are contemporary Renaissance resonances: Elizabeth was often unable to wage war effectively because of a shortage of hard cash. Also, even when she did have the money, she was unwilling to risk it in the uncertain venture of a war such as her Council urged her to on behalf of the Dutch rebellion against Spanish overlordship. Margaret of Anjou tells Suffolk that she hates the Duchess of Gloucester, citing several reasons. The most important of these is that: She bears a duke’s revenues on her back, And in her heart she scorns our poverty. (2 HVI 1.3.80–1)

This is a direct reference to Margaret’s lack of money and lands before she married King Henry, something she repeats a few lines later. The play makes most of the nobility opposed to Margaret’s marriage on such grounds right from the outset, which is something of a dramatic licence. Real poverty obviously drives people to do things that they would otherwise choose not to do, and this is what happens when Romeo buys his poison. The apothecary who supplies him with it admits: ‘My poverty, but not my will, consents’ (RJ 5.1.75). Timon of Athens is driven to become an insane malcontent when his hospitality to others ruins him and his former friends ignore him completely. But one of the most often debated instances occurs when Lear encounters abject poverty of the worst kind on the heath (KL 3.4.26–36). (c) The importance of poverty in Shakespeare’s culture is explored in 479

poverty Palliser (1992) at 139–51. For the debate over Lear’s recognition of poverty, see Liebler (1995), 200–5.

prentice (a) Archaic form of ‘apprentice’ used by Shakespeare. In the strict terms laid down by law for the governance of trades, an apprentice was the lowest rank. He was effectively an indentured servant-worker bound by agreement to an employer for a specified number of years, usually seven. In return for his service, the employer was required to teach him in his profession. Apprenticeship was also the formula commonly used when wealthier families employed female domestic servants. The London apprentices had a particular reputation; their behaviour was popularly reputed to include some of the roughest elements of English contemporary loutishness. (b) The Eastcheap scenes in 1 Henry IV provide comedy with the logic of the upside-down world of carnival: Prince. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen? Poins. Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table as drawers. Prince. From a God to a bull? A heavy descension! it was Jove’s case. From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation! that shall be mine, for in every thing the purpose must weigh with the folly. (1HIV 2.2.169–77)

Prince Henry uses language that demonstrates his function as a carnivalesque prince; his change of habit and position is not simply ironic. He may ultimately be using his current compatriots, but when he does so he enters into it with gusto. His use of the term ‘folly’ is extremely precise in this context, helped along by the alliteration in ‘prince’ and ‘prentice’. A perhaps more unpleasant glimpse into the life of the average apprentice is provided in 2 Henry VI, with the peculiar interlude of a dispute between Horner, the Armourer, and his apprentice Peter (2.3.59ff). They have rather absurdly been commanded to trial by combat, even though they are not nobles. Peter is afraid of Horner, who has beaten him in the past, but kills his master with a single blow. The situation is even more farcical because of the amount of alcohol on offer, 480

prentice most of which is drunk by Horner. Peter refuses to drink and turns out to be in the right anyway, since Horner confesses as he dies. This sordid little scene balances the removal of the title and power of Protector from Gloucester, which immediately precedes it. It also functions emblematically to point out the mounting social tensions in Henry’s kingdom, which will soon be sliding into the Wars of the Roses. Many members of the audience would identify exactly with the conflict between the good apprentice and his drunken master, and the episode brings home to them the rising tide of lawlessness in an extremely effective manner. (c) Picard (2004) describes the system of apprenticeship at 228–31. Stone (1990) analyses the system in relation to general issues of social mobility at 415–16. For the apprentices in Shakespeare’s company, see Richmond (2002), 35.

prince (a) A term derived from the Latin princeps, meaning First

Citizen, the title Augustus Caesar gave himself as the first Roman Emperor. This was a deliberate attempt to displace the old Roman prejudice against kings. The designation of ‘prince’ has a wider range of meanings in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance than it does now, a direct result of their being closer to Latinesque uses. In effect, it often means monarch, which means that it can be applied to a woman who reigns over a country in her own right. There is also of course the consideration that high positions are always gendered masculine anyway. The meaning that is familiar to later eras of a male member of a royal family also exists in the period. (b) The most glorious English king, at least so far as the audiences of the Renaissance were concerned, was Henry V. There was something of a legend of his wayward youth, which Shakespeare incorporates into the Second Tetralogy; the historical basis for this is doubtful. However, it is clear from various comments in the plays that Prince Henry was not wild just for the sake of it; he ‘slums it’ in order to gain an understanding of the ordinary English far greater than would normally be possible for one of his rank: And so the Prince obscur’d his contemplation Under the veil of wildness, which (no doubt)

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prince Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty. (HV 1.1.63–6)

This comment is made by the Bishop of Ely in conversation with the Archbishop of Canterbury. It serves to link this play with the previous Henry IV plays, reminding the audience of what many of them will already have seen on stage. The logic here is that by learning as much as he can about the people, Henry will be able better to govern them, or perhaps exploit them more efficiently, depending on one’s attitude to monarchy. Henry might be represented as something of a paragon amongst princes, but he leaves the country in a parlous state. His son and successor Henry VI is only a baby, and this is the cue for cycles of factional violence: Here’s Gloucester, a foe to citizens, One that still motions war, and never peace, O’ercharging your free purses with large fines; That seeks to overthrow religion, Because he is Protector of the realm, And would have armour here out of the Tower, To crown himself king and suppress the Prince. (1 HVI 1.3.62–8)

Bishop Beaufort is here accusing the brother of Henry V of a multitude of serious crimes, including treason. But Duke Humphrey of Gloucester does not in fact abuse his position of Lord Protector in order to supplant his nephew; rather, he acts as did John of Gaunt towards his nephew Richard II. The bishop’s complaint includes a slightly less obvious charge: that Gloucester wants to continue the wars (in France). The bishop is the leader of an anti-war party, which is reasonable given his religious position. He is also one of the powerful Beaufort family, cousins to the House of Lancaster via another of John of Gaunt’s liaisons, legitimized after the fact but excluded from the succession by Act of Parliament. The next twist of the spiral of dissension will lead ultimately to the Wars of the Roses. The Duke of York, whose father was one of those executed by Henry V at Southampton for treason, but without a proper trial, is restored to his patrimony by Act of Parliament: 482

prince All. Welcome, high prince, the Mighty Duke of York! Som. [Aside.] Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of York! (1 HVI 3.1.176–7)

Somerset, who is another of the Beauforts, directly indicates to the audience in the midst of the acclamations that he is opposed to York. But he uses the same term to do so: York is a prince in the sense that he is a descendant of Edward III, and this is something that is going to become more and more important as the Henry VI plays continue. The audience already knows this through a combination of historical hindsight and the events in the Temple Garden scene (1 HVI 2.4). York is shown repeatedly to be a skilful politician, no more so than when he simply stands back to watch the Lancastrians implode, at 2 HVI 2.2.64–76. This long, but crucial speech can often be lost in the midst of the historical details that are so unfamiliar to modern audiences. York is speaking to the great Warwick and Salisbury, who between them have access to massive military power. But York knows that this is not enough. Even though he begins with the royal plural, he acknowledges that he is not yet crowned. There is a long list of powerful Lancastrian nobility that needs to be dealt with by means of policy and the best way to do this is to watch them turn on the Duke of Gloucester. York describes him as a good, virtuous prince. This is an implicit recognition that, unlike the others mentioned, Duke Humphrey has the good of the kingdom at heart rather than his own ambition. So it is not enough to have the rank of a prince, one should also behave like one. As with other terms of high rank such as nobility, there is a confluence between position and behaviour that is not always borne out in practice, certainly in the English history plays. There are other situations in which this ideal unity is achieved, for example in Cymbeline: How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to th’ King, Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think they are mine, and though train’d up thus meanly I’ th’ cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them In simple and low things to prince it much Beyond the trick of others. (CYM 3.3.79–86)

483

prince Belarius’ description of the two princes to the audience in soliloquy is a standard element of romance (see also Perdita in The Winter’s Tale). In such plays, it is taken for granted that somehow nature will win out over nurture, an ideology that assumes that nobility in its behavioural sense is somehow inborn to those of high social degree. Here, the princes act in a princely manner simply because of their birth. (c) Machiavelli (1961) is the primary text on the conduct and strategies of the Renaissance prince. Weir (1998) delineates the complicated genealogy of the Duke of York at 247–8. Murphy (2003) shows just how close the Tudors came under Henry VIII to an illegitimate son gaining precedence over Mary and Elizabeth. For Elizabeth’s use of the masculine position of the prince to underpin her right to the throne, see Levin (1994), 121–48.

princess This term has a wider currency in the Renaissance than it does now. One meaning is that which survives, a woman who marries a prince or who is herself of royal blood. However, since like prince it is a word derived from the Latin princeps, in a period five hundred years closer to Latin than our own, the word also has a sense of a woman of independent pre-eminence. She does not even have to be a sovereign in her own right to be so addressed using the word. In other words, it is a usage, not a title. There are several occasions on which a woman who is not a princess in our terms is addressed as one: see Celia in AYLI 1.2.100; Olivia at TN 3.1.97; and Miranda at TEM 1.2.59. Celia and Miranda are both the only children of a ruling family, so they have the potential to become women who rule in their own right, while Olivia is an independent countess. When Henry VIII has his marriage to Katherine of Aragon annulled, Katherine’s titles are reduced to Princess Dowager as the widow of Prince Arthur (HVIII 3.2.70–1). This play also sees Cranmer being made to speak a spurious prophecy about the future Princess Elizabeth (HVIII 5.4.14–62). Princesses are extremely important in Tudor history, and not for the usual reasons of diplomatic marriage alliance. Two of them, Mary and Elizabeth, become Queens of England, so the vexatious issue of the succession in relation to these princesses is of paramount importance: see Weir (1996), 2–13. 484

prison

prison Place of confinement. This does not have to be a jail as such, since Shakespeare uses the word loosely at times to denote any form of imprisonment. Several of the plays have important scenes set in prisons, for example Measure For Measure and The Two Noble Kinsmen, and WT 2.2. See also the death scene of the last of the Mortimers, whose claim to the throne passes to Richard of York at 1 HVI 2.5.96. Mortimer is represented as dying after what he describes as an entire life spent in ‘a loathsome dungeon’ (1 HVI 2.5.57); in fact, for most of his life he was allowed free, although much of his childhood was spent under house arrest. This is one occasion on which Shakespeare may be using the word to denote a form of confinement that does not necessarily entail being inside a prison. Richard II is murdered while in prison at Pontefract Castle ‘Pomfret’ at RII 5.5; he is given some long speeches just before his death, in which he bemoans his fate. A religious reference occurs when the Ghost of Old Hamlet tells his son that he is not permitted to tell him about the ‘secrets of my prison-house’ (HAM 1.5.14), which is clearly some form of purgatory. The play is set in medieval Denmark, which was of course a Catholic country in that period. For London’s prisons and their various functions, see Picard (2004), 284–6. private (a) In a very general sense, the opposite of that which is public. The word can be applied to a person or a place and has a much wider range of meanings than tends now to be the case. When used in reference to ordinary people, it means someone who has no official position; in the military, it means a common soldier without rank. (b) The word often operates as a synonym for ‘personal’, as when Julius Caesar tells Decius the reason for his not wishing to come to the Senate on the Ides of March ‘for your private satisfaction’ (JC 2.2.73). The word seems to have the same kind of meaning when it is applied to grudges between politicians; see York and Somerset at 1 HVI 4.1.109, to which Lucy refers again at 1 HIV 4.4.22. But this conflict is not merely personal, it is factional, which means that the word is opposed less to the term public than is now the case. See also the conflict between Buckingham and Wolsey at H VIII 1.1.101. The Duke of York 485

private uses the word in a similar manner as part of his worrying over the state of England under Richard II at RII 2.1.166. The meaning of, roughly, ‘personal’ shades over into something like our sense of ‘private’ when personal conversations take place; see for example the king’s wish to have ‘some private conference’ with his son at 1 HIV 3.2.2. When the newly crowned Henry V rebukes Falstaff, the fat knight still hopes that he ‘shall be sent for in private to him’ (2 HIV 5.5.77). The word means ‘alone’ at HVIII 2.2.14); it may even mean something like ‘secret’ when Warwick and Salisbury agree to support the Duke of York at 2 HVI 2.2.60. Benvolio tries to make Mercutio and Tybalt take their grievances elsewhere in Romeo and Juliet: We talk here in the public haunt of men. Either withdraw unto some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. (RJ 3.1.50–3)

This is an important point; the Prince of Verona has enjoined the Capulets and Montagues to refrain from fighting. Benvolio knows that any public disturbance occasioned by more private quarrelling will have serious consequences. This is a similar use of the word to refer to faction fighting as in the English history examples given above; here again, private and public are very close together. The word is also used to denote a private person, very much in the sense of someone who holds no official position. Antony sends a message to Caesar conceding victory and asking to be allowed to live as ‘A private man in Athens’ (AC 3.12.15). Saturninus has a similar meaning in mind when he tells Tamora what he has heard people saying in the streets of Rome as he has walked amongst them ‘like a private man’ (TA 4.4.75). The military side of the word appears when Falstaff is mocking his recruits at 2 HIV 3.2.166. (c) Stone (1990) notes the growth of the concept of individual privacy after this period; see 169–72.

public (a) The end of a spectrum of meaning that shades towards the private. However, one should be very careful not to oppose these 486

public two words in the ways that have become common in modern parlance, because what is noted as private in this period is very often political, especially in relation to faction fighting. The word ‘public’ is often political in its senses as well, sometimes coming close to our use of the phrase ‘body politic’. (b) The term is often qualified as part of a phrase, in order to give it a more precise denotation than is usually possible with a word of such wide-ranging possibilities. Somerset accuses Duke Humphrey of Gloucester of using money from the ‘public treasury’ to pay for his wife’s clothing at 2 HVI 1.3.131. The phrase ‘public good’ appears when the Yorkists begin to pursue their long-term aims at 2 HVI 1.1.199. Public performance of actions gives them added emphasis, as when Caesar complains to Maecenas about Antony’s behaviour with Cleopatra and Cesarion at AC 3.6.1–10. Maceneas cannot believe that Antony has conducted himself in the manner of an eastern potentate, exclaiming ‘This in the public eye?’ (AC 3.6.10). Similarly, Othello’s behaviour towards Desdemona becomes very public, something of which he reminds her when they are alone together by calling her a ‘public commoner’ (OTH 4.2.73). The difference in rank between the poet and the young man of the Sonnets is couched in terms of public performance: Let those who are in favour with their stars Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I whom fortune of such triumph bars Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most. (SON 25.1–4)

Public honour is here conceived of as the right of those of high rank; since the poet is not one of these, he is happy to take joy in that which he honours, which is his relationship with the young friend. There is also sometimes an acknowledgement in Shakespeare’s texts that there can be a disparity between the ruler and the ruled: The other motive, Why to a public count I might not go, Is the great love the general gender bear him (HAM 4.7.17–19)

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public Claudius has just admitted to Laertes that he loves Gertrude too much to take action against her son; here he adds political reasons. This is a king who knows that he cannot afford to go against the wishes of the body politic as a whole, a public whose power has just been demonstrated by the way Laertes was able to use it to gain entrance to the king in the first instance. This relationship between monarch and public is of crucial importance, as Elizabeth I was fond of saying in her own way. Events in Love’s Labour’s Lost and King Lear both show the futility of a king trying to create some kind of personal life for himself away from the public role. (c) Queen Elizabeth I used imagery that reinforced her public ‘marriage’ to the nation; see Hackett (1996), 56–60. For her public progresses around southern England, see Somerset (1997), 474–9; 485–6; and 479–85.

pulpit Originally, this term was applied to any public platform. In the Renaissance it is beginning to shift to its more modern meaning of a specifically religious podium. The social importance of the church pulpit should not be overlooked. Religious attendance was compulsory on Sundays, and an announcement made in the church was the one place that the authorities could guarantee would reach the maximum possible number of people. Public statements of news and declarations of new laws were part of this social use of the religious space. The word appears several times in Julius Caesar, where it has the basic sense of any public rostrum: Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, ‘Liberty, freedom and enfranchisement!’ Bru. People and senators, be not affrighted; Fly not, stand still; ambition’s debt is paid. Casca. Go the pulpit, Brutus. (JC 3.1.77–84)

Immediately after killing Caesar, the conspirators’ first action is to get their version of events across to everyone else as soon as they possibly 488

pulpit can. This means accessing areas from which announcements are normally made, either in the public areas of the city, or in the senate house itself. The word is used again in the directions for the scene of the funeral orations (JC 3.2.10). The political events that lie behind this use of public speaking areas would not be lost on Shakespeare’s audience, and it is possible for these scenes to be played out as elements of political calculation, whatever might be the rhetoric of freedom espoused by the conspirators, particularly Brutus. Hamilton (2003) discusses the social effectiveness of preaching at public locations such as St Paul’s Cross in London, at 592–5. She contextualizes the use of such areas in relation to the ongoing work of the English Reformation.

punishment (a) There are all sorts of punishments for all kinds of crimes in Shakespeare’s plays. This is hardly surprising, given the harsh sentences handed out for crimes that might now seem very minor. This was a brutal age and the death penalty, the ultimate sanction, was applied with great regularity. So much so, in fact, that one might characterize the period as one of judicial mass slaughter. The heads of criminals, especially those convicted of treason, welcomed visitors coming to London across the bridge from Southwark. Other punishments include variations on the stocks, public displays of humiliation and terms of exile or imprisonment. One could be branded, lose one’s ears and nose, or a limb, depending on the crime. This was not a society in which to get caught. (b) All of the types of punishment noted above appear either in the plays or in Renaissance English social history. The word itself is relatively rare in the texts, however, probably because it is appropriate for generalized use. Shakespeare tends to concentrate on the details of individual punishments. The Duke of Gloucester defends his conduct as Lord Protector while Henry VI was a minor: Unless it were a bloody murtherer, Or foul felonious thief that fleec’d poor passengers, I never gave them condign punishment. (2 HVI 3.1.128–30)

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punishment Duke Humphrey is here responding to a charge that he acted tyrannously; he counters by saying that, on the contrary, he was very merciful, at least by the standards of his times. Belarius recounts the reasons for his abduction of the two princes at the end of Cymbeline: Their nurse, Euriphile (Whom for the theft I wedded), stole these children Upon my banishment; I moved her to ’t, Having receiv’d the punishment before For that which I did then. Beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason. (CYM 5.5.340–5)

Belarius represents his banishment as unfair, so he acted in revenge. King Henry V knows that many of his soldiers will be fugitives from justice who have enrolled in the army in order to escape punishment; see HV 4.1.166–9. He does condemn Bardolph to death, however, for stealing from a church (HV 3.6.107–8). Aaron is promised a particularly grisly end by Lucius: And hither hale that misbelieving Moor To be adjudg’d some direful slaught’ring death, As punishment for his most wicked life. (TA 5.3.143–5)

This last example at least accords with the judicial prerogatives of a violent state. (c) For crime and punishment, see Picard (2004), 277–89, and Ridley (2002, 2) 225–35.

puritan A negative term applied to strict Protestants, especially those who wanted a more extreme form of religion than was achieved in the Anglican Church. It was not used with any consistency in Shakespeare’s period, and was resented by those who were insulted by its use, at least partly because it carried overtones of hypocrisy. The popular modern use in reference to this period is ahistorical, because the puritans were not a particular social grouping. 490

puritan Angelo in Measure For Measure is a good example of the type, although the term itself is not used during that play. Another well-known puritan character is Malvolio in Twelfth Night. A full definition of the type appears at TN, 1.3.138–53. Maria’s opinion here is based on her estimation of Malvolio’s hypocrisy and pride. These are important attributes of the puritan character, and seem to come from an assumption that the tenets of extreme Protestantism are difficult to live up to, even for those who espouse it. This is another variation of the standard Renaissance worry over appearance versus inner reality. It is not clear that Malvolio is necessarily very religious; what matters is that his pride is damned in Maria’s mind by the use of the epithet ‘puritan’, as though it is a byword for a certain kind of behaviour based on false premises. Palliser (1992), 24ff, discusses extreme forms of Protestantism under the generic term, which he deliberately puts in quotation marks at this point. He continues the discussion in terms of conformity to state laws on religion from 385. Tawney (1987) devotes an entire section to the issue, at 197ff.

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Q queen (a) A woman who has married a king or who is of royal blood herself. Shakespeare and others have to be very careful with this word because of sensitivities about royalty and the succession, and also because for more than half of his career a woman is on the throne. Not all queens rule in their own right, but Elizabeth I is one of them. (b) Many queens pass across the stage in Shakespeare’s plays, most of them simply ciphers. The reason for this is their function as part of the supporting cast for the men who supposedly make the history; Shakespeare is after all mostly representing patriarchy. However, queens who make an impression in their own right can be very powerful indeed. One such is Cleopatra, who is a queen regnant like Elizabeth I, although her techniques of statecraft are radically different. The Queen in Cymbeline has a much more powerful stage presence than her husband, but Shakespeare does not even bother to give her a name. An even more vicious queen in the same mould is Tamora in Titus Andronicus. Gertrude has an important role in Hamlet. Since Denmark has a matrilinear system, she has the crucial function of carrying out the succession of the state in ways that are even more important than is normal for a queen in European patriarchy. Hermione is a memorable figure in The Winter’s Tale, partly because of her performance during her trial, but mostly because of the play’s ending. Shakespeare and Fletcher make Katherine of Aragon a very sympathetic figure in Henry VIII, but are very careful to end that play before Henry’s 492

queen marital career becomes even more notorious with the death of Anne Boleyn. Queens who act powerfully in their own right hit a nerve in Shakespeare’s society. Recent history had thrown up two sisters who were queens of England, Mary I and Elizabeth I, as well as the notorious Mary Queen of Scots. Mary Tudor’s reign was to go down in popular history as a time of dark disaster as she become more and more obsessed with trying to produce an heir to sustain her Catholic revival. This counter-reformation produced larger numbers of victims than was normal in England; for instance, her father Henry VIII had a habit of burning those considered to be heretics, ably aided at first by Thomas More. Although the scale of the Marian persecution was as nothing when compared with, say, the depredations of the Spanish Inquisition, it was still excessive by English standards. All of this seemed to confirm popular patriarchal prejudices about women rulers. Mary was succeeded by her Protestant sister Elizabeth, who had to weave her way through equal amounts of prejudice, albeit in the form of pressure to marry. Unlike her elder sister, Elizabeth only came close once and pulled back because of the unpopularity of her choice, a member of the French royal family. She reigns from 1558–1603 and is succeeded by James VI of Scotland, thereby unifying the crowns of England and Scotland. By holding on as long as this Elizabeth enables her councillors to effect a reasonably straightforward transfer of power. Within this overall contemporary context, Shakespeare’s plays do produce memorable queens as well as those who are there simply because they were in the source materials. A touchstone for anxieties about such powerful women is Margaret of Anjou in the First Tetralogy. 1 Henry VI represents her as a tool of the ambitious Earl of Suffolk even before she arrives in England: Margaret shall now be Queen, and rule the King; But I will rule both her, the King, and realm. (1 HVI 5.5.107–8)

These are the final words of the play and are based very much on popular conceptions of the history of the Wars of the Roses. Thus, Margaret is made to appear to be Suffolk’s lover, while the two of them invert the normal hierarchical order by ruling the weak King Henry. 493

queen Even so, in the next play of the cycle, Margaret recognizes the power of those she will have to overcome if she is truly to rule England: Beside the haughty Protector, have we Beauford, The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling York; and not the least of these But can do more in England than the King. (2 HVI 1.3.68–71)

This is an important observation. Margaret is shrewd enough to recognize that the vacuum at the top created by King Henry’s ineptitude has inevitably produced a plethora of men who are in effect more powerful than the king. It is therefore not going to be enough for she and Suffolk to rule Henry; they will also have to do something about their potential opponents. The play goes on to represent Margaret’s intervention through Suffolk as a critical moment in the cycle of faction fighting that has plagued Henry’s court since the death of his father. Margaret’s opposition to the Duke of York in particular is made to be perhaps the single most important cause of the Wars of the Roses. Her mocking of him when he is finally captured in the third Henry VI play is particularly virulent; she even helps to stab him to death (3 HVI 1.4.176). In the wars she is often noted to be made of sterner stuff than her husband: I would your Highness would depart the field, The Queen hath best success when you are absent. (3 HVI 2.2.73–4)

Margaret is effectively masculinized by her assumption of the mantle of military authority, the opposite of the operation enacted upon Lear when he gives away his power. Unlike Cleopatra, Margaret does have some success in the field; Cleopatra is represented as turning and fleeing at the moment of crisis at the sea battle of Actium by Scarus. He puts the blame firmly on the fact that she is a woman (AC 3.10.10–15) and the disaster is complete when Antony follows her. In fact, Actium was something of a foregone conclusion: the Caesarean fleet had bottled up their opponents in harbour, and the battle was more of a breakout attempt. What is important in the cases of both Cleopatra and Margaret of Anjou is not the historical facts, so much as the gendered representation of those events in their respective plays. 494

queen In other words, dramatic representation of a queen is inevitably flavoured by gender ideology. This should come as no surprise: Host. O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i’ faith! Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain. Host. O, the father, how he holds his countenance! Fal. For God’s sake, lords, convey my tristful queen, For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. Host. O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see! (1 HIV 2.4.390–6)

This is the beginning of the famous sequence during which Falstaff impersonates the king castigating Prince Hal, followed by them swapping roles. The comedy depends very much on the aural pun of ‘quean’ and ‘queen’, the first being a synonym for prostitute. This is reinforced by the self-reflexive theatrical reference, along with the term ‘harlotry’. Any queen runs the risk of being labelled a quean if her conduct does not satisfy patriarchal precepts, as Elizabeth I knew only too well. In order to deal with the problems posed for her by her gender, Elizabeth’s strategy was to emphasize the masculine nature of her social position. There is a corollary in the plays: Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours Is now converted. But now I was the lord Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, Queen o’er myself; and even now, but now, This house, these servants, and this same myself Are yours – my lord’s! (MV 3.2.166–71)

Portia’s words to her new husband replay exactly the logic of gendered social power. (c) For the historical figure of Margaret of Anjou, see Weir (1998), Index 453. Drakakis (1994) is a collection of representative essays on Antony and Cleopatra. For a historical overview of the problems faced by Renaissance queens, see Hopkins (1991). Hackett (1996) and Levin (1994) are two book-length treatments of the political strategies adopted by Elizabeth I. For her sister, Mary Tudor, see Erickson (2001). 495

R rank (a) Social standing. This is a broader term than degree. There are occasions on which it carries a pun with the meaning of a foul smell. Such instances are often found when there is a disjunction between the high status of a person and the way they conduct themselves. (b) Just before he is assassinated, Caesar insists on his pre-eminent rank, without the ironic sense of smell that can often accompany the word, in his final speech at JC 3.1.58–73. He represents himself by means of a heroic extended simile in order to reinforce the sense of his uniqueness among men. He defines himself as a monolithic presence whose rank is unassailable, unsurpassed and unlikely to be so. He has reached the zenith of what is possible to the grand aspiring man, and all that is left is for him to be killed and, effectively, deified. Examples of the word from elsewhere in Shakespeare’s texts are, however, often infected with associations of foulness: Then you perceive the body of our kingdom How foul it is, what rank diseases grow, And with what danger, near the heart of it. (2 HIV 3.1.38–40)

There is a sense here of the doctrine of the king’s two bodies, and in the case of Henry IV, both are unwell. He is referring here to the recurrent rebellions that have plagued his reign, although of course he does not 496

rank admit to his usurpation of the throne as being the cause. Others, however, do; see the speech by the Archbishop of York at 2 HIV 4.1.53–66. He very clearly labels the current king as a disease of which his predecessor died. Cleopatra uses the same punning technique when she imagines being paraded before the crowds in Rome: Now, Iras, what think’st thou? Thou, an Egyptian puppet shall be shown In Rome as well as I. Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers shall Uplift us to the view. In their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, And forc’d to drink their vapour. (AC 5.2.207–13)

Those with the rank of commoner are rank in their stench. And Cleopatra tells Iras that they will be subject to these people. This kind of patrician disdain for the ordinary people is also associated with Martius, afterwards surnamed Coriolanus. He describes them as ‘the mutable, rank-scented meiny’ at COR 3.1.66. The stench of corruption is a recurring motif in Hamlet, but in this case it proceeds from the king’s murder at the hands of his brother. Prince Hamlet senses Denmark’s diseased state even before his encounter with his father’s ghost: How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on ’t, ah fie! ’tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed, things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. (HAM 1.2.133–7)

This passage comes from his first soliloquy, immediately after he has beheld Claudius’ court, but before Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo come on stage to tell him about the ghost they have seen. The lines just preceding this excerpt show that he is already thinking of suicide because he cannot stomach this new Denmark; he goes on to question the haste of his mother’s marriage. The imagery is so prevalent in the play that even Claudius uses it: 497

rank O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven, It hath the primal eldest curse upon’t, A brother’s murder. (HAM 3.3.36–8)

Claudius goes on to note that he cannot pray for forgiveness because he still enjoys the things for which he murdered his brother: his throne and his queen. The sense of overpowering corruption has infected the very highest social ranks of this society. The layered language that is produced by such different characters utilizing the same motifs has the effect of reinforcing Prince Hamlet’s definition of life at court in Denmark. It recurs in the very next scene, when Hamlet goes to visit Gertrude in her personal apartments: Nay, but to live In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, Stewed in corruption, honeying and making love Over the nasty sty! (HAM 3.4.91–4)

Hamlet’s melancholy (in the full Renaissance sense – see humour) spills over here into misogyny, which is one of the defining features of malcontented characters in Jacobean drama. Hamlet the play makes full use of the resources made available by rank’s two registers. Similar multiple meanings occur elsewhere also, although they are not perhaps so structurally significant. When he is given some slight evidence of Buckingham’s propensity to say a bit too much about his political enemies such as Wolsey and Lovell, King Henry shouts ‘Ha? what, so rank?’ (HVIII 1.2.186). If this usage is a clue to the pun on stench and social rank, there may well be an extratextual reference occurring here – Henry VIII had Buckingham executed on a flimsy treason charge because the Duke represented a possible threat to the Tudor hold on the throne. Buckingham did have a more royal pedigree than his king, and did not really bother to conceal his opinion of himself. In Cymbeline, Cloten falls foul of exactly this pun: Clo. Whoreson dog! I gave him satisfaction! Would he had been one of my rank! 2.Lord. [Aside.] To have smell’d like a fool. (CYM 2.1.14–16)

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rank Cloten is angry because of a gambling incident, which only goes to show a massive contradiction between his social rank and his rank behaviour, as one of the lords points out to the audience. A particularly complex and sophisticated example of this double association comes in the Sonnets: Then, churls, their thoughts (although their eyes were kind) To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, The soil is this, that thou dost common grow. (SON 69.10–14)

The vocabulary of social class is unmistakeable, but the flowers and weeds add a layer of condensed connotations. Compare the final line of Sonnet 94: ‘Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds’ (SON 94.14). The lily flower is a standard emblem for nobility, even royalty, but in these poems the flower that is the young friend is infected with the actions of a lower class. (c) See Amussen (1988) from 134–79 for the ordering of society. Heal and Holmes (1994) has a chapter on the gentry’s obsession about lineage as an index of rank from 20–47. Stone (1967) has a chapter on the peerage from 15–61 that is subdivided into three sections on concepts of society, social structure, and the peerage itself.

rebellion: see war religion (a) Religion is such a central issue in this period that it is difficult to pinpoint where its influence ends. During the Reformation, Counter-Reformation and the various Wars of Religion, its effects are obvious at the highest levels of politics, something that is as true in domestic affairs as it is in international policy. The so-called ‘Elizabethan Settlement’ failed to halt the growth of Protestant extremists. At the same time the ongoing problem of internal Catholic recusancy seemed to make the country unsafe, providing a potential pool of English traitors who would be ready at a moment’s notice to support foreign intervention. This was extremely important in the international crisis 499

religion sparked off by the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots and the ensuing Spanish Armada. Within this context the ongoing social importance of religion in the daily lives of the people should not be underestimated. Compliance with state law on religious observance was mandatory, with heavy penalties for those who did not do so. One of the most difficult aspects of the power of religion for many modern observers to grasp is this unity between church and state, embodied in the person of the monarch. A second, and perhaps even more difficult issue, is just how much this influence permeated the ways in which people thought and behaved. This social power is what underpins the desperate political struggles. It is notable that there is one word that Shakespeare assiduously avoided because of its inflammatory potential: Bible. (b) The word ‘religion’ itself is relatively scarce in Shakespeare’s texts. Its social importance, however, can be seen in the number of times related terms can be found, usually in the form of specific elements or titles associated with religious observance. When a general reference occurs to religion, it often picks up on the political overtones explored above. In this respect, the term functions as a site of multiple possible inflections, drawing attention to itself as a conflicted area. As is so often the case with Renaissance plays, the character using the word and the immediate dramatic context also have to be taken into consideration: use of such a problematic term is therefore never neutral. It always carries with it the baggage of its struggles, pointing towards an issue of what exactly true religion might be. A good example of how to unpack these various problems can be found in 1 Henry VI when the Duke of Gloucester insults the Bishop of Winchester: Glou. Name not religion, for thou lov’st the flesh, And ne’er throughout the year to church thou go’st Except it be to pray against thy foes. (1 HIV 1.1.41–3)

Here the baby king’s uncle, the Protector of the realm, attacks a bishop for failing to follow religious observance, except when he wants divine aid against his (political) enemies. Whether or not these words were in fact exchanged is not the point – the problems of government during Henry VI’s minority were well known, including the added 500

religion complication of the temporal power of the clergy. So as a dramatic reconstruction, the scene does have a certain plausibility. However, the situation is made still more complex when one takes into consideration the fact that this is a late Elizabethan retelling of events prior to the Reformation. The duke’s charge of fleshly pleasures inevitably acquires an extra power in this context, because of the Reformed Christian religion’s ongoing wrangling over the powers and corruption of the bishops inherited from the Catholic past. So what might at first sight seem like just another insult quickly turns into a rhetoric that feeds into contemporary Elizabethan anxieties; and it just so happens that Winchester was also the title of one of Mary Tudor’s staunchest supporters, Stephen Gardiner. The play’s use of this title encapsulates a whole host of problems that post-date the time in which the play is set. In fact, the issue is picked up again later on in the same play: Win. Here’s Gloucester, a foe to citizens, One that still motions war and never peace, O’ercharging your free purses with large fines; That seeks to overthrow religion Because he is Protector of the realm, And would have armour here out of the Tower, To crown himself king and suppress the Prince. (1 HVI 1.3.62–8)

In a similar anachronistic use of the term ‘Winchester’, here are echoes of a later Duke of Gloucester, he who was to become Richard III. In fact, the term ‘anachronism’ is inadequate to convey the complex crossings of later Renaissance meanings with the earlier period of the play; what is important in this passage is the way in which both the noble faction of Gloucester and the faction of the bishops in the person of Winchester focus in on religion as the justification for their political position. With historical hindsight, at least some of Shakespeare’s audience would have known that the disastrous reign of Henry VI was the beginning of the end of English aspirations in France. The bishop uses religion as a means of attacking the nobility’s aggressive foreign policy; in a sense, it does not matter that the clergy may have been correct, because England could ill afford more foreign adventures. What is at stake here is national pride, and the congruence of religion and nationalism is something that is felt very keenly in the Elizabethan period. 501

religion Social behaviour in such a fraught context is extremely important. But Renaissance drama is very aware of the possible differences between outward show and inner reality, and this impinges strongly on the issue of religious observance. Hypocrisy becomes a major factor in the drama, for example in the figure of the Machiavel. Religious hypocrisy is even more of a problem: Bass. In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? (MV 3.2.77–80)

Bassanio articulates a fundamental puzzle that lies at the heart of the religious debates: how to distinguish what is true religious feeling from that which is only feigned, especially when textual evidence can so easily be found to justify almost any position. All of these worries feed into the plays in a way that makes common literary terms such as ‘subtext’ or ‘context’ seem inadequate. What we have here is a phenomenon of massive importance for the ways in which the drama engages with a very serious contemporary issue, always bearing in mind the possibility of state censorship of the text when such a volatile political problem is involved. A way for playwrights to manage the situation is to use displacement techniques, and these occur in two forms. The first is to disseminate the difficulty caused through the use of terms that are elements of the overarching religious concern; hence the large number of associated terms noted earlier. The second is to set the plays elsewhere, so that religious issues become subsumed into events that ostensibly occur in another country and culture. This is exactly what happens in Measure For Measure, the play that most obviously studies the effects of religious hypocrisy. Strangely enough, this play has only a single usage of the term ‘religion’, and even this comes only during a conversation between the ironically named Lucio and one of the play’s ubiquitous observing Gentlemen (1.2.23). Since any specific reference to religion in this period is so heavily overloaded with all sorts of associations, many of which are politically sensitive, a sparing use of the word itself is perhaps advisable on the part of any playwright. (c) A classic text on the large-scale problems posed by the Reformation 502

religion is Tawney (1987). So too is Huizinga (1990). For an overview of the various stages of the English Reformation, see Duffy (1992). For issues of how the political nature of religious change and debate influenced individual behaviour, see Lake (2000), 57–84. Dollimore (1989) is a wide-ranging attempt to theorize the relationship between the drama of the period and the ideological structures that inform it, including religion. His article on Measure For Measure (1996), 72–87, is a well-known analysis of the power structures that intrude upon the play, particularly in terms of the Duke’s use of religious ideology to manipulate his subjects.

reputation: see name and honour ring (a) A round piece of jewellery worn on the finger. Portability combines with variations in the way rings are made to produce items that are valuable for their utility. Rings are used as tokens of esteem or affection; to seal letters; and to denote official trust. The use of a ring in betrothal or marriage traditions is very ancient, and this imparts a specifically sexual sense to many instances in which the word is used, especially since ‘ring’ also signifies the anus and/or a woman’s sexual organs. (b) The importance of a ring lies in what or whom it signifies; the ring acts as a kind of metonym. In the case of Hamlet, it turns out to be fortuitous that he carries ‘my father’s signet in my purse, Which was the model of that Danish seal’ (HAM 5.2.49–50). He uses this to seal a letter that will condemn Rosencrantz and Guildenstern before he makes good his escape. Or, at least, so he says: these events take place offstage. In King Lear, the disguised Kent sends a ring as a token of the truth of the message he is sending to Cordelia via the gentleman he knows at KL 3.1.47; at that point, he says, the gentleman will be told the identity of the man who entrusted it to him. In Henry VIII, the king signifies his complete trust in Cranmer by giving him a ring to show to his enemies on the council (HVIII 5.1.150–1). The opposition to Cranmer is based on religious differences, and he is able to use the ring to save himself (HVIII 5.2.133–48). As a sign of betrothal or marriage, rings appear in many of the plays. 503

ring Richard of Gloucester gives one to Lady Anne after he is shown wooing her over the corpse of Henry VI (RIII 1.2.203). Thaisa recognizes the ring given to Pericles by her father when they left Pentapolis after their marriage (PER 5.3.40). Imogen gives Posthumus a diamond ring that she inherited from her mother just before he has to leave for exile, at CYM 1.1.117. Jachimo makes the obvious sexual allusion to Imogen’s ring: Jach. I’ll make a journey twice as far, t’ enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness which Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won. Post. The stone’s too hard to come by. Jach. Not a whit, Your lady being so easy. (CYM 2.4.43–7)

In this instance, the villain of the piece takes advantage of those who believe in the full efficacy of outward signs such as rings. The sexual significance of rings plays an important part in several of the comedies. They function to enable emblematic representation and as such are woven into the complex love plots of these plays: I left no ring with her. What means this lady? Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her! She made good view of me; indeed so much That methought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me sure (TN 2.2.17–22)

Olivia has sent a ring via Malvolio to Cesario, claiming that ‘he’ gave it to her on behalf of Count Orsino. Cesario, of course, is Viola in disguise, and in this soliloquy she immediately reasons out what has really occurred. Bertram’s ring is a crucial plot element in All’s Well That Ends Well. This reverses the standard gender roles, but then Helena has already accomplished that by winning Bertram as her husband. Bertram has been forced to marry her, but he refuses to consummate the relationship and flees to the Italian wars. He leaves a letter that sets out what seem to be impossible conditions: 504

ring ‘When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband; but in such a “then” I write a “never”.’ (AW 3.2.57–60)

The challenge now is for Helena to achieve Bertram’s ring, in both senses. When she arrives in Italy, Helena arranges with the widow to set up a bed-trick in order to fulfil Bertram’s letter (AW 3.7.14–36). The widow agrees because she is sick of Bertram’s attempts to woo her daughter Diana. She in her turn persuades Bertram not only to give her his ring, and also to agree to come to her in the dark, so that she can then trick him by substituting Helena for herself. The sexual connotations of the ring are obvious, as Diana refers to her own ring in comparison with Bertram’s at AW 4.2.39–53. In an important exchange here, Diana turns Bertram’s rhetoric against himself. His ring might be an important family heirloom, but her ring has equal value in terms of her family lineage. Chastity defines a woman’s honour in these circumstances, and Bertram accedes to Diana’s demands by agreeing to a fair exchange of rings, his for hers. She then passes it on to Helena. This ultimately leads to Bertram’s demands of Helena being fulfilled at the French court as those present, including the king, testify that they have seen Helena wear that very ring (AW 5.3.76–91). The ring plot in The Merchant of Venice is not nearly so complicated in and of itself. However, to modern audiences it seems superfluous. Partly this is a result of audience attention being focused on the ingenious casket plot and Shylock’s bond with Antonio. But the importance given to the rings of Portia and Nerissa by Shakespeare should not be underestimated: Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours Is now converted. But now I was the lord Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, Queen o’er myself; and even now, but now, This house, these servants, and this same myself Are yours – my lord’s! – I give them with this ring, Which when you part from, lose, or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, And be my vantage to exclaim on you. (MV 3.2.166–74)

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ring All of this can seem in performance to be somewhat redundant, as can the action of Act 5 to which this leads. This is understandable because of the inevitable focus of a modern audience on the trial scene (4.1). However, there may be something else in operation here, a shift in the semantic parameters of the play. The significance of the ring is lost upon later audiences who do not have the same standard double signification as exists in the Renaissance. There is another element at MV 4.2.5–17 as Portia and Nerissa use disguise not only to entrap Shylock, but their husbands as well. These women act very powerfully as men, as the final line of the passage demonstrates: to outface and outswear a man implies activity on a par with that normally ascribed to men in a patriarchal society. The etymology of Portia’s name implies a passive role, that of a doorway, and so she is: a way into riches and marriage for Bassanio; a way into Shylock’s conundrum for Antonio; and now, finally, a riddling way into rings. She is the link between the play’s three plots, the ring that binds them all together. But there is another resonance to her name, since the reference to Portia, the daughter of Cato the philosopher, who married Brutus, gives her the reasoning power to undo all of the problems set up by the plot in exactly the same way as Helena in All’s Well That Ends Well. Both of these women act very powerfully indeed, and Nerissa copies her mistress: Well, while I live I’ll fear no other thing So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa’s ring. (MV 5.1.306–7)

Graziano’s rueful words end the play; the fear instilled in him by his wife underlines the possibility that here are some women who have found a way to husbands they can control. (c) Ridley (2002, 2) recounts the story of Cranmer’s use of the king’s ring at 131–2. Elizabeth I used her ring to show that she was married to England; see Levin (1994), 41. Garber (1997) details the symbolic functions of rings in All’s Well That Ends Well at 161–2, The Merchant of Venice at 40, 45 and 160–1; and Twelfth Night at 161–2.

royalty (a) A position at the top of society; a member of a royal family. As with nobility, there is an ideology that assumes an ideal inborn unity of royal position and appropriately royal behaviour. 506

royalty (b) The two young princes in Cymbeline have been taken from the court and brought up in obscurity by a disgruntled courtier, Belarius. He comments on their inborn royal nature: ’Tis wonder That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearn’d, honour untaught, Civility not seen from other, valour That wildly grows in them but yields a crop As if it had been sow’d. (CYM 4.2.176–81)

This is a common enough romance motif; somehow, true inborn royalty shines through the circumstances that have kept it hidden. Macbeth feels the same way about Banquo, but he is already aware that Banquo’s line has a future: To be thus is nothing, But to be safely thus. Our fears in Banquo Stick deep, and in his royalty of nature Reigns that which would be fear’d. (MAC 3.1.47–50)

The reference here is to Banquo’s legendary status as the founder of the Stuart line of Scottish kings. As such it functions as a compliment to James VI of Scotland, whose succession to the English throne secures the existence of a united British kingdom. But the succession is, historically, a vexed issue, as the English history plays make plain: The skipping King, he ambled up and down, With shallow jesters, and rash bavin wits, Soon kindled and soon burnt, carded his state, Mingled his royalty with cap’ring fools (1 HIV 3.2.60–3)

This is King Henry’s comment on his predecessor, Richard II, whose behaviour gave Henry the chance to depose him and replace him. The problem is one of conduct: a king who does not act royally is in danger. But this then produces another problem: the state of royalty can be 507

royalty violently appropriated. Even though Henry was of royal blood himself as a grandson of Edward III, the act of usurpation and the failure of a king weakens any assumption that royalty is somehow inborn. It can be acquired or given, as Henry’s former supporter Percy says at 1 HIV 4.3.55. Very similar issues come back to haunt this Henry’s grandson, as the wife of Henry VI, Margaret of Anjou, recognizes: Is this the fashions in the court of England? Is this the government of Britain’s isle, And this the royalty of Albion’s king? What, shall King Henry be a pupil still Under the surly Gloucester’s governance? (2 HVI 1.3.43–7)

Margaret is well aware of Henry’s weaknesses, so she is not suggesting that Henry should be king in his own right just because she believes in the royal prerogative, or for some altruistic reason. She and her supposed lover Suffolk, to whom these words are addressed, wish to replace Gloucester as the ones to rule through Henry. The Queen in Cymbeline manages something similar: Cor. First, she confess’d she never lov’d you; only Affected greatness got by you, not you; Married your royalty, was wife to your place, Abhorr’d your person. Cym. She alone knew this; And but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. (CYM 5.5.37–42)

This king has been something of a cipher for the whole play, and even longer, if Belarius is to believed. King Cymbeline, like Henry VI, has been a king in name only; he is enacted upon, rather than acting with the royalty assumed in his position. (c) For the conduct and career of Richard II, see Bevan (1990). Weir (1998) describes Henry VI at 90–103, including some of the results of his inability to control the faction fighting at his court. 508

S sailor: see navy Scotland (a) The northern portion of the British Isles, Scotland has always considered itself to be a nation apart from England. Much of Scottish medieval and Renaissance foreign policy was aimed at remaining separate from English domination. After the unification of the crowns in 1603 Scotland retained its own parliament until 1707, and even then many of the institutions such as the legal and education systems remained different. Scotland’s relative remoteness made it a difficult place for the English to conquer fully, so the fate of full incorporation into the English state never befell Scotland as it did Wales. Additionally, Scotland had value as an ally to the French on the northern flank of an intermittently belligerent England; this ‘auld alliance’ continued right up to the time of Elizabeth I. The unification of the crowns came about as an accident of Renaissance diplomatic marriage politics. Henry VIII’s sister Margaret married the Scottish king and it was her descendant James VI who eventually succeeded to the English throne after the death of Queen Elizabeth. James’ mother Mary Stuart had been a serious problem for Elizabeth. She had fled to England because she could not control her lords and remained there under house arrest, constantly intriguing against her English cousin until she was eventually executed for treason in 1585. Her young son James remained in Scotland all during this 509

Scotland time, and when he heard of his mother’s death he made all the correct noises of disapproval. But, as Elizabeth had calculated, he did nothing about it. After all, Elizabeth was childless and, unlike his unpredictable Catholic mother, James was safely Protestant, which made him a much more secure candidate for the succession to the English throne. James himself did have some trouble governing Scotland. The country was always recalcitrant and really only the central belt and Aberdeenshire were ever under anything approaching royal control. The Borders, the Isles and the Highlands were composed of a multitude of semiindependent family or Celtic clan fiefdoms. It took another century and a half after James left for London for the Highlands in particular to be brought under centralized authority. English representations of Scotland are not very complimentary. The land is seen as hard and penurious, as are the people. However, the Scots are often represented as good fighters. (b) Scotland’s traditional role as ally of France is mentioned when Henry V is thinking of launching a continental invasion: ‘If that you will France win, Then with Scotland first begin.’ (HV 1.2.167–8)

The Bishop of Ely repeats this old adage in Henry’s council of war, the implication being that it is a good idea to provide against the possibility of war on two fronts. The Scots had in fact supplied troops to help the northern rebels against Henry’s father under the Douglas (1 HIV 1.3.259–64). Douglas is a typical English representation of Scottish valour: ‘There is not such a word Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear’ (1 HIV 4.1.84–5) he says, later on in the same play. See also Captain Jamy in Henry V. Dromio of Syracuse caricatures a woman’s body by means of various geographical allusions in The Comedy of Errors. When asked where Scotland is, he replies, ‘I found it by the barrenness, hard in the palm of the hand’ (CE 3.2.120–1). Shakespeare relies on some basic knowledge of his own for the place, although it is supplemented by Holinshed’s English chronicles of Scottish history. The combination is used to supply some sort of historical framework for Macbeth, almost all of which is invented nonsense. This is not to blame either Holinshed or 510

Scotland Shakespeare, since they are only following an old narrative tradition. Part of the problem is the inability of the various commentators subsumed by Holinshed accurately to deal with Celtic Scottish history from around the period of Macbeth. Additionally, Shakespeare has to tread carefully in this play, which is partly written as a compliment to King James. (c) For the Stuart succession to the English throne, see de Lisle (2006), and Coward (2003), 119–24. Aitchison (1999) is a full treatment of the historical, Shakespearean and mythical Macbeths.

sexton A parish officer charged with the upkeep of the church building and its contents. The sexton was responsible for overseeing bell-ringing and grave-digging. Also known as ‘churchwarden’. Minor sexton characters do occur in the plays, but more often than not the term is used metaphorically, as in King John: ‘Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton time!’ (KJ 3.1.324). The Bastard’s exclamation here picks up on the Sexton’s role as grave-digger, a kind of final Father Time figure. Picard (2004) describes the duties of parish officials at 270–1.

shame (a) This word has a wide variety of meanings and uses in the Renaissance, just as it does in later periods. There are weak senses, colloquial phrases such as ‘for shame’ or ‘it’s a shame’. But there are also much stronger, socially specific associations, to do with the public nature of shameful punishment. There is also a category of meanings that are mostly confined to women, because of the importance of name and honour to women as a defining characteristic. Sexual shame therefore has very strong connotations in this period. The equivalent for men has to do more with the performance of masculine activities, especially politics and war. (b) In 1 Henry IV the Prince of Wales says that he will redeem the shame of his personal conduct on Percy at 1 HIV 3.2.132–7. He reiterates his intentions at 5.1.93–100 when he wants to fight Percy in single combat at Shrewsbury. Shame here relates to the general opinion held of him as a result of his behaviour with people like Falstaff. In Antony and 511

shame Cleopatra the flight of the Egyptian ships led by Cleopatra at the sea battle of Actium leads to Antony following her. The scene is described by Scarus: ‘I never saw an action of such shame’ (AC 3.10.21). Iras describes Antony afterwards as ‘unqualitied with very shame’ (AC 3.11.44), a direct personal result of a very public humiliation. One of the problems posed for later readers, as opposed to audiences, is the effect of personal internalizing that seems to exist in the Sonnets: Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action (SON 129.1–2)

Antony’s extreme reaction to his public shame may provide a clue to the excessive response of this poem. The public nature of such shame is important. There are ritual shamings, such as that doled out to the ambitious Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, at 2 HVI 2.4. Another example comes in King Lear, when Cornwall and Regan place Kent in the stocks (KL 2.2.150). In a sense, this is even worse than what happens to Dame Eleanor; as a messenger from the king, such an insult rebounds on his master as well. It shows very forcefully how powerless Lear now is. In All’s Well That Ends Well, Helena says that if her cure does not work, the king can publish her name as, amongst other things, ‘a divulged shame’ (AW 2.1. 171), destroying the honour of her maiden reputation. The issue of properly honourable behaviour is crucial to women, as Isabella well knows: That is, were I under the terms of death, Th’ impression of keen whips I’d wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing have been sick for, ere I’ld yield My body up to shame. (MM 2.4.100–4)

Isabella’s absolute insistence on her chastity has caused problems for later performances, but then again she does want to become not just a nun, but a Poor Clare. Also, and this is crucial, the insistence on the priority of the individual comes after these plays were initially written and performed; the nature of the shame to which Isabella here refers is alien to later audiences. This is exactly the terrain of Much Ado About 512

shame Nothing. This play insists on the absolute centrality of women’s sexuality to their identity by embodying it in the very title, with its familiar Renaissance pun on ‘nothing’ as the female genitalia. Claudio notes this immediately he is given a hint that something might be untoward about Hero: If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her, to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her. (MA 3.2.123–5)

But he and the others with him misread the signs, something that is signalled to the audience by the very fact that it occurs offstage. It is not just what they think they see that matters, but how they interpret it. Claudio does go on to shame Hero and there then follows a conclusion to the play that later audiences who do not understand the nature of shame in these texts find perplexing indeed. In effect, Claudio has to undergo a form of public repentance in order to atone for the public shame he inflicts on Hero, whom he believes to be dead. Such public shaming of an innocent woman leads to death indeed in Othello and The Winter’s Tale, but Hero’s play is required to have a comedic resolution of some kind. (c) For the importance of shame and public conceptions of honour, see Amussen (1988). For the way these issues were dealt with by the legal system, see Kermode and Walker (1994). For the plays, see Neely (1993).

siege: see war silk The finest quality soft cloth is woven from silk; it is also very expensive. Silk is often mentioned in relation to courtly culture. Martius, before he becomes Coriolanus, certainly uses it to distinguish between war and ease: When steel grows soft as the parasite’s silk, Let him be made an overture for th’ wars! (COR 1.9.45–6)

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silk This is typical of his excessively hard version of manly virtue. Belarius has exactly the same opinion of the life he leads with Cymbeline’s sons in Wales: O, this life Is nobler than attending for a check; Richer than doing nothing for a bable; Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk (CYM 3.3.21–4)

The expensive idleness of the court is here epitomized by silk dress that has not even been paid for, a reference that is instantly understood by the audience. See Picard (2004) at 154 for the use of silk in textiles.

silver A more common precious metal than gold, silver is less expensive. Like gold, it is relatively easy to craft into jewellery and other ornamentation. Its colour makes it easily available for figurative language. Silver ‘argent’ is the heraldic designation for white. The value of silver, especially when it is portable, is mentioned when the Romans are looting the city of Corioles: 1.Rom. This will I carry to Rome. 2.Rom. And I this. 3.Rom. A murrain on’t! I took this for silver. (COR 1.5.1–3)

At this point the soldiers are interrupted by the entrance of Martius, soon to be named Coriolanus for his bravery in storming the gates of this city. The comparison between his heroism and the behaviour of the ordinary troops is meant to point up the differences between he and them. Enobarbus’ famous description of Cleopatra in her barge includes silver as one many precious items: ‘the oars were silver’ (AC 2.2.194). In The Tempest, Trinculo refers to silver coins when he says that the English would pay good money to see a monstrosity such as Caliban (TEM 2.2.30). One of the three caskets in the Belmont plot of The Merchant of Venice is made of silver. A more figurative use occurs when Macbeth describes Duncan 514

silver lying dead in a pool of blood: ‘His silver skin lac’d with his golden blood’ (MAC 2.3.112). The gold and silver metaphors pick up on associations of Duncan’s royalty. John of Gaunt’s famous description of England includes the line ‘This precious stone set in the silver sea’ (RII 2.1.46). Picard (2004) mentions silver in the context of domestic wares at 67 and again at 74; she makes it clear that not everyone could afford it.

slander Public defamation of someone’s character or conduct. There is usually a sense of falsehood attached to the term. Slander of women is often linked with their sexual behaviour. In many cases some form of redress is available to the one being slandered, through legal means. Pisanio can only imagine that Posthumus’ order to kill Imogen is the result of some slander or other at CYM 3.4.32–9. Note that the basis for his accusations are sexual in origin. Similar issues are at stake in Much Ado About Nothing, as Leonato notes at MA 5.1.68. See also Othello’s defamation of Desdemona, and Leontes’ treatment of Hermione in The Winter’s Tale. Interestingly enough, slanders of men can also be based on sexual innuendo, as Escalus thinks of Isabella and Mariana at MM 5.1.289. Amussen (1988) contains a great deal of detail on the importance of character to women in particular. Defamation cases were common when a woman’s sexual conduct was slandered; see especially 99–100.

society The company of others. It can also be applied to a discrete group. It does not have the general meaning of a social whole in this period; the modern meaning is a generalized usage derived from the more specific earlier ones. The verbal sparring between Jaques and Orlando provides a good example of the word’s usual meaning: Jaq. I thank you for your company, but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. Orl. And so had I; but yet for fashion sake I thank you too for your society. (AYLI 3.2.253–6)

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society The rhetorical patterning makes ‘society’ equivalent to ‘company’. The word has exactly the same meaning when Theseus draws down the law on Hermia: Either to die the death, or to abjure For ever the society of men. (AMND 1.1.65–6)

This is a direct response to her refusal to obey her father’s will in the matter of her marriage. A slightly different meaning of ‘group’ appears in Henry VIII: ‘They are a society of fair ones’ (HVIII 1.4.14) says Lord Sands of the assembled company of women at Wolsey’s entertainments. For the various available forms of socializing, entertainment and amusement, see Picard (2004), from 238–58.

soldier: see war sovereign: see monarch state (a) The governing hierarchy of a country. The word has an equally common personal meaning of one’s condition. In practice, the two meanings often co-exist, with condensed word play referring to both simultaneously. For example, the state of a king may refer to his country and also his personal condition at that time. (b) Just before the Battle of Shrewsbury, the rebel Hotspur meets with Sir Walter Blunt, a commissioner from King Henry IV. Hotspur recounts the history of this particular king: In short time after, he depos’d the King, Soon after that, depriv’d him of his life, And in the neck of that, task’d the whole state (1 HIV 4.3.90–2)

The deposition of Richard II by the House of Lancaster leads ultimately to the Wars of the Roses, as is noted again in the Epilogue to Henry V: 516

state Whose state so many had the managing, That they lost France, and made England bleed (HV Ep.11–12)

Other plays that involve some representation of important events in the state also inevitably use the term. There is a whole threaded motif of commentary on the state in Hamlet. Horatio articulates it when he sees the ghost of the dead king for the first time: ‘This bodes some strange eruption to our state’ (HAM 1.1.69). In the next scene, the first at court, Claudius describes Gertrude as ‘Th’ imperial jointress to this warlike state’ (HAM 1.2.9). In conversation afterwards with his daughter, the court functionary Polonius says of young Hamlet: He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself, for on his choice depends The safety and health of this whole state (HAM 1.3.19–21)

The issue here is marriage, and Hamlet has professed his love to Ophelia. But as the only possible candidate for the throne, Hamlet’s choice of bride is circumscribed by political necessity. All three of these instances come before Hamlet goes to see the ghost, and when the two figures come together, Marcellus makes his famous epigrammatic comment ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark’ (HAM 1.4.90). The rotten Danish state that emerges as Hamlet progresses begins to shade the meaning of the word ‘state’ towards ‘condition’. This is a common conflation of two sets of meanings that occurs often enough elsewhere in the texts: Alas, poor York, But that I hate thee deadly, I should lament thy miserable state. (3 HVI 1.4.84–5)

These words are directed at the captive Duke of York by Margaret of Anjou. She puns upon the state he is in personally together with the state to which he aspired, which is the English throne. The turns of fortune that characterize the Wars of the Roses are brought into focus by a paired set of statements in succeeding scenes at 3 HVI 4.6.1–5 and 3 HVI 4.7.1–4. King Henry has been released from captivity and Edward has returned from exile; in order to point up the comparison 517

state between them, ‘state’ plays on their personal condition together with the condition of England. Also, the play is beginning to build towards a crescendo, and it is clear now that both kings cannot co-exist any longer. Richard II was deposed by Henry of Lancaster because he was a king who did not act like one, or at least in accordance with the view of kingship held by his powerful nobles. The same happens to Henry VI. What this cycle shows is that the logic of monarchy is inflected with power relations regardless of what the individual ruler might wish. Lear finds this out the hard way; so does Antony: Ant. The business she hath broached in the state cannot endure my absence. Eno. And the business you have broach’d here cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra’s (AC 1.2.171–4)

Political necessity compels Antony to return to Rome to sort out the mess left by his wife and brother, who rebelled against Antony’s grudging ally, Caesar. And yet at the same time personal necessity compels him to remain with Cleopatra. The disjunction between the two will provide the engine for the play’s sequence of events, and Antony’s destruction. Prospero learns an equally hard lesson in this respect when he leaves the business of the state to his brother so that he can go off and study. The result, predictably, is usurpation (TEM 1.2.66–132), although since this is a so-called ‘romance’ play, Prospero and his baby daughter Miranda survive. (c) Elias (1994) is a socio-cultural history of the long process of state formation in the medieval period into the Renaissance and beyond. He looks at the structural developments that underpin this overall movement. Anderson (1979) provides a different focus, since his interest is in the development of the later so-called absolutist states out of the Renaissance. Hopkins (1991) analyses the conditions pertaining to states ruled in the Renaissance by women such as Elizabeth I.

subject (a) Broadly speaking, a social inferior. There is a much more specific denotation of anyone who is not a full monarch or sovereign; they are the people who rule over subjects. This is an 518

subject extremely important element in Renaissance social theory. It is the basis on which Mary Stuart claimed exemption from English law when she repeatedly demonstrated a taste for intrigue, including various plots involving the murder of Elizabeth I. The English queen consistently refused to execute her cousin for treason, despite proof, because of the precedent she would set by killing a fellow anointed queen. Mary was eventually beheaded, but Elizabeth made a great show of blaming her advisors for the deed. (b) In Richard II the Bishop of Carlisle is given a long speech against the usurpation of the throne. In the midst of it, he asks the crucial question: ‘What subject can give sentence on his king?’ (RII 4.1.121). These words strike at the heart of a dilemma. Since a king was supposed to be above the law, and indeed beyond reproach by anybody, regardless of his deeds, how could anyone judge him? Especially when he has been anointed as God’s representative as part of the coronation ceremony. A contradiction is laid bare at the heart of the ideology of monarchy, since there can come a point when at least some of the subjects will decide that they have enough of suffering under what they might see as tyranny. A socially conservative view would be that, regardless of his actions, the subjects simply must not rebel, since to do so is to go against the ordained law of degree. They simply should put up with it, and eventually the king will have to answer before God for what he has done. But this passivity is not in the nature of a war-hardened nobility, and Richard’s problem is that there comes a time in his reign when his aristocratic opponents have more military power than he does. The result is his forced abdication and murder at the hands of his over-mighty subjects. The problem is repeated in the reign of the inept Henry VI, the grandson of the man who replaced Richard II on the throne. Margaret of Anjou complains to Suffolk when she realizes that the man she has married still has not been recognized as having reached his majority: Am I a queen in title and in style, And must be made subject to a duke? (2 HVI 1.3.48–9)

The protectorship is still in place, and this rankles with the queen because she wants to be married to a sovereign. Her awareness of her 519

subject situation is exacerbated in the play by the contempt in which she is held by the main part of the aristocracy because of their objections to her marrying Henry. The lieutenant who kills the disguised Suffolk later in the play notes exactly this issue: And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, For daring to affy a mighty lord Unto the daughter of a worthless king, Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. (2 HVI 4.1.79–82)

The lieutenant is something of a social conservative himself, blaming Suffolk for making the match between King Henry and the daughter of a man who is king in nothing but name. Her family did not even have any subjects. Henry VI is well aware of his own ineptitude. He is not fit to rule, and this is what has made him an easy prey to being overruled by others, those who should be his subjects: Was ever king that joy’d an earthly throne And could command no more content than I? No sooner was I crept out of my cradle But I was made a king, at nine months old. Was never subject long’d to be a king As I do long and wish to be a subject. (2 HVI 4.9.1–6)

These are his words during the dangerous Cade rebellion, although he has not yet seen the fullest extent of the rise of the House of York. A similar logic of usurpation occurs in Macbeth, although in this play it is achieved by means of a covert murder. Even so, there is a sense in which the reigning king is inevitably at risk when he is reliant upon subjects who have more military might than himself. As Macbeth himself notes, there are in fact several reasons why he should not kill Duncan: He’s here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,

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subject Who should against his murtherer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. (MAC 1.7.12–16)

This is only a short passage from Macbeth’s soliloquy pondering the murder of Duncan as the king has arrived at the family’s castle. A king who puts himself in such a position of vulnerability near even a subject he has trusted really is tempting fate. (c) For an outline theory of the underlying structural logic of the state’s reliance on feudal violence in Macbeth, see Sinfield (1992), 95–108. An accessible narrative of the relationship between Mary Stuart and Elizabeth Tudor is Plowden (2001).

succession (a) The principles, means and processes by which a deceased monarch is followed on the throne by the nearest heir. Problems arise when the succession is not clear, is conflicted, or is interrupted. Playwrights have to be careful when dealing with something as politically sensitive as this, as indeed does anyone going into publication or even talking about it. (b) The usurpation of the monarchy by the House of Lancaster leads to the Wars of the Roses. The king who is deposed in order to make way for Lancaster is Richard II; he is forewarned by the Duke of York that he is heading for trouble if he sequesters the estates of his exiled cousin Henry, who should by right succeed to his dukedom. York’s admonition is based on the principles of inheritance: ‘for how art thou a king But by fair sequence and succession?’ (RII 2.1.198–9). By interfering with the logic of succession, Richard is in fact striking at the very heart of what constitutes noble identity: lineage. York is warning his king that he is in danger of stirring up the aristocracy and this is indeed what happens. Henry returns from exile while Richard is in Ireland and gains support from the rest of the nobility by claiming only to be returning to claim his rights. But he uses the moment to supplant the king, forcing him to abdicate, taking over himself as King Henry IV. This stores up trouble for the future, because Henry has in turn interfered with the logic of the royal succession. He worries that his own wayward son might go the same way as Richard: ‘the shadow of 521

succession succession’ is what he calls his son to his face (1 HIV 3.2.99). However, Henry V proves to be of much sterner stuff and manages to keep on top of the problems created by the usurpation. The same cannot be said of his own son Henry VI, who loses the Wars of the Roses. All of this history matters to Shakespeare’s audiences because the long-term result is the Tudor and then the Stuart succession. Cymbeline provides a corollary: O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me; whereon, At three and two years old, I stole these babes, Thinking to bar thee of succession, as Thou reft’st me of my lands. (CYM 3.3.99–103)

Belarius’ soliloquy is reminiscent of the situation that faced the House of Lancaster under Richard II, albeit flavoured with the old romance plot of lost princes. The disappearance of these two princes, the heir and the spare, has meant that the only child who remains to Cymbeline is his daughter Imogen. This situation in turn parallels that of Henry VIII, who was famously obsessed with producing a legitimate male heir. By the rules of patriarchal primogeniture, the kingdom would pass from Cymbeline’s dynasty through Imogen to her husband. And she, of course, has married a worthy man who is well below her in social rank. All of these complications occur in the play as displaced forms of very real social anxieties. One may well be next in line to the throne, but that is no guarantee that one will end up sitting on it, as Hamlet well knows: He that hath kill’d my king and whor’d my mother, Popp’d in between th’ election and my hopes (HAM 5.2.64–5)

This is how he describes Claudius to Horatio before the final body count mounts up. Since Denmark’s king succeeds to the throne via the matrilinear pattern, young Hamlet should automatically have become king after his father’s death. The reason for this is that only a man married to a queen or one who is the son of a queen can qualify. By marrying his dead brother’s wife, Claudius is able to become king 522

succession instead. The confluence of an interrupted succession and what is technically incest by affinity serves as a displaced memory of Henry VIII. He was the son of a king who killed his predecessor. And Henry also married the widow of his dead brother. These plays dramatize the various ways that an ideally straightforward process can in historical fact be anything but simple. (c) Bennett (1997) describes the fragility of the Tudor claim to the English throne at 58–62. The succession of Elizabeth I was by no means certain; neither was her ability to hold onto the throne once she got there, simply because she was a woman. See Hackett (1996), from 38–71. For the Stuart succession, see Coward (2003), 119–24.

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T tavern: see inn taxation No stable form of direct taxation existed in this period. The monarch was expected to pay for the daily running of the royal court and household from the income of his or her own estates, although in practice the books rarely balanced. For extraordinary measures, such as the financing of a war, a parliament would have to be called. The money needed would have to be voted through after full negotiation. This could be a tricky process, since one way for disapproval of the government’s policies to be demonstrated was by a refusal to push through any financial business that the crown felt necessary. Massive indirect taxation did exist in the form of customs duties and monopolies. These tended to be collected by officers who could skim off the top, often legally. The monarch could also force through direct taxation without going through parliament, but this risked rebellion. Richard II tried to order loans from the wealthiest in the land to pay for his Irish war, but the plan backfired when his subjects perceived the money to be really intended to cover his lavish court expenditure. The result was the removal of one possible plank of support for him when the nobility rose against him in support of the House of Lancaster. Apart from a few figurative uses, there is only one reference to direct taxation in the plays, at HVIII 1.2. Here the king is represented as discovering through Queen Katherine and the Duke of Norfolk that 524

taxation the people are deeply unhappy about taxation that has been exacted in his name by Cardinal Wolsey. This is complete nonsense: Wolsey was only carrying out his master’s orders. But the episode does demonstrate that direct taxation attempted by the king without parliament is going to be deeply unpopular. For the so-called Amicable Grant (forced loan) in the reign of Henry VIII, see Wilson (2002) at 198–200.

theatre: see actor throne The seat of state upon which a sovereign monarch sits. The word is in fact very rarely applied to the chair itself. More often, like the crown, it is used figuratively to refer to the power that occupies it. Shakespeare’s contribution to Sir Thomas More includes an exposition of the root power of monarchy as derived from God: For to the King God hath his office lent Of dread, of justice, power and command, Hath bid him rule and will’d you to obey; And to add ampler majesty to this He hath not only lent the King his figure, His throne and sword, but given him his own name, Calls him a god on earth. (STM 98–104)

This is typical of reactionary ideology. Order is ordained and revealed by the deity and it is this that underpins the sacredness of a king’s majesty. But of course Henry VIII will go on to execute Sir Thomas for not doing what his sovereign tells him to do. There is a fundamental problem for those who support the concept of monarchy in the plays. John of Gaunt has a conception of England’s role as ‘This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle’ (RII 2.1.40), but his poetic evocation of the land of great kings is about to be interrupted by a king who is anything but majestic. Gaunt recognizes this, as he goes on to say later in the same scene, but his loyalty forbids him from doing anything about it. This is true of his brother the Duke of York as well. Gaunt’s son Henry, however, will do otherwise. Despite the words of Gaunt or More, contingency in the plays dem525

throne onstrates conclusively that there is no guarantee that the person who occupies a throne is worthy of it, however worthiness is defined. The monarch may even have problems holding onto it: Farewell, good King; when I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne! (2 HVI 2.3.37–8)

These are Gloucester’s words to good King Henry VI. He might be a good man, but he makes an inept king. Goodness simply is not enough, no matter how much religious language is used to justify the concept of monarchy. Bodin (1955) is a contemporary Renaissance theory of state governance, as is Machiavelli (1961); the latter dispenses with religious justifications for a ruler’s behaviour.

title (a) In general this word means ‘entitlement’, and so it can be applied to anything to which one aspires or has a right. This includes the titles associated with high social rank, but it is not limited to these. There are many more meanings that are not socially specific, such as the title of a book. (b) When he signs away his kingdom, Richard II says that he has ‘no name, no title’ (RII 4.1.255). For a man of his rank, the two things go together. He is acting under duress, but the usurpation of the throne by his cousin will rebound upon his own line, the House of Lancaster, in its turn. For when Henry IV replaces Richard, he sets in motion a chain of events that afflicts his own reign with a series of dangerous uprisings, not least from those who initially supported him against Richard. In parley before the Battle of Shrewsbury, Hotspur says to Henry’s messenger, Sir Walter Blunt, that his faction felt the right and need . . . to pry Into his title, the which we find Too indirect for long continuance. (1 HIV 4.3.103–5)

In other words, Henry of Lancaster has such a tenuous claim to the 526

title throne that he should not be there. Hotspur’s use of the word ‘indirect’ is important here, because it implies that someone else has a more direct entitlement, which is in fact the case: ‘the Mortimers, In whom the title rested, were suppress’d’ (1 HVI 3.1.91–2). Despite all attempts, the Lancastrians manage to stay on the throne for three generations. The final victors of the Wars of the Roses between the great Houses of York and Lancaster were the Tudors, a bunch of minor illegitimates from Wales. Their pedigree was really nothing much to boast about, and the second of their rulers, Henry VIII, was paranoid about the succession as a result. So much so, in fact, that even as a young king, he had the dangerous (to him) Duke of Buckingham arraigned and convicted of treason. The play Henry VIII by Shakespeare and Fletcher attempts to make the conflict between Buckingham and Wolsey the ground for Buckingham’s fall, but in reality the king was behind it. The trial, such as it is, constitutes something of a farce. The only witness, a surveyor, has a grudge against Buckingham because his lord dismissed him after receiving complaints about him from his tenants, as Queen Katherine points out at HVIII 1.2.172–3. King Henry is most interested in what Buckingham has to say about the succession: ‘How grounded he his title to the crown Upon our fail?’ (HVIII 1.2.144–5), the reason for the question of course being that Buckingham has a very good claim indeed. And this occurs well before Henry turns into the bloated tyrant of legend, something the play deliberately avoids by ending with the christening of Princess Elizabeth. A ‘title’ in this sense of entitlement or claim does not necessarily have to be aimed at the crown. The Lancastrian usurpation begins when John of Gaunt dies and King Richard II sequesters his lands and revenues, denying them to his son, Henry, who is in exile. This constitutes an action against legitimate inheritance, and Richard’s autocratic behaviour angers the rest of the nobility, not only Henry: North. Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. Ross. And living too, for now his son is Duke. Willo. Barely in title, not in revenues. North. Richly in both, if justice had her right. (RII 2.1.224–7)

Northumberland is a particularly powerful man, head of the great northern Percy family. They have considerable military power of their 527

title own, since their lands are one of the main bulwarks against the Scots. His dissension here will be crucial, because it will lead to his welcoming the return of Henry with open arms. When Henry does return from exile, he does so at an advantageous moment, when King Richard is in Ireland. Henry is greeted by Lord Berkeley as a messenger from the Duke of York, who has been left to rule England in the king’s absence: Berk. My lord of Herford, my message is to you. Bull. My lord, my answer is to Lancaster, And I am come to seek that name in England, And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say. (RII 2.3.69–73)

To a modern audience, this can seem like unnecessary quibbling, but the relative values of these degrees of title is critical. Henry Bullingbrook, Lord Herford, has come to claim his Duchy of Lancaster; he will end up as King Henry IV. In this instance, the narrow meaning of a noble title is very significant. Such sensitivities to the niceties of rank are not limited to the English history plays: Stew. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. Count. Faith, I do. Her bequeath’d her to me, and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds. (AW 1.3.99–103)

The Countess of Rossillion deliberately uses the word ‘title’ here to mean entitlement or claim, but it is also a pun on the meaning of aristocratic title: she already suspects that Helena loves her son Bertram. Her observation, however, is an important one: Helena may be able within the framework of the law to make title to love, but as the play goes on to note, social prejudice stands in her way. The King of France realizes that Bertram is a snob: ‘’Tis only title thou disdains’t in her, the which I can build up’ (AW 2.3.117–18). (c) For the relative degrees of noble ranks and titles, see MacKinnon (1975), 116. For a historical commentary on the events dramatized in 528

title Richard II, see Bevan (1990), 127–64. Wilson (2002) narrates the destruction of the Duke of Buckingham by Henry VIII at 188–90.

treason This word has a wider range of meanings in the Renaissance than it now does. In its most generalized sense, it denotes any form of treacherous behaviour. In law, petty treason is committed against another subject, while high or capital treason is committed against the monarch or the state. This kind of treason is important during the reign of Elizabeth I, when torture was used to extract information from recusant Catholics. Shakespeare’s plays are full of expressive insults of treason hurled around by various characters at one another. In the English history plays in particular it becomes difficult to determine whether or not these more general uses of the word start to shade over into the sense of high treason, especially since so many of the nobles involved are seen to be revolting against one monarch or another, depending on which faction they support. In the tragedies, both Claudius and Macbeth commit treason by murdering a king in secret, which enables them both to take over the succession. Treason occurs in the comedies as well. Rosalind reminds her uncle of his usurpation of her father’s dukedom in As You Like It. She says ‘Treason is not inherited, my lord’ (AYLI 1.3.61) in direct response to his statement that he does not trust her. Events prior to the start of The Tempest involve a similar brotherly usurpation. Hermione’s trial in The Winter’s Tale (3.2) is based on an assumption by Leontes that a sexual betrayal of him is treason, something that is reminiscent of Henry VIII’s treatment of Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. Smith (2006) is a full study of high treason in the Tudor period. For the use of torture in the reign of Elizabeth, see Haynes (1994), 50–3.

tyranny Any form of severe violence meted out by someone with power is called tyranny in this period. However, there is a specific sense within this general usage that applies to monarchs who use their power in such an excessive manner, without any regard for the form of law. The general meaning is common enough in the plays, for example being used as an insult many times by both sides in the Hundred Years 529

tyranny War. The more precise reference to a sovereign or monarch who is a tyrant can be found also: But yet methinks, my father’s execution Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. (1 HVI 2.5.99–100)

Here the Duke of York is referring to the execution of his father Richard, Earl of Cambridge, by Henry V without any trial. There is more than a hint of Henry’s ruthlessness. The word is repeated in the second of the Henry VI plays by one of the men who capture Suffolk. He blames the duke for the calamities that have befallen England because of his actions on behalf of the House of Lancaster: And now the house of York, thrust from the crown By shameful murther of a guiltless king And lofty, proud, encroaching tyranny, Burns with revenging fire (2 HVI 4.1.94–7)

The lieutenant shows a surprisingly detailed knowledge of the Lancastrian usurpation; the murdered king he refers to here is Richard II. His political theory is quite correct, because any actions taken on behalf of a usurper are tyrannous, because outside the law. When Caesar has been assassinated, Cinna cries out ‘Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!’ (JC 3.1.78), which is only an opinion. Caesar may have become pre-eminent in Rome, but the conspirators kill him just in case he turns into a tyrant, not because he is one (see Brutus’ speech at JC 2.1.10–34). In The Winter’s Tale, the fearless Paulina warns Leontes that putting his queen on trial smacks of tyranny (WT 2.3.116–21). The treatment of recusants by the government of Elizabeth I verged on tyranny; see Haigh (1984), 195–219.

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U usury The acquisition of wealth by the use of surcharges on cash loans. This was technically an illegal way for a Christian to make a profit. There were ways around the prohibition, for example by mortgaging lands and estates. The whole issue excited lively interest in the period. Sonnet 6 makes a technically very precise reference to the practice of usury: That use is not forbidden usury, Which happies those that pay the willing loan (SON 6.4–5)

This is an unusual use of usury as the basis for a reasonably pleasant poetic conceit. The starving commoners at the beginning of Coriolanus have a different view: Care for us? True indeed! They ne’er car’d for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act establish’d against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there’s all the love they bear us. (COR 1.1.79–86)

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usury Usury appears as only one element in quite a list of harsh practices. This citizen’s invective has close contemporary resonances due to the series of bad harvests at the end of the reign of Elizabeth. Shylock, of course, is the most famous usurer in Shakespeare. He is said many times in The Merchant of Venice to be an accomplished moneylender, and of course Antonio’s distaste for this is the reason Shylock hates the merchant. But Shylock’s desire for revenge motivates him to seal the bond of the pound of flesh instead of making more money, and ultimately this leads to his downfall in legalistic wrangling. For a full discussion of Shylock and usury, see the index entries under the topic of usury in Holmer (1995), 368. See also Shapiro (1996), 98– 100.

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V vagabond The Renaissance English underclass. There was a great deal of social paranoia about such people, especially since the dominant social conception of the period was based on one’s rank, gender and geographical location as determinants of one’s identity. Vagrants, beggars and other social outcasts or outlaws were regarded with almost universal suspicion as a result. A great deal of punitive legislation was enacted to make people stay in their place, in both senses of the word. In effect, only those of the gentry or higher were supposed to have any relative freedom; everyone else was supposed to be beholden to a social superior. This includes the actors of Shakespeare’s London. In All’s Well That Ends Well, Lafew insults Parolles repeatedly to his face: ‘You are a vagabond and no true traveller’ (AW 2.3.259–60), although this seems rather minor in comparison with some of the other things Lafew says. But to a contemporary audience it would be a signal that at least one of the characters has seen through the roguish adventurer’s empty words. The term often is associated with banishment or exile, as Coriolanus notes at COR 3.3.89. The man who will become King Henry IV mentions the condition in which he has been left by Richard II as ‘A wandering vagabond’ (RII 2.3.120). This is part of a conversation with his uncle, the Duke of York. Bullingbrook is having to justify his return to England while under sentence of exile, and he

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vagabond attacks the autocratic manner in which the king has disinherited him upon the death of his father, John of Gaunt. Ridley (2002, 2) has an entire chapter on beggars and vagabonds, from 275–87.

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W Wales A region of western mainland Britain. In the early Middle

Ages, the territory became one of the refuges of native Britons fleeing the depredations of the invading Germanic peoples who later became known as the English. Wales was forcibly incorporated into the English state by Edward I, and since then the monarch’s eldest son has been known as the Prince of Wales. Much of Wales is covered by mountainous and forested terrain, making it difficult to control. The English, right up to the Renaissance, also had a certain nervousness about their inability to control the seas around its coastline as well as they could the English Channel. Invading armies were often able to land in southwest Wales, helped by the welcome they would receive if it looked as though they were going to cause trouble for the central government. The Tudors were a Welsh family who acquired national prominence when Katherine de Valois, the widow of Henry V, married one of them for love, which was something of a scandal at the time. Her son married Margaret Beaufort, and their son became Henry VII. Parts of Cymbeline and 1 Henry IV are set in Wales. In both instances, the country is somewhat caricatured as a hard place remote from the court, one that produces strange dreamers such as Glendower. Fluellen is a Welsh captain in the army of Henry V in the French invasion; the spelling of his name is an anglicized attempt at the Welsh Llewellyn. He and Hugh Evans in The Merry Wives of Windsor are stereotypical Welsh windbags. 535

Wales For Wales and Cymbeline, see Boling (2000). For Shakespeare’s general representations of Wales and the Welsh, see Hawkes, (2002), 23–65.

war (a) War is endemic in many of the plays, including the comedies. States invade other states with monotonous regularity for a whole host of reasons and the plays are peppered with allusions to sea and land battles, campaigns, sieges and so on. Civil war is particularly important. The Tudors came to power as a result of internal exhaustion caused among the upper classes by the Wars of the Roses; the Stuarts would lose the throne in the next series of civil wars. Dynastic insecurity haunted the Tudor monarchs and many of the major events of their reigns were shadowed by threats of civil war. These could take two main forms: inter-dynastic struggle, or religious strife. They could be at their most threatening when the two combined, as with the great danger to Elizabeth posed by a possible confluence of support for Mary Stuart with outside intervention, in the name of religion. Shakespeare’s history plays in particular pick up on many of these anxieties, as do the Roman plays. (b) A full investigation of the ways in which concerns over war are managed in Shakespeare’s texts would require a book in itself. A single outstanding example does, however, draw the issues together: O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. Weep, wretched man; I’ll aid thee tear for tear, And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, Be blind with tears, and break o’ercharg’d with grief. (3 HVI 2.5.72–8)

This passage is one of King Henry’s spontaneous responses to the bloodshed occasioned by his weakness in a scene that is often cut in modern performance due to its perceived artificiality. On the apron stage, of course, it can work most effectively, with Henry and the two sets of fathers and sons separated by zonal staging conventions. The whole scene functions emblematically rather than naturalistically, forcing the eyes of the king upon the results of a civil war that is 536

war occasioned not only by his own ineptitude, but the weakness of his hereditary claim to the throne. The resonances for Shakespeare’s audience are clear. One of the most famous Shakespearean speeches is Antony’s soliloquy over the corpse of Caesar (JC 3.1.254–75), with the line ‘Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war’ (3.1.273). This has become almost emblematic and it certainly would have found an echo in the foreign policy of Elizabeth I; she hated war, and had to be dragged into it by force of circumstances. Even though Elizabeth’s England and James’ Britain were not directly involved in large-scale warfare on the continent, there were episodes such as Leicester’s mission to the Dutch. The threat posed by the Spanish Armada was perhaps the greatest crisis of Elizabeth’s reign, although the entanglements in Ireland would also take their toll; see the reference to the Earl of Essex at HV 5.0.29–34. (c) See Edelman (2000), 316–23. Plowden (2001) devotes a chapter to charting the problems posed for Elizabeth by the presence of Mary Stuart in England at 183–200. The tenuousness of the Tudor claim to the throne is described in the context of the Wars of the Roses and the Yorkist ascendancy in Bennett (1997) at 58–62.

ward: see orphan whore (a) A callet, strumpet, quean, courtesan, harlot, drab, punk or stale. A prostitute. The sheer variety of terms points to an anxiety about the precise nature of a woman who did not accord with the accepted norms of sexual behaviour: see honour and name. A woman who is called by such terms will not find it easy to clear herself of the imprecations; see slander and shame. There is an added hint of religious connotations given the importance of the Book of Revelation for Protestantism; the Whore of Babylon is an important figure in this respect. (b) The dramatis personae to 2 Henry IV lists Doll Tearsheet as a whore, which would seem to indicate that this is indeed her profession. When Antony breaks his concord with Caesar, the latter tells his sister Octavia, who has been married to Antony, that: 537

whore No, my most wronged sister, Cleopatra Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire Up to a whore, who now are levying The Kings o’ th’ earth for war. (AC 3.6.65–8)

What matters here is the way in which Caesar represents Cleopatra, defining her purely in accordance with his assumptions about her sexual behaviour. Antony himself repeats this definition of Cleopatra in his rage after the disaster at Actium: ‘Triple-turn’d whore!’ (AC 4.12.13) he says, amongst other things that are equally virulent. The contemporary Renaissance associations of the term are so close to the surface in this play that there occurs one of the most well-known references to the artificiality of the stage: The quick comedians Extemporally will stage us, and present Our Alexandrian revels: Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness I’ th’ posture of a whore. (AC 5.2.216–21)

This excerpt is part of Cleopatra’s imagining forth of how she and her courtiers will be treated if they are taken to Rome. But it also functions as a very precise description of the play itself, including the contemporary attacks upon the theatre as a breeding ground for sexual licence. When he has been infected with jealousy by Iago, Othello strikes his wife in public at OTH 4.1.240. In the very next scene, he accuses Desdemona in personal conversation of being a whore (4.2.71–81). Emilia demonstrates that she has heard what has been said by repeating it to Iago (4.2.115). This sequence is critical because it focuses audience attention both on the accusation itself, and the public nature of such a slander. Thersites picks up on a similar set of associations when he, Troilus and Ulysses see the interplay between Diomedes and Cressida: A proof of strength she could not publish more, Unless she said, ‘My mind is now turn’d whore’ (TC 5.2.113–14)

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whore This particular incident is difficult to imagine without the zonal staging techniques made possible by the apron stage; in affect, Thersites watches as Ulysses and Troilus observe Diomedes and Cressida. Thersites comments directly to the audience as they see Diomedes take from Cressida the sleeve she was given by Troilus in the manner of a chivalric lover’s favour. Thersites’ use of the term ‘publish’ notes the public nature of Cressida’s conduct in exactly the same way as happens with Othello. The social charge carried by the term and its cognates is therefore an extremely powerful one. (c) For the boy Cleopatra, see Rackin (1994). Jardine (1996) contextualizes Othello’s treatment of Desdemona in relation to Renaissance conceptions of the public shame of a slandered woman at 19–34. Hassel (2005) has some comments on the Whore of Babylon at 27.

witch A term of abuse hurled at anyone (not always a woman) who is suspected of practising magic or a proscribed religion. The lack of specificity in the term is clear, so any particular occurrences of witchcraft in the plays must be treated with circumspection. The usual punishment is death by burning, the penalty meted out to heretics. Dame Eleanor Cobham’s plot in 2 Henry VI provides a good example of the imprecision of depictions of witchcraft. Her compatriots enter to see her at 1.4; they comprise a woman who is described as a ‘witch’, a man who is a conjuror, and two priests. This is something of a catalogue of religious deviants, at least in the terms that would be understood by a Renaissance audience. The group ranges across all of the possible types: a semi-pagan wise woman from the countryside; a sorceror in the classical mould; and two Catholic priests, men who are often associated in the Protestant mind with forbidden practices. The one thing that all of these figures have in common is their access to knowledge beyond that which is ordinarily available. Joan of Arc (La Pucelle) is a much more well-known figure, a witch in the particularly gendered sense that is most often assumed by modern audiences and readers. The effect she has upon Talbot is profoundly unsettling as she unmans the English at 1 HVI 1.5.19–26. Even so, she slides across categories: 539

witch Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress, Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares (1 HVI 3.2.38–9)

Joan’s indeterminacy makes her difficult for Talbot to define as he invokes witchcraft, sorcery and hell in a series of imprecations similar to Eleanor Cobham’s plotters. Such imprecision combines with the various kinds of knowledge invoked by references to witchcraft to produce the Witches in Macbeth, the most famous occurrence of the type in the plays. Initially they seem to be prophetesses of some kind, but their presentation quickly picks up on the convention of the old hags who probably live in the countryside, indulging in the traditional harassment of ordinary people. The appearance of Hecate complicates the situation still further, with her association with darkness in the classical Greek tradition. These various meanings culminate with the famous scene of spirits and prophecies (4.1) with its probable compliment to James I as supposedly descended from Banquo (along with his involvement in the destruction of a witchcult before he became king of Britain). All of the traditions are mixed together in such a way that precise representation seems to be irrelevant. As with other witches in the plays, what matters is the difficulty of definition plus the access to supernatural knowledge. In addition, the gendered identity of witches as women is very clear in this play in particular, something that is picked up by Lady Macbeth’s famous invocation soliloquy at 1.5.40–54. See Hassel (2005), 391–2. Laurence (1995) contextualizes witchcraft at 217–24. Sharpe (1994) investigates how the legal system dealt with witchcraft, especially in relation to women. Gaskill (1994), another essay in the same volume, looks at the case of one particular woman accused of witchcraft. Rackin (2005) analyses the role of the Witches in Macbeth at 131–4; see also Stallybrass (1982).

woman (a) In the patriarchal gender ideology of this period, woman is automatically defined as man’s social inferior. So much so, indeed, that men find it extremely difficult to accept a superior social position for a woman who is clearly of much higher rank than themselves, as Elizabeth I found out. Her councillors found it impossible to believe that she could sit on the throne and not marry, like other women; to 540

woman them this was simply unthinkable. Women’s bodies and minds were held to be inherently weaker than those of men. Conventional representations of women proceed from these basic assumptions, producing recognizable character types: the virgin, whore, witch, shrew, or lunatic being amongst the most common. Any individual woman can be shifted amongst these various categories, depending on how she is perceived, particularly by men. Her own conduct is not at issue, so much as how she is perceived, especially in terms of her sexual behaviour. In other words, a woman is almost always vulnerable to an operation of discursive definition as well as real structures of power. See the entries on honour, name, slander and shame for a taste of just how important a woman’s conduct was to this society. Of course, it goes almost without saying that a double standard operated. It was fine for a man, especially a nobleman, to act in ways that would not be permissible for a woman. This is in fact the root of the structure of gender ideology: men are defined as active, women as passive. But since this is an ideology, it does not always accord with the reality it seeks to manage, which is when the demonizing of active or powerful women takes place. (b) Women who take political action present an obvious problem for patriarchy. One way it deals with them is to define them as somehow unnatural, as happens to Joan of Arc and Margaret of Anjou in the First Tetralogy. This is also the response of Lear to his daughters Goneril and Regan. Other examples from the texts would include Lady Macbeth and the witches from the same play, or the ways in which Cleopatra is constantly denigrated by her Roman opponents. Women are normally assumed to be beautifully passive, but even then trouble can erupt, especially in the tragedies, when they are held not to accord with the ideal image. Thus Desdemona is murdered because of her husband’s jealousy, and Ophelia goes mad and drowns because she is unable to keep her sanity in the foetid world of the Danish court. Hero in Much Ado About Nothing survives, but only because that play needs a ‘comic’ resolution. The one thing that all of these women have in common is their victimization by a structure that seeks to define them. The plays are full of examples of gendered behaviour patterns that can be taken as typical: ‘A woman, naturally born to fears’ (KJ 3.1.15) is how Constance describes herself. ‘Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman’ (KL 5.3.273–4) says Lear of Cordelia 541

woman as he hopes that she is not dead. In Love’s Labour’s Lost women are explicitly identified with speech: ‘No woman may approach his silent court’ (LLL 2.1.24). The unpleasant Salerio feminizes gossip in a similar manner at MV 3.1.6–7. When Richard III thinks that he has successfully wooed his niece via her mother he describes the latter as ‘Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!’ (RIII 4.4.431). Such misogynistic utterances are the less pleasant side of the same coin as standard gendered definitions: ‘Frailty, thy name is woman!’ (HAM 1.2.146) says Hamlet, most famously. Enobarbus says to Menas: ‘But there is never a fair woman has a true face’ (AC 2.6.99–100). These moments of definition are not enough to deal with the women who do indeed take action: I have nothing Of woman in me; now from head to foot I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon No planet is of mine. (AC 5.2.238–41)

Cleopatra effectively defeminizes herself in order to prepare herself for death in these lines. Lady Macbeth manages something similar in her invocation: The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe topful Of direst cruelty! (MAC 1.5.38–43)

The speech continues in this vein, but in fact she will be unable to keep up this performance, ultimately going mad and dying offstage. Regardless of her attempts to escape her femininity, it eventually comes back to haunt her. Another woman who is conveniently killed offstage is Portia, the wife of Brutus. She says, ‘I have a man’s mind, but a woman’s might’ (JC 2.4.8) as she wrestles with her foreknowledge of what is being planned. A figure who shows just how women are defined by men is Cressida; see especially Ulysses’ speech at TC 54–63. 542

woman The principle of passivity is crucial in all of this, since this is what permits women who do not remain so to be castigated in so many ways. There are some exceptions such as Helena in All’s Well That Ends Well and Portia in The Merchant of Venice. They do act powerfully, so as to acquire for themselves the husband each has chosen. A performance could open up some interesting possibilities here, or it could re-confine these women in the domestic sphere at the end of their respective plays, regardless of how successful they may have been during the course of the action. The disguise convention is important as a vehicle for women who wish to achieve more than is traditionally available to them, especially in the comedies: see Rosalind in As You Like It, Imogen in Cymbeline, Portia in the Shylock plot of The Merchant of Venice, and Viola in Twelfth Night, although she reaches something of an impasse. Such active women are attractive, although the so-called ‘Dark Lady’ sonnets also show just how dangerous this attraction can become. (c) There is a massive amount of secondary material available on Shakespeare and gender. Part of the reason for this is the importance of his representations of women in the performance tradition; there is also something of a debate as to whether or not some relative freedom was available to women in the Renaissance as compared with the Middle Ages or the emerging domestic family unit of the following period. Dusinberre (1996) is a good starting point, since she is well aware of all of these problems and issues. Barker and Kamps (1995) is a useful collection of important essays. Amussen (1988) and Stone (1990) are important historical analyses. See also the suggested reading in the various entries cross-referenced above.

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XYZ yeoman The degree of countryman under the gentry: an independent farmer who cultivates his own land. Also, a servant in an aristocratic household. As with many such terms, use of the word by the nobility can take the form of an insult: ‘We grace the yeoman by conversing with him’ (1 HVI 2.4.81) says Somerset of the Duke of York. The reason for this particular occurrence is that York has not yet been fully rehabilitated after Henry V executed his father for treason at Southampton. Technically, therefore, he is outwith the degrees of nobility. York himself goes on to insult Margaret of Anjou in similar terms when he has been captured by the Lancastrians: ‘Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman’ (3 HVI 1.4.123) is how he describes her antecedents. There is a less pejorative occurrence in Twelfth Night when Malvolio is musing upon the possibility of social advancement by marrying Olivia: ‘There is example for’t: the Lady of the Strachey married the yeoman of the wardrobe’ (TN 2.5.39–40), and this comes before he finds Maria’s forged letter. See Edelman (2000), 392–3. For the social stratum of the yeomen, see Amussen (1988) at 52 and 185.

youth Roughly, the teenage adolescent years. They are usually characterized as a time of impulsiveness and want of personal selfcontrol, even in an age that is not noted for these qualities at the best of 544

youth times. As a noun, it stands for anyone of roughly this age, or early adulthood. Many youths who appear in the plays share the characteristics of rashness, such as Bertram in All’s Well That Ends Well, or the title characters in Romeo and Juliet. The legend of the wayward years of young Prince Hal serves an important function in the Second Tetralogy. The next generation of the House of York is given great importance just after the death of their father as three emblematic suns appear in the sky at 3 HVI 2.1.20–3, although Edward, George and Richard do not yet know that the duke is dead. The choral figure appeals to fiery nationalism with the description of preparations for war with France: ‘Now all the youth of England are on fire’ (HV 2.0.1). Conflict between those of different generations can often emerge in the plays, as happens most obviously in King Lear. Youth is often invoked as an excuse when the young man of the Sonnets does something that negatively affects the poet. For affective relationships between parents and children, see Stone (1990), 113–36.

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Bibliography Primary Sources This section lists only the texts to which reference is made directly in the main entries. There is not the space here to produce an exhaustive bibliography of every available contemporary Renaissance text that could usefully gloss elements of social meaning in Shakespeare’s texts. Such an undertaking would be a massive task in its own right. Readers who wish to consult non-Shakespearean sources are directed to Gillespie (2001). Bodin, Jean, Six Books of the Commonwealth, trans. M. J. Tooley (Oxford: Blackwell, 1955). Castiglione, Baldassare, The Book of the Courtier, trans. G. Bull (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976). Cicero, Marcus Tullius, De Senectute, De Amicitia, De Divinatione, trans. William Armistead Falconer (London: William Heinemann and New York: G. P. Putnam’s sons, 1923). Cohen, J. M. (ed.) Michel de Montaigne: Essays (London: Penguin Classics, 1988). Elyot, Thomas, The Book Named The Governour ed. A. T. Eliot (Newcastle-uponTyne: John Hernahan and Sons, 1834). Erasmus, Desiderius, ‘The Praise of Folly’, trans. Betty Radice in A. H. T. Levi (ed.) Collected Works of Erasmus, Vol. 27 (Toronto, Buffalo, London: University of Toronto Press, 1986). Machiavelli, Niccolo, The Prince, trans. G. Bull (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1961). Plutarch, Plutarch: Lives, English selections, trans. Rex Warner, ed. Robin Seager (Penguin Classics: Harmondsworth, 1972). Suetonius, Suetonius: The Twelve Caesars, trans. Robert Graves, ed. Michael Grant (Penguin Classics: London, 1979).

Secondary Sources Adams, John Crawford, Shakespeare’s Physic (London: The Royal Society of Medicine Press, 2000). Adelman, Janet, ‘ “Anger’s my meat”: feeding, dependency, and aggression in Coriolanus’ in Schwartz, Murray M. and Kahn, Coppelia (eds) Representing

547

Bibliography Shakespeare: New Psychoanalytic Essays (Baltimore and London: John Hopkins University Press, 1982). Aitchison, Nick, Macbeth: Man and Myth (Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 1999). Amussen, Susan Dwyer, An Ordered Society: Gender and Class in Early Modern England (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988). Anderson, Perry, Lineages of the Absolutist State (London: New Left Books, 1979). Archer, Ian, ‘The nostalgia of John Stow’ in Smith, David L., Strier, Richard and Bevington, David (eds) The Theatrical City: Culture, Theatre and Politics in London, 1576–1649 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). —— ‘Shakespeare’s London’ in Kastan, David Scott (ed.) A Companion to Shakespeare (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000). Bakhtin, M. M., Rabelais and His World, trans. H. Iswolsky (Massachusetts and London: MIT Press, 1968). Barber, C. L., Shakespeare’s Festive Comedy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1959). Barker, Deborah E. and Kamps, Ivo (eds) Shakespeare and Gender: A History (London: Verso, 1995). Barker, Francis, The Tremulous Private Body: Essays On Subjection (London: Methuen, 1984). Barker, Francis and Hulme, Peter, ‘Nymphs and reapers heavily vanish: the discursive con-texts of The Tempest’ in Drakakis, John (ed.) Alternative Shakespeares (London: Routledge, 1996). Barker, Simon (ed.) Shakespeare’s Problem Plays: All’s Well That Ends Well, Measure For Measure, Troilus and Cressida; Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). Barrell, John, Poetry, Language and Politics (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988). Barroll, Leeds, Politics, Plague and Shakespeare’s Theater: The Stuart Years (New York: Cornell University Press, 1995). Bath, Michael, Speaking Pictures: English Emblem Books and Renaissance Culture (London: Longman, 1994). Bennett, Michael, The Battle of Bosworth (Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 1997). Betts, Hannah, ‘ “The Image of this Queene so quaynt”: the pornographic blazon 1588–1603’ in Walker, Julia M. (ed.) Dissing Elizabeth: Negative Representations of Gloriana (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1998). Bevan, Bryan, King Richard II (London: The Rubicon Press, 1990). Bogdanov, Michael and Pennington, Michael, The English Shakespeare Company: The Story of ‘The Wars of the Roses’ 1986–1989 (London: Nick Hearn Books, 1992). Boling, Ronald J., ‘Anglo-Welsh relations in Cymbeline’ in Shakespeare Quarterly Vol. 51, 2000. Bradley, A. C. Shakespearean Tragedy (3rd edition, London: Macmillan, 1992).

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Bibliography Braudel, Fernand, Civilization & Capitalism Vol 1: The Structures of Everyday Life (London: Fontana, 1985). —— Civilization & Capitalism Vol 2: The Wheels of Commerce (London: Fontana, 1985). Bray, Alan, Homosexuality in Renaissance England (2nd edition, New York: Columbia University Press, 1995). Brecht, Bertolt, Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic, John Willett trans. and ed. (London: Methuen, 2001). Brimacombe, Peter, All the Queen’s Men: The World of Elizabeth I (Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 2003). Britnell, R. H. ‘The economic context’ in Pollard, A. J. The Wars of the Roses (Basingstoke and London: Macmillan, 1995). Brown, John Russell (ed.) Focus on Macbeth (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1982). Callaghan, Dympna, Woman and Gender in Renaissance Tragedy: A Study of King Lear, Othello, The Duchess of Malfi and The White Devil (Hertfordshire: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1989). Charney, Maurice, Shakespeare on Love and Lust (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000). Clark, Arthur Melville, Murder Under Trust: The Topical Macbeth and Other Jacobean Matters (Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press, 1981). Cohen, Walter, Introduction to The Life and Death of King John in Greenblatt, Stephen; Cohen, Walter; Howard, Jean E. and Maus, Katharine Eisaman (eds) The Norton Shakespeare (New York and London: W. W. Norton, 1997). Collinson, Patrick, ‘English Reformations’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Connolly, Peter, Greece and Rome At War (London: Macdonald Phoebus, 1981). Contamine, Philippe, War in the Middle Ages, trans. Michael Jones (Massachusetts and Oxford: Blackwell, 1993). Coward, Barry, The Stuart Age: England 1603–1714 (3rd edition, Essex: Pearson Education, 2003). Delbruck, Hans: History of the Art of War, Vol II: The Barbarian Invasions, trans. Walter J. Renfroe, Jr (Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1990). Dockray, Keith, ‘The origins of the Wars of the Roses’ in Pollard, A. J. The Wars of the Roses (Basingstoke and London: Macmillan, 1995). Dollimore, Jonathan, Radical Tragedy: Religion, Ideology and Power in the Drama of Shakespeare and His Contemporaries (Hertfordshire: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1989). —— ‘Antony and Cleopatra: Virtus under erasure’ in Drakakis, John (ed.) Antony

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Bibliography and Cleopatra: Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and Landon: Macmillan, 1994). —— ‘Transgression and surveillance in Measure For Measure’ in Dollimore, Jonathan and Sinfield, Alan (eds) Political Shakespeares: Essays in Cultural Materialism (2nd edition, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996). Dollimore, Jonathan and Sinfield, Alan, ‘History and ideology, masculinity and miscegenation: the instance of Henry V’ in Sinfield, Alan, Faultlines: Cultural Materialism and the Politics of Dissident Reading (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992). —— ‘History and ideology: the instance of Henry V’ in Drakakis, John (ed.) Alternative Shakespeares (London: Routledge, 1996). Dollimore, Jonathan and Sinfield, Alan (eds) Political Shakespeare: Essays in Cultural Materialism (2nd edition, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996). Drakakis, John (ed.) Antony and Cleopatra: Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and London: Macmillan, 1994). —— Alternative Shakespeares (London: Routledge, 1996). Drakakis, John, ‘ “Fashion it thus”: Julius Caesar and the politics of theatrical representation’ in Zimmerman, Susan (ed.) Shakespeare’s Tragedies: Contemporary Critical Essays (London: Macmillan New Casebooks Series, 1998). Duffy, Christopher, The Military Experience in the Age of Reason (Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Editions, 1998). Duffy, Eamonn, The Stripping of the Altars (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1992). Duncan-Jones, Katherine, Ungentle Shakespeare: Scenes From His Life (Thomson Learning: London, 2001). Dunn, Jane, Elizabeth & Mary: Cousins, Rivals, Queens (London: Harper Perennial, 2004). Dusinberre, Juliet, Shakespeare and the Nature of Women (London: Macmillan, 1996). Eaton, Sara, ‘Defacing the feminine in Renaissance tragedy’ in Wayne, Valerie (ed.) The Matter of Difference: Materialist Feminist Criticism of Shakespeare (Hertfordshire: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1991). Edelman, Charles, Shakespeare’s Military Language: A Dictionary (London and New Brunswick, NJ: Athlone Press, 2000). Elias, Norbert, The Court Society, trans. E. Jephcott (Oxford: Blackwell, 1983). —— The Civilising Process, trans. E. Jephcott (Oxford: Blackwell, 1994). Empson, William, Some Versions of Pastoral (London: The Hogarth Press, 1986). Erickson, Carolly, Bloody Mary: The Life of Mary Tudor (London: Robson Books, 2001). Erickson, Peter, ‘The Order of the Garter, the cult of Elizabeth, and classgender tension in The Merry Wives of Windsor’ in Howard, Jean E. and

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Bibliography O’Connor, Marion F. (eds) Shakespeare Reproduced: The Text in History and Ideology (New York and London: Methuen, 1987). Evans, Malcolm, Signifying Nothing: Truth’s True Contents in Shakespeare’s Texts (Hertfordshire: Harvester Press, 1989). Findlay, Alison, Illegitimate Power: Bastards in Renaissance Drama (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 1994). Fitz, Linda T: ‘Egyptian queens and male reviewers: sexist attitudes in Antony and Cleopatra criticism’ in Drakakis, John (ed.) Antony and Cleopatra: Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and London: Macmillan, 1994). Fraser, Antonia, The Six Wives of Henry VIII (London: Mandarin, 1993). Garber, Marjorie, Coming of Age in Shakespeare (New York and London: Routledge, 1997). Gaskill, Malcolm, ‘Witchcraft and power in early modern England: the case of Margaret Moore’ in Kermode, Jenny and Walker, Garthine (eds) Women, Crime and the Courts in Early Modern England (London: UCL Press, 1994). Gent, Lucy and Llewellyn, Nigel (eds) Renaissance Bodies: The Human Figure in English Culture, 1540–1660 (London: Reaktion, 1990). Gillespie, Stuart: Shakespeare’s Books: A Dictionary of Shakespeare’s Sources (London and New Brunswick, NJ: Athlone Press, 2001). Gilliver, Kate, Goldsworthy, Adrian and Whitby, Michael, Rome At War: Caesar and his Legacy (Oxford: Osprey, 2005). Goldsworthy, Adrian, The Complete Roman Army (London: Thames & Hudson, 2003). de Grazia, Margreta, Quilligan, Maureen and Stallybrass, Peter (eds) Subject and Object in Renaissance Culture (Cambridge, New York and Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1996). Greenblatt, Stephen; Cohen, Walter; Howard, Jean E. and Maus, Katharine Eisaman, (eds) The Norton Shakespeare (New York and London: W. W. Norton, 1997). Gurr, Andrew, The Shakespearean Stage, 1574–1642 (3rd edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). Hackett, Helen, Virgin Mother, Maiden Queen: Elizabeth I and the Cult of the Virgin Mary (London: Macmillan, 1996). Haigh, Christopher (ed.) The Reign of Elizabeth I (Hampshire and London, Macmillan, 1984). Hamilton, Donna B., ‘Theological writings and religious polemic’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Hassel, R. Chris, Shakespeare’s Religious Language: A Dictionary (London and New York: Continuum, 2005). Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003).

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Bibliography Hattaway, Michael, ‘Playhouses and the role of drama’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Hawkes, Terence, Meaning By Shakespeare (London: Routledge, 1992). —— Shakespeare in the Present (London and New York: Routledge, 2002). Haynes, Alan, Invisible Power: The Elizabethan Secret Services, 1570–1603 (Stroud: Alan Sutton Publishing, 1994). Heal, Felicity and Holmes, Clive, The Gentry in England and Wales, 1500–1700 (London: Macmillan, 1994). Henderson, Diana E., ‘Love poetry’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Hibbert, Christopher, Agincourt (Gloucestershire: The Windrush Press, 1998). Hicks, Michael, Warwick the Kingmaker (Oxford: Blackwell, 2002). Holderness, Graham, ‘ “What Ish My Nation?”: Shakespeare and national identities’ in Kamps, Ivo (ed.) Materialist Shakespeare: A History (London: Verso, 1995). Holland, Norman, Psychoanalysis and Shakespeare (New York: Octagon Books, 1976). Holmer, Joan Ozark, The Merchant of Venice: Choice, Hazard and Consequence (London: Macmillan, 1995). Holmes, Jonathan and Streete, Adrian (eds) Refiguring Mimesis: Representation in Early Modern Literature (Hertfordshire: University of Hertfordshire Press, 2005). Hopkins, Lisa, Women Who Would Be Kings: Female Rulers of the Sixteenth Century (Sussex and New York: Vision Press and St Martin’s Press, 1991). Horrox, Rosemary, ‘Personalities and politics’ in Pollard, A.J. (ed.) The Wars of the Roses (Basingstoke and London: Macmillan, 1995). Howard, Jean E., ‘Shakespeare and genre’ in Kastan, David Scott (ed.) A Companion to Shakespeare (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000). Howard, Jean E. and O’Connor, Marion F. (eds) Shakespeare Reproduced: The Text in History and Ideology (New York and London: Methuen, 1987). Howard, Jean E. and Rackin, Phyllis, Engendering A Nation: A Feminist Account of Shakespeare’s English Histories (London and New York: Routledge, 1997). Huizinga, J., The Waning of the Middle Ages (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1990). Hutson, Lorna, The Usurer’s Daughter: Male Friendship and Fictions of Women in Sixteenth-Century England (London: Routledge, 1994). Hyland, Ann, The Medieval Warhorse: From Byzantiun to the Crusades (Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 1996). Innes, Paul, Shakespeare and the English Renaissance Sonnet: Verses of Feigning Love (London: Macmillan and New York: St Martin’s Press, 1997). —— ‘Pluck but his name out of his heart: a Caeasarean cross-section’ in

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Bibliography Holmes, Jonathan and Streete, Adrian (eds) Refiguring Mimesis: Representation in Early Modern Literature (Hertfordshire: University of Hertfordshire Press, 2005). James, Heather, ‘ “Tricks we play on the dead”: making history in Troilus and Cressida’ in Barker, Simon (ed.) Shakespeare’s Problem Plays: All’s Well That Ends Well, Measure For Measure, Troilus and Cressida; Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). Jardine, Lisa, Still Harping On Daughters: Women and Drama in the Age of Shakespeare (Harvester: Brighton, 1989). —— Reading Shakespeare Historically (London: Routledge, 1996). Jones, Malcolm, ‘The English Print, c.1550–c.1650’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Jordan, Constance, Shakespeare’s Monarchies: Ruler and Subject in the Romances (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1999). Joughin, John (ed.) Shakespeare and National Culture (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997). Jowitt, Claire, Voyage Drama and Gender Politics, 1589–1642: Real and Imagined Worlds (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003). Kahn, Coppelia, Roman Shakespeare: Warriors, Wounds and Women (London and New York: Routledge, 1997). Kamps, Ivo (ed.) Materialist Shakespeare: A History (London: Verso, 1995). Kastan, David Scott (ed.) A Companion to Shakespeare (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000). Keegan, John, The Face of Battle: A Study of Agincourt, Waterloo and The Somme (London: Pimlico, 1998). Kermode, Jenny and Walker, Garthine (eds) Women, Crime and the Courts in Early Modern England (London: UCL Press, 1994). Kronenfeld, Judy, King Lear and the Naked Truth: Rethinking the Language of Religion and Resistance (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1998). Lake, Peter, ‘Religious identities in Shakespeare’s England’ in Kastan, David Scott (ed.) A Companion to Shakespeare (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000). Lander, J. R., The Wars of the Roses (Stroud: Alan Sutton Publishing, 1993). Laroque, Francois, Shakespeare’s Festive World: Elizabethan Seasonal Entertainment and the Professional Stage, trans. Janet Lloyd (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993). Laurence, Anne, Women in England, 1500–1760: A Social History (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1995). Levin, Carole, The Heart and Stomach of a King: Elizabeth I and the Politics of Sex and Power (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994). Liebler, Naomi Conn, Shakespeare’s Festive Tragedy: The Ritual Foundations of Genre (London and New York: Routledge, 1995).

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Bibliography Lisle, Leanda de, After Elizabeth: The Death of Elizabeth and the Coming of King James (London: Harper Perennial, 2006). Loades, David, The Mid-Tudor Crisis, 1545–1565 (London: Macmillan, 1992). Longstaffe, Stephen, ‘Political plays’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Loomba, Ania, Gender, Race and Renaissance Drama (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1992). —— ‘Theatre and the space of the other’ in Drakakis, John (ed.) Antony and Cleopatra: Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and London: Macmillan, 1994). Lovell, Mary S., Bess of Hardwick: First Lady of Chatsworth, 1527–1608 (London: Little, Brown, 2005). Mackinnon, Charles, The Observer’s Book of Heraldry (London: Frederick Warne, 1975). Marcus, Leah, ‘Cymbeline and the unease of topicality’ in Ryan, Kiernan (ed.) Shakespeare: The Last Plays (London and New York: Routledge, 1999). Margolies, David, Monsters of the Deep: Social Dissolution In Shakespeare’s Tragedies (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1992). McMullen, Gordon (ed.) King Henry VIII (Arden 3 Shakespeare, London: Thomson, 2002). Meads, Chris, Banquets Set Forth: Banqueting in English Renaissance Drama (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001). Melchiori, Giorgio, Shakespeare’s Dramatic Meditations (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1976). Mikalachki, Jodi, ‘The masculine romance of Roman Britain: Cymbeline and early modern English nationalism’ in Thorne, Alison (ed.) Shakespeare’s Romances: Contemporary Critical Essays (London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). Montrose, Louis A., ‘A kingdom of shadows’ in Smith, David L., Strier, Richard and Bevington, David (eds) The Theatrical City: Culture, Theatre and Politics in London, 1576–1649 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). —— The Purpose of Playing: Shakespeare and the Cultural Politics of the Elizabethan Theatre (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996). Moore, Helen, ‘Romance’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Mucci, Clara, ‘Allegory’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Mullaney, Steven, The Place of the Stage: License, Play, and Power in Renaissance England (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1988). Murphy, Beverley A., Bastard Prince: Henry VIII’s Lost Son (Sutton Publishing: Stroud, 2003).

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Bibliography Neale, J. E., The Elizabethan House of Commons (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963). Neely, Carol Thomas, Broken Nuptials in Shakespeare’s Plays (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1993). Norman, A. V. B. and Pottinger, Don, English Weapons & Warfare, 449–1660 (New York: Dorset Press, 1985). Norwich, John Julius, Shakespeare’s Kings (London: Viking Books, 1999). Novy, Marianne, ‘Shakespeare and emotional distance in the Elizabethan family’ in Barker, Deborah E. and Kamps, Ivo (eds) Shakespeare and Gender: A History (London: Verso, 1995). Ong, Walter J., Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word (London and New York: Routledge, 1993). Palliser, D. M., The Age of Elizabeth: England Under the Late Tudors, 1547–1603 (London and New York: Longman, 1992). Parker, Patricia, Literary Fat Ladies: Rhetoric, Gender, Property (London: Methuen, 1987). —— Shakespeare From the Margins: Language, Culture, Context (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1996). Pennington, Michael, Twelfth Night: A User’s Guide (London: Nick Hern Books, 2000). Perry, Curtis, ‘Court and coterie culture’ in Hattaway, Michael (ed.) A Companion to English Renaissance Literature and Culture (Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). Picard, Liza, Elizabeth’s London: Everyday Life in Elizabethan London (London: Orion Books, 2004). Plowden, Alison, Two Queens in One Isle: The Deadly Relationship Between Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots (Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 2001). Pollard, A. J. (ed.) The Wars of the Roses (Basingstoke and London: Macmillan, 1995). Pollard, A. J. Richard III and the Princes in the Tower (Stroud: Alan Sutton, 1995). Potter, Lois (ed.) The Two Noble Kinsmen (Thomas Nelson: Surrey, 1997). Rackin, Phyllis, ‘Shakespeare’s boy Cleopatra, the decorum of nature and the golden world of poetry’ in Drakakis, John (ed.) Antony and Cleopatra: Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and London: Macmillan, 1994). —— Shakespeare and Women (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995). Rebhorn, Wayne, ‘The crisis of the aristocracy in Julius Caesar’ in Wilson, Richard (ed.) Julius Caesar: Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and New York: Palgrave, 2002). Richmond, Hugh Macrae, Shakespeare’s Theatre: A Dictionary of His Stage Context (London and New York: Continuum, 2002). Ridley, Jasper, Elizabeth I (London: Penguin Books, 1987). —— Henry VIII (London: Penguin Books, 2002). —— The Tudor Age (London: Constable & Robinson Ltd, 2002).

555

Bibliography Rivers, Isabel, Classical and Christian Ideas in English Renaissance Poetry: A Students’ Guide (London: Routledge, 1994). Ross, Charles, Richard III (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1999). Ryan, Kiernan (ed.) Shakespeare: The Last Plays (London and New York: Routledge, 1999). Sacks, David Harris, ‘Political culture’ in Kastan, David Scott (ed.) A Companion to Shakespeare (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000). Sawday, Jonathan, Body Emblazoned: Dissection and the Human Body in Renaissance Culture (London: Routledge, 1995). Schwartz, Murray M. and Kahn, Coppelia (eds) Representing Shakespeare: New Psychoanalytic Essays (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982). Scullard, H. H., From the Gracchi to Nero (4th edition, Methuen, London, 1976). Seaver, Paul S., ‘The artisanal world’ in Smith, David L., Strier, Richard and Bevington, David (eds) The Theatrical City: Culture, Theatre and Politics in London, 1576–1649 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky, Between Men: English Literature and Male Homosocial Desire (New York: Columbia University Press, 1985). Shannon, Laurie, Sovereign Amity: Figures of Friendship in Shakespearean Contexts (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2002). Shapiro, James, Shakespeare and The Jews (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996). Sharpe, Jim, ‘Women, witchcraft and the legal process’ in Kermode, Jenny and Walker, Garthine (eds) Women, Crime and the Courts in Early Modern England (London: UCL Press, 1994). Shepherd, Simon, Spenser (Hertfordshire: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1989). Sinfield, Alan, Faultlines: Cultural Materialism and the Politics of Dissident Reading (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992). Sinfield, Alan and Dollimore, Jonathan, ‘History and ideology, masculinity and miscegenation: the instance of Henry V’ in Sinfield, Alan, Faultlines: Cultural Materialism and the Politics of Dissident Reading (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992). Slack, Paul, ‘Poverty and social regulation in Elizabethan England’ in Haigh, Christopher (ed.) The Reign of Elizabeth I (Hampshire and London: Macmillan 1984). Smialkowska, Monika, ‘Court masque and the (re)production of aristocratic identity’ in Holmes, Jonathan and Streete, Adrian (eds) Refiguring Mimesis: Representation in Early Modern Literature (Hertfordshire: University of Hertfordshire Press, 2005). Smith, Bruce R., Homosexual Desire in Shakespeare’s England: A Cultural Poetics (London: Chicago University Press, 1994).

556

Bibliography Smith, David L., Strier, Richard and Bevington, David (eds) The Theatrical City: Culture, Theatre and Politics in London, 1576–1649 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). Smith, G. R., The Emergence of A Nation State: The Commonwealth of England, 1529–1660 (Essex: Longman, 1997). Smith, Lacey Baldwin, Treason in Tudor England: Politics and Paranoia (London: Pimlico, 2006). Sohmer, Steve, Shakespeare’s Mystery Play: The Opening of the Globe Theatre, 1599 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999). Somerset, Anne, Elizabeth I (London: Phoenix Press, 2002). Spiller, Michael R. G., The Development of the Sonnet: An Introduction (London and New York: Routledge, 1992). Stallybrass, Peter, ‘Macbeth and witchcraft’ in Brown, John Russell (ed.) Focus on Macbeth (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1982). —— ‘Worn worlds: clothes and identity on the Renaissance stage’ in de Grazia, Margreta, Quilligan, Maureen and Stallybrass, Peter (eds) Subject and Object in Renaissance Culture (Cambridge, New York and Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1996). Stallybrass, Peter and White, Allon, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression (London: Methuen, 1986). Starkey, David, Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII (London: Vintage, 2004). Stone, Lawrence, The Crisis of the Aristocracy, 1558–1641 (abridged edition, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1967). —— The Family, Sex and Marriage in England 1500–1800 (abridged edition, London: Penguin Books, 1990). Styan, J. L., Shakespeare’s Stagecraft (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967). Tawney, R. H., Religion and the Rise of Capitalism (London: Peregrine Books, 1987). Thomas, Keith, Religion and the Decline of Magic (London: Penguin Books, 1991). Thomson, John A. F., The Transformation of Medieval England, 1370–1529 (Essex and New York: Longman, 1995). Thorne, Alison (ed.) Shakespeare’s Romances: Contemporary Critical Essays (London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). Traub, Valerie, ‘Jewels, statues and corpses: containment of female erotic power in Shakespeare’s plays’ in Barker, Deborah E. and Kamps, Ivo (eds) Shakespeare and Gender: A History (London: Verso, 1995). Walker, Julia M. (ed.) Dissing Elizabeth: Negative Representations of Gloriana (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1998). Warnicke, Retha M., The Rise and Fall of Anne Boleyn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). Wayne, Valerie (ed.) The Matter of Difference: Materialist Feminist Criticism of Shakespeare (Hertfordshire: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1991).

557

Bibliography Weimann, Robert, Shakespeare and the Popular Tradition in the Theater: Studies in the Social Dimension of Dramatic Form and Function ed. Robert Schwartz (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987). —— Author’s Pen and Actor’s Voice: Playing and Writing in Shakespeare’s Theatre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). Weir, Alison, Children of England: The Heirs of King Henry VIII (London: Pimlico, 1996). —— The Six Wives of Henry VIII (London: Pimlico, 1997). —— Lancaster & York: The Wars of the Roses (London: Pimlico, 1998). —— Elizabeth the Queen (London: Pimlico, 1999). —— Henry VIII: King and Court (London: Jonathan Cape, 2001). —— Mary, Queen of Scots and the Murder of Lord Darnley (London: BCA, 2003). Wells, Stanley, Shakespeare: A Dramatic Life (Sinclair-Stevenson: London, 1994). Whigham, Frank, Ambition and Privilege: the Social Tropes of Elizabethan Courtesy Theory (London and Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984). Wilson, Derek, In the Lion’s Court: Power, Ambition and Sudden Death in the Reign of Henry VIII (London: Pimlico, 2002). —— The Uncrowned Kings of England: The Black Legend of the Dudleys (London: Constable & Robinson, 2005). Wilson, Richard (ed.) Julius Caesar: Contemporary Critical Essays (Hampshire and New York: Palgrave, 2002). Yates, Frances A., Astraea: The Imperial Theme in the Sixteenth Century (London: Pimlico, 1993). Zimmerman, Susan (ed.) Shakespeare’s Tragedies: Contemporary Critical Essays (London: Macmillan, 1998).

558

Index abbess 3 abbey 3 abbot 3 abdication 26, 211, 331, 519 ability 273 to act 239–240, 242 absolutism 119, 138, 165, 208, 347, 404 acclamation 308, 345 Act of Accord 461 Actium, battle of 21, 40, 194, 494, 512, 538 actor 4–6, 14 see also player Adams, John Crawford 15, 175, 177, 315, 429, 475 Adelman, Janet 200 administration 128, 465 admiral 7 Lord High Admiral 7, 73–74 adultery 63, 356–357, 455 advancement 81, 152, 230, 273, 544 grace as 269 Hamlet’s lack of 354–355 advisors 124, 230, 519 affinity 7–8, 188, 221, 295, 469 incest by 139, 325, 416, 523 Agincourt, battle of 19, 21, 22, 33, 39, 40, 282 aftermath of 470 archers at 277 and the conquest of France 281, 348 French overconfidence 282, 430 Henry V’s speeches before 41, 49, 82, 233, 237, 297 prisoners 35, 254, 282, 283 Aitchison, Nick 360, 511 Alaric 195

alcohol 8–9, 46, 327, 480–481 alderman 8 ale 8–9, 46 alien 102–103, 338 allegiance 31, 70, 72–73, 242, 367 symbols of 264, 313 alliances 210, 243–245, 470 ‘auld’ alliance of Scotland and France 363, 509 marriage alliance 247, 261, 285, 318, 321, 350, 410–414, 419 All’s Well That Ends Well Bertram 121, 125, 205, 229, 280, 302, 320–321, 326, 446–447, 504–505, 528, 545 Countess of Rossillion 178, 313, 371, 429, 437, 528 Diana 247, 297, 321, 340, 505 Duke of Florence 302 Dumaine 370 Helena 121, 174, 177, 205, 228–229, 247, 280, 319–320, 326, 429, 446–447, 463–464, 504–505, 512, 528, 543 King of France 173–174, 205, 280, 319, 353, 371, 528 Lafeu 174, 177, 224, 252, 287, 296, 321, 365, 429, 533 Lavatch 114, 365 Mariana 297, 321, 447 Parolles 81, 189, 224, 287, 303, 365, 370, 533 Steward 528 Widow 247, 505 almanacs 328 alms 9–10, 84 almshouses 10

559

Index ambassador 10–11, 132, 162, 193, 443 ambition 11–14, 52, 116, 183, 207, 273, 310 of Caesar 13–14, 148–150, 164, 272, 488 emulation and 196, 197 Americas 327 Amicable Grant 525 Amussen, Susan D. and credit practices 141 and gender politics 39, 279, 324 on marriage contracts 121 on the marriage process 400, 427 on the role of the housewife 314 on social issues 22, 151, 154, 171, 203, 366, 438, 499 on women and reputation 221, 300, 336, 450, 515 anachronism 191, 243, 407, 501 in Antony and Cleopatra 19, 369 in Coriolanus 102 in Julius Caesar 109–110 in King Lear 21, 185 in The Rape of Lucrece 29, 97 in the ‘Roman’ plays 190–191 in titles 185, 190, 501 ancestry 91, 125, 221, 287 Anderson, Perry 29, 439, 518 Anglo-Irish ascendancy 330 Anne Boleyn see Boleyn, Anne anticlericalism 3, 72, 476 Antony and Cleopatra Actium, battle of 21, 40, 194, 494, 512, 538 Agrippa 42, 245–246, 321, 419 Antony 13–14, 19, 21, 23, 34, 69, 190, 227, 231, 238–239, 245–246, 250, 265, 276, 321, 419, 420, 435, 447, 452, 463, 486, 487, 494, 512, 518, 537–538 armour 19 Cleopatra 19, 42, 82, 156, 194, 231, 239, 246, 250, 265, 276, 305, 321, 419, 420, 434–435, 438, 447, 494, 497, 538, 542 cross-dressing 19

560

Dolabella 194 Enobarbus 21, 23, 112–113, 160, 190, 245–246, 265, 420, 514, 542 Fulvia 419 gender relations 19 Iras 497, 512 Lepidus 190, 452 Maecenas 231, 245–246, 487 Menas 420, 542 messengers 447 Octavius Caesar 23, 190, 231, 250, 265, 276 Philo 239 Pompey 452 Rome 23, 231, 246, 265, 276, 497, 518, 538 Scarus 494, 512 Sicilius 227 Thidias 23, 435 Ventidius 227, 378 apothecary 14–15, 479 apprentice 5, 480–481 Aragon, Katherine of see Katherine of Aragon archbishop 15–17, 268 of Canterbury 46, 191–192, 288 see also Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury of York 175, 204, 230, 271, 479, 497 archer 17–19, 277, 430 Archer, Ian 91, 103 archery 142, 315 aristocracy 24, 50, 101, 184, 203, 520 conflict and 69, 73, 137, 208, 347, 455, 521 and credit 266 denunciation of 433 economic pressures on 200, 225 French 303, 362, 430 funeral practice 249 knight as lowest member of 366 pastimes of 279 prejudices of 212 puncturing of ideology of 453 reckless style of 255, 264 role in armed forces 257, 302

Index Scottish 293 Stone on 386, 400, 441, 450 warrior 97 and wet nurses 455 armour 19, 303, 440 plate 19, 402 armourer 19 Horner 480 army 19–21, 39, 70, 305, 366 English 33, 282, 302–303, 330–331, 347, 490 French 18, 430 Gothic 191, 194, 195, 228 loyalty 195, 196 Roman 67, 186 artifice 7, 380 artillery 20, 277, 452 artisans 314, 341 As You Like It Adam 456 Celia 131, 254, 291, 459–460, 484 Charles 254 Corin 127 Duke Junior 131 Duke Senior 131 Epilogue 155 Forest of Arden 291 Jaques 515 Oliver 470 Orlando 225, 254, 291, 373, 437, 469–470, 515 Phoebe 264 Rosalind 131, 264, 291, 314, 437, 459–460, 529 Silvius 264 Touchstone 114, 127, 140, 238, 261 asides 390 in Antony and Cleopatra 23 in Cymbeline 275, 389 in Hamlet 442–443 in Henry VI Part 2 308 in Henry VI Part 3 117, 119 in Henry VIII 43, 75, 289, 372, 415, 416, 417 in King Lear 390, 391

in A Midsummer Night’s Dream 5 in Othello 442 assembly 21–22 asylum 304 Athens 5, 163, 382 attrition 330–331 audiences asides to see asides audience culture 135, 189, 339 contemporary 98, 132, 184–185, 347, 353, 363, 392 of Fletcher and Shakespeare 74, 193, 216 Hamlet and 12–13, 158, 454 Julius Caesar and 149, 251, 489 Macbeth and 13 modern 125, 192, 413, 415, 505–506 Othello and 104, 189, 442 Renaissance see Renaissance audience Augustus 147, 190–191, 250, 481 auld alliance 363, 509 authority 22–30, 130 papal 289, 377, 477 of precedence versus personal authority 165 royal 133, 142–144, 309 written versus verbal 60 autocracy 68, 208, 345, 346, 386, 441 badge 31–32, 313 Bakhtin, M. M. 292 balance of power 193, 352, 471 banishment 464, 533 of Belarius 490 of Coriolanus 104 of Henry of Lancaster 137 of Publius Cimber 165 of Romeo 423 banking 340 bankrupt 32–33 Bannockburn, battle of 366 banquet 33–34, 230–231 Barber, C. L. 292 Barker, Deborah E. and Kamps, I. 55, 543

561

Index Barker, Francis 56 and Hulme, Peter 7, 327, 329 baron 34–35, 93 Barrell, John 30, 249, 401 Barroll, Leeds 7, 271, 360, 469, 475 bastard 16, 35–39, 56, 85, 265, 448 see also illegitimacy Bath, Michael 190 battle 18–19, 39–40, 299, 366 body doubles in 115 see also war battlefield 201, 277, 303, 346, 433 knights of the battlefield 366–367 see also knight bawd 40, 155, 377 BBC Shakespeare 291 bear-baiting 41, 383 Beaufort, Margaret 23, 125, 169, 310, 535 Beauforts 169, 310, 349, 352, 385, 411 Gloucester’s hatred for 472 beauty 37, 41–46, 212, 213–216, 218, 376, 448 of Helena 319 of Lucrece 287 bed trick 321, 424, 505 bedlam 304 beer 8, 46 beggar 301, 304, 533, 534 Bennett, Michael 150, 304, 312, 360, 364, 427, 523, 537 Bess of Hardwick see Hardwick, Bess of Betts, Hannah 45 Bevan, Bryan 150, 209, 267, 276, 332, 360, 508, 529 bible 59, 288, 500 billmen 18 bishop 46–47, 466, 470 Bishop of Carlisle see under Richard II Bishop of Ely see under Henry V Bishop of Winchester 36, 85, 97–98, 118–119, 169, 236, 349, 377, 384, 385, 471–472, 477, 500–501 of Rome see pope Black Prince 307

562

Blackfriars blazon 47–48 Blount, Elizabeth 360 Boccaccio 174, 248 Bodin, Jean 30, 360, 526 body bodily fluids 28, 173 body politic 24, 27, 50, 175, 195, 487, 488 monarch’s two bodies 344, 496 bog 332 Bogdanov, Michael and Pennington, Michael 312 Boleyn, Anne 122, 160, 218, 284, 372–373 coronation 81, 122, 123, 254, 383, 410 downfall and execution 205, 206, 209 incest and 325 and the Oath of Succession 457 Wolsey and 76, 437 Boleyn, Mary 284, 325 Boling, Ronald J. 536 bond 56–59 of childhood 95 between Romeo and Juliet 456 of Shylock 58–59, 84, 314, 338, 432, 505, 532 book 22, 59–63 Bosworth, battle of 18, 74, 301, 304, 352, 360 aftermath of 446 and the alliance of Richmond and Elizabeth 414 Brackenbury’s death at 379 dreaming scene before 310 Richard’s speech before 370 bows 18, 141–142 Bradley, A.C. 14 Brakenbury, Sir Robert 379 Brandon, Charles, Duke of Suffolk 75, 254, 415, 416 brass 63–64 Braudel, Fernand 19, 21, 107, 218, 432 Bray, Alan 401 Brecht, Bertolt 30 brick 64

Index bride 178, 277, 517 Brimacombe, Peter 71, 124, 135, 165, 200, 267, 464 Britain British Isles 38, 196, 329, 451, 509 Celtic 21, 182, 329 empire 187, 193–194, 196, 202, 220, 282, 330, 349, 472 Renaissance 335 Britnell, R.H. 364 Britons 535 Brittany 352 brothel 40, 136, 383, 454, 473 Brutus family name 64 Marcus Junius 64, 65–66 see also under Julius Ceasar budget 331 Burgundy Duke of 22, 126, 182, 390 French war with 21, 181, 192, 282, 348 butler 66 butt of malmsey 351 Cade, Jack 62, 67, 107, 113–114, 117, 377 Cade’s body 131 defeat of 202–203, 222, 296 promises of 46, 381 rebellion of 62, 67, 69, 169, 241, 280, 308, 374, 381–382, 455, 461, 520 Cadiz 263 Caesar, Gaius Julius 13, 67–68, 147 assassination 13, 14, 50, 67, 200, 229 Caesar, Octavius 23, 147, 150, 190, 250, 265 as Emperor (Augustus) 147, 190, 356, 481 Calais 282, 283 calendar 218, 290, 292 Callaghan, Dympna 55, 218 callet 537 Cambridge university 373 camp follower 19, 370 campaign 20, 21, 70 hardships 8

honour 296 and the importance of castles 77–78 triumph 220, 291 see also war cannon 63, 277, 452 Canterbury 15 see also archbishop: of Canterbury capital cities 10, 91, 241 French 267 London as capital 383–384 capital (high) treason 252, 284, 529 captain 38, 69–71, 451 cardinal 15, 72–76, 89, 226, 477 Wolsey see Wolsey, Cardinal Carey, Sir Robert 435 carnival/carnivalesque 26, 48, 52, 67, 166, 480 the fool and 237, 238, 239 holiday and 290–292 carpenter 341 carriage 115, 300 cash 9, 43, 162–163, 180, 262 cash dowry 181 inheritance of 281 jointure 180, 341–343 morality and 425 peerages for 472 usury on loans of 531 war and 479 casket 76–77, 322, 460, 505, 514 choice of 256–257, 261, 439, 442 see also chest Castiglione, Baldassare 30 castle 77–79, 454, 521 Pontefract Castle 347, 485 cathedral 79–80 Catholics cardinals see cardinal confession 26 practices 9, 10, 47, 84, 131, 404, 475–476 Cato 506 cavalry 18, 20, 302–303, 366 Cecil, Sir William 273, 318, 463, 464 cells 333

563

Index Celtic 21, 25, 182, 329, 510, 511 pseudo-Celtic 358 censors/censorship 122, 226, 267, 286, 289, 415, 502 ceremony 80–83 ceremonial mace 402 of coronation 121–122, 404, 519 Henry V’s soliloquy on 40, 49, 237, 402 see also ritual chain of being 166 chamberlain 83, 385, 386 see also Henry VIII (All Is True): Lord Chamberlain chaplain 83–84 Chapuys, Eustace 11, 193 characters actors and 4, 6 bawdy 40 character-oriented criticism 13 malcontented 28, 498 national characteristics 38 noble 125 offstage 105, 353 the Puritan character 491 representation of viewpoints by 415, 423, 500 Shakespeare’s merging of historical characters 350 social comment through 28, 102 stage props and 109 stock 114, 237, 238, 541 upper-class 95, 257 charity 84–91 alms 9–10, 84 Charles I, King of Britain 228 Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor 187, 192, 193, 418 Charney, Maurice 46, 400 charter 91–93, 271, 383 Chatsworth 408 Chaucer 248 chest 93 funeral 112 see also casket chevauchees 445

564

childbed 93–94 childhood 94–95 a nurse’s stay through 455 upper-class 247 chivalric challenge or duel 11, 20–21, 95–97, 170, 308–309 chivalry 95–97 discourse of 168, 301 ethos of 97, 229, 255, 367 French chivalry 39 heraldry and 286–287 rituals of 170, 229 chorus 331, 353, 418 of Henry V 19, 257, 277, 297, 303 church 97–99 Anglican 15, 98, 99, 284–285, 288, 457, 476 Catholic 72–73, 89, 98, 241–243, 265, 377, 475–478 churchwarden 511 churl 99 Cicero, Marcus Tullius 249, 273 citizen 24, 99–103, 465 Augustus as First Citizen 147, 481 citizens of London 209, 384 citizenship 100, 102–103, 337 in Coriolanus 9–10, 531–532 city 103–107, 108 capital cities see capital cities charter and 92 citizens see citizen freedom of the city 240 London see London triumphal entries of the city 220 civil unrest 16, 67, 144, 383 civil war 7, 12, 252, 307–309, 466, 472, 536–537 castles and 78 degree and 169 destruction of 251 from dividing a kingdom 236 England’s drift towards 105, 182, 197, 212, 294–295 peers and 470 Roman 68, 270 Clark, Arthur Melville 360

Index class boundaries 246, 281, 389 conflict 24, 69, 152 interest 236 lower 8–9, 40, 67, 69, 116, 205, 220–221, 241, 251, 313, 377–378 middle 59, 63, 178–179, 218–219, 461, 465 register 10, 28, 152, 173 snobbery 229, 264, 430, 432 upper 43, 60, 95, 119, 169, 180, 183, 197, 212–214, 264, 293, 299, 321, 335, 361, 395–397, 407, 419 clergy archbishop see archbishop bishop see bishop chaplain 83–84 curate 154 despoiling of 265 friars 241–243 parson 467 temporal power of 501 tension between nobility and 72, 98, 385, 501 Cleves, Anne of 285 clientage 8, 229, 468 cloak 107–109 gaberdine 253 clock 109–111 closet 111–112 closet scene in Hamlet 155, 237, 322 cloth 112–114 cloth industry 430–431, 461 gaberdine 253 of gold tissue 264, 265 silk 513 clothing 107–109 clothing industry 430–431, 461 fashion 223–225 favours and 225 garments 255–256 with lace 369–370 rank and 107, 112–114 clown 114–115, 154, 364 see also fool

coach 115 coat of arms 47, 116, 257, 287, 288, 300, 380 Shakespeare’s 257–258, 259 cockpits 383 Cohen, Walter 249, 360 coins 264, 514 Collinson, Patrick 47 colonization 190, 292, 326, 431 colours 115–116, 201, 286–287, 380 comedy 118, 128, 221, 342 carnival and 292, 480 Falstaff and 128, 129, 176, 221, 453, 495 humour and 314–315 viscious 159 The Comedy of Errors Antipholus 136, 407 Centaur Inn 329 Dromio 332, 510 Ephesus 407, 431 Syracuse 431 comitatus 346 commodities 14, 55, 295, 319, 419 marriage commodity market 42, 51, 319, 321–322, 340, 423 commoner 100, 201, 469, 487, 497, 531 Commons, House of 306, 466, 467 commonwealth 196, 356, 357 communication 300, 330, 345, 433 battlefield 201 ineffective 190 companionship companionate marriage 420–421, 423, 427 Prince Hal and his companions 188, 245, 281, 383, 389 conjuror 116–117, 539 Connolly, Peter 187 conquest 117–118, 219, 281, 283, 303 conspicuous consumption 107, 162, 218, 231 conspicuous expenditure 165, 225, 264

565

Index conspiracy 41, 60, 62, 242–243, 279 against Caesar 13, 65, 149, 245, 388, 449 against Henry V 207, 209, 348, 362, 387–388 constable 41, 118 consul 9, 246, 463 consulship 10, 80, 101 consummation 321, 416, 424, 427, 447 avoidance of 121, 504 Contamine, Philippe 40, 71, 79, 202, 223, 277, 304, 368, 430, 436 contingency 525–526 contract 91, 118–121, 141, 460 lease 375–377 marriage 26, 118, 119, 121 pre-marriage 121, 180, 321, 371, 395, 411 social 162 Coriolanus aristocracy 24, 50, 101 Aufidius 101, 199–200, 295, 378 Brutus 64–65, 463 capitol 22 Gaius Martius Coriolanus 9–10, 22, 24, 80, 91–92, 101–102, 104, 200, 220, 246, 295, 497, 513–514, 533 Sicinius 80, 463 Tribunes 22, 24, 64–65, 80, 102, 463 violence 24 coronation 121–122, 144, 183, 259, 404, 519 of Anne 35, 44, 81, 122, 123, 206, 254, 383, 410 of Elizabeth 122 coronet 122–123, 148, 265 corporal 123 costumes 109, 180, 353, 369, 427 counsellor 124 count 125, 128, 187 counter-reformation 493, 499 countess 125, 187–188 country 48, 126–127 landscape and habitations 407–408 papal interdiction of a country 476

566

state 516–518 see also nation county 128 county courts 402 parishes 465 courier 300, 447 court 128–135 courtesan 135–136, 475, 537 courtesy 136–138 courtier 81, 138–140, 152, 223, 233, 239 courtly love 134, 225, 253, 254, 373, 399, 400–401, 437 discourse of 395–396, 421, 423 cousin 376 Coventry 468 mayor of 428 Coward, Barry 278, 427, 470, 472, 511, 523 Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury 177, 218, 244, 284, 289, 503, 506 death of 237, 288 plot against 46, 124, 236–237 prophecy of Elizabeth’s greatness 16–17, 274, 286, 289, 478, 484 Wolsey and 418 Crecy, battle of 430 creditor 32, 140–141, 164, 333, 431 crest 141, 287, 306 crimes 12, 27, 158, 310, 355, 489 capital 205–206, 489 criminals 71, 489 criticism 14, 189, 231, 375 of Catholic rituals 117 character-oriented 13 post-colonial 7 secondary 217, 218, 227 Cromwell 244, 259–260, 285 cross-dressing 19, 292 crossbow 17 crown 142–151 coronet 122–123, 148, 265 matrimonial 318 crypt 439, 440 cullion 151 cultivation 330

Index culture 1, 63, 173, 233 audience 135, 189, 339 Celtic 329 courtly 395, 513 European 337 literary 395 poverty in Shakespeare’s culture 478–480 Renaissance 44, 48, 55–56, 155, 335 shift of 59, 62 theatre-going 5 of violence 79, 156 cupboard 341 Cupid 386 cur 151–153 curate 154 Curia 128 curtsy 154–155 cushion 155 customs 311, 405, 407 taxation 524 see also manners cutpurse 40, 155 Cymbeline Arviragus 155, 275 Belarius 132, 155, 222, 235, 241, 275, 293, 315, 455, 484, 490, 507, 508, 514, 522 Cloten 9, 112, 120, 138, 146, 256, 261, 389, 442, 498–499 Cornelius 177 Gentlemen 353 Imogen 53, 120, 136, 138, 145–146, 155, 177, 191, 222, 256, 297, 385, 389, 441, 464, 504, 515, 522, 543 Jachimo 53, 191, 297–298, 339, 441, 459, 504 Jailers 333 Ladies 371 Pisanio 256, 364, 385, 515 Posthumus 9, 53, 112, 120, 136, 138, 256, 297, 333, 385, 389, 409, 428, 436, 442, 464, 504, 515 Queen 492, 508 Soothsayer 186

dagger 156–159 dame 159, 357 dance 160–161, 442 Darnley, Lord, husband of Mary Queen of Scots 278, 318, 324, 344 daughter 284, 393 debt 58, 161–165, 431 debt relief 91 effects of 33 decree 165–166, 208 defamation 136, 279, 336, 515 degree 166–171, 183, 198, 203, 221 behaviour and 273, 469, 484 boundaries of 196, 273, 519 clothing and 107, 109, 112–114 emulation and 196 favour and 229, 268, 271 forbidden 325 hierarchy of 216–217, 528 Delbruck, Hans 125 Denmark 287, 485, 497–498, 517 rules of succession 322, 355, 415–416, 492, 522 deputy, deputise 26, 154, 347, 378, 428 deputed power 267, 377 Lord Deputy of Ireland 331 desire 53, 233, 247, 248–249, 476, 532 despotism 23 Diana, goddess 323 dignity 9, 171–173, 187–188, 273, 286, 353 imperial 147 diocese 15, 46, 290 diplomacy 51, 342, 412 marriage 43, 181, 395, 410, 412 director 6, 135, 158 discourse chivalric 95, 168, 199, 301 clashes of 178–179 counter-discourse 105, 300, 367 English discourse on Ireland 330 of heroism 282 of honour 298–300 of love 232, 395–396, 421, 423

567

Index marital 372, 423 of nationalism 360, 477 racist 214, 326–327 disease 21, 173–175, 303, 425, 497 caused by flattery 236 plague see plague of rebellion 361 venereal 174, 475 disguise convention of 543 in Cymbeline 155, 222 in Henry V 40, 109, 168, 229, 264 in Henry VIII 160 in King Lear 21, 25, 64, 223, 264, 304, 392, 435, 503 in Measure for Measure 26, 90, 424–425 in Merchant of Venice 58, 92, 106, 165, 177, 296, 312, 506 in The Taming of the Shrew 442 in Twelth Night 60, 504 in The Two Gentlemen of Verona 224 in As You Like It 291, 437 dispensation 175–176, 283, 325 displacement 44, 150, 346, 354, 502 dissembling 63, 387 divorce 88–89, 284, 340, 418, 427 Dockray, Keith 360 doctor 94, 176–177, 337 Doctor Lopez 177, 339 Doge 183 dogs bear-bating with 41 cur 151–153 hounds 305–306 Dollimore, Jonathan 30, 39, 427, 503 and Sinfield, Alan 83, 300, 378 Doncaster 457–458 Dorset, Marquis of 409–410 dowager 177–178 Princess Dowager 484 dowry 178–182, 213, 341–343 drab 537 see also whore Drakakis, John 495 Drake, Sir Francis 473

568

drama 116, 142, 189, 217, 353, 503 censorship and 226, 502 see also censors/censorship Jacobean 498 Renaissance 3, 6–7, 110, 135, 241, 346, 380, 502–503 tension between historical events and 74, 354, 362, 502 use of asides 5 see also asides dramatic irony 6, 25, 168, 190, 388, 424 drink alcohol 8, 46, 327, 480–481 ale 8–9, 46 beer 8, 46 drink industry 461 Picard on 233 drinking water 8, 46 drugs 14, 315 Dublin 330 duchess 183 Dudley, Edmund 230 Dudley, Robert, Earl of Leicester 14, 188, 230, 272, 302 Duffy, Christopher 71, 379 Duffy, Eamon 10, 17, 99, 286, 384, 439, 466, 467, 478, 503 duke 125, 183–185, 188, 268 Duncan-Jones, Katherine 48, 171, 259 Dunn, Jane 118, 324 Dusinberre, Juliet 55, 249, 543 duty failings of 196, 219 feudalistic 56 filial 171 of a husband 320 of lineage 320, 397, 419 love and 392, 393 patriarchal view of 319, 385 of patronage 398 dynasty of the Caesars 68 continuation of the dynasty 215, 294–295 of Henry VIII 284 house as 306, 311 Lancastrian 47, 214, 385

Index of Lear 54 of Macbeth 359 rival dynasties 294, 307 Scottish 364 as a term 221 of the Tudors 351, 536 eagle 186–187, 202 earl 125, 187–188 Eastcheap 188, 281, 480 Eaton, Sarah 46 ecclesiastical courts 129, 136 Edelman, Charles (references) 40, 46, 64, 79, 97, 116, 118, 142, 278, 288, 304, 403, 430, 436, 452, 473, 537, 544 on military offices and titles 7, 19, 71, 123, 202, 257, 277, 368, 379 Edinburgh 278, 435 education 60–61, 63, 173 of the clergy 467 at law 373–374, 375 music and 442 Scottish system of 509 Edward I, King of England 17, 346, 535 Edward II, King of England 366 Edward III, King of England 183, 184, 307, 346, 376, 381 Edward III 346 Edward VI, King of England 16, 384 Egypt 160–161, 194, 231 Elias, Norbert 30, 138, 140, 368, 454, 518 on chivalry 97 on European peasantry 99 on feudalism 79 on manners 155, 407 Elizabeth I, Queen of England 1569 rebellion 16 accession day tilts 229 and Alencon 94, 276 armies 21 baptism 16 court 8, 130, 135 and Dutch rebellion 479 Essex rebellion 16, 130, 196, 197, 331 excommunication 478

as Governor of Church of England 267, 457 harvests 16, 24, 223, 532 as Lady Elizabeth 373 marriage negotiations 276, 417, 427 privy council 124 troop musters 19 as Virgin Queen 237 war in Ireland 16 Elizabeth Settlement elopement Elyot, Sir Thomas emblem 61, 188–190, 379, 499 books 189 staging 114, 122, 189–190 emotion 335, 389 emperor 190–194, 228 empire British see Britain: empire Holy Roman 191–192 see also Rome: empire empress 194–196 Empson, William 173 emulation 196–200, 233, 477 love and 388 enamel 340 enclosures 68, 200–201 England army 21, 33, 303, 446 Channel 535 Church of 15, 98, 99, 284–285, 288, 457, 476 common law 29 economy 4, 107, 114, 201, 253 northern 15, 462, 509 ensign 201–202 entertainment bear-bating 41, 383 by the fool 237, 336 London districts of 383 of masque 427–428 Picard on 516 playhouses 41 entitlement 345, 526–528 Erasmus, Desiderius 239 Erickson, Carolly 17, 47, 495

569

Index Erickson, Peter 427 espionage 10 esquire 202–203 estimation 203–205, 296 etiquette 165, 227 see also manners Europe anticlericalism in 476 Christian 337–338 kingdoms in 345 manners in 407 and Mary’s execution 363–364 principate in 190 ranks in 125, 183 structure of authority in 29 Evans, Malcolm 63, 218 exchequer 205, 283, 349 excommunication 25, 377, 475–476, 478 execution 205–209, 270, 331, 339, 363–364, 500 executioner 206 exile 131, 352, 381, 441, 489, 527, 533 expletive 457, 474 faction 31, 210–212 factionalism 43, 197, 210–212 fair 212–218 faith breaking of 96 Catholic 288 forsworn 28 falconry 279 fame 218–221 glory 262–263 grace as 269 see also reputation family 221–222 aristocratic 59, 95, 373 family bond 56–57, 421, 455 house and 306–312 household 313 lineage 316, 320, 444, 505 love and 400 middle class 59 name 444–450

570

famine 24, 101, 222–223 farmer 544 fashion 113, 223–225 cloaks and 107–109 heraldic 287–288 of masque 427–428 favour 225–229 clothing and favours 225, 264, 539 debts and 163–164 degree and 229, 268, 271 grace as 268, 269 royal 73–74, 260 favourite 229–230, 436 feast 230–233 banquet 33–34 femininity 53, 167, 215, 297, 396, 542 festival 290 see also carnival, carnivalesque feudalism 138, 345 armies and 20 bastard 70, 378 bond and 56 hierarchical values of 113 knights and 366–368 terminology of 4, 79 fever 174 love and 175, 400 puerperal 94, 285 Findlay, Alison 39 fistula 174 Fitz, Linda T. 196 flag colours 115–116 see also colours ensign 201–202 flattery 124, 138, 233–237, 262 fleet 451, 494 Fletcher, John audience of 74, 193, 216 Henry VIII see Henry VIII (All Is True) portrayal of Wolsey 72, 230 The Two Noble Kinsmen see The Two Noble Kinsmen Flodden, battle of 73, 229, 415 fodder 330 folklore 61, 174, 278, 429

Index food 24, 34, 233 food industry 461 lavish expenditure on 231–233 see also banquet; feast fool 26, 114, 237–239, 292, 336, 364 football 239 fortress 333, 383, 407, 436 forts 330 see also castle forum 9 France the Franks 191 the French 11, 21, 39, 85, 193, 220, 223, 277, 281, 282–283, 289, 303, 362, 367, 429, 430, 445–446, 450, 467 French army 18, 430 French court 65–66, 132, 174, 177, 343, 350, 412, 447, 505 French throne 180, 348, 363 King of 173–174, 178, 182, 192, 205, 280, 319, 353, 363, 371, 412, 415, 528 Fraser, Antonia 427 freedom 28, 239–241, 242, 290, 533 Brutus family’s association with 64 rhetoric of 489 of women 322, 543 friar 241–243 friendship 243–249 funeral 249–251, 409 furniture 252 chest 93 closet as 111 horse furniture 112, 113, 252 gaberdine 253 gallant 253–255, 431 gallows 208 humour 333 gaming 255 Garber, Marjorie 427, 506 garden 64, 267 Gardiner, Stephen, Bishop of Winchester 16, 46, 236, 289, 501

garment 255–256 cloak 107–109 gaberdine 253 garrison 268 necessity to leave a garrison 21, 303 Garter, Order of 169 Gaskill, Malcolm 540 gaudy 256–257 Gaunt, John of 50, 266, 307, 347, 375–376, 527 Beauforts as progeny of 310, 349, 482 deathbed confrontation with Richard II 238, 375–376 description of England 405, 456, 515, 525 gemstones 339, 340, 436 gender relations 19, 266, 268, 279, 281 see also politics: gender general 195, 196, 220, 257, 291 legate 377 Genoese crossbowmen 430 Gent, Lucy and Llewellyn, Nigel 56 gentleman 5, 48, 180, 257–258 gentry 5, 22, 48, 92, 171, 257–259 blood sports 280, 306, 316 Catholic 131 child rearing 95 clergy and 84 and estimation 203 family 221, 222 freedom of 533 gentry life 130 and the legal profession 375 marriage 121 wet-nursing amongst 456 gild 259–260 Gillespie, Stuart 2 Gilliver, Kate et al. 200, 202, 229, 360 glass 261–262 Globe Theatre 6, 7, 277–278 glory 260, 262–263, 284, 348, 362 glove 229, 263–264 Godwinson, Harold, King of England 457

571

Index gold 132, 260, 264–266, 362 casket of 77, 256 cloth of 112–113 see also gild goldsmith 264, 266, 340 Goldsworthy, Aidan 193 gossip 218, 353, 542 government 135, 182, 266–267, 471 local 77, 128, 428, 462, 465 religious 46–47 Renaissance debate over 356 governor 267–268, 377, 428 grace 268–271 grant 271–273 Amicable Grant 525 greatness 273–276, 349 of Caesar 65 of Queen Elizabeth 16–17, 274, 286, 289, 478, 484 Greek language 166 Shakespeare’s lack of 6 groom 276–277 guerrilla tactics 330 guilds 4, 5, 8, 383, 428 gunner 269, 277–278 gunpowder 277, 452 Gurr, Andrew 140, 443 Hackett, Helen 45, 55, 116, 237, 488, 495, 523 Hackney cabs 115 Haigh, Christopher 530 Hamilton, Donna B. 489 Hamlet audience 12–13, 158, 454 Barnardo 497 Claudius 12–13, 139, 155, 215, 255, 258, 322, 355, 415–416, 440, 453–454, 488, 497–498, 517, 522–523, 529 Elsinor 6 Fortinbras 287 Gertrude 112, 139, 215, 258, 322, 325, 355, 415–416, 488, 492, 498, 517 Ghost 13, 48, 269, 325, 485, 497, 517 gravedigger scene 336, 374–375

572

Gravediggers 114, 461 Guildenstern 58, 139, 258–259, 354, 442, 473, 503 Hamlet 5–6, 12–13, 51, 61, 108–109, 126, 127, 155, 215, 224, 225, 232, 237, 255, 314, 322, 336, 354–355, 365, 372, 375, 389, 416, 442, 448, 454, 470, 473, 497–498, 503, 517, 522, 542 Horatio 287, 473, 497, 517, 522 incest 139, 325, 415–416 Laertes 50–51, 157, 225, 255, 256, 276, 488 Marcellus 497, 517 Ophelia 51, 215, 218, 224, 225, 251, 276, 372, 389, 454, 517, 541 Osric 139, 152 Polonius 5–6, 124, 215, 237, 255, 256, 365, 389, 517 prayer scene 12, 255 Reynaldo 255 Rosencrantz 58, 139, 258, 354, 355, 442, 473, 503 Yorick 61, 336, 375 Hampton Court 128 Hardwick, Bess of 178, 324, 343, 373, 408 harlot 279 see also prostitute; strumpet; whore harvests 16, 24, 223, 532 Hassel, R. Chris 539 Hattaway, Michael 336 Hawkes, Terence 196, 450, 536 hawking 263, 279–280 Hawkins, Admiral 7 Haynes, Alan 529 Heal, Felicity and Holmes, Clive (references) 182, 305, 403, 441, 450 on the gentry 84, 95, 121, 153, 171, 221, 259, 280, 306, 313, 316, 375, 382, 400, 456, 499 on the middle classes 59, 63 Hebrew 337 hegemony

Index heir 72, 88, 188, 216, 280–281, 397, 476, 493 apparent 280 succession 521–522 heiress 280, 310, 422 Henderson, Diana E. 400 Henry IV, King of England 12, 348, 466–467, 471, 521, 528 Henry IV, Part 1 Archbishop of York 15, 204 Bardolph 367 Blunt 445, 464, 516, 526 Douglas 95, 115, 117, 233, 245, 268, 296, 388, 510 Falstaff 70, 95, 129, 155, 188, 205, 238, 252, 259, 264, 277, 280, 299–300, 337, 379, 389, 453, 495, 511 Francis 473 Gadshill 264, 337 Glendower 379, 442, 535 Henry, Prince of Wales (Prince Hal) 95, 129, 154, 164, 188, 245, 252, 259, 262, 300–301, 367, 379, 389, 453, 473, 480, 495, 511 Hotspur 8, 95, 164, 184, 204, 233–234, 244, 244–245, 254, 262, 266, 275, 280, 281, 296, 300–301, 302, 367, 381, 385, 387, 388, 405–406, 442, 445, 464, 516, 526 King Henry 137, 154, 165, 211, 244–245, 255–256, 348, 381, 387, 403–404, 458, 464, 493 Lady Percy 371 Northumberland 275, 280 Vernon 302 Westmerland 188 Worcester 60, 164, 211, 226, 255–256, 266, 274–275, 280, 302, 306–307, 403, 405–406, 442, 458, 462 Henry IV, Part 2 Archbishop of York 15, 230, 479, 497 Bardolph 123, 203, 479 Colevile 168, 367 Davy 130, 218 Doll Tearsheet 155, 537

Falstaff 115–116, 128, 129, 130, 162, 168, 176, 221, 238, 245, 273, 365, 367, 386, 389, 486 Henry, Prince of Wales (Prince Hal) 142, 171, 245, 270, 294 King Henry 267, 456 Lord Chief Justice 162, 171, 273, 386 Mistress Quickly 162, 305 Morton 15, 470 Pistol 155, 202, 447, 462 Poins 245 Prince John 230 Rumour 304 Shallow 128, 130, 203, 218, 329, 462 Slender 128, 218 Surrey 275 Henry V, King of England 38, 281–283, 346, 348–349, 362, 364, 481–482 writings on 209 Henry V Agincourt, battle of see Agincourt, battle of Archbishop of Canterbury 16, 191–192, 482 armourers 19 Bardolph 490 Bishop of Ely 482, 510 Bourbon 378 Boy 8 Burgundy 22 Cambridge 267, 438 chorus figure 19, 257, 277, 297, 303 Constable of France 118 council of war 187, 363, 510 Dauphin 132 Exeter 132, 438, 463 Falstaff 41, 49 Fluellen 151, 229, 277, 451 Gower 38, 40, 155, 254, 384, 451 Harfleur 21, 38, 151, 181, 267, 268, 277, 315, 436 Jamy 451, 510 King Henry 11, 40, 51, 126–127, 180–181, 229, 264, 385, 402, 481–482

573

Index King Henry’s speeches before Agincourt 41, 49, 82, 233, 237, 297 Mistress Quickly 437 Montjoy 205 Nym 315 Orleans 437 Pistol 8, 19, 40, 151, 384 Salic Law speech 16 Southampton Plot 132, 258, 364, 438 Williams 40, 168, 229 Henry VI, King of England churchmen 18 incapacity 22 loss of France 98, 453 minority 12, 18, 22, 72, 130, 500–501 nobility 229, 453 Henry VI, Part 1 Alanson 71, 265, 266 Basset 31, 115, 295–296, 450, 453 Burgundy 126 Charles of France 159, 244 Countess of Auvergne 125, 219, 367 Duke of Gloucester 36, 42–43, 118–119, 169, 181, 371, 384, 385, 410–411, 471–472, 477, 482, 483, 500 Duke of York 12, 168, 196, 211, 223, 258, 270, 293, 303, 367, 374, 386, 434, 530, 544 Exeter 129–130, 169 Gargrave 277 King Henry 72, 118, 450, 493 La Pucelle (Joan of Arc) 43, 126, 244, 263, 265, 289, 296, 465, 469, 539 Lawyer 374 Lieutenant of the Tower of London 378 Lucy 196–197, 219, 303, 434 Margaret of Anjou 42–43, 119, 159, 176, 184, 240, 371, 411, 493 Mayor of London 156, 386 messengers 433 Mortimer 12, 184, 207, 293, 308, 485, 527 Orleans 277 Porter 296

574

Salisbury 269, 277 Shepherd 469 Somerset 31, 196, 227, 234, 258, 270, 303, 483, 544 Suffolk 119, 159, 176, 184, 188, 223, 234, 240, 493 Talbot 18, 71, 117, 125, 196–197, 219, 223, 262, 269, 303, 306, 367, 384–385, 434, 445–446, 539–540 Temple Garden scene 12, 168, 211, 223–224, 293, 374, 483 Vernon 31, 115, 295–296, 453 Winchester 36, 43, 46, 97–98, 118–119, 169, 384, 385, 471, 477, 500–501 Henry VI, Part 2 Armourer 480 Cade, Jack 46, 62, 67, 107, 113–114, 130, 131, 169, 222, 241, 280, 308, 374, 377, 381–382, 440, 455, 461, 520 Cardinal Beaufort 23, 181, 219 Clifford 31, 309, 313, 406 Cobham, Eleanor 183, 512, 539 Conjuror 116–117, 539 Duke of Gloucester 12, 84–85, 172, 181, 219, 317, 371, 404–405, 411, 483, 487, 489, 526 Duke of York 23, 67, 145, 171–172, 201, 214, 241, 252, 309, 330, 486 Horner 480–481 Hume 116, 268–269 Iden 130–131, 169, 202–203, 296, 367 King Henry 47, 169, 208, 214, 473, 494, 520, 526 Lieutenant 307–308, 520, 530 Margaret of Anjou 122, 151, 181, 234, 267, 339, 371, 384, 479, 508, 519 Mortimer 280, 455 Peter 480–481 Prince Edward 172, 405 Rutland 309 Stafford 276, 440 Suffolk 23, 68, 113, 172, 181, 201, 214,

Index 219, 252, 307–308, 405, 409, 411, 446, 454, 494, 508, 519–520, 530 Warwick (the Kingmaker) 31, 141, 145, 172, 188, 219–220, 483 Henry VI, Part 3 Clarence 272, 413–414 Clifford 143, 222, 438 Duke of York 43, 96, 117, 161, 266, 280, 301, 434, 458, 459, 468, 494, 517, 544 Edward of York 169, 254, 263, 267, 272, 296, 309, 413–414, 517–518 Gamekeepers 142 King Henry 263, 267, 326, 367, 517–518, 536 Lady Bona 412 Lady Grey 272, 413 Lieutenant of the Tower of London 378 Margaret of Anjou 143, 161, 266, 280, 301, 438, 494, 517, 544 Richard of Gloucester 52, 116, 402–403, 413, 414, 458–459 Warwick (the Kingmaker) 6, 99, 165, 169–170, 267, 269, 280, 343, 379, 412–413, 458, 468 Henry VII, King of England 125, 192, 283, 310, 352, 427, 535 Henry VIII, King of England 283–286, 289, 311, 346, 405 bastardizing of Elizabeth 35 burning of heretics 493 dissolution of the monasteries 3 see also monasteries: dissolution of executions by 192, 208, 312, 525 as husband to Jane Seymour 324 lavishness of 231 longbows and 17 marriage 325, 400, 415, 418, 419 navy 452 oath of succession 457, 461 obsession with a male heir 522, 527 and papal supremacy 404 public coronation of Anne Boleyn 206 Henry VIII (All Is True) Aburgavenny 73, 152 Buckingham 73, 74–75, 87, 118, 152,

192–193, 240, 242–243, 252, 261, 263, 394, 440, 472, 485, 498, 527 Bullen, Anne 231 Capuchius 193 Cardinal Campeius 98, 226, 377, 418, 427, 478 coronation procession 122, 123, 410 Cranmer 16–17, 46, 124, 177, 218, 226, 236–237, 244, 274, 286, 289, 418, 478, 484, 503 Cromwell 244, 259–260 Doctor Butts 177 Duchess of Norfolk 183 Field of cloth of gold 192, 263 Gardiner 16, 46, 236, 289 Gentlemen 74, 244, 331, 418, 472 Lord Chamberlain 75, 218, 340, 386, 415 Lord Sands 516 Lovell 87, 498 Norfolk 73–75, 76, 123, 152, 226, 340, 415, 524 prophecy of Elizabeth 16–17, 274, 286, 289, 478, 484 Suffolk 75, 76, 123, 254, 340, 372, 418, 478 Surrey 89, 123, 331, 377 Surveyor 242, 527 Wolsey 72–76, 87–90, 152, 192–193, 226, 230, 231, 240, 242, 259–260, 263, 286, 289, 313, 331, 340, 377, 394, 437, 478, 524–525, 527 herald 48, 205, 220, 288, 430, 470 colleges of heralds 287 heraldry 115, 122, 141, 247, 286–288 herbs 428 heredity 345 heresy 237, 288 heretic 206, 208, 288–290, 493, 539 heroic endings 6 Hibbert, Christopher 283 Hicks, Michael 188, 312, 427 hierarchy 20, 113, 151, 216 ecclesiastical 72, 242 of essences 52

575

Index of power 61 social 35, 84, 107, 159, 171, 228, 257, 290, 344 of states 411 see also state of values 80 highways 329, 435 history military 17, 39, 70 popular 13, 98, 493 religious conflicts and 72 Roman 6, 69, 100, 117, 147–149, 195, 449 Scottish 510–511 and Shakespeare’s treatment of kings 346–360 see also individual plays social 17, 259, 489, 518 of the Wars of the Roses 143, 493 Holderness, Graham 332, 451 holiday 290–292 see also festival Holinshed, Raphael 510–511 Holland, Norman 325 Holmer, Joan Ozark 77, 532 Holmes, Clive see Heal, Felicity and Holmes, Clive (references) holy days 233, 290, 292 Homer 167 unfamiliarity with 199 honesty 447 honour 14, 93, 292–300, 487, 513 discourse of 298–300 duels of 165 military 234 misplaced 28 see also Amussen, Susan: on women and reputation; name Hopkins, Lisa 495, 518 Horrox, Rosemary 360 horse 300–304 draught 300 pack 300 post 304 stalking 304 warhorse 18, 300, 304 hospital 243, 304

576

hospitality 161, 232, 304–305, 311, 479 hounds 151, 305–306 house 306–312 house arrest 208, 333, 485, 509 household 313, 356 houses, prodigy 408 Howard, Catherine 183, 226, 285, 400, 529 Howard, Jean E. 400 and Rackin, Phyllis 188 Huizinga, J. 503 Hulme, Peter (Francis Barker and) 7, 327, 329 humanities 166, 356, 373 humour 314–315 black 375 gallows humour 333 humours, psychology of 37, 61, 141, 173, 314, 315 Hundred Years’ War 17, 98, 366, 430, 529–530 hunting 91, 153, 306, 315–316 see also hawking husband 316–324 Hutson, Lorna 249 Hyland, Ann 252 hypocrisy 86, 138, 179, 490, 502 of Angelo 27, 207, 273, 382, 424–425 of Malvolio 491 identity 136, 153, 372 courtly 140 gendered 53, 397, 513, 533, 540 lineage and 521 national 332, 360, 450 social status and 230 ideology aristocratic 40, 221–222, 294, 453, 484 chivalric 97, 366 see also chivalry familial 221–222, 320 feudal 345 gender 268, 293, 495, 540–541 of hospitality 305 ideological faultlines 427, 431 of marriage 316, 320 of masculinity and violence 300

Index of masque 428 monarchical 50, 506, 519, 525 patriarchal 393 religious 503 illegitimacy 35, 36, 39, 68, 99, 378, 474 see also bastard illness 175, 177, 245, 282, 429, 455 mental 314 imperialism 71 incest 8, 45, 261, 284, 325–326 by affinity 139, 325, 416, 523 income 184, 375, 377, 436, 463 jointure 341–343 occupation and 461 royal 162, 466, 524 Indian 326–327 individualism 1, 28, 111, 222, 243, 423, 424 love and 386, 397 industry 3, 63, 253, 431, 461 inflation 375 influence 105, 195, 229, 327–329 see also favour inheritance 281, 307, 346, 441, 521, 527 lineage and 294 see also lineage inn 329 Innes, Paul 30, 45, 218, 368, 401, 438, 450 Inns of Court 135, 329, 373, 375 insult 11, 40, 41, 99, 151 ‘fool’ as an insult 237–238 ‘knave’ as an insult 364–365 ‘lackey’ as an insult 370 through ill-treatment of messengers 435, 512 ‘yeoman’ as an insult 544 interdiction 476 intrigue 138, 193, 519 invasion 7, 192, 358, 410, 510, 535 Ireland 23, 329–332, 347, 537 Lord Deputy of 331 war with 16 irony, dramatic see dramatic irony Israel 337 Italy 15, 157, 427, 430, 475 city-states 183, 345

jailer 333–334 jails 333 see also prison James VI of Scotland and I of Britain 150, 360, 364, 493, 507, 509 James, Heather 200 Jardine, Lisa 136, 249, 256, 324, 326, 336, 450, 539 jealousy 334–336 marital 53, 94, 266, 319, 334–336, 395, 538, 541 of the nobility 73, 229 Jerusalem 337, 350 jester 114, 238, 336, 364 see also clown Jesus 337, 384, 386 Jew 337–339 jewel 119, 339–340 jeweller 340–341 Jewish Revolt 337 John, King of England 25, 91, 346, 477 joiner 341 jointure 180, 341–343 Jones, Malcolm 76, 243, 455 Jonson, Ben 6 Jordan, Constance 121 Joughin, John 451 journeyman 5 jousting 75 Jove 480 Jowitt, Claire 473 Julius Caesar Antony 13, 14, 65, 100, 111, 150, 157, 245, 294, 388, 452, 537 Artemidorus 197 audience 149, 251, 489 Brutus 13–14, 49–50, 148–149, 164, 234, 265, 272, 294, 306, 365, 388, 393–394, 449, 489 Caesar 13–14, 49–50, 100, 117, 147–150, 157, 270, 272, 291, 312, 355, 449, 496, 530 Calpurnia 150, 312 Casca 148 Cassius 13, 49–50, 81, 148, 229, 245, 265, 388, 449

577

Index Cinna 245, 530 Cinna the poet 68, 100, 449 Cobbler 291 conspiracy 13, 65, 149, 245, 388, 449 conspirators 14, 100, 149–150, 229, 294, 306, 355, 452, 488–489, 530 Decius 149–150, 485 Flavius 117, 270, 291 funeral 13, 100, 111, 150, 157, 245, 294, 393–394, 449, 489 Ides of March 49, 117, 150, 200, 312, 485 Lucius 365 murder 13 Murellus 117, 270, 291 Portia 542 Publius Cimber 165 Jupiter 186, 187, 409 jurisprudence 374 justice 13, 50, 357 fugitives from 464, 490 Justice of the Peace 402, 403 Kahn, Coppelia 66 Kamps, Ivo see Barker, Deborah E. and Kamps, I. Kastan, David Scott Katherine of Aragon 11, 46, 73, 87, 119, 160, 175, 178, 226, 266, 273, 286, 325, 416, 484, 492 vision of 428, 442 Keegan, John 21, 40, 268, 283 Kermode, Jenny and Walker, Garthine 513 king 344–360 see also monarch King John Bastard 265 Cardinal Pandulph 174, 377 the Church 25, 85 excommunication 25, 289, 377 Pembroke 259 royal authority 25 Salisbury 259 King Lear Albany 53–54, 159, 317, 393

578

Britain 21, 26, 38, 182 Burgundy 182, 390 carnivalesque 26 Cornwall 317, 356, 393, 435, 469, 512 court 133 Doctor 456 Edgar 21, 25, 56–57, 223, 264, 304 Edmund 21, 25–26, 37, 56–57, 111, 146, 170, 298, 317, 327–328, 365, 392, 393, 474–475 Fool 26, 162, 365 Gloucester 25–26, 56–57, 111, 170, 305, 365, 393, 469 Goneril 21, 38, 44, 54, 95, 133, 159, 317, 318, 329, 356, 371, 390, 393, 429, 541 Kent 25, 56, 64, 235–236, 239, 246, 390, 391–393, 435, 469, 503, 512 Lear 25, 26, 44, 54, 56, 95, 133, 152–153, 182, 223, 235–236, 317, 356–357, 371, 390, 392, 393, 463, 469, 479, 512, 541–542 Oswald 64, 152, 153, 239, 317, 392–393 Regan 95, 236, 298, 317, 318, 356, 390–391, 393, 429, 435, 469, 512, 541 kingdom 361–364 king’s servants 7, 468 kinship 199, 325 knave 364–366 knife 156 knight 95, 116, 168, 302–303, 366–368 errant 423 the knightly knave 364–365 Knights Templar 329 Kronenfeld, Judy 256 lace 369–370 lackey 370 lady 43, 370–373 ‘dark’ lady 45, 216, 218, 373, 399, 543 Lake, Peter 503 Lancaster, House of 12, 95, 204, 226–227, 281–282, 363, 404

Index faction fighting in 411 northern support for 276, 309 obliteration of 414 the Percies and 164 rebellions against 458 Richard and 144–145, 208, 211, 293, 471, 516, 521, 526 Wars of the Roses 307, 384, 516, 521 Weir on 150 land conquered 343 enclosures 68, 200–201 grants of 271, 272 lease 375–377 ownership 201, 432, 470 uncultivated 330 Land of Cockayne 374, 403 Lander, J.R. 67 landlord 201, 375, 376 landownership 201, 432, 470 Laroque, Francois 115, 239, 292 Latin 166, 467 knowledge of 62, 69 Latinate words 4, 5, 65, 183, 197, 273, 302, 481, 484 latrine 332 Laughton, Charles 231 Laurence, Anne 39, 55, 59, 159, 171, 182, 540 law 92, 118, 135, 519 common 29 critics on 59, 91 a gentleman’s freedom under 258 martial 156 matrilineal 139 religious state law 500 ‘Salic Law’ 16 schools see Inns of Court lawyer 62, 329, 373–375 lease 375–377 lechery 356 legate 377 papal 72, 89, 377, 478 legion 21, 104 Caesar’s X 202 standards 186, 187

leno 377–378 letters 88, 435, 439, 478 casket letters 77 ‘letters patent’ 91, 380–381 seals 503 Levin, Carole 241, 268, 360, 405, 427, 484, 495, 506 liberties 4, 91 of London 383 Liebler, Naomi Conn 7, 14, 151, 196, 480 lieutenant 378–379, 428 lifespan 375 campaign 20 liminal space 7 lineage 29, 294, 316, 320, 444, 505 aristocratic ethos of 359 charters of 92 concern with true lineage 36–37 duty of 320, 397, 419 honour and 293 identity and 521 rank and 293, 499 see also house; name lion 379–380 Lisle, Leanda de 511 literature 3, 30, 249, 410 liver 337 livery 4, 380–383 Llewellyn, Nigel 56 Loades, David 103 loans 264, 384, 524 usury 531–532 logistics 19, 21, 345 Lollards 476 London Bridge 383 entertainment districts 383 law schools 329, 373, 383 see also Inns of Court liberties 383 livery companies 380, 382 Lord Mayor of 156, 209, 383, 386, 428 prisons 333, 334, 485 St Paul Cross 489 Tower of 206, 252, 333, 351, 380, 385, 394, 440

579

Index longbow 17–18, 142, 282, 302 Longstaffe, Stephen 300 Loomba, Ania 327, 450 Lopez, Roderigo 177, 339 Lord Chamberlain 83, 385, 386 see also Henry VIII (All Is True): Lord Chamberlain Lord Chancellor 384 Lord Protector 97, 348, 350 Gloucester as 84, 349, 385, 472, 477, 482, 489 Lords, House of 384, 386, 467 Spiritual 46, 466 Temporal 466 Louis XII, King of France 174, 178 love 386–401 courtly see courtly love discourse of 232, 395–396, 421, 423 duty and 392, 393 emulation and 388 family 400 fever and 175, 400 individualism and 386, 397 Lovell, Mary S. 178, 324, 343, 373, 408 A Lover’s Complaint 105, 256, 297, 301–302, 396 Love’s Labour’s Lost Armado 315 Berowne 110, 365, 386 Costard 114, 365 Dull 118 Dumaine 254 Ferdinand 134 Holofernes 467 Katherine of Alanson 254 Nathaniel 154 Princess of France 134 loyalty 50, 236, 364 family 56 love as 386, 387 to the monarch 230, 524 praemunire 377 lunatic 304, 541 luxury 265, 370 items of 261, 264, 306, 431 rhetoric of 259

580

Macbeth audience 13 Banquo 34, 158, 217, 231, 359, 507, 540 Cawdor 312, 358, 359 dagger 157–158, 260 Duncan 13, 62, 78, 79, 110, 157, 260, 274, 305, 312, 358, 359, 514–515, 520–521 Hecate 540 Lady Macbeth 13, 62, 112, 158, 175, 177, 260, 274, 305, 358, 540, 541, 542 Lady Macduff 407–408 Macbeth 13, 14, 59, 63, 78–79, 157–158, 217, 260, 274, 312, 358, 359–360, 408, 436, 463, 507, 520–521, 529 Malcolm 13, 271, 293, 359 Porter 114, 461 Rosse 110, 407 Sergeant 436 Siward 164 Witches 13, 158, 217, 274, 337, 359, 540, 541 mace 402 ceremonial 402 machiavel 28, 35, 191, 378, 502 machiavel soliloquy 13, 96, 116 Machiavelli, Niccolo 30, 484, 526 MacKinnon, Charles 32, 123, 125, 141, 287, 380, 528 madness 5–6, 26, 37, 314, 357, 393 feigned 264, 389 magic 60, 116, 539 magician 116 magistrate 402–403 Magna Carta 91, 477 magnates 79, 459, 471 maiden honour 297, 447, 512 Maitland of Lethington 11 majesty 379, 403–405, 525 malcontent 28, 148, 479, 498 manners 82, 155, 405–407 see also customs mansion 407–408

Index marble 408–409 marcher regions 345 Marcus, Leah 63, 151, 194 Margolies, David 360 mariner 452 see also navy Marius, Gaius 100, 149 market fair 212–213, 218 marriage market 42, 51, 319, 321–322, 340, 423 marquis 409–410 marriage 410–427 aristocratic 319, 421, 423 arranged 427 companionate 420, 423, 427 diplomatic 42, 120, 318, 412, 419–420, 484, 509 royal 182, 410, 414–417 Mars 223 Mary I, Queen of England 286, 344, 493 Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland 343, 344, 363, 509, 536 execution of 118 Plowden on 521, 537 Mary Tudor, Queen of France 16, 17, 236, 288, 301, 493 Erickson on 495 marriage 318, 344 omission from Henry VIII 75–76 masculine gaze 190 masculinity 249, 300 masque 160, 311, 336, 427–428, 442 master 468 apprentice and master in 2 Henry VI 480–481 Master Gunner 269, 277 ‘master mistress of my passion’ 438 Master of Horse 302 Master of the Court of Wards 464 messenger and 435, 512 matrilinear 139, 317, 322, 415, 492, 522 mausoleum 439–440 mayor 428 Lord Mayor of London 156, 209, 383, 386, 428

McMullen, Gordon 76, 286 Meads, Chris 34 Measure For Measure Angelo 5, 26–27, 54, 64, 90, 106, 120, 178–179, 207, 233, 242, 273, 321, 334, 382, 395, 424–425, 439, 454, 462, 491 Claudio 5, 26, 27, 54, 120, 394–395, 463, 473 Duke 26, 27, 90, 242, 321, 334, 424–425, 439 Elbow 118 Escalus 106, 515 Friar 26, 90, 242, 424 Gentlemen 502 Isabella 5, 27, 54, 90, 154, 207, 233, 296, 382, 395, 454, 512, 515 Julietta 120 Lucio 394, 502 Mariana 27, 120, 321, 425, 515 Mistress Overdone 437 Pompey 40, 106, 431 Provost 5, 26, 27, 207, 334, 439, 462–463 Vienna 90, 91, 106, 242, 395 medicine 176, 428–429 medieval period anticlericalism 3, 72 carnivalesque 237 church 72, 99, 142 city-states 183 diplomacy 395, 412 folklore 61 history 345–346 see also history holiday 290–292 kingship 97, 112, 128, 362 manners 155 see also manners mercenaries 71 piety 9, 10, 84, 91 romance 396 Scotland 14 titles 26 warfare 17, 18–20, 39, 77–79, 141, 199, 302 see also Middle Ages

581

Index melancholy 61, 224, 315, 336, 389, 498 Melchiori, Giorgio 173 Melville, Sir James 443 men acting profession restricted to 4 army see army legal profession restricted to 373 ‘new men’ 152 patriarchal view of see Renaissance patriarchy men at arms 19 menial 464 mercenary 70, 430 companies 430 mercer 430–431 merchant Merchant Adventurers 432 The Merchant of Venice Antonio 32, 94, 106, 141, 153, 237, 249, 314, 338, 432, 450, 532 Bassanio 29, 77, 94, 256, 322, 326, 431, 432, 439, 460, 502, 506 Bellario 177 Belmont 322, 432, 460, 514 casket plot 76–77, 460, 505 Duke 29, 92, 106 Graziano 460 Jessica 312, 338, 406 Lorenzo 311–312, 338, 439 Nerissa 76–77, 261, 439, 505, 506 Portia 58–59, 76–77, 92, 95, 103, 106, 115, 163, 165, 177, 256–257, 261, 322, 338, 432, 439, 442, 460–461, 495, 506, 543 Rialto speech 153, 254 Salerio 58, 338, 542 Shylock 32, 58–59, 84, 92, 141, 153, 237, 240, 253, 296, 312, 314, 337–339, 432, 450, 460, 506, 532 Solanio 58, 338 trial or judgement scene 29, 32, 58, 106, 135, 165, 177, 314, 322, 432, 460, 506 merit 28, 230, 398

582

The Merry Wives of Windsor Anne Page 179, 342, 426, 437 Doctor Caius 176, 336 Evans 467, 535 Falstaff 108, 128, 336 Fenton 342 Garter Inn 304, 329 Host 304 Mistress Ford 335, 336, 437 Mistress Page 336 Shallow 128, 342 Slender 179, 342 messenger 23, 433–435 insults through treatment of messengers 435, 512 messiah 337 Middle Ages 171, 200, 233 function of knights in 368 Jews in 337 mercenaries in 430 navy in 451 trading in 431 usage of words in 110, 125, 128, 302, 481 Wales in 535 warrior ethos of 263 see also medieval period A Midsummer Night’s Dream Athens 5, 382 Bottom 5, 114, 314 Demetrius 335, 340 Egeus 246 Helena 95, 155, 247, 248, 287, 340 Hermia 95, 155, 246, 247, 248, 287, 335, 382, 516 Hippolyta 5 Indian boy 326 Lysander 99, 246, 335, 367 Oberon 160, 326, 335, 385 Puck 5, 99, 160, 313, 386, 437 Pyramus 254 Quince 254 rude mechanicals 461 Snug 341, 380 Theseus 5, 44, 80, 246, 306, 314, 382, 448–449

Index Titania 160, 326, 335, 385, 437 Mikalachki, Jodi 194, 360 military, the 17, 21, 71, 133, 296, 366 see also army military glory 149, 262, 348 military history 17, 39, 70 military honour 234 military power 67, 69, 190, 345, 359, 462 of the House of York 307, 330 knights and 366 marriage and 413 shift of 450 and the warrior ethos 263 military service 34, 73, 102, 378 militia 20 mines 436 minion 228, 436 minister 74, 209, 211, 226, 266, 347 Wolsey 72 minority 356 of Edward VI 16 of Henry VI 12, 18, 22, 72, 84, 97, 130, 219, 472, 477, 500–501 of Richard II 347 mirror 224, 261–262 miscegenation 191, 338 misogyny 110, 215, 332, 357, 498 mysogenistic utterances 326, 542 of patriarchy 350 mistress 437–438 monarch 438–439 see also king monasteries dissolution of 3, 76, 79–80, 91, 98, 243, 284–285, 418, 439 monastic lands 3, 272 monetary economy 4 money 15, 153 bonds and 56 cash dowry 181 see also dowry credit 140 debt 161–165 see also debt gold 264–266 lust and 54–55 monastic 76

ownership 316 power and 432 taxation 524–525 moneylender 153, 337, 338, 432, 532 monk 242 Monmouth, Geoffrey of 191 Montaigne, Michel de 249 Montrose, Louis 7, 56 Monument 63, 219, 439–441 funerary 408–409 Moore, Helen 255 morality 372 morals 3, 27 charity as morally benign behaviour 84 see also charity More, Sir Thomas 237, 290, 310, 375 Sir Thomas More 525 mortality rates 107, 425 mortgage 58, 171 moveables 441 Mucci, Clara 190 Much Ado About Nothing Arragon 267 Beatrice 213, 336, 337 Benedick 213, 336, 337 Borachio 135, 335 Claudio 125, 217, 262, 264, 298, 335, 440, 513 Dogberry 118 Don John 36, 134, 262 Duchess of Milan 113, 183 Hero 113, 134, 217, 224, 242, 264, 298, 335, 440, 513, 541 Leonato 267, 440, 515 Margaret 134, 183, 217, 224, 265 Messina 267 Verges 118 Mullaney, Steven 7, 292 murder avenge for 355 of Caesar 13 of Clarence 350–351, 435 of Desdemona 319, 541 of the Duke of York 350 of Duncan 157, 260, 520–521, 529 of Gloucester 405, 472

583

Index of Henry VI 350 by Henry VIII 312, 357, 472 of the king of Denmark 497–498, 529 off-stage 158 of Prince Edward 350 of the princes in the tower 74 resolutions of 62, 138 of Richard II 307, 308, 331, 347, 361, 458, 471, 485, 519 by Richard III 310 of Wolsey 192 Murphy, Beverley A. 39, 185, 312, 313, 360, 484 music 441–443 aural cues 77, 439 in masque 428 muskets 277 name 444–450 familial 64, 445–446, 449, 450 personal 449 see also lineage nation 38, 450–451 see also country nationalism 289, 346, 477, 501, 545 navy 451–452 Royal 452 Neale, J.E. 103, 467 Neely, Carol Thomas 324, 400, 427, 513 neighbours 219, 336 reputation among 220–221, 447 see also reputation neo-platonism 52, 166, 449 Netherlands 20 Neville family 270, 312 New World 326 nobility 452–454 jealousy 73, 229 tension with clergy 72, 98, 385, 501 Norfolk, Duke of 188, 193, 226, 340, 524 Howard 185 Mowbray 93 Norman, A.V.B. and Pottinger, Don 142, 159, 252, 402 Norman Conquest 99, 187, 329 Normandy 220, 282

584

Norway 287 Norwich, John Julius 360 nothing 56, 127, 215, 218, 513 Nottingham 462 Novy, Marianne 427 nun 382 Poor Clares 512 nunnery 454–455 nurse 455–456 wet 455 oath of Succession 457 oath of Supremacy 457 occupation 155, 461–462 office 8, 462–463 staff of 313, 462 officer admiral 7 constable 118 corporal 123 general 257 justice 41 parish 41, 118, 511 Old English 99, 187, 281 Orient: oriental despotism 23 originality 396, 399 Orleans 18 orphan 463–464 Othello audience 104, 189, 442 Bianca 136, 475 Brabantio 45, 214, 218, 222, 450 Cassio 8, 136, 202, 378–379 Cyprus 267, 443 Desdemona 45, 54, 63, 136, 170, 214, 218, 266, 318–319, 385, 395, 442, 447–448, 450, 487, 538, 541 Emilia 8, 364, 448, 538 handkerchief 114, 136, 189 Iago 8, 28, 54–55, 104–105, 136, 170, 202, 222, 237, 277, 319, 365, 378–379, 395, 436, 442, 475 Montano 267 Othello 53, 54, 63, 104, 202, 214, 266, 319, 324, 326, 335, 336, 379, 395, 423, 448, 487, 538, 539

Index Roderigo 28, 54, 105, 222, 237 outlaw 241, 291, 464, 533 outsider 102–103, 153, 337, 338 Oxford English Dictionary (OED) 110, 155, 174, 178, 253, 332, 370, 431 Oxford university 373 pagan practice 288 avoidance of 328 page 155, 176, 222 painting 115 Pale 330 Palliser, D.M. (references) 19, 21, 47, 83, 91, 99, 110, 127, 135, 175, 262, 364, 386, 472, 480 on bad harvests 223 on cloth industry 114, 253 on clothing 109 on dissolution of the monasteries 79 on extreme Protestantism 491 on illegitimacy 39 on inheritance 281 on land 377 map of England 128 on marriage 182 on occupations 461–462 on patronage 469 on peasantry 470 on royal decrees 166 on social change 171 on towns and cities 79, 107 on weapons 159 pander 40, 377 papacy 73, 475–477 see also pope Papal States 475 parents 410, 421, 455, 456, 545 Paris 102, 132, 429, 450 parish 97, 465–466 parish officials 41, 118, 154, 511 Parker, Patricia 48, 151, 341, 343 parliament 135, 162, 278, 384, 466–467 Act of Parliament 35, 112, 169, 310, 349, 482 of Scotland 509 Parr, Catherine 285

parson 154, 467 Parthians 149, 227 party anti-war party 482 peace party 72 Roman political parties 100, 245–246 social parties 160 see also faction The Passionate Pilgrim 306 pastimes 7, 279 pastoral 6 patrimony 137, 357, 471, 482 patriotism 386, 394 patron 4, 398, 468–469 favours of 225 of Shakespeare’s company 385, 469, 474 patronage 193, 243, 246, 468–469 acting companies and 258 glory and 262, 263 in Shakespeare’s Sonnets 30, 328, 397, 398, 401 peasant 469–470 peasantry 99, 201, 470 Peasants’ Revolt 347 pedigree 352, 498, 527 peerage 467, 470–472, 499 peers 162, 167, 346, 403, 472 Pennington, Michael 276, 312 performance modern 38, 69, 194, 376, 536 performance tools 58, 189, 390 see also asides performance tradition 26, 135, 152, 189, 237, 256, 262, 322, 439, 460, 543 problems 39, 158, 276 public 335, 487 Renaissance 69, 131, 158 stage performances 6–7, 49, 77, 143, 189 Pericles Cleon 267 Helicanus 124 incest 325 Marina 473

585

Index Pericles 113, 124, 261 Tarsus 267 Thaisa 93, 94, 261, 504 Perry, Curtis 8, 83 Persians 223 Petrarch 373 pewter 473 Pharaohs 440 Philip of Spain 192 physician 176, 177, 339, 429 see also doctor Picard, Liza (references) 8, 15, 40, 41, 155, 432 on almanacs 328 on apprenticeship 481 on banquets 34, 233 on ‘bedlam’ 304 on charity 91 on crime and punishment 490 on dancing 161 on disease 175 on dissolution of the monasteries 243 on drink 9, 46, 66, 233 on funerals 251 on furniture 93, 252 on household goods 441 on imprisonment of debtors 165 on lacework 370 on London 10, 103, 118, 135, 329, 334, 375, 382, 384, 408, 428, 464, 466, 485 on manners 407 on municipal officers 463 on music 443 on parish officials 511 on servants 277 on silk 514 on silver 515 on tapestries 116 on transportation 115, 304 on troop musters 19 on women’s fashions 225, 264, 340 piety 47, 60, 72, 85, 125 medieval 9, 10, 84, 91 pikemen 18 pirates 452, 473

586

plague 396, 435, 468, 474–475 Plantagenet 185, 307, 347, 349, 351 Mortimers 12, 144, 184, 308, 347 York 168, 172, 223, 270, 349, 411 Plautus 5 player 204, 380 King’s Players 360 see also actor plays within plays 4, 5, 395 Plowden, Alison 11, 185, 209, 360, 443, 478, 521, 537 Plutarch 69 poison 14–15 Poitiers, battle of 430 Poland 345 Pole, Reginald 17 politics 39, 69, 127 domestic 22, 286, 318 dynastic 222, 308, 415 gender 39, 166, 214, 279, 324, 335, 336, 356, 360, 419 high 11, 138, 299, 352, 415, 465 inter-state 101 marriage 222, 419, 509 power 46, 97, 182, 193, 200, 217, 471 of rank 29, 73, 74 religion and 475 sexual 200 state 291 succession 360 Pollard, A.J. 97, 379 Pompey 67, 149, 270, 291, 452 Pontefract Castle 347, 485 pontifex maximus 68, 150 poor relief 10 pope 72–73, 76, 98, 418, 475–478 popular tradition 3 Portugal 347 post-colonial criticism 7, 327 Potter, Lois 249 Pottinger, Don 142, 159, 252, 402 poverty 171, 478–480 power balance of 193, 352, 471 deputed 267, 377 hierarchy of 61

Index military see military power money and 432 power politics 46, 97, 182, 193, 200, 217, 471 royal power 22, 133, 379 state power 6, 15, 22, 68, 90–91, 291, 357 temporal power of the clergy 501 praemunire 377 praise 92, 200, 234 false 233–234 prayer 12, 237, 255, 268, 269 pregnancy 44, 81, 122, 221, 284, 395 prejudice 212, 432, 481, 493, 528 prentice 480–481 prestige 193, 280, 347 badge and 32 of Caesar 148 English 350 ensignia and 201 office and 83 social 113, 302, 432 title and 125, 190 priest 116, 117, 154, 539 primogeniture 308, 348, 361, 374, 417, 522 prince 11, 147, 262, 344, 481–484 princeps 147, 481, 484 princess 484 printers 243 prison 333–334, 485 debtors’ 333, 334 prisoners 35, 333, 334, 446 massacre of 254, 282, 283 private 111, 221–222, 485–486, 487 privateers 452, 473 privilege 24, 91, 128, 258, 345, 466 prodigy houses 408 profanity 384, 474 profession apprenticeship and 480 see also apprentice armourer’s 19 a doctor’s standing in 176 legal 373–374 theatrical 5, 7, 258 see also actor

property debt and 140, 161 by dowry see dowry grants of 271–272 inheritance of 281 of jointure 341–343 in marriage 316, 344 women as 319 see also commodities: marriage commodity market prostitute 135, 495, 537–539 see also harlot Protestantism alms and 9, 10 bishops and 46–47 England as a Protestant state 298 evangelical 290 the papacy and 377, 476 persecution of Protestants 236 Protestant ascendency 16 Protestant churches 154 Protestant communities 91 Protestant extremists 499 puritan 490–491 scriptural emphasis of 476, 537 protocol 227 provinces 191, 220, 383 psychology character 79, 319, 338, 423 of the humours 28, 37, 48, 51–52, 61, 141, 173, 314–315 public treasury public good 487 public performance 335, 487 pulpit 165, 488–489 punishment 120, 489–490 capital 48, 206, 208, 539 public display of 207, 511 punk 537 purgatory 485 puritan 274, 383, 490–491 puritan middle classes 179 quean 495, 537 queen 492–495 regnant 344, 361, 492

587

Index race 153, 170, 214 racism 214, 327 Rackin, Phyllis 188, 539, 540 Raleigh, Sir Walter 107 rank 496–499 clothing and 107, 112–114 lineage and 293, 499 politics of 29, 73, 74 see also title ransom The Rape of Lucrece Lucrece 29, 287 Tarquin 29 rapier 161 and main gauche 157 realpolitik 412 rebellion 15–16 Bullingbrook 208, 211, 226 Cade 62, 67, 69, 169, 241, 280, 374, 455, 461 Dutch 479 against Henry IV 15, 230, 244, 271, 275, 381, 387, 403, 471, 479, 496 against Henry VI 263 Hotspur 15, 244, 381, 387 Percy 144 power of 359 see also war Rebhorn, Wayne 14, 200 recantation 206, 288 recreation 280, 306, 315, 383, 441–443 recusant 131, 529, 530 Reformation 10, 47, 90, 98–99, 286 Anne’s execution and 284 causes in England 89, 416 dissolution of the monasteries see monasteries: dissolution of Duffy on 99, 467, 478, 503 the papacy and 76 social effects of 4, 242–243 regency 356 religion 153, 271, 285, 289, 415, 499–503 Jewish 337 protestant see Protestantism puritan 490–491

588

religious power 90–91 wars of religious law 175 Renaissance acting 7 Renaissance audience awareness of 12, 104–105, 119, 135, 148, 317, 336, 355, 418, 539 concerns of 89, 271, 346, 477 representation to 21 resonances with 18, 36, 83, 201, 232, 242, 295, 320, 358 Renaissance iconography 194 Renaissance patriarchy 152, 166 Renaissance prince 25, 484 renown 219, 227, 446 see also glory report 219, 387, 472 reputation 93, 205, 299 Amussen on 221, 300, 336, 450, 515 battlefield 277, 293, 352, 367 gender politics of see politics: gender public 136, 204 a woman’s 136, 220–221, 297, 300, 336, 450, 515 see also fame; honour; name respect love and 386–388, 393 through curtsy 154 retainers 20, 32, 221, 236, 303, 313 retinue 128, 313 Revelation, Book of 537 revenge 208, 336, 490, 532 revenge tragedy 354–355 Senecan revenge logic 6 rhetoric 29, 44, 49, 121, 392 of accusation 12 of Brutus 149 egalitarian 131 gendered 55 of Hamlet 108–109 of Iago 54, 55, 104–105 of insult 376, 501 of inversion 273 of ironic antitheses 233 of luxury 259

Index of the marriage bond 57 meaningless 390 offstage events and 104–105, 418 of power 36 rhetorical expressions 47–48, 95 sexual 37 of Ulysses 166–167, 199 of war 40 Richard I, King of England 346 Richard II, King of England 12, 150, 331, 404, 466–467, 471 Bevan on 360, 508 deposition of 516, 518, 521 taxation 524 Richard II Abbot of Westminster 3 Aumerle 265 Berkeley 528 Bishop of Carlisle 3, 47, 144, 307, 519 Bullingbrook 78, 93, 96, 162, 208, 210–211, 528, 533–534 deposition scene 3, 33 Duke of York 268, 528, 533 Gardener 471 John of Gaunt 50, 238, 307, 375–376, 405, 456, 525 King Richard 32, 165, 208, 238, 265, 471 Mowbray 93, 96, 162, 165 Worcester 210, 313, 462 Richard III, King of England 209, 351, 360 Battle of Bosworth 18, 74, 301, 304, 352, 360 Richard III Battle of Bosworth 18, 301, 370, 446 Buckingham 60, 208, 295, 441 Edward IV 121, 212, 387 Hastings 47, 111, 208–209 Lady Anne 251, 272, 314, 373, 504 Lieutenant of the Tower of London 378 Margaret Beaufort 125 Queen Elizabeth 125 Richard of Gloucester/Richard III 121, 208–209, 261, 279, 295, 314,

350–351, 352, 382, 387, 435, 441, 504, 542 Richmond, (Henry Tudor) 143, 261, 310–311, 446 Stanley 125, 143, 369 Richmond, earl of 188, 283 Richmond, Hugh Macrae 7, 39, 40, 288, 481 Ridley, Jasper (references) 7, 114, 161, 473, 490 on bad conduct 436 on building 64, 80 on Chapuys 11 on Cranmer’s use of the king’s ring 506 on Essex 229 on fashion 109, 340 on food and drink 34, 233 on glass 262 on gold 260, 266 on horse breeding 304 on inns 329 on messaging systems 435 on the military 19 on official oaths 461 on Pole 17 on poor relief 10 on religious foundations 3 on sport 239 on vagabonds 464, 534 on weapons 159 on women 373 right to authority 22 rights by charter 91–93 rights of the gentry 258 rights to lands 200 of succession 68, 144 ring 339, 503–506 alderman’s 8 ring plot 322, 504–506 riots 201 ritual feudal 21 funerary 249–251 military 31, 220

589

Index religious 292 of Renaissance drama 7 ritual feast 232 ritual shamings 512 see also ceremony Rivers, Isabel 64 Robin Hood 291, 464 roles acting 6 gender 54, 159, 291, 316, 504 military 267 social 109, 159 swapping of 494 romance 248, 323, 396, 484 courtly love romance 423 see also courtly love Rome aristocracy 24 capitol 13, 22, 117 citizens 9, 24, 100–101 empire 186, 191–192, 194, 202, 227, 337, 449 forum 9 history 6, 69, 100, 117, 147–149, 195, 449 legions 21, 104 plebeians 103–104, 291 principate 190 Roman republic 23–24, 64, 65, 68, 101, 102, 104, 147, 195, 200, 220, 355–356, 452 Roman self-control 23 Roman state 68, 100, 101, 101–102 the Romans 6, 65, 101, 109, 117, 147, 149, 239, 291, 355, 447, 514 senate 101–102, 104, 150, 291, 355 Tarquins 25, 149, 195, 355 Tribunes 22, 24, 64, 102, 291, 463 Romeo and Juliet Apothecary 14–15, 479 Benvolio 395, 486 Capulet 166, 281, 311, 436, 449 Friar Laurence 315, 424 Juliet 95, 298, 340, 395, 408, 421–424, 428, 449, 455–456 Lady Capulet 62, 95

590

Mantua 15, 423 Mercutio 8, 161, 311, 373, 382, 474, 486 Montague 449 Nurse 455–456 Paris 62, 166, 421, 424 Queen Mab speech 8 Romeo 15, 164, 311, 373, 395, 408, 421, 423–424, 428, 456, 479 Tybalt 161, 311, 382, 474, 486 Roscius 5 rose 190 red 117, 223 rose-picking scene 115 white 374 Ross, Charles 121, 209, 210, 212, 360, 410 royalty 506–508 authority 133, 142–144, 309 royal plural 23, 69, 133, 166, 244, 483 royal power 22, 133, 379 ruffs 369, 370 rumour 99, 148, 172, 219, 303–304, 355 Sacks, David Harris 300 sacrament 121, 144, 404, 467 sailor 452 see also navy saint 231, 233, 290 Sawday, Jonathan 56 Saxon Saxon court 359 Saxon system 345 Scotland Aberdeenshire 510 Borders 510 Central Belt 510 Highlands 78, 79, 510 Isles 510 Scrope family 15 Scullard, H.H. 69 Seal 141, 503 Seaver, Paul S. 103 Second World War 338 Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky 249, 401 sedition 263, 417, 434

Index self-referentiality 4, 5, 6, 380 Seneca 5 and revenge 6 servants 221, 277, 313, 366, 438, 480 service debts of 163–164 military 34, 73, 102, 378 of a prentice 480 rewards for 367 sexual services 40 sexton 511 sexuality 215, 372, 397–398, 400–401, 413, 513 Seymour, Jane 94, 285, 324 Shakespeare, William coat of arms 259 first folio 69, 178, 258 shame 511–513, 539 ‘bastard shame’ 37, 216, 448 Shannon, Laurie 190, 249 Shapiro, James 339, 532 Sharpe, Jim 540 Shepherd, Simon 332 shire 128 shops 15 Shore, Jane 279 shrew 541 Shrewsbury, battle of 15, 275, 302, 453, 458, 470 Shrewsbury, Earl of 324, 343 Sidney, Sir Philip 300 siege 77, 436 of Harfleur 38, 181, 268, 436 siege train 277, 282 of Troy 262 silk 513–514 silver 265, 339, 514–515 Sinfield, Alan 69, 360, 427 and Dollimore, Jonathan 39, 332 on Macbeth 14, 79, 521 Sir Thomas More 525 Slack, Paul 171 slander 450, 515, 538 Smialkowska, Monika 428 Smith, Bruce R. 401 Smith, G. R. 4, 59, 194, 201

Smith, Lacey Baldwin 196, 263, 529 social mobility 171, 276, 293, 472, 481 social networks 8, 336 society 515–516 Sohmer, Steve 7, 66, 151, 233, 292 soldier 70, 71, 123, 378 ensign 201–202 mercenary 430 private 485 soliloquy 5, 12, 13, 116, 310 Somerset, Anne 276, 339, 364, 400, 435, 452 song 256 Sonnets dark lady 45, 216, 218, 373, 399, 543 Sonnet 3 215–216 Sonnet 5 261 Sonnet 6 531 Sonnet 8 316, 320 Sonnet 10 397 Sonnet 13 376 Sonnet 15 328 Sonnet 18 376 Sonnet 20 225, 397–398, 438 Sonnet 25 228, 296, 487 Sonnet 26 398 Sonnet 37 263 Sonnet 47 34, 233 Sonnet 55 409 Sonnet 66 28, 29 Sonnet 67 269, 370 Sonnet 69 499 Sonnet 78 328 Sonnet 91 255, 306 Sonnet 94 172–173, 499 Sonnet 95 408 Sonnet 108 398 Sonnet 116 398 Sonnet 126 261 Sonnet 127 37, 216, 448 Sonnet 129 399, 512 Sonnet 130 438 Sonnet 132 399 Sonnet 138 399 Sonnet 141 399 Sonnet 143 313

591

Index Sonnet 144 216 Sonnet 147 175, 216, 400 young man 45, 92, 215–216, 218, 228, 316, 376–377, 396–398, 408, 409, 487, 545 sorceror 539 Southampton, Earl of 468 Southwark 41, 383, 489 sovereign 371 European sovereign rulers 183 see also king; monarch Spain armies in Netherlands 20 Spanish armada 20, 117–118, 192, 193–194, 363, 500, 537 Spanish inquisition 288, 493 Spenser, Edmund 332 spices 14 Spiller, Micael R.G. 400 spirits 116, 409, 540 sport 19, 41, 239, 279 squire 133, 162, 202 St Albans 428 stables 276 stage character types 541 props 13, 189, 402 stakes 18 stale 537 Stallybrass, Peter 55, 114, 431, 540 standard 115, 186, 187, 201, 202 Starkey, David 176, 326, 400, 427 state 516–518 head of 29, 90, 250 state diplomacy 51 state power 6, 15, 22, 68, 90–91, 291, 357 statecraft 492 war between states 536 statesmen 124, 200, 267 statuary 408, 440 status royal 144, 148 social 1, 2, 70, 121, 171, 230, 256 see also fame; rank stipend 4, 333

592

stocks 435, 489, 512 stone as euphemism 429 marble 408–409 stone indoor theatre 383 Stone, Lawrence (references) 121, 151, 255, 281, 324, 341 on apprenticeship 481 on the aristocracy 33, 39, 59, 127, 164, 173, 225, 233, 255, 266, 276, 368, 373, 386, 409, 441, 450 for children and nurses 456 on cities 107 on companiot marriage 427 on court offices 112 on the family 222 on family and love 400 on gaudy display 257 on the honours ranking system 300 on land enclosures 201 on manorial holdings 377 on mining 436 on the nobility 35, 93, 221, 251, 257, 450, 454 on offices of state 463 on parent–child relations 95, 545 on the peerage 467, 472, 499 on privacy 486 on social structure 171 on the uses of influence 229 strategy 150, 390, 417, 423, 495 strumpet 136, 537–539 see also harlot; prostitute Stuart, Esme, Duke of Albany 317 Stuarts 150, 164, 354, 359, 417, 466, 467, 536 student 157, 259, 329 Styan, J.L. 55 subject 518–521 over-mighty 345, 438, 519 suburbs 4 succession 521–523 Denmark’s rules of 322, 355, 415–416, 492, 522 oath of 457, 461 politics 360

Index Suetonius 69 suicide 159, 408, 429, 497 suitor 179, 182, 261, 396, 400, 460 Sulla 149 sumptuary legislation 109, 112, 113, 114, 255, 256 Sundays 488 supremacy 84, 187, 268, 449, 477 oath of 457 papal 404 Surrey, Earl of 89, 123, 188, 275, 331, 357, 377 swearing 337, 367 on a book 59 in God’s name 444 of oaths 460 profanity 384 upon one’s honour 295 Swiss Confederation 345 Swynford, Katherine 169, 349 sycophancy 237 Talbot 18, 196–197, 200, 450 talent 230, 293 The Taming of the Shrew Baptista 134, 180 Bianca 179, 231, 268, 342, 356, 436, 442 Gremio 179–180, 342, 473 induction 151, 306, 315, 469 Kate 9, 179–180, 231, 268, 315, 342, 356, 436 Lucentio 134, 442 Peter 315 Petruchio 9, 180, 224 Sly 279, 469 Tranio 134, 224, 342 Widow 231, 268, 356 tapestries 114, 116 Tarlton, Richard 336 tavern (inn) 329 Tawney, R.H. 10, 99, 491, 503 taxation 162, 265, 524–525 direct 524, 525 indirect 524

The Tempest Caliban 62, 292, 327, 428, 474, 514 Ferdinand 6 Gonzalo 124, 403 King of Naples 123 Miranda 6, 394, 484, 518 Prospero 6, 7, 60–61, 109, 116, 123, 160, 328, 329, 394, 518 Stephano 66, 327 Trinculo 292, 327, 514 temple 329, 337 tenant 375, 378, 527 sub-tenants 366 tennis 129 tennis ball insult 11 Tetralogy, First 144, 171, 176, 417, 428 Tetralogy, Second 8, 142, 207, 230, 234, 475, 481, 545 Thames 383 theatre 4–7, 59, 68, 158, 204, 292 closures of theatres during the plague 396, 468, 474 London 292, 383, 474 music and 442 Renaissance 346 and sexual licence 538 thief 155 Thomas, Keith 110, 117 Thomson, John A.F. 107, 171, 182, 382–383, 405 throne 525–526 claims to the throne 12, 74, 145, 172, 207, 283, 308, 349, 360, 485, 537 tiltyard 301 Timon of Athens Flavius 86, 163 Jeweller 340–341 Timon 85–86, 161, 163, 237, 313, 479 title 526–529 see also rank Titus Andronicus Aaron 194, 439, 455, 490 Goths 191, 195, 439 Lavinia 194, 222

593

Index Lucius 191, 194–195, 227–228, 250, 267, 440, 490 Nurse 455 Saturninus 191, 194, 222, 227–228, 486 Tamora 194, 195, 222, 228, 492 Titus 194, 222 tomb 439, 441 torture 529 towns 77, 103, 107, 267, 428, 461–462 trade 106, 212–213, 218, 432, 462 tragedy 354–355, 449, 461, 474 transport 115, 190, 300, 304, 433, 461 Traub, Valerie 46 travel routes 329 treachery 19, 159, 388 treason high 252, 284, 529 petty 529 treasure 86, 93, 297 treasury 35, 205, 362, 487 treaty 22, 261, 282, 318, 410 trial 89, 135, 357, 374, 527 of Mary Queen of Scots 77 witch trials 288 triumph 22, 212, 220, 291 Troilus and Cressida Achaeans 167, 199 Achilles 167, 198, 199, 262 Agamemnon 167 Ajax 199 Cressida 55, 167, 539, 542 Diomedes 538–539 Hector 97, 198, 199, 254, 262 Helen 167 Paris 167 Thersites 538–539 Troilus 260, 538–539 Trojans 167, 198, 199 Ulysses 55, 166–167, 170, 198, 199, 538, 542 Tudors dynasty of 351, 536 Margaret, Queen of Scotland 417 Mary Tudor see Mary Tudor, Queen of France

594

Prince Arthur 416 Twelfth Night Andrew Aguecheek 41, 159, 171, 269, 365 Antonio 71, 229, 473 Feste 114, 154, 238, 336, 365 Malvolio 41, 171, 224, 274, 276, 491, 544 Maria 171, 274 Olivia 48, 125, 170–171, 247, 274, 484, 504, 544 Sebastian 71, 159, 365 Sir Toby 41, 170–171, 365, 474 Viola 60, 504, 543 The Two Gentlemen of Verona Duke 203, 247 Julia 224 Launce 151, 238 Lucetta 224 Proteus 247–248 Silvia 247 Speed 264 Valentine 203, 247, 248, 264, 464 The Two Noble Kinsmen Arcite 248, 257, 302, 334 Doctor 315 Emilia 190, 248, 257, 322–323 Hippolyta 248 Jailer 334 Jailer’s Daughter 177, 315 Palamon 248, 257, 273, 334 Pirithous 248, 302 Theseus 248, 323, 334 Tyburn 206 tyranny 201, 207, 357, 519, 529–530 tyrant 137, 271, 358, 381, 530 Tyrone, Earl of 330 uniform 380 union of the crowns 151, 329 United Kingdom 271, 417, 466 universities 91, 373 degree from 166, 176 upholstery 155 usurpation 12, 272, 362, 403, 467, 508, 522

Index by Bullingbrook 211 Lancastrian 132, 145, 150, 175, 184, 212, 263, 307, 347, 348, 362, 374, 441, 459, 521, 526–527, 530 by Macbeth 271, 520 by Prospero’s brother 123, 518, 529 by Suffolk 23 usurper 15, 122, 144, 359, 530 usury 531–532 vagabond 4, 240, 258, 464, 533–534 vagrant 68, 240, 533 Valois, Katherine de, Queen of England 535 Venice 54, 59, 92, 105–106, 240–241, 432, 460 patriarchy of 461 Venus and Adonis 306 violence aristocratic 311 bewilderment at 53–54 culture of 79, 358 cycle of 100, 309, 472, 482 extreme 24, 170 feudal 521 judicial 103 masculinity and 300 mob violence 68 see also tyranny virgin 174, 285, 353, 429, 541 virginity 28, 340 virtue 65, 297 Christian 27, 84 manly 514 Roman 66, 197 virtus 66, 197 wage 333 wager 232, 292 Wales Prince of 8, 203–204, 262, 367, 427, 445, 475, 511, 535 the Welsh 17, 442, 479, 536 Walker, Garthine (Jenny Kermode and) 513

Walker, Julia M. 237 Walsingham, Sir Francis 165 war 536–537 civil war see civil war see also battle ward city ward 8 orphan 463, 464 warfare 17, 19–21, 199–200, 450 castles and 77–79 chivalric view of 202 corruption and 123 heraldic devices of 31 history of 39 Warnicke, Retha M. 76, 122, 205, 209, 218 warrior 104, 236, 445 warrior knight 366, 406 Wars of the Roses 536, 537 causes of 185, 360, 364, 441, 494 history of 143, 493 House of Lancaster and 307, 384, 516, 521 Warwick, the ‘Kingmaker’ 31, 188, 270, 294, 349, 412 audience awareness of 434 crest 141 and the problems of power 438, 458 watchmen 296 Wayne, Valerie 55 wealth 171, 470 change in forms of 432 of the church 98, 265 gold and 265 monastic 3 office and 8, 10, 131 prestige and 113, 280 rank and 64, 86, 107–108 status and 114, 115, 470 by usury 531 wedding attire 224, 256 decorum 80 masque 428 rites 319 see also marriage

595

Index Weimann, Robert 7, 239, 241, 292 Weir, Alison (references) 77, 324, 484 on ‘Act of Concord’ 461 on Catherine Howard 183 on the conspiracy against Henry V 209 on Dr Lopez 177 on Elizabeth I 324, 373 on Essex in Ireland 332 on Henry V 271, 273, 283 on Henry VI 229, 426, 508 and Henry VIII 83, 112, 124, 135, 272, 286, 324, 360, 478 on the House of Lancaster 150, 200, 212, 312 on the Kirk O’Field explosion 278 on Margaret of Anjou 218, 426, 495 on Marian persecution 290 on marriages and divorces 427, 478 on Talbot 450 on the war with Spain 194 on Wars of the Roses 185, 312, 360, 364 on Wolsey 76 Wells, Stanley 14, 69, 339, 427 Westminster Abbey 3 Whigham, Frank 2 Whitby, Michael White, Allon (Peter Stallybrass and) 55 whore 537–539, 541 of Babylon 539 see also prostitute widow 182, 322 jointure and widows 341–342, 343 will 54, 77, 100, 322 William the Bastard 117, 457 Wilson, Derek 14, 188, 230, 272, 312 window 261, 262 The Winter’s Tale Apollo’s oracle 281 Autolycus 139, 140 Camillo 95, 357–358 Emilia 334 Florizel 121 Hermione 37, 94, 135, 334, 357, 369, 371–372, 442, 455, 492, 515, 529

596

Jailer 333–334 Leontes 36–37, 40, 95, 124, 279, 335, 357–358, 372, 455, 515, 529, 530 Mamillius 455 Paulina 36, 37, 40, 124, 334, 369, 530 Perdita 112, 121, 265, 469, 484 Polixenes 36–37, 95, 121, 248, 279, 357–358, 372 Shepherd 112, 140, 265 witch 126, 208, 217–218, 539–540, 541 witch trials 288, 289 witchcraft 279, 284 Wolsey, Cardinal 72–76, 192–193 charity and 87–90 Henry VIII and 283–284, 300, 416, 418, 427, 525, 527 titular archbishopric of 15 women 373, 540–543 as property 319 see also commodities: marriage commodity market a woman’s reputation 136, 220–221, 297, 300, 336, 450, 515 Woodstock, Thomas of 192, 351 wool 253 wordplay 161, 213, 215, 217, 237 work 212, 277, 461–462 world upside down 28 World War II 338 xenophobia 193, 281, 324, 337, 338, 400 Yates, Frances A. 97, 187, 193, 229, 237, 263, 288 yeoman 544 York city of 428 Elizabeth of 283, 311, 352, 414 House of 12, 36, 96, 145, 207, 212, 222, 307–310, 330, 348, 349–350, 411, 434, 468, 545 See of 15 youth 421, 544–545 Zeus 186 zonal staging 536, 539