John Webster’s Borrowing [Reprint 2020 ed.] 9780520346147

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John Webster's

BORROWING

John Webster's BORROWING By R. W. DENT Quicquid

bene dictum ab ullo, metim est. SENECA, Epist.

UNIVERSITY

OF

CALIFORNIA

xvii. 7

PRESS

Berkeley and Los Angeles i960

University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California Cambridge University Press London, England © i960 by The Regents of the University of California Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 60-10649 Printed in the United States of America Designed by Ward Ritchie

To E. Q. D. and H. E. H.

CONTENTS Part I INTRODUCTION

3

APPENDIX: DATING AND ASCRIPTION

57

Part II COMMENTARY

The White Devil The Duchess of Malfi A Monumental Columne Characters The Devil's Law-Case INDEX

67

69 174 266 279 289 317

INTRODUCTION

John Webster's two tragedies aré commonly regarded as the finest to be produced by any Jacobean dramatist other than Shakespeare, and hence among the best to be produced by any English playwright of any age. True, a minority of critics think Webster grossly overrated, and the followers of F. R. Leavis may feel that much in the present study supports them. But most critics, on both valid and invalid grounds, continue to admire The White Devil and The Duchess of Malfi. For the effectiveness of these tragedies, Webster was heavily indebted to his sources. In the case of Shakespeare, works concerning his sources both conscious and unconscious have demanded little apology. We are interested in any evidence whatever that will help illuminate either the plays or the man who wrote them. Whole books have been written debating the extent of Montaigne's influence upon him, though only one passage in all the plays betrays any verbal indebtedness of the kind Webster so frequently shows. Recently, an entire book has been devoted to the possible influence of Palingenius. More broadly, the past few years have produced such studies as J. A. K. Thomson's Shakespeare and the Classics, Virgil Whitaker's Shakespeare's Use of Learning, and Kenneth Muir's Shakespeare's Sources, each endeavoring to incorporate and extend the abundant work of earlier scholars. Meanwhile, no comparable study has been given to Webster, the dramatist perhaps second to Shakespeare among writers of English tragedy, certainly second to none in his dependence upon sources.

Introduction T h e present study is not concerned with historical or semihistorical sources for the basic plots of the two tragedies. These have been carefully studied by John Addington Symonds, E. E. Stoll, and F. L. Lucas, and I have nothing significant to add to their discoveries.1 Both tragedies were of course based, however loosely, on actual events of the sixteenth century. For The White Devil we still know of no extensive written account it seems probable Webster used; we must speculate at our peril, therefore, on what changes he made. For The Duchess of Malfi we feel confident that he worked mainly with Painter's Palace of Pleasure, conceivably supplemented by other accounts.2 Very rarely, however, does Webster betray even the slightest verbal indebtedness to Painter. He does, on the other hand, betray abundant verbal indebtedness to other works. Webster's admirers in the late nineteenth century, examining their edition by Dyce or Hazlitt, were occasionally aware of footnotes indicating the dramatist's indebtedness to some one of his contemporaries, Shakespeare especially. Here and there the editors pointed out what they thought to be an unconscious reminiscence, or an obvious imitation, or a direct verbal borrowing; frequently they were right. T h e evidence was no more abundant, however, than what appeared in editions of many another Jacobean dramatist. On stylistic grounds, Symonds shrewdly conjectured that Webster used a commonplace book, but only for occasional lines of relatively prosaic sententiousness. Then, in 19061907, Charles Crawford published evidence of Webster's extensive borrowing from Sidney and Montaigne, and in a lesser degree from Donne, Jonson, and Chapman. It became necessary to revise somewhat our bases for admiring Webster's poetic genius. In the years between Crawford's Collectanea and the appearance of Lucas' standard edition of Webster in 1927, a few further 1 An extremely full and useful study for Webster's earlier tragedy has recently appeared: Gunnar Boklund, The Sources of THE WHITE DEVIL. Essays and Studies on English Language and Literature, ed. S. B. Liljegren, XVII (Uppsala, 1957). Valuable as Boklund's work is, it would have been still more so had he realized the extent of Webster's dependence on nonhistone materials. ' It is at least of interest to see that Webster borrowed nonplot materials from two of the five Elizabethan works, other than Painter, which are known to refer to the Duchess' tragic marriage. See the commentary below on Goulart and Whetstone; also The Works of John Webster, ed. F. L. Lucas (London, 1927), II, 15. Unless otherwise indicated, all Webster citations are from this edition.

4

Introduction discoveries of sources were made, but only a few, and none of them major. 3 Since that time, and especially during the past two decades, we have steadily increased our knowledge of Webster's sources, so that today we can trace several times as much of Webster to its origins as could Lucas in 1927. More than three-fourths of Webster could be so traced, I suspect, if only we had access to all the works he employed. Our information continues to be frustratingly incomplete, but far less so than it was a few years ago. Meanwhile, little interest in such source evidence has been reflected in critical studies, perhaps partly because so much of the evidence remains uncollected 4 and, except in the vaguest way, unknown to the critics. Clifford Leech's John Webster (London, 1951) ignores the borrowings entirely. Travis Bogard's The Tragic Satire of John Webster (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1955) dismisses them in a prefatory paragraph, agreeing with Lucas that "Webster generally betters what he borrows" and that his "alchemy is remarkable" but clearly regarding them as of little significance to an interpretation of Webster's plays, or to an evaluation of Webster as a dramatist. Hereward Price's " T h e Function of Imagery in Webster" (PMLA, L X X [September, 1955], 717-739) provides a short paragraph to the same effect, concluding with the confident assurance that "whatever he took he worked into the essential substance of the play." Our present knowledge of Webster's borrowings tells us a good deal more, and a good deal less, than that. T h e present study is concerned with these sources for the detail in Webster's plays—for dialogue, for subordinate episodes, for what Jonson called the "furniture." T h e study has two parts, an introduction and a commentary. T h e introduction surveys the • Indeed, Sidney's Arcadia continues to be the most impressive single source thus far discovered, considerably more of one than the Lucas edition indicates, and this despite the fact that Webster began using it only when half way through his second tragedy. The Duchess of Mai fx. * Since the completion of this study the Lucas editions of Webster's two tragedies have appeared in a moderately revised form, with a few source notes added to the commentary and with a series of appendixes concerning the principal source discoveries published in recent years. No attempt is made, however, to reproduce the source evidence in any detail. And despite a misgiving that further discoveries may leave Webster "bald as a coot," Lucas largely limits himself to the traditional defense of praising this "admirable thief" for a few effectively adapted borrowings.

5

Introduction significance of what we now know concerning Webster's imitative method of composition; necessarily it is often tentative and conjectural, based as it is on limited information. The commentary, again often conjectural, endeavors to present whatever evidence we have thus far acquired concerning Webster's borrowing during his literary prime—both that presented by Lucas, that published in the thirty years since his edition (or accidentally omitted by Lucas from earlier studies), and that I have myself discovered but not yet published; it includes not only direct sources but also the abundant evidence of sources as yet undiscovered, many of them perhaps no longer extant. A full index of authors cited indicates in short form the probable extent of Webster's indebtedness to specific writers. T h e focus of the introduction is almost wholly upon Webster's two tragedies. T h e commentary covers, though in less detail than for the tragedies, the other works written by Webster alone, without collaborators, during approximately the same period—A Monumental Column, The Devil's Law-Case, and the 1615 additions to the Overburian characters. It does so mainly because Webster's procedure in writing the latter often illuminates his methods in writing the tragedies. Undeniably, a careful consideration of Webster's early and late work in collaboration would also prove of some value; but, except for an occasional reference, such work lies outside the scope of this study.

i

Composition with the aid of borrowed materials was of course a commonplace practice in the Renaissance, one employed in some degree by every writer in every branch of literary creation. T o quote from a typical sixteenth-century preface: It is the custome of all writers almost, to enterlace other mens doings into their own. . . . And as Flauius Albinus sayth, this is one kinde 6

Introduction of fruit gotten by readinge, that a man may imitate that which he lyketh and alloweth in others: and such speciall poyntes and sayinges as hee is especially delighted & in loue withall, by apt and fitte deriuation maye wrest to serue his owne turne and purpose.5 Today, although we may be both startled and disappointed when we discover that some favorite passage has a "source," we know enough to no longer brand its author with "plagiarism." W e know he was working within a rhetorical tradition that commended a verbal imitation of one's predecessors.6 W e know how much Elizabethans encouraged the use of commonplace books, oftfen for recording the phraseology as well as the ideas of their sources. W e know in some measure the degree to which such books, and equivalent devices, were recommended to all: for sermons, courtesy books, works of religious and political controversy, prose fiction, poetry, everything. And we know those published aids to "copy" so popular around the turn of the century—the collections of Allot, Bodenham, Cawdrey, Meres, Wrednot, and the l i k e — though we know (or at least I know) no major literary figure who employed these plebeian counterparts to the collections of Erasmus. W e have become, at least theoretically, more tolerant than were the Elizabethans themselves. Certainly few modern critics share the hesitation of Montaigne: We others that have little practise with bookes, are troubled with this; that when we meete with any rare or quaint inuention in a new Poet . . . wee dare not yet commend them, vntill wee have taken instruction of some wise man, whether that part be their owne or another bodies. [III. viii, ed. 1603, p. 563] Montaigne was not alone in being thus concerned. For at the same time that the age encouraged verbal imitation, its creative writers reflected an increasingly widespread wish to be "original," or at any rate to appear refreshingly new to English readers. 5 Franciscus Patricius, A Morale ifethode of ciuile Policie, trans. Robinson (1576), sigs. al-al T . • No extended treatment of this complex subject is either desirable or feasible here. See especially Harold O. White, Plagiarism and Imitation during the English Renaissance, Harvard Studies in English, No. 12 (Cambridge, Mass., 1935); William G. Crane, Wit and Rhetoric in the Renaissance (New York, 1937). Both works treat general literary theory as related to the nondramatic literature of the age; unfortunately, there is no comparably full study relating to the drama.

7

Introduction Clearly, there were wide differences in the kind and degree of originality sought. And equally clearly, even among the writers who borrowed most extensively, there was a growing desire to boast, undetected, with Astrophel: "I am no pickpurse of another's wit." Thus many an author, anxious to sound "new" to his prospective audience or readers, remained nevertheless within the tradition of imitation. Rather than seeking to be wholly original in his expression, he sought fresh purses to pick, fresh sources for wit, often without realizing the degree to which these sources were themselves indebted to more traditional works, especially classical ones. Such a writer, I believe, was John Webster. It is difficult to know in what measure Webster's fellow artists would have approved or disapproved his extensive use of borrowings. There were increasing differences within the age as to what constituted legitimate imitation, and judgments would have varied accordingly. A writer could continue to draw upon classical authors without fear of disparagement, unless the borrowings were unduly hackneyed or unduly obtrusive in the resulting work. If he borrowed from Continental authors, he was still safe from all but occasional jibes. But to the degree that without acknowledgment he plundered his own native contemporaries, he enjoyed considerably less impunity. The wit-stealer and the hack plagiarist became more and more the butt of contemptuous sallies from their associates. Unlike such hacks, however, Webster did not passively stitch together long segments from works intended for the same audience as his own. He was obviously no Anthony Nixon—or, to use a somewhat more respectable name, no Robert Greene— hastily turning out salable commodities with a minimum of effort and a maximum of copying. On the contrary, it appears he was a remarkably slow and laborious workman, by his own admission; as he says to the reader of The White Devil, "I do not write with a goose-quill, winged with two feathers. . . ." Nevertheless, it must be admitted that he was a first or second cousin to the Autolgean wits described by Thomas Walkington, those who . . . like chap-fallen hackneies feed at others rack and manger: neuer ouer glutting their mindes with the heauenlie Ambrosia of speculation[,] whose braines are the very broakers shoppes of al ragged inuen8

Introduction tions: or rather their heads bee the blockhouses of all cast and outcast peeces of poetrie: these bee your pickhatch courtesan wits, that merit (as one ieasts vpon them) after their decease to be carted in Charles waine: they bee tearmed not laureat but poets loreat that are worthy to bee iirkt with the lashes of the wittiest Epigrammatists. These are they that like roving dunkirkes or robbing pyrats sally vp and downe i'the printers ocean, wafted too and fro with the inconstant winde of an idle light braine: who (if any new work that is lately come out of presse, as a barke vnder saile fraughted with any rich merchandise appeare vnto them) doe play vpon it eft with their siluer peeces, board it incontinently, ransacke it of euery rich sentence, cull out all the witty speeches they can finde appropriating them to their own vse.7 Such a castigation cannot, of course, be justly applied to Webster's labored and thoughtful procedure. However, it is not without a kind of relevance. For our present evidence suggests that no writer of the age, major or minor, was more indebted to others for "euery rich sentence" and "all the witty speeches." W e already know for certain that the extent of Webster's borrowings was extraordinary even for the age in which he wrote. Unfortunately, at present we know very little about many of the most famous scenes and passages. T h e bulk of-Webster still cannot be traced to specific sources, and for much of that bulk we lack even source-implying parallels. Yet anyone examining the extant evidence must admit that a great deal of source material obviously remains undiscovered. It is difficult to guess how much. I hesitate to believe that we will ever find unmistakable sources for Webster's most frequently quoted lines in The Duchess of Malfi, lines depending for their effect almost wholly upon context, and stripped to a bareness free of imagery or of any sententious element: " I am Duchess of Malfi still," or "Cover her face: Mine eyes dazell: she di'd young." But with a few such exceptions, plus some of the occasional realistic topical satire, I suspect almost everything in Webster has a basic source. Every characteristic of style in the untraced portions suggests they were composed by the selfsame method traceable elsewhere in his work. T h i s stylistic similarity of the untraced portions to the traced ones, joined with the degree of indebtedness already ascertained for parts of his work, ' The Optick Glasse of Humors (London, 1607), pp. 45 f.

9

Introduction makes extremely probable a density of borrowings unrivaled in English literature. T h e probability of such density is supported by much of this introduction and by most of the commentary. A pair of illustrations may serve for the present. First, let us take A Monumental Column. This elegy for Prince Henry was written with a haste for which Webster apologizes; here, supposedly, he did write with a winged goosequill. Nevertheless, although he shows signs of laboring at excessive speed, he composed the work bit by bit from sources, a line or two at a time, with commonplace book open. Also open, perhaps, was Matthieu's recently translated memorial for the assassinated Henry IV of France, the principal source for Webster's own memorial to a dead Henry. Thanks to Matthieu, we can trace a greater percentage of this work than we can for most of Webster, but the poem is by no means drawn from a single source. Of the first two hundred lines more than half are now traceable to thirty distinct borrowings from twelve different works. Examination of the commentary and of the poem itself will convince anyone that the entire memorial stems directly from such sources. And just as the known sources for the elegy have proved also to be sources for The White Devil and The Duchess of Malfi, so too the unknown sources probably provided material for the tragedies. For a second illustration, let us move to the tragedies themselves, and to a part of Vittoria's famous trial scene (W. D. III. ii. 145 ff.). Here, a short speech of Monticelso's is followed by some of what Lamb misleadingly called Vittoria's "innocence-resembling boldness." Below, the source side indicates merely by author and quotation a part of the evidence that Webster is characteristically borrowing, bit by bit; for a fuller discussion, see commentary. MON. Well, well, such counterfet Jewels Make trew ones oft suspected. VIT. You are deceaved. For know that all your stricktcombined heads Which strike against this mine of diamondes, Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall breake—

More: "many well counterfaited iewels make ye true mistrusted."

Matthieu, of conspirators against Henry IV: "those heads which shall strike against this rocke of Diamant will proue Glasse."

1o

Introduction These are but faigned shadowes of my evels. Terrify babes, my Lord, with painted devils, I am past such needlesse palsy —for your names, Of Whoore and Murdresse they proceed from you, As if a man should spit against the wind, The filth returne's in's face.

Shakespeare: " 'tis the eye of child»» hood / That fears a painted devil."

Yver: "Thou shalte be like him that spitteth against the winde, whose slauer fleeth in his owne face.'

Here we have dramatic conflict built principally from metaphorical sententiae. One fragment is already specifically traceable (that from Matthieu's portion of a French chronicle). A second, though it sounds proverbial, apparently comes from some one of the many accounts of Richard III based on More, perhaps from More's own. T h e remaining two parallels, although by no means commonplace in English, are definitely proverbial. Yet, as the commentary will show, it is becoming increasingly evident that Webster did not employ even the commonest proverbs without the stimulus of some specific work. Hence some immediate source for each of the above proverbs seems probable, and it is equally probable that that source will account for further passages as well (just as More and Matthieu do). Similarly, a few lines later in this same trial scene (lines 171-183), we know that the three elements composing Brachiano's defiance of Monticelso are paralleled, respectively, in accounts of Henry III of France, Stephen Gardiner, and Robert of Normandy. But for none of these elements do we know a plausible immediate source for Webster. There can be no doubt that he had one, however, and little doubt that again it would account for more than the single parallel. T h a t a good many such sources will be discovered in the future appears inevitable. Others, undoubtedly, are irrecoverably lost, either because the works are no longer extant or because Webster in part drew upon unpublished materials—hearing and recording parts of conversations, sermons, trials. Whether he did so at all, and if so how frequently, we can never adequately know, though we can be virtually certain that he occasionally used a comparable source—unpublished plays (see below, pp. 46-47). But books, clearly, provided his primary reservoir. T h e man worked strangely, 11

Introduction his creativity receiving some written stimulus at almost every turn. Sometimes he appears strikingly original, occasionally merely commonplace, but almost always—unless our present evidence is very misleading—he worked from sources. Such a fact need not convert Webster into some kind of freak, a creature whose eyes served only to look at the printed page, whose ears listened only to potentially usable materials, and whose other sensory organs operated only vicariously. But in an extraordinary degree he consciously— conscientiously, rather—depended on others for the language, the images, even the ideas out of which he built his plays.

ii Various characteristics of Webster's imitative method have been alluded to in the preceding section, while considering the probable extent of his borrowings. Before considering their relevance to interpretation of his tragedies, it is necessary to examine his procedure more specifically, observing his typical processes in composing parts of the plays. I have no desire to reduce Webster to some kind of mechanical man, dully proceeding by some single and simple method. But analysis of a few representative passages can illustrate some of the pervasive characteristics of his technique. In the first such passage (D. M. V. ii. 174-205), Julia is busily courting Bosola (and thereby serving once more as a foil to the Duchess). All the quoted lines are based on parts of Sidney's Arcadia, which I identify by a parenthetical letter for easy reference, followed by volume and page in the Feuillerat edition. Lucas includes only (a) and (d) in his commentary. J U L . Compare thy forme, and my

(a) II,

eyes together,

186:

"Let her beawtie

be

compared to my yeares, and such

You'll find my love no such

effectes will be found no miracles."

great miracle: Now you'll say,

12

Introduction I am wanton: This nice modesty in Ladies Is but a troublesome familiar, That haunts them. BOS. Know you me, I am a blunt souldier. JUL. The better, Sure, there wants fire, where there are no lively sparkes Of roughnes. BOS. And I want complement. JUL. Why, ignorance in courtship cannot make you do amisse, If you have a heart to do well. BOS. You are very faire. JUL. Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge, I must plead unguilty. BOS. Your bright eyes Carry a Quiver of darts in them, sharper Then Sun-beames. JUL. . . . I am sudaine with you— We that are great women of pleasure, use to cut off These uncertaine wishes, and unquiet longings, And in an instant joyne the sweete delight And the pritty excuse together.

(b) II, 31: "the cumbersome familiar of womankinde, I meane modestie." (c) I, 452 f. (of women's pleasure in rape): "we thinke there wants fire, where we find no sparkles at lest of furie." (d) I, 106: "it seemed ignorance could not make him do amisse, because he had a hart to do well." (e) I, 403: Pamela protests against the compliment of "Beautie, which it pleaseth you to lay to my (as I thinke) unguiltie charge." (f) 1,107: of one suffering from "the dart of Love," "stricken by her, before she was able to knowe what quiver of arrowes her eyes carried." (g) I, 452 (of women's pleasure in rape): "For what can be more agreeable, then upon force to lay the fault of desire, and in one instant to joyne a deare delight with a just excuse?"

Admittedly, this is not one of the scenes on which Webster's fame depends. Nevertheless, it is characteristic in many ways of his procedure: (1) T h e striking degree to which the whole passage can be traced to specific sources (the lines omitted by an ellipsis include at least one further borrowing). Webster may improve upon his source in vigor, rhythm, or conceit; but his imagination is initially stimulated by some specific passage. (2) T h e working in units only a line or two in length. T h e quoted dialogue gives us a good chance to see Webster stitch them

Introduction together, with more visible thread than he often employs. Julia's first speech is preceded by Bosola's saying "this is wondrous strange"; from then on he provides the requisite transitions: " I am a blunt souldier," " A n d I want complement," and " Y o u are very faire." T h e result is fairly effective and plausible dialogue, although of course too compressed and too conceited to be "realistic." Webster's peculiar density and abruptness, his continuity by loose association rather than gradual and explicit transitions, are in part the consequence of the fragmentary elements with which he worked, however consciously he may have cultivated the resulting dramatic effect. Element after element might be cut without loss of meaning, continuity, or completeness. A n d although each part is (in the above passage) appropriate, one can see that Webster's sources are in some measure determining the dialogue. (3) T h e presence of an element meaningful in the source but not in Webster. As just noted, the borrowings here are adapted fairly successfully to their new context. But heaven knows what Julia, in the final line, can mean by "excuse." Her speech sounds meaningful—sufficiently so that no audience would be distracted, and that critics could debate over possible interpretations— but is it? (4) T h e considerable variation, from close verbal borrowing to imitation made probable only by the context in Webster and Sidney. In (a), of course, to fit the new context of a woman addressing a man, "beauty" is changed to "forme" and "age" to "eyes." Some such changes were essential. More significant is the shift in (a) from passive to active verbs, with the resulting greater directness, typical of Webster. T h i s is akin to his preference for concrete rather than abstract nouns, and for concrete detail generally. 8 Often, Webster's minor changes seem inconsequential, or nearly so. T w o such changes appear in the adaptation of (g): the substitution of the monosyllable "sweete" for "deare" (slightly in8 This latter characteristic is always cited, and generally exaggerated, by those who praise Webster for "almost always" improving on his sources. He recognized the potential effectiveness of concreteness as well as any English instructor today, or as any satirical pamphleteer of his own day. Usually, the consequent alteration is an undeniable improvement; occasionally, however, it is either unnecessarily offensive or excessively developed. For examples of improvement, see on D. M. I. i. 39-40, 257-258, II. i. 103-109; far more dubious are D. M. II. i. 81-82, III. iii. 50-57.

»4

Introduction creasing the sensual element, while replacing Sidney's faint alliteration with consonance), and of the bisyllabic "pritty" for "just" (slightly altering the sense, while obscuring the metre by a typically Websterian abundance of unstressed syllables).9 In this latter change, it may well be that Webster felt he had removed the inappropriateness of "excuse" by changing its modifier. (5) T h e dominant attraction to imagery, especially when combined with argumentative and sententious elements. Sometimes he retains little but the kernel of a witty image, as in (b), (e), and (f), or of a witty argument, as in (a); sometimes he keeps much of its original phrasing as well, as in (c) and (g); sometimes he repeats almost verbatim a pleasing formulation of what he surely knew was a commonplace or proverbial idea, as in (d). Generally, I suspect, he thought the resulting poetry, especially in its imagery, would sound impressively "original" to his theater audience, his sources notwithstanding. (6) T h e sententiousness. In the present passage the prevalence of metaphor, typically undeveloped, is obvious. Less obvious, perhaps, because the passage quite successfully conveys the impression of being dramatic dialogue, is the heavy sententious element, again typically undeveloped. Passage (d) has its proverbial origin concealed in both Sidney and Webster. Often, however, even when most successfully dramatic, Webster's inclination is to retain or even increase the sententiousness of his source. Here he converts (b) to a sententia, while increasing the sententiousness of (c) by dropping Sidney's "we," and of (g) by introducing a " w e " of his own. 10 " It is tempting to seek some relationship between Webster's imitation and his very loose blank verse, which often scans no better than his prose, if it scans as well. Even for an age when dramatic blank verse was growing looser and looser, and when such poets as Donne intentionally violated accent for effect, Webster's verse is much of the time unusually jagged. Like Donne, he can write as regular a line as anyone when he chooses to do so. T h e problem is to account for the unpredictability of his so choosing—as in Julia's final four lines above, with two lines very irregular, one somewhat so, and one a perfect iambic pentameter (such as frequently appears, of course, in the midst of his prose). I have not been able to discover any convincing causal relationship between Webster's borrowing and his prosody. M It is interesting to see the company Webster keeps in a seventeenth-century collection of apophthegms from the drama. In "John Cotgrave's 'English Treasury of W i t and Language,' " SP, X L (April, 1943), 195 ff., G . E. Bentley provides a recapitulation of the 1,518 passages (from a total 1,686) he has traced. T h e following drama-

l

5

Introduction (7) T h e concentration of borrowings from a single work, but from widely separated passages in that work. Such concentration occurs only occasionally, and rarely in this degree, but it is common in Webster's use of all his principal sources—Sidney, Montaigne, Guazzo, Alexander, Matthieu—and even in a few minor sources. It is especially common in the play where Webster first uses a source. Thus The White Devil concentrates its borrowings from Guazzo and Alexander, whereas the later tragedy does not. When considered in conjunction with (8) below, this is most plausibly explained if we imagine Webster sometimes working at first directly from his source, but more often employing a commonplace book, in one part of which quotations were arranged by author rather than topic. (8) T h e appearance of borrowings reused in Webster's later compositions. Passages (a) and (d), like several others from various sources, are copied more literally in their second appearance, again suggesting the use of a commonplace book, at least at the time of tuts provided Cotgrave with moTe than a hundred passages or more than twenty from a single play. Author

Beaumont & Fletcher Chapman

Total Passages

11s

Number of plays

111

40 10

49 63

10

Daniel Dekker Greville

110

8

Jonson

111

11

Shakespeare Tourneurp] Webster

154 3°

27 S 4

104

3

Highest for one play 10

«7 «7 «4

26

63 47 33

s8 18

25 23 36

40

Title of Play Queen of Corinth Byron Bussy VAmbois Philotas Honest Whore Alaham Mustapha Catiline Sejanus Hamlet Revenger's Tragedie Devil's Law-Case White Devil Duchess of Malfi

Webster's tragedies contributed more than any but Greville's; his "comedy" is rivaled only by Dekker's much longer work. Cotgrave was obviously interested in wit rather than in what Chapman called "elegant and sententious excitation to virtue." In Flamineo, Bosola, Julia, and the like, he found abundant inelegant but sententious excitation to vice. Many of the passages from Webster are of course traceable to sources. 16

Introduction their second use. Probably every repetition in Webster, including those not yet traced, stems from this notebook method. A second passage will illustrate further characteristics of Webster's imitative procedure. Unlike the passage just examined, parts of it cannot yet be traced. Sources, or indications of sources, are identified by author only; for further details see the commentary. T h e scene is that in which Antonio and the Duchess are separated (D. M. III. v. 17-49): (a) Matthieu: "Some few daies before this fatall accident shee [Henry IV's queen] had two dreames, the which were true predictions, when as the Iewelers and Lapidaries prepared her crowne [for her coronation] she drempt that the great diamonds and all the goodly stones which shee had giuen them to inrich it were turned into Pearles, the which the interpreters of dreames take for teares." (b) Sidney: "to have for foode the wilde benefites of nature."

DUCH. I had a very strange dreame to-night. ANT. What was't? DUCH. Me thought I wore my Coronet of State, And on a sudaine all the Diamonds Were chang'd to Pearles. ANT. My Interpretation Is, you'll weepe shortly, for to me, the pearles Doe signifie your teares: DUTCH. The Birds, that live i'th field On the wilde benefit of Nature, live Happier then we; for they may choose their Mates, And carroll their sweet pleasures to the Spring: BOS. You are happily ore-ta'ne. DUCH. From my brother? [Enter Bosola with a letter.] BOS. Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand . . . your brother, All love, and safetie— DUTCH. Thou do'st blanch mischiefe— Wouldst make it white: See, see, like to calme weather At Sea, before a tempest, false hearts speake faire T o those they intend most mischiefe. [iieadi] A Letter.

(c) Hall: "Fame is partiall, and is wont to blanch mischiefes." (d) Cf. Tilley, C 24: "After a calm comes a storm."

»7

Introduction (e) Bodin: "Others distinguish vpon the word, as king Lewis the 11, who making a shew that he had need of the good councell and aduice of Lewis of Luxembourg Constable of France, he said, That he wanted his head."

Send. Antonio to me; I want his head in a business: A politicke equivocation— He doth not want your councell, but your head; That is, he cannot sleepe till you be dead. And here's another Pitfall, that's strew'd ore With Roses: marke it, 'tis a cunning one. I stand ingaged for your husband, for severall debts at Naples: let not that trouble him, I had rather have his heart, then his mony.

(f) Camden, of Richard III: "when diverse shires of England offered him a benevolence, hee refused it, saying, I know not in what sence; I had rather have your hearts, than your money."

And I beleeve so too. BOS. What doe you beleeve? D U T C H . That he so much distrusts my husbands love. He will by no meanes beleeve his heart is with him Untill he see it.

(g) Donne: "wee [Jesuits] consider . . . the entrails of Princes, in treasons; whose hearts wee do not beleeue to be with vs, till we see them."

Many of the imitative characteristics already noted recur in this passage. T h e most noteworthy new aspect is Webster's use of historical, or professedly historical, materials, as in (a), (e), and (f). In whole or part, episodes are frequently indebted to such materials, probably far more frequently than the commentary shows, and often for elements modern readers regard as melodramatic. Once again, there is no reason to believe that Webster expected his average spectator to recognize the derivation of most such passages, but he did have the support of "history" for much that may seem incredibly unreal to some of us today. T h e warrant of history may be no artistic justification, especially if the artist seizes only on its most bizarre elements, but it can at least qualify our judgments. No one, I suppose, would object to the Duchess' dream; nevertheless, it is somewhat reinforced and illuminated by its parallel from French history of Webster's own day. Ferdinand's letter, on the other hand, may well seem in the tradition of the wax-mustached villain. Yet the first of its equivocations, according 18

Introduction to Comines, was used successfully by Louis XI, and the second Camden attributes to the traditionally crafty Richard III. Occasionally, Webster bases an episode on fiction (as in D. M. II. ii. 37-49, where Nashe suggests a bit of low comedy), but the soberer elements are commonly suggested by history. Secondly, the passage reflects Webster's infrequent borrowing of a mere phrase while radically changing its context. In such instances, of course, direct indebtedness may sometimes be to another source. Here he appears to have taken "the wilde benefites of nature" (which recurs in Anything for a Quiet Life IV. i. 81-82) from (b). Similar are such expressions as "tumultuary opinion" (W. D. I. ii. 161, from Matthieu), "Under the Eaves of night" (D. M. I. i. 353, from Dekker or Adams), "state of floods" (D. M. III. v. 153, from Shakespeare?), and, with less contextual alteration, "more willinglie 8c more gloriouslie chast" (W. D. I. ii. 91-92, from Montaigne). But most borrowings of this kind, including some of those just cited, are not merely verbal; they involve some degree of metaphor. Thus they resemble the "blanch mischiefe" drawn from (c) and merely reemphasize Webster's attraction to unusual imagery. 11 11 Of this sort are most of the parallels to Hall's Epistles and Characters in The Duchess of Malfi. A source-hunter feels reassured by the notebook borrowing reflected in Webster's much later Monuments of Honour, lines 297-303:

. . . his Faith and Charity Was the true compasse, measur'd every part, And tooke the latitude of his Christian heart; Faith kept the center, Charity walkt this round, Untill a true circumference was found; And may the Impression of this figure strike Each worthy Senator to do the like.

Epistles, IV. vi: "Charitie and Faith make vp one perfect paire of Compasses, that can take the true latitude of a Christian heart: Faith is the one foote, pitcht in the centre vnmoueably, whiles Charitie walkes about, in a perfect circle of beneficence: these two neuer did, neither can goe asunder."

19

Introduction

iii

In the light of the foregoing, we may consider the relevance of such evidence to interpretation and evaluation of the tragedies. Let us take first the usefulness of knowing specific borrowings in Webster, and then the significance of knowing his general method. Not surprisingly, in plays so extensively built out of borrowings, one service performed by a knowledge of sources is the clarification they provide for individual passages. Because of Webster's heavily condensed style, often too cryptic to be readily intelligible, such clarification is frequently desirable, and sources can give us an advantage over the most attentive audience or most careful reader in recognizing Webster's intended meaning. Thus Guazzo, for example, removes Lucas' difficulty with D. M. I. i. 195-198; Dallington largely refutes his interpretation of D. M. III. iii. 61-62; de Serres clarifies for me the obscure metaphor of W. D. III. ii. 171-172. 12 Similarly, where Lucas is understandably puzzled by some seemingly Ovidian allusions in D. Af. III. ii. 31-39, Whetstone accounts for their presence, though he does not answer Lucas' objections. Many further examples might be offered (the commentary on the first scene of The White Devil offers several), and one major purpose of the commentary is to provide illumination of this kind. In no instance, perhaps, is the interpretation of either tragedy as a whole seriously affected by such evidence. But if Webster's tragedies are as great as many critics believe, they deserve to be understood in detail. "Occasionally, however, parallel diction takes on a complete change of meaning. This is apparently true for "pitty would destroy pitty" in D. M. IV. ii. 373, where Webster probably drew on Alexander via his commonplace book, with no recollection of Alexander's original meaning. Such instances are rare. Webster frequently adds to or modifies the sense of his original (as in the added equivocation of D. M. III. ii. «47-248, or the shift from "men" to "women" in D. M. II. v. 44-45), but he rarely eliminates it entirely.

2O

Introduction So too, even when we are not certain of the direct source, our present evidence helps clarify the effect of individual passages upon the learned and unlearned members of a Jacobean audience, by revealing what in thought and expression would appear most "new," what commonplace, what laden with traditional associations. Several examples have been given in the preceding pages, and one may turn to the commentary for more. There is no need to burden the reader here. However, a passage with traditional associations may serve to illustrate a more limited kind of utility. In W. D. I. ii. 307-308, Cornelia protests to her son Flamineo: What? because we are poore, Shall we be vitious? Webster's implied answer is obvious, and must have been so to his audience. It is reinforced, nevertheless, by the Stoic commonplace underlying Cornelia's rhetorical question: "Fortune may bring thee to pouertie, to a lowe estate, it maye afflict thee; but it can neuer force thee to become vicious." T h e source supports the answer; it does not determine it. If The White Devil implied that poverty excuses villainy (just as some critics feel that Vittoria's initial situation partly excuses her evil), no source evidence could alter that implication. T h e controlling guide to interpretation must be the play itself, occasionally supplemented by evidence within Webster's other compositions. We cannot, then, assume a correspondence between the ideas expressed in a source and Webster's own attitude to those ideas as expressed by his characters. In D. M. I. i. 95-106, Castruchio disapproves of princes who lead their soldiers in the field. Ferdinand ridicules this idea, as contrary to the demands of "honor." Now Castruchio's opinion, although a very unconventional one in the Renaissance, is emphatically approved in Webster's source. Since Ferdinand's perverted notions of honor help motivate his subsequent villainy, one may infer that Webster agreed with the source and employed the passage to reveal a fault in Ferdinand. Yet that inference is certainly debatable, and not merely because Castruchio is later treated as a fool. If one can trust the evidence of W. D. II. i. 112-129, A Monumental Column, and the Overburian additions, Webster appears to have agreed with Ferdinand. s1

Introduction Resolution of such difficulties, and there are many, can never be determined by a knowledge of sources—unless on the rather cynical hypothesis that Webster's convictions were often so indeterminate that they varied according to the source he was employing. Only thus could one think he agreed with Guevara while writing Castruchio's speech and in the same year agreed with Matthieu while writing his praise of Prince Henry. 13 Within individual passages, then, sources can frequently clarify an intended meaning, or clarify a probable effect, intentional or not. 14 Only if used with extreme caution can they help clarify Webster's own evaluation of an idea expressed by one of his characters. T h e greatest significance of Webster's borrowings to critical interpretation, however, lies in the relationship of the borrowed passages to the plays as artistic wholes, especially since the plays were probably composed almost wholly with the aid of such borrowings. It is a commonplace of Webster criticism to say that the dramatist, even more than his principal contemporaries in the theater, sometimes concentrated on parts of a play at the expense of the whole. His compositional method encouraged such a practice. Hence certain major characteristics of that method, already briefly described in section ii, require further examination and emphasis. As explained above, Webster used a commonplace book, parts of which were almost certainly arranged simply by author; this will most easily account for the frequent concentration of borrowM It is ironic that Webster chose to dedicate his Monumental Column to Sir Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester. No idea recurs more often in Webster, frequently in borrowed passages, than a distrust of courtly ambition and corruption, especially as reflected in upstarts. Yet he dedicated his memorial to the outstanding "mushroom" of the day, a man whose grasping ambition Prince Henry disliked. Like such great contemporaries as Raleigh, or like his own Flamineo, Webster probably sought, in his own way, the wordly vanities he so effectively dispraised. However, he probably knew less about the dark side of Carr than we know today. The Essex scandal had not yet broken, and Overbury (with whom Webster may have been in some way associated) was still Carr's friend. " I n W. D. V. vi. 80-82, for example, Webster conceivably intended the unusual sense of Matthieu's parallel passage; the audience, however, would surely have taken Flamineo's speech as a conventional stoicism. Usually, distinctions between intended and probable effect involve the freshness of Webster's borrowings rather than their meanings.

88

Introduction ings from a single source, especially when they come from widely separated pages of that source and reflect no single topic. Other parts may well have been arranged by a complex variety of headings, ones that would account for the juxtaposition of (e), (f), and (g) on page 13 above, or for Webster's "unkenneling" four canine images in W. D. V. i. 147-168. The continuity of the dialogue is often provided by links of this latter kind, either in general topic or in key image. Perhaps they only reflect Webster's familiarity with the content of his notebook, but arrangement by categories is more typical of the age and more plausible. One would like to know more, since the organization of his book affected the content of his plays, but extended speculation on the matter appears fruitless until we have more evidence. This much seems virtually certain, however. Although he did make use of some such book, probably for the bulk of his composition, he also worked at times directly from his sources, perhaps only when using them for the first time and when already in the midst of composing a play. T h e Duchess' dream, quoted above on page 17, may be a case in point. It appears probable that Webster first examined Matthieu's memorial to Henry IV when composing his own memorial to Prince Henry, late in 1612. Some time during that year, certainly, was the earliest he could have seen this work of Matthieu. T w o of his many borrowings for A Monumental Column reappear in his Characters, presumably later compositions; both follow Matthieu more closely in their second use. Thus at least in these instances Webster almost surely made entries in his commonplace book. Four borrowings, however, one of which is the Duchess' dream, were used for The Duchess of Malfi, and all for the third act. Quite possibly Webster slipped them directly into the play, either while writing the third act (which he may well have been composing at this time) or after finishing a draft of the entire play.16 Either way—or even if taken from his notebook— the four borrowings have the character of inserts. Like so much in Webster, each is a unit, readily detachable without loss of continuity. But of the four only the Duchess' dream is entirely appropriate to its context. Of the remaining three, by far the worst " See appendix. Several of Webster's known sources for The Duchess of Malfi were first published in 1612; no certain source for the play has a later date.

23

Introduction is Delio's characterization of Bosola in III. iii. 50-52, a functionless satiric intrusion, made worse by expansion and by inconsistency with the play's earlier treatment of both Delio and Bosola. At such moments, surely, Jonson would have had reason to condemn Webster much as he condemned the essayists of the age: These, in all they write, confesse still what bookes they have read last; and therein their own folly, so much, that they bring it to the Stake raw, and undigested: not that the place did need it neither; but that they thought themselves furnished, and would vent it.16 More defensible is Ferdinand's apologue on reputation (III. ii. 145-146), which is introduced by the Duchess' claiming that her "reputation is safe." A short while before, however, Antonio had said that "The comon-rable, do directly say / She is a Strumpet"; and the Duchess (introducing a borrowing from Alexander) had herself told Ferdinand that "a scandalous report, is spread / Touching mine honour." Thus the apologue, effective or not, seems a bit dragged in. As for the fourth borrowing, a cynical observation by Bosola in III. ii. 278-280, aiiy objection may well seem a straining at gnats. But the more one looks at it in context the less appropriate it becomes. My basic point is simple, and not seriously affected by the above distinction between working from a commonplace book and working directly from a source. Obviously, Webster characteristically worked in small units, usually only a line or two in length. The majority of these he must have fitted in during his initial draft of each play. Even then, his imitative method would encourage his concentrating more on the unit at hand than on the work as a whole, or even the scene as a whole. It would encourage, too, his looking at the open page of his notebook for further usable material, some of it only marginally appropriate. Minor misfits would be almost inevitable. Frequently, moreover—how often we can only guess—he expanded his draft by late insertions, and with his mind more intent on the virtues of the addition than on the detail already in the play.17 At such times the danger of imperfect "Discoveries, Not. 6, lines 725-729 (Wks., ed. Herford and Simpson, VIII, 586). 1T Like many plays of the age, The Duchess of Malfi was published "with diuerse things Printed, that the length of the Play would not beare in the presentment." This is probably true also of The White Demi, almost equal in length. It is especially easy with Webster to imagine how cutting might have been effected.

24

Introduction fusion would be still greater. T h e resulting complications to interpretation are of a kind common enough in Elizabethan drama, as even Shakespeare bears witness. But it should be no surprise that they appear more often in Webster's work than in most plays by his fellow dramatists. T a k e one further example. In D. M. IV. ii. 21-22, the Duchess asks Cariola: Do'st thou thinke we shall know one another, In th'other world? T w o hundred lines later (lines 216-218), she betrays no such doubt as she faces death: Who would be afraid on't? • Knowing to meete such excellent company In th'other world. I would not insist that the contrast here defies interpretation. But critical ingenuity may be tempered by remembering that each passage has its distinct source, 18 and that the two speeches may have been inserted in the play at quite different stages in its composition, with Webster unaware of the resulting difficulty. Recently, one Webster critic endeavored to dispose of some of these difficulties by translating them into artistic virtues, the work of an extremely subtle craftsman. Some may be. A t any rate, the concern here is not with the particular conclusions reached by the critic, but instead with his premise. Concerning complications in the characterization of Bosola (which he considers without regard to comparable difficulties not involving Bosola), he says: The old view . . . that Webster is simply careless and / or forgetful, must, I think, be rejected. Certainly we are not justified in accusing a writer of carelessness or incompetence until we have made a sub18 A major part of Webster's commonplace book must have concerned death and the attitudes with which mankind has faced it. One may think of Montaigne, I. xix (ed. 1603, p. 35): "So have I learned this custome or lesson, to have alwayes death not only in my imagination, but continually in my mouth. And there is nothing I desire more to be informed of, then of the death of men: that is to say, what words, what countenance, and what face they shew at their death; and in reading of histories, which I so attentively observe. It appeareth by the shuffling and huddling vp of my examples, I affect no subject so particularly as this. Were I a composer of bookes, I would keepe a register, commented of the diverse deaths, which in teaching men to die, should after teach them to live."

25

Introduction stantial attempt to understand his ambiguous or clouded passages. . . . [The critic then quotes apparently conflicting statements about Bosola from the start of the play.] Almost irreconcilable contradictions seem to be involved, and this has been described as a structural defect resulting from Webster's carelessness. But are we actually justified in assuming that in a space of fifty lines an experienced playwright should forget what he had just written? That is, after all, what we are asked to assume.19 Of course a "substantial attempt" at interpretation is desirable. T h a t others have failed proves nothing. But, given Webster's method of composition, the alternative possibility of imperfect craftsmanship is less incredible than the critic implies. T o desert the task of interpretation would be inexcusable. T o assume, on the other hand, that all difficulties are interpretable to Webster's credit is unwarranted. On the level of consistency in characterization and plot, certainly, some critics have exaggerated the difficulties produced by minor distractions. T h e development of Bosola, in question above, seems to me dramatically convincing and effective despite a few distracting lines in the play that might better have been omitted. T h e same thing is true for all other major characters in the tragedy. Commonly, I repeat, Webster's method encouraged the presence of passages that are at least semiappropriate rather than inappropriate. Almost always their tone suits that of the play, and an audience would rarely be conscious of anything implausible. Typical is the description of Ferdinand in D. M. I. i. 174-183 (already largely traceable to sources): A N T . . . . / He speakes with others Tongues, and heares mens suites, With others Eares: will seem to sleepe o'th bench Onely to intrap offenders, in their answeres; Doombes men to death, by information, Rewards, by heare-say. DEL. Then the Law to him Is like a fowle blacke cob-web, to a Spider— He makes it his dwelling, and a prison T o entangle those shall feede him. is g . C. Thayer, " T h e Ambiguity of Bosola," SP, L1V (April, 1957), 163-164.

26

Introduction T h e tone is thoroughly Websterian. T h e content, at this early stage of the tragedy, cannot distract anyone as irrelevant. Yet, actually, it has little strict relevance to the subsequent development of the play. It describes a species of unjust prince or magistrate, irresponsible and selfish in his distribution of rewards and punishments, an abuser of law very familiar to readers of Webster. But how much has this to do with the tragedy? Ferdinand will employ Bosola for "information," but not in the sense here described. T h e Duchess will be banished Ancona through a perversion of legal justice, influenced by her brothers. Delio's concluding lines on the "prison / T o entangle those shall feede him" may be associated with the unjust doom of the Duchess, and with her final words before being strangled: Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out, They then may feede in quiet. Critical ingenuity may reflect Webster's own in proceeding thus, at least at times.20 Perhaps I seem a William Archer in looking for relevance and unity of a more literal kind. Modern critics who stress the "poetic" unity of the best Jacobean drama may find the above description of Ferdinand admirably appropriate, for just such reasons as I have indicated. I almost do myself. But it bears little comparison with the integration of an Othello or a King Lear. In contrast, the more one examines the opening scene of The White Devil the more appropriate it becomes as a thematic prologue to that play, one introducing the world of the tragedy, the kind of creatures who inhabit it, the values that pervade it. Largely built out of already traceable borrowings, this scene is an excellent example of Webster's frequent skill in fusing his materials. One cannot speak so admiringly, however, of all facets of Webster's borrowing in this earlier tragedy. As with The Duchess of Malfi, some of the difficulties produced by borrowed passages can be convincingly interpreted to Webster's credit; others cannot. There is little reason to admire, for example, Webster's late "One might work similarly with Antonio's opening speech on the necessity of exemplary behavior in the courts of princes, a theme more effectively developed in The White Devil. But Antonio's speech can be made appropriate only with considerable strain.

27

Introduction treatment of Monticelso. Historically, Cardinal Montalto's election to the papal chair had serious consequences for Brachiano and Vittoria. Within the play we are given reasons to expect a comparable development for his counterpart, Monticelso. These culminate in the pageantry-laden papal election of IV. iii, shaped out of borrowings from Segar and Bignon. T h e scene is good theater of a kind, and dramatically useful if the new pope is to be of importance to the remainder of the play. But what happens? T h e new Paul IV immediately takes two actions, and then disappears forever from the play, of no more significance than his dead nephew. First, he excommunicates Brachiano and Vittoria. Unlike the comparable event in history, however, this act has no consequences whatever. N o one later mentions it, and even the papal ambassadors attend Brachiano's wedding, perhaps unwilling to waste their festive costumes. Like many a less developed episode in the play, the excommunication proves a temporarily suspenseful dead end. Secondly, with the aid of borrowings, the new pope vigorously condemns the blood revenge he suspects Francisco has undertaken. T h e r e is no hint of hypocrisy. But the dramatic effectiveness of his disapproval is muddled by his previous Machiavellian recommendations to seek just such a revenge (in IV. i, again aided by borrowings). T h u s IV. i and IV. iii extend in opposite directions the characterization of Monticelso earlier in the play. In III. ii, the cardinal had achieved by legal means his revenge against Vittoria for her infidelity to his nephew. Thereafter, Webster was apparently anxious to shift to the ingenious revenge against Brachiano pursued by Francisco with his "Franciscans." He was not anxious enough, however, to forego the splendor of a papal election. Bignon's Election of Popes did not compel the inclusion of the scene, of course. But there is reason to suspect, in Jonson's terms, that Webster felt "furnished and would vent it," disadvantages notwithstanding. Meanwhile, he paid little attention to consistency in Monticelso's characterization. W e have, on the other hand, excellent reason to admire Webster's use of borrowings for a far more important figure, Flamineo. Here, somewhat greater detail is necessary if my point is to be made at all. Since this talkative villain speaks more than a fourth of the lines in the play—even when he catches his "everlasting could" he can hardly stop talking—and since already a great many 28

Introduction of these lines are traceable to sources, he is certainly a major product of Webster's imitative method, good or bad. 21 Partly because his role allows him only peripheral activity in the first twothirds of the play (Acts I - I V by modern act divisions), partly because so much of his talk is sententious commentary concerning others, critics have regarded him as less central, less worthy of attention, and far less challenging to interpretation, than his fascinating sister. He has seldom been thought a consistently developed character, and little attempt has been made to interpret him as one. Tradition has instead tended to bifurcate him into an imperfectly conceived combination of dramatic types—malcontent and tool-villain—or by some similar means to deny him dramatic identity. Admittedly, he presents problems from the start. He is, we soon learn, an ambitious young man seeking advancement through Brachiano. W e might expect him, then, to heighten the value of his pandering services by stressing the virtue of Vittoria and the difficulty of attaining her. He does just the opposite. Almost at once, while addressing his "unwisely amorous" master, he spews forth cynical sententiae on the lustful hypocrisy of women generally, Vittoria included. These speeches are drawn mainly from Montaigne, and may well be late inserts. Are they signs of Webster's bad craftsmanship, or of Flamineo's complexity? In the light of the whole play, I choose the latter. In these initial speeches his cynical joviality allows him to minimize the evil of his activity, to affect a nonchalance in evil he thinks a sign of sophistication, and to pretend (in vain) an easy familiarity with Brachiano as of two men of the world conversing with one another. A great deal of Flamineo's borrowed chatter (other than what he uses for conscious disguise, as in III. iii) may be so explained. He hides behind a façade, one so habitual that he is scarcely aware of it. What he says is often unwise, practically speaking; in speech and action Flamineo is the most imprudent and incompetent "Machivillian" in all drama. A n apprentice "polititian," who sees in the behavior 11 Contrast the distribution of lines in The Duchess of Malfi (where the Duchess, despite her early death, speaks almost as much as Bosola) and in the tragedies of Shakespeare, Jonson, and Beaumont and Fletcher. Statistics are given in T . W. Baldwin, The Organization and Personnel of the Shakespearean Company (Princeton, 1937), plates opposite pp. 198, aa8, 435.

29

Introduction of the great the key to worldly success, he is a lover of craft with too turbulent a spirit to be successfully crafty. It is strange to find Miss Bradbrook calling such a creature "largely an author's mouthpiece," 22 or Lucas crediting him with "that shrewd disillusion and freedom from all cant which Webster himself clearly loved to find in men" (ed. Lucas, I, 98). Yet something of the kind appears in almost every critic. Leech often refers to Flamineo's serving as a "chorus," "a kind of image of the dramatist himself," "of all men the least deceived" (pp. 47, 49, et passim). Bogard begins his generally perceptive analysis by saying that "the character of Flamineo is determined partly by his dramatic function as chorus for the author: he must be objective in the extreme" (p. 61). It would be truer to say that Flamineo is of all men the most deceived, the least objective, in really essential matters, and that much of his cynicism is but an inverted species of cant. His vision has at best the clarity of an Iago, Edmund, or Goneril, of all those who believe "the text is foolish." He knows neither himself, his fellows, nor the world. A n d his "wisdom" is refuted by the play. W h e n the totality of the play implies the contrary, we should not assume that Webster meant to imply any agreement with the cynical sententiae he borrowed for his malcontents, any more than we should feel that Shakespeare thought life "a tale told by an idiot." Sometimes, a relatively minor matter, critics make Flamineo a chorus when he expresses opinions they share, as must inevitably happen on occasion. T h u s most cite his final praise of Vittoria's "masculine virtue," although, if they admire Vittoria's "love" for Brachiano, they ignore Flamineo's repeated and prophetic assertions to the contrary. More serious, they note his choric function in expressing a view of life or the world. Such are his sententious observations at the end of the play, drawn from Alex* ander: Man may his Fate foresee, but not prevent. 'Tis better to be fortunate then wise. "This busie trade of life appeares most vaine, "Since rest breeds rest, where all seeke paine by paine. 22

Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge, 1935), p. 193.

30

Introduction Such sententiae (the first two of which are proverbial) might plausibly be applied to The Duchess of Malfi, a tragedy far more complex in its distinctions between good and evil, and one permeated by the element of fortune. The White Devil is another matter. Thus we can view such fruits of Webster's borrowing, especially the first two of the passages quoted above, in two ways. If, like many critics, we regard Flamineo as choric, we get artistic chaos. The action of the play has stemmed from the conscious defiance of morality by the central trio. Like Lodovico's outbursts in the initial scene, their evasions of responsibility should not be interpreted as Webster's. Flamineo moved from the first with a thoroughly perverted system of values, complicated by an inability he did not recognize to practice the politic art he so admired. After failure, he does not come to wisdom (except in conceding that his life "was a blacke charnell"), but only to disillusion. The play scarcely implies that "it's better to be wise than fortunate"; nevertheless, Flamineo is very wrong in suggesting that he was himself wise but unfortunate. In short, I prefer regarding Webster as an effective dramatist who intentionally made muddled characters, rather than as a dramatist whose own view of the action was incredibly muddled. This is my preference, when interpretation allows it. Flamineo does. Just as the separate stages of his rise and fall are treated more fully than are those of his fellow protagonists, Brachiano and Vittoria, so too in his characterization he is the most completely, complexly, and consistently developed of the three. For the success of his portrayal Webster had first to thank the clarity and humanity of his own governing conception. His second thanks must go to his sources, which provided passage after passage for this most talkative of villains. Clearly, both Webster's merits and deficiencies are in part attributable to his imitative method. It encouraged his artistic vices, and made possible some of the virtues for which he is justly famous.

Introduction

IV

Thus far in this study there has been no need to labor the distinction between direct sources and strong parallels. Ideally, of course, we would like to know for every paralleled passage Webster's immediate source, especially because we might thereby discover further passages attributable to the same work and thus gain not only a more accurate but also a more complete view of Webster's creative process. Such additional knowledge would be valuable. But as far as our present knowledge is concerned, for most purposes discussed in the previous pages it does not make a great deal of difference whether a particular parallel indicates a direct source or only the sign of one. Where the parallel is verbatim, the difference is least. Where the similarity is less literal, our interest increases. Take the Cardinal's reflection in D. M. V. v. 5-7: When I looke into the Fish-ponds, in my Garden, Me thinkes I see a thing, arm'd with a Rake That seemes to strike at me. Here, according to Bogard (p. 47), "Webster bares the horrible psychological effects of [the Cardinal's] deeds on the man's inner being. T h e enigmatic image of the shapeless thing 'arm'd with a Rake' beggars analysis." Similarly, a half-century ago, Rupert Brooke approved the passage as "one of those pieces of imagination one cannot explain, only admire." 23 Neither critic was aware that the passage stems ultimately from Capitolinus' life of the virtuous Pertinax, perhaps merely as alluded to in Lavater's Of Ghostes and Spirites Walking by Nyght, trans. R. H. (1572, 1596), I. xii, p. 61: "Iulius Capitolinus . . . reporteth, that Pertinax for ye space of three dayes before he was slayne by a thrust, sawe a cer" John Webster & the Elizabethan

Drama (London, 1916), p. 100.

3«

Introduction tayne shaddowe in one of his fishepondes, whiche with a sword ready drawen threatened to slay him, and thereby much disquieted him." Lavater is a perfectly possible source. Lodowick Lloyd's repetition of Lavater in The Pilgrimage of Princes is equally possible. It makes little difference. Either way, we recognize the peril of praising Webster's genius in specific passages without taking into consideration his method of composing them. T h e realization that he was adapting material to his own use should not disturb our admiration for the dramatic effectiveness of the Cardinal's speech, but it must obviously alter the grounds of our admiration for the dramatist. Even though we are not certain of its immediate source, this speech already "beggars analysis" far less than do most famous passages in Elizabethan drama. It is a "piece of imagination" we can explain to a considerable degree. And should we some day discover a version linking the specter to guilty consciences, or employing both "thing" (cf. Shakespeare's use of the word, in Hamlet for example) and "rake" (pitchfork?), our admiration would be still further qualified. Meanwhile, we must be satisfied with our present knowledge, accepting Lavater and Lloyd as possible sources (especially since each has further parallels to Webster) but neither as an unmistakable one. Like so many of the authors cited in the commentary, they have their value, limited though it is. A second illustration, however, indicates the kind of passage for which we have far greater reason to desire knowing Webster's specific source. Early in her famous death scene, the Duchess of Malfi says: Th'heaven ore my head, seemes made of molten brasse, The earth of flaming sulphure, yet I am not mad. Almost every Jacobean would surely have recalled Deuteronomy xxviii. 23, cited again and again in religious literature of the day: " A n d the heaven that is over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that is under thee shall be iron." Few could have dissociated the passage from its Biblical context, that of God's punishment to sinners. Some would interpret the lines in the commonest way, as signifying a time of barrenness. Others would take the more terrifying view of the popular William Perkins, in discussing repentance, that God's wrath is the pain above, hell-fire the pain below (cf. Webster's "flaming sulphure"). Either way the passage 33

Introduction is important to our interpretation of the scene, and of the Duchess' action generally. Now conceivably, but only conceivably, Webster for this particular passage drew directly upon the Bible. Everything we know of his general practice (see below, p. 42) suggests that he did not. Conceivably, at the opposite extreme, he borrowed from some source where the lines were stripped of any allusion to their Biblical context, and he intended no religious implications whatever in the Duchess' speech. Ironically, in this instance we know more concerning the probable reaction of the audience than we do about Webster's own intention. T o feel thoroughly confident of the latter, it would surely be helpful to know his immediate source. In general, however, a strong parallel is very nearly as useful as is a certain source in interpreting the plays and illuminating the method by which they were written. A more precise knowledge is desirable (1) whenever, for individual passages, Webster appears to have altered radically either the application or the wording of his supposed source, and we wish to credit him with the virtues of these apparent alterations; (2) whenever the possible source affects our dating of Webster's composition, or may help to ascertain his share in collaborated works; and (3) when we wish to determine the scope of Webster's reading—the areas of his literary interest, the degree of his learning, and the like. Of these three, the first can be considered in detail only in the commentary, although some general precautions are suggested in the remainder of this present section. T h e second, being of minor interest to the general reader, I have largely relegated to an appendix. T h e third is the subject of the next section of this introduction. Before commencing that section, it seems necessary to clarify some of the problems involved in deciding what works, and what passages within those works, may safely be regarded as direct sources. First of all, the possibility of any work's being a direct source for Webster's tragedies is obviously limited by their dates of publication, 1612 for The White Devil and 1623 for The Duchess of Malfi (always remembering that 1612 may well mean early 1613, and 1623, early 1624). One may consider in individual instances the possibility that Webster saw a work prior to its publication, or saw a published version that is no longer extant, but indebtedness by either means should be regarded as extremely improbable 34

Introduction unless there is strong evidence to the contrary. Almost equally improbable, in terms of what we now know about the dates of composition for these tragedies, is any work later than 1610 for The White Devil or, at the latest, 1613 for The Duchess of Malfi, although each play may have received some late additions. T h e most plausible sources, generally speaking, are among the works published or republished in London near the start of the seventeenth century. With earlier works, the possibility of an intermediate source increases, especially if the work has been popular in the past, while the probable accessibility of the work itself tends to decrease. Probability is affected, too, by what we already know concerning Webster's tastes as a borrower—considerations involving literary genre, style, land of origin, and the like—generic matters treated in the next section. But in no case would such considerations exclude a work from being regarded as a source, provided the evidence within the work were sufficiently strong; instead, we would have to modify our general notions about Webster's practice. What, then, constitutes strong internal evidence? Because most Renaissance authors operated in some measure within the tradition of imitation, almost every Elizabethan or Jacobean work of any length provides parallels to Webster—especially parallels in idea, but often in expression as well. Euphues offers dozens. Hence the primary requisite for sound attribution is as wide a reading as possible in the literature available to Webster, ideally a reading full enough to recognize for every work its degree of "originality" and, what is more important, to recognize for every Webster parallel the degree of possibility or probability that direct indebtedness lies elsewhere. One should be familiar with at least the major sources for the age, both ancient and modern, domestic and foreign. One should be able to recognize not only obvious commonplaces in thought and diction but also those which are relatively rare, often peculiar to some single segment of the age's literature. Only with such qualifications can one rapidly eliminate from consideration works containing only commonplace parallels (as with Euphues) or works whose seemingly striking parallels are attributable to another author (as with Lennard's translation of Charron, or some works of Marston, where Webster's direct source 35

Introduction is Montaigne; indeed, Montaigne and Sidney appear almost as frequently in Jacobean literature as do Seneca, Cicero, or Plutarch). A limited number of works are unmistakably immediate sources for Webster. Individual passages within these works may vary in their degree of probability as source passages, but the works as wholes admit no serious question. T h e simplest explanation consonant with all available evidence should be the accepted one, and it is impossible to believe that Webster found in other works even a majority of the passages paralleled in such authors as Sidney, Montaigne, Guazzo, Alexander, or Matthieu, even when we find that in varying degrees each of these writers borrowed from others and was in turn a source for some of Webster's contemporaries. T h e indications of Webster's direct indebtedness are too extensive and too varied. Several other works are virtually as certain. Although the number of striking parallels not otherwise accountable is smaller, it is easier to believe in Webster's direct indebtedness than to accept any alternate hypothesis. This is true for works by Camden, Donne, Hall, Montreux, Nashe, and Whetstone, to name some of the clearest. With others, we have greater reason for doubt. Take two examples, one early and one late, the first used by many writers as a source, the second using many writers for sources. Antonio de Guevara was one of the most widely read of sixteenth-century authors, both in England and on the Continent. His Diall of Princes, as translated by Sir Thomas North, had three editions in the half-century before Webster began to write plays, and a fourth in 1619. Eight or ten strong parallels make it unquestionable that this work was either directly or indirectly a source for Webster. T h e number of parallels is small for a work as long as Guevara's; the relevant passages are scattered to an unusual degree throughout Webster's compositions; in half the parallels the verbal similarities are unusually slight for direct borrowings. Hence, considering Guevara's popularity in the age, Webster's indebtedness may well be to some intermediate work or works. Barring future discoveries to account for at least some of the best parallels, however, the Diall must be considered a probable source. Secondly, take the earliest published sermon by Thomas Adams. T h e few pages of The Gallants Burden ('1612) seem to have provided five passages 36

Introduction for The Duchess of Malfi. T h e date, the concentration of passages within both Adams and Webster, the rarity of the elements involved in the parallels—all these make Adams appear an unmistakable source. T r u e , no other sermons, by anyone, have thus far been proposed as direct sources. N o matter. Adams, one may conjecture, indicates an unexplored vein in source materials. But this famous preacher, praised by Southey as a "prose Shakespeare," should rather have been called a prose Webster. While cursorily examining his early sermons I encountered frequent obvious borrowings, unacknowledged, from Donne's Anniversaries, Bacon's Essays, three works of Hall, and the Overburian characters, including Webster's additions. T h e extent of his borrowings must have been quite as remarkable as Webster's own. Moreover, of the five parallels between The Gallants Burden and The Duchess of Malfi, unusual though they are, one occurs in Hall's Epistles, another in Dekker's Whore of Babylon, and both the latter works are apparent sources for Webster's tragedy. 24 Nothing, either contextually or verbally, makes Adams in these instances appear either more or less probable a direct source than Hall or Dekker. If the remaining three parallels stand the test of time, without being traced to still other sources for Webster, we will have to consider Adams a probable source for at least three passages. I shall never do so, however, without considerable misgiving. Essentially, the problem posed by Adams is no more extraordinary than that posed by Guevara. Each illustrates a common difficulty—Guevara, the work with possible intermediate sources; Adams, the one with possible sources shared in common. One must be content to speak in terms of probabilities rather than certainties. What, then, of the work with still fewer signs of possible borrowing? What of the single brief but striking parallel in Dallington's View of Fraunce? Elyot's Image of Governance? in such longer and more widely read works as The Faerie Queene, Harington's Ariosto, Fairfax's Tasso? or in the learned and sober Lawes of Ecclesiastical Polity? T h e parallels are too strong to be merely coincidental. In each instance direct indebtedness is entirely possible, and if unchallenged by time may even be considered fairly probable. Given the literary practices of the day, however, intermediate sources seem at least equally plausible as explanations of 34

Cf. commentary on D. M. I. i. 352-353, V. ii. 337-338.

37

Introduction the existing parallels. T i m e , perhaps, will tell. Meanwhile, one must remember that certainty, although desirable, is of no great importance. T h e parallels in question are in most instances so literal that no intermediate source could be materially closer. And, even if one assumes each work to be a direct source, the single parallel is too isolated within the length of that work to indicate Webster's familiarity with the work as a whole. Certainty of attribution would not radically affect our notions of Webster's creative process or of his literary interests. So much for the problem of what works may be regarded as immediate sources. Closely related is the problem of Webster's indebtedness to specific passages within those works. For many parallels, attribution is obvious, virtually certain; for most, it is reasonably clear. T h e degree of probability depends on such considerations as the following, preferably in combination. In general, the strongest single sign of indebtedness to a marginal parallel is the presence of more certain borrowings either nearby in the source, or nearby in Webster, or both. Beyond this, one must rely on one's awareness of what is genuinely unusual in the parallel. T h e idea or image may in itself be rare, though its verbal formulation shares little with Webster's. T h e specific application may be rare, though the idea or image is otherwise common. T h e wording may have striking parallels, though in the passage as a whole it is dissimilar. There may be an extremely unusual phrase (as in the instances cited above, p. 19), or, in longer parallels, either identical key words at more than one crucial point or identical phraseology at a single point. T h e commentary provides endless illustrations for each of these situations, and for almost every possible combination of them. As already observed, accurate attribution is often of greatest interest where Webster's apparent alterations are most extensive. Tests such as those just named determine the degree of probability fairly well. In practice, however, several "probable" instances of indebtedness have already proved mistaken. Others will surely prove vulnerable in the future, and wide reading continues to be the only safeguard. T w o examples will give final emphasis to this basic necessity. Both reflect the imitative practices of the age, the first that of a Webster source, the second primarily that of Webster himself. William Alexander's Monarchic}*re Tragedies are as certain a 38

Introduction source for Webster as any we know. Parts of his four closet dramas, not surprisingly, have classical origins. These prove but a slight complication, one necessary to consider for most of Webster's sources. Borrowings from the infinitude of Renaissance works, however, are far more difficult to trace. My impression in reading Alexander was of a predominantly "original" author, as far as indebtedness to his contemporaries was concerned. Yet in at least one instance my impression was very wrong. In Croesus III. ii, lines 1275-1304 are carefully adapted from Sidney's popular story of Argalus and Parthenia (Arcadia, III. xii; Wks., I, 421). Sometimes Alexander follows his source with no more change than his verse form demands. Sometimes he merely parallels the idea, retaining little or none of the language. Webster, apparently, followed the same practice in using the Monarchicke Tragedies. But, especially when the Alexander-Webster parallels are least verbal, was the source really Alexander? If it was Sidney, we can ascertain the fact easily enough. If not, may not some other work, as yet undiscovered, have been the source for both Alexander and Webster? In turn, when a parallel between Webster and the Arcadia seems of special interest because of Webster's changes, was the immediate source really Sidney? Or was it some one of that author's many imitators? Alexander already accounts for a few passages previously attributed to Sidney, Matthieu for ones attributed to Montaigne, and so on. One must continue to apply tests, and to speak in terms of probabilities, but wide reading must be our fundamental surety. T h e need is made still greater by Webster's observable practice in passages we can trace. T a k e an extreme example. T h e following two passages from minor works are almost certainly by Webster: Hee understands in warre, there is no meane to erre twice; the first and least fault beeing sufficient to ruine an Army. [1Characters, "A worthy Commander," lines 17-19] . . . in the election of a Wife, As in a project of War, to erre but once, Is to be undone for ever. [Anything for a Quiet Life I. i. 18-20] As everyone knows, Webster frequently repeats himself. Thus, understandably, Lucas cites the parallel between these two passages as one piece of evidence for Webster's authorship of the second. 39

Introduction His conclusion is right, but his grounds were mistaken. He did not realize, in the first place, that both passages reflect an ancient sententia ("Non licet bis in bello peccare"), recorded in such Renaissance collections as the Apophthegmata and Adagia of Erasmus, and appearing in translation fairly frequently in works of the sixteenth century. But it would be very mistaken to suppose that Webster originated the elaborations quoted above, or that they are variant adaptations of a single source. T h e first is from a work used frequently in Webster's tragedies—the General Inventorie of de Serres-Matthieu, page 886: Scipio said, that a Generall of an army must be well aduised what he doth, for in matters of Warre there is no meanes to erre twise, the first fault being sufficient to ruine an Army. And the second is from a minor source for The Devil's Burghley's Certaine Precepts (1617), page 5:

Law-Case—

For it is in the choyce of a Wife, as in a proiect of Warre, wherein to erre but once, is to be undone for euer. In most instances, even where his indebtedness to a specific source is most certain, Webster does not borrow as literally as this; his alterations are usually of more interest. But for that very reason the attribution of sources is often open to question, subject to the test of time and further reading. N o wonder that the commentary sometimes sounds like a Play of the Foure P's: presumably, probably, possibly, and perhaps.

v

While we cannot assume that Webster read only those works from which he borrowed, his general practice does suggest that any fairly long work he read would reveal at least a trace of indebtedness. Conversely, we have even less reason to assume that he actually read, in detail, all works from which he borrowed. He appears to 40

Introduction have browsed widely, and often, sensibly enough, merely glanced through books, pausing to read when something usable caught his eye. T h e probability that Webster read a work thoroughly varies with the length of the work, the number of borrowings, and the distribution of those borrowings within the work. On this basis Webster appears to have read, and read intensively, the whole of the Arcadia; he must have shared the admiration of his age for this wittiest and best of Elizabethan narratives and courtesy books. With comparable care he apparently read three of Alexander's four Monarchicke Tragedies, the three books of Pettie's Guazzo (but not a fourth, translated by Young, included in the 1586 edition), Matthieu's fifth of a thousand-page French chronicle (but not the preceding four-fifths by de Serres), and several shorter works. As the ratio between length of work and number of borrowings decreases, the probability of Webster's careful reading decreases. It is hard to believe, for example, that the few parallels to Montreux reflect his having read the entire length of the dreary Honours Academie, despite its thread of narrative. The same is true for the prolix Diall of Princes, though it is more plausible that he read the first three books, where all the parallels occur, than the fourth, added in editions from 1568 on. Montaigne, with almost forty certain borrowings, presents a somewhat special problem, and one of particular import because Montaigne's influence on his time is of so great interest to literary historians. Of the more than a hundred essays in Florio's 664 folio pages, Webster shows an indebtedness to no more than twenty, and shows no evidence that he read extensively in the longer of these. In many instances—but this, admittedly, may be only coincidence—he borrowed passages in italics or immediately adjacent to italics, passages that would readily catch his eye while skimming. More significant, perhaps, the essays on which he drew most heavily were ones already used by Marston. There is no reason to be puzzled that both dramatists should be attracted to an essay entitled "That our desires are encreased by difficultie" (II. xv), but why should both so frequently employ "Upon some verses of Virgil" (III. ix)? And why, on occasion, should they borrow identical passages? 25 Surely Webster was here influenced 86 See, for example, on W. D. I. ii. 21-22 (from Montaigne, II. xv, and used in Sophonisba) and on D. M. V. iii. 10-12 (from III. ix, and used in The Fawn).

41

Introduction by Marston, or even used Marston's copy of Montaigne. His borrowings from the essays are numerous, undeniably; nevertheless, had he read the essays in detail he would almost certainly have made greater use of them, for they are rich in the very kinds of material he found elsewhere. In her very provocative study of the dramatist, Miss Anderson wrote: "Such writers as Montaigne . . . stirred Webster not only by a fine phrase or a neat apophthegm, but by the very stuff of their thought. This sort of imitation is far more illuminating than verbal parallels." 26 Unfortunately, we can draw very few inferences of this kind. Several of the illustrations Miss Anderson used to show Montaigne's "illuminating" influence are now traceable to other writers, and there is no reason whatever to believe that Webster was attracted to his actual sources by his reading the essayist. One would get into similar difficulties, I believe, in trying to trace the intellectual influence on Webster of any of his sources. Most of the ideas in his work were in some degree commonplaces of the age; what clearly attracted him in his reading were effective formulations of those ideas. Remembering, then, that Webster's borrowing from a work need not imply a careful reading of that work, we can say a little about what books he did or did not find directly useful for his purposes as a writer. First, it seems possible to exclude the Bible. Strong verbal parallels are few; allusions are only slightly more common. Admittedly, for the two clearest echoes (in W. D. IV. ii. 122-124 and D. M. IV. ii. 27-28) we know no intermediate sources. Nevertheless, in the light of Webster's general practice, direct indebtedness to Scripture is extremely improbable. He may have been very familiar with the Bible, for all we know, or amazingly unfamiliar for a man of that era. At any rate, his few echoes and allusions are probably indirect. He found "Labans sheepe" in Whetstone, Samson's foxes in one of a dozen pamphlets, "the great Hebrew Generall" in Matthieu, and so on.27 With greater peril we may exclude the vast area of classical 23

Marcia L e e Anderson, " J o h n Webster's The

Malfi"

White

Devil

and The

Duchess

of

(unpublished P h . D . dissertation, D u k e University, 1940), p. 22.

" For these three examples see commentary on D. M. I. i. 329, III. iii. 46, and Char., " C o m m a n d e r , " line 35.

42

Introduction literature, that primary source for so many Elizabethans. So sweeping a statement is of course dangerous; it may well reflect the limits of my reading rather than Webster's. But no evidence thus far discovered suggests that he employed any of the ancients directly, either in the original or in translation. T h e probable reason is obvious. For Webster's purposes, the "best" could be found more readily in contemporary literature, itself often drawing on Renaissance collections of adages, apophthegms, and the like. There are still a number of Websterian parallels to the classics, especially to the prose of Seneca and Plutarch, for which we know no more direct source, but all the evidence again points to their being at second hand—and often taken with no awareness of their classical origin. W. D. I. ii. 200-202, for example, is clearly based ultimately on Seneca, De Clementia 24. 1; we do not know whether Webster or someone else first shifted the application from cruel princes to cruel ladies: V I T . Sure Sir a loathed crueltie

Non

in Ladyes

minus

principi

turpia

sunt

multa supplicia q u a m medico m u l t a

Is as to Doctors m a n y funeralls:

funera.

It takes away their credit.

Frequently, what Lucas believed to be a mistranslation or a confused reminiscence of some classical source has proved to be a direct borrowing from some contemporary, who may or may not have had the classical parallel in mind.28 As for Webster's Latin tags, so frequent in his prefatory addresses and so rare in the plays themselves, intermediate Renaissance sources account for enough of them to indicate once again his general procedure. 29 It is tempting to exclude a third category: Renaissance works in any version other than an English one. As Webster observed in the final verses prefixing Munday's translation of Palmerin of England (part three, 1602): Translation is a traffique of high price: It brings all learning in one Paradise. 28

See, for example, on W. D., " T o the Reader," lines 28-32; also I. ii. 153.

M

This is at least true for The White Devil. In prefacing the two later plays for

publication in 1623 he five times quotes from the first book of Horace's Epistles, and quotes from no one else. Perhaps in this case he worked directly from Horace.

43

Introduction All the evidence we have indicates Webster's preference for reading his Italian, French, or Spanish in translation—through North, Pettie, Painter, Florio, Grimeston, Tofte, and the rest. The preference may well have been more than a preference; it may have been a necessity. But I have read far too little among the untranslated works of the Continent to speak with any assurance. Recently, it has been suggested that Webster knew the second part of Don Quixote either in its original or in a French translation (see appendix); I do not think the evidence convincing, but I cannot at present refute it. As for Renaissance works in Latin, a language with which Webster clearly had some familiarity, only one has thus far been effectively proposed as a source. The Latin of the "Franciscans" in W. D. V. iii. 1 3 5 - 1 4 5 appears clearly to come from "Funus," one of Erasmus' colloquies. Perhaps this reflects no more than Webster's reading in the schools; perhaps it implies an entire area of unexplored sources; perhaps, somehow, he obtained the Latin from an English source, or from a colleague, or looked it up after reading the English translation of 1607. At present, one can only guess. In addition, there are a few parallels in the Apophthegmata for which I know no English versions, but these are probably as traceable potentially as are the untraced parallels from the classics. We can next distinguish crudely in terms of prose and verse. Webster seems to have worked very little with nondramatic poetry —perhaps mainly, as Lucas suggests, because he found prose easier to adapt than rhyme. The thirty years since the appearance of Lucas' edition have done nothing to alter this general impression. We still know very few such sources, none of them at all extensive: Ariosto's Satyres, doubly attractive as translation and as satire; 30 Donne's anonymous Anniversaries, apparently read when Webster was busy composing his own memorial poem (but the work must have attracted attention rapidly, for many echoes of it appear in the following decade); probably two short poems included in Chapman's Petrarchs Seven Penitential Psalms, the principal one being a version of the satiric Virgilian epigram on " A great Man"; perhaps Hudson's Judith, Warner's Albions England, and a few more with parallels not otherwise accountable at present. Interestingly, almost all these borrowings, and possible "Perhaps trebly attractive, since the 1611 edition adds two marginal allusions by Tofte to the tragedy of Brachiano. See appendix, note 1.

44

Introduction borrowings, from verse appear in The Duchess of Malfi. Perhaps they reflect some change in Webster's reading. But whether or not he ever read widely in poetry, he borrowed rarely. As Lucas observes, even in his favorite source, Sidney's Arcadia, he made little use, if any, of the verse. Astrophel and Stella furnishes one clear borrowing, as if the line happened to catch Webster's eye while he leafed through the remainder of the Arcadia folio; two other parallels in the sonnet sequence, both based on the classics, are probably coincidental. Thus, insofar as Webster's imitation is evidence of his reading, we have little indication that he read the most famous poetry of his age, that of Spenser, or Daniel, or Drayton, or such translations as Fairfax's Tasso, Harington's Ariosto, and Sylvester's D u Bartas. He betrays little interest, if any, in the longer Elizabethan and Jacobean poems, whether of history, fiction, or moral philosophy, and whether sober or erotic. T h e same thing is true of the age's sonnets and lyrics, and, more surprisingly, of its epigrams and verse satires. But it is impossible, or at least impractical, to continue such a catalogue of negative evidence. Indeed, several of the generalizations just made demand some slight qualification. T h e commentary includes a very few parallels from Daniel and Drayton, but none strong enough to suggest a probable direct borrowing. More perplexing, though perhaps not greatly so, is the strong parallel to Fairfax in M. C., lines 85-88; to Harington in W. D. III. iii. 2; to Sylvester in W. D. IV. i. 22-23—all solitary parallels in lengthy works. T r u e , Webster did use extensively the merely semidramatic verse of Alexander's tragedies, though he borrowed from no other closet dramas I have seen. Understandably, most of Alexander's abab verse was converted to couplets, though less frequently when used for the less couplet-laden Duchess of Malfi. Many of the unbraced couplets in Webster may have similar verse origins. 31 Of his indebtedness to his fellows in the theater I must neces11 To be more precise, The White Devil has almost one hundred couplets, slightly more than half of which are sententious. The Duchess of Malfi has only forty, but thirty-three of these are sententious, a far higher percentage. For Webster's earlier tragedy all but one of the dozen or more dearest borrowings from Alexander are worked into couplets; in the later play, although ten of the borrowings are used in couplets, an almost equal number conceal their aphoristic quality by being made personal and dramatic elements in the blank verse. All the Alexander-derived couplets are sententious, except for one in the earlier play, two in the later one.

45

Introduction sarily be brief. There are a good many parallels and dubious echoes, especially to Shakespeare, but relatively few clear signs of direct verbal borrowing.32 As already noted, some passages once thought to be from other playwrights now prove to stem from sources shared in common, or to coincidental resemblances for which Webster's passage can be traced. His plays were undoubtedly influenced by the successes and failures of his fellow dramatists, true. Whose were not? But as far as specific indebtedness for specific passages is concerned, I doubt that Webster was any more extensive a borrower from other dramatists than was Fletcher or Massinger or many another Jacobean. He seems mainly to have borrowed fragments of dramatic dialogue akin to the apophthegms he found elsewhere; occasionally he took imagery, and, very rarely, sententiae. Even for the sententious Sejanus, the play that most obviously reveals Webster's verbal imitation, this statement holds true. Regarding Sejanus Webster clearly used the printed quarto, for he drew also upon its prefatory material. Another of Jonson's plays presents an interesting complication, one necessitating a partial digression from the subject of Webster's reading. Jonson's The Devil is an Ass was acted in 1616 but not published until 1631. Several unmistakable parallels appear in The Devil's Law-Case, parallels too striking and too numerous to be merely coincidental. From what we know of Jonson's practice, there seems little chance that both dramatists were drawing on some third work, already published. Thus it seems probable that Webster was here working, perhaps with the aid of his notebook, from what he heard as a member of the audience (though of course he may instead have read some form of the manuscript). The Devil is an Ass offers the clearest evidence we have of such a procedure by Webster. One wonders how often he employed it, and how often from unpublished plays that are now lost. His parallels to the Jonson comedy are sometimes less close verbally than those to published sources, understandably. What, then, are we to judge for comparable " Parallels to Shakespeare, verbal and otherwise, are more numerous and more obvious in The White Devil than in The Duchess of Malfi. One possible cause is that Webster wrote the second play, but not the first, for Shakespeare's company and audience. A similar consideration may have affected his borrowings from other dramatists, Jonson especially.

46

Introduction parallels in plays we can date less precisely? For example, W. D. IV. ii. 43-45 is paralleled in The Maid's Tragedy, a play not published until 1619 but perhaps acted as early as 1608. Does the resemblance, if not coincidental, reflect a common source, or indebtedness to Fletcher by Webster, or vice versa? 33 Further research may someday answer questions of this kind, by the discovery of common sources or by the more accurate dating of plays. However, although more may well be done relating Webster to his fellows in themes and techniques, surely little indebtedness of the kind here in question remains undiscovered. The drama has been already too well canvassed by too many people. In a lesser degree, this is true also of the age's poetry. Almost certainly, it is primarily in the vast region of prose, already recognized as Webster's favorite, that further sources remain to be found. Thus the following survey of his reading in prose, like the commentary on which it is based, is necessarily more incomplete and yet more extensive than that on his use of drama and poetry. Many of the parallels cited in the commentary may immediately suggest to better qualified scholars the precise work Webster used. I hope so. Meanwhile, something can be said concerning the kinds of prose we at present know he employed. At least three aspects deserve consideration: land of origin, literary genre, and style. As repeatedly noted above, he shows a strong attraction to Continental literature in translation. We can already trace him in Montaigne, Guevara, Guazzo, Goulart, Montreux, two works of Matthieu, and perhaps in several other authors. Except for Sidney, a very major exception, no native author thus far reflects Webster's indebtedness as extensively as does Montaigne or Matthieu. In Continental works, of course, Webster could reasonably expect to find relatively fresh material for his audience. Take, for example, his frequent proverbs. A great many of them appear to have been common enough on the Continent, but still fairly unfamiliar to English ears. Often Webster must have used 83

Recently, Mario Praz has suggested several indications of influence by The Maid's

Tragedy on the later Duchess of Malfi (ES, X X X V I I [Dec., 1956], 252-258). Only one of the proposed parallels (D. M. II. v. 46-49, noted several years ago by Anderson) seems at all significant to me. T h e others I have omitted from the commentary, for to include resemblances so faint from all the Elizabethan drama would quadruple the commentary's length without performing any commensurate service.

47

Introduction them with no expectation that they would be recognized as proverbs; indeed, he may often have been unaware of their proverbial nature. Many, as Tilley shows, were still regarded as "outlandish" long after Webster; a few have not yet been paralleled in pre-Webster literature, domestic or foreign.34 On literary genre it is difficult to generalize, except negatively, without more evidence than we have at present. T h e content of Webster's plays leads us in certain inevitable directions: to Continental history and semihistory, especially such as provide colorful accounts of individual men; to prose narrative; to books on the governor and courtier, and on civil behavior generally; to topical satire; to religio-ethical works in the nosce teipsum and memento mori tradition; to collections of apophthegms and sententiae; and so on. Such works of course overlap in scope; Sidney's Arcadia and Montaigne's Essaies, in their different ways, embrace most of these "genres." What follows is in part a catalogue of negative evidence. Any reader of this study may naturally wonder whether some of the most obvious possible sources for Webster have been examined. A complete answer, one that would approach a series of bibliographies or an STC checklist, is scarcely practical. I have attempted, in compromise, a partial answer. Countless Renaissance works I have not even glanced at. Of the rest, where feasible, I have tried to name those that would most readily occur to the reader. Some authors I reject as sources include occasional parallels to Webster, inevitably; but there is no good reason to believe them sources. In history, Matthieu's two works are Webster's only certain direct sources thus far discovered.35 A few signs of indebtedness, direct or indirect, appear in Foxe (already used either by him or by Dekker for Sir Thomas Wyatt), in More's Richard the Thirde, and in Machiavelli's Florentine Historie.36 Lucas thinks he used " S e e on DM. IV. ii. 274-275, V. ii. 155-156, for example. These two passages reflect proverbs appearing in Delamothe's Treasure of the French Tongue, a work available to Webster but probably not used by him. Delamothe's unknown source for these may also have been Webster's. * Disappointingly, a third work attributed to Matthieu, covering the period probably treated in Webster's Guise, and filled with just such passages as Webster liked to borrow, has nothing but occasional faint parallels, indications of some common source. See on W. D. III. ii. 171-172. *• Full annotation of the present discussion is impractical. See index.

48

Introduction Holinshed, or at least Stanyhurst's "Ireland" in Holinshed; the evidence is not strong. Higden's Polychronicon has a few parallels, but Webster probably found their content elsewhere, very possibly in some work not strictly a history. While pursuing clues of one kind and another I found no evidence that he used any of the major English chroniclers, or such minor historians as Clapham, Daniel, or Hayward, or such Continentals as Ayscu, Colynet, Comines, Guicciardini, Petit, Mayerne, Mexia, or Ursinus. In prose narrative, Webster borrowed from works as dissimilar as Sidney's Arcadia, Nashe's Unfortunate Traveller, Montreux' Honours Academie, Whetstone's Heptameron, and (though rarely verbally) Painter's Palace of Pleasure. Each suggests the probability of kindred sources, but I have found nothing significant in such native authors as Ford, Gainsford, Greene, Hind, Lodge, Lyly, Markham, Melbancke, Munday, Pettie, Rich, Saker, Turner, or Warner; in Fenton's Bandello, Young's Boccaccio and Montemayor, or the translations of Juan de Flores and Marguerite d'Angouleme; or in any of the chivalric romances I have had the opportunity to see and the courage to read. Of works on the prince, courtier, and gentleman, we know that Webster drew on Guazzo, Guevara, and Burghley's little pamphlet. Perhaps, for a few commonplaces, he used Lloyd's Pilgrimage of Princes, and, for a single sentence, Elyot's Image of Governance. The two most famous books of this kind, those of Elyot and Castiglione, appear unread. The same is true for the following authors, domestic and Continental, though several of them have a content and style to attract him: Ascham, Barnes, Bryskett, Chelidonius, Cleland, Coignet, Crosse, Ducci, du Refuge, Felippe, Fenton, Ferrarius, Floyd, Forrest, Forsett, Furio Ceriol, Gentillet, Goslicius, Heron, Humphrey, Hurault, James VI, Melton, George More, Nannini, Nenna, Osorius, Philibert de Vienne, Romei, and Sturmius. Similarly, in the closely related works of moral and political philosophy, both popular and learned, writers as varied as the following prove of no direct Websterian interest: Baldwin, Barckley, Bodin, Charron, Crewe, Du Vair, Fenne, Fulbecke, La Noue, La Perrière, La Place, La Primaudaye, Larke, Lipsius, Maxwell, Parsons, Perrott, Pritchard, Patricius, Valerius, and Vives. Equally unilluminating are the early English essayists—Bacon, Cornwallis, 49

Introduction Johnson, Stephens, and Tuvill—although Webster did employ two analogous works of Hall, his Characters and Epistles. Of works more strictly in the memento mori tradition, only one I have seen seems at all probable as a source: Mornay's Discourse of Life and Death as translated by the Countess of Pembroke. Again, parallels elsewhere make further discoveries probable somewhere within the countless works of this kind. I can name but a few authors, examined in vain: Boiastuau, Cardan, Cuffe, de Sales, D u Moulin, Estella, Granada, Innocentius III, L'Espine, Loarte, Parsons, Petrarch, Petrus, Sutton, and T u k e . In the innumerable sermons of the age, quartoed and folioed, I have read too unmethodically and too narrowly to speak with any confidence. T h e commentary indicates several source-suggesting parallels within the early Jacobean preachers, but thus far only a single sermon of Thomas Adams seems a probable source. Even that sermon is made less probable by Adams' habit of borrowing extensively from others. Prose miscellanies of one kind and another seem for the most part to have attracted Webster little. T h e verse of England's Parnassus has enough close parallels to appear a possible but improbable source; other collections of this sort, whether in verse or prose—by Meres, Allot, Ling, Bodenham, and Cawdrey—reveal nothing but occasional slight resemblances or evidence of sources shared in common. So too for the somewhat different compilations of Corrozet, Dallington, Gainsford, Parinchef, and Sandford, or the storehouse of Milles. Yet Webster did not scorn all shortcuts of this kind. Lloyd's Pilgrimage of Princes, referred to above, is little more than a prosed apophthegmatum and encyclopedia, with hundreds of classical examples on every topic. Camden's Remaines is a kind of miscellany. So is Goulart's Admirable and Memorable Histories, though to classify it so would undoubtedly have enraged Goulart. (Thomas Beard's comparable volume, which also tells the story of the Duchess of Malfi, has nothing used by Webster.) T h i s semibibliography by genres must terminate somewhere, incomplete though it will necessarily be. T h e pamphleteers and controversialists introduce a spate of prose too infinite even to begin. Briefly, Webster shows no clear indebtedness to such journalists as Brathwaite, Breton, Munday, Rich, or Rowlands, and

5°

Introduction only rarely to Dekker, 37 though the latter abounds in parallels. But further sources as definite as Donne's satire on the Jesuits are probable, especially in the literature provoked by government trials of the day.38 Lastly, it is possible to say something of the prose style in Webster's sources. Perhaps style is not the right word. W e cannot characterize his prose sources as all Senecan rather than Ciceronian, plain rather than ornate, informal rather than formal. So much is obvious. Webster was himself of the new school in matters of style, and most of the attributes commonly assigned to the Senecan style as practiced on occasion by Hall or Bacon or Jonson can be similarly assigned to Webster: the sparseness of syntactic ligatures, the short sentences tending toward sententiae, the antithesis of thought rather than sound, the preference for metaphor and for condensed simile, the rapid shifting of thought, as of a mind proceeding by spurts, with the resulting impression of the mind thinking rather than presenting the poised consequences of thought or the orderly and logical summation of its processes. Obviously, Webster could impose much of this upon material having other characteristics, and his habit of borrowing in bits rather than extended passages naturally lent itself to such effects. Nevertheless, one may say he was most attracted to those styles, or to those elements within styles, which were most akin to his o w n — i n other words, to prose characterized by a combination of pithy vigor, concise sententiousness, and freshness of wit, especially in metaphor and simile. And these he could find in writers as disparate as Sidney, Nashe, and Montaigne. It is not surprising, then, to find Webster using Matthieu and Montaigne, but not Guicciardini and Primaudaye, although both the latter authors were famous in their age for their "sentences"; sententious they certainly were, but in a heavier prose than would appeal to Webster or would readily serve his purpose. Montreux, one must admit, appears to be an exception, for the prose of its translation is generally labored and uneconomical, demanding heavy use of Webster's pruning shears. But Webster borrowed little from Montreux, far less than a patient reader might have found usable. Again, it is true that Sidney's 37 T h e most plausible prose source by Dekker is his A Knights Coniuring, the 1607 version of his Newes from Hell. 38 See, for example, on W. D. III. ii. 292-294, and on D. M. I. i. 211, IV. i. 40.

51

Introduction Arcadia often reflects an Elizabethan love of rhetorical ornateness unshared and unborrowed by Webster. But Sidney had a compensating wit, an imaginativeness of expression, that obviously impressed Webster as much as it did his contemporaries. Yet, when all is said and done, Webster clearly drew upon works in strikingly different styles, and I must agree with the majority of his critics that out of such varied materials he produced a style and tone distinctively his own. Occasionally, as in Flamineo's soliloquy closing the second scene of The White Devil, we find a nondramatic deliberateness, an expansion of similes, a syntactical and logical completeness, not characteristically "Websterian" even for soliloquies. But the general unity is remarkable.

vi In closing, it may be well briefly to compare Webster's imitative practice with that of his principal fellow playwrights. Some of the generalizations which follow would undoubtedly be qualified by experts on the individual dramatists. They are valid enough, however, to prevent any radical distortion in the basic argument. I am concerned principally with the use of sources in writing tragedies, especially tragedies based on history, although Webster's own procedure (unlike Jonson's, for example) seems to have been much the same whether he was writing tragedy, comedy, elegy, or character. The tragic dramatist least like Webster in this respect is Shakespeare. Everyone knows of Shakespeare's indebtedness to Holinshed and Plutarch for language as well as plots; almost everyone knows of his occasional imitations of Ovid or his adaptations of Scripture. Scholars find everywhere traces, or possible traces, of Shakespeare's reading. Direct verbal indebtedness of the Websterian kind, however, is rarely discoverable except to plot sources. We may know where Shakespeare got Flibbertigibbet; we may guess where he found the principal inspiration, if any, for Ulysses' speech 52

Introduction on order; but we never visualize Shakespeare composing his plays with a commonplace book at hand or with nonplot sources before his eyes. His commonplace book was apparently his memory. Far more than Webster's, his prevailing imagery is traditional, even proverbial, however miraculous the "sea change" it has undergone, with elements fused together from a vast fund of "sources," written and unwritten, conscious and unconscious. When Macbeth speaks his famous soliloquy after the death of his wife, for example, we may well be aware that every metaphor and simile except "syllable," and every idea without exception, can be loosely paralleled a hundred times in the literature of the age. But the passage has no "sources," not in the sense that Webster, even when commonplace, had sources—specific, direct, and in some form before him as he wrote. More akin to Webster in method were Jonson, Chapman, and Marston. Ben Jonson's Roman tragedies are like Shakespeare's in at least one respect, inevitably, their dependence upon classic histories for ytheir plots. Differences even in this respect, stemming mainly from Jonson's concern with "truth of argument," are irrelevant here. What is relevant is Jonson's dependence upon the ancients for much of the nonhistorical detail within his tragedies, especially for that "fulnesse and frequencie of Sentence" both he and Webster regarded as so essential to tragedy. As Jonson's editors have shown, in addition to the basic Tacitus, Sejanus reflects Horace, Persius, Martial, Juvenal, Statius, Lucan, Pliny, Plutarch, Seneca's tragedies, Seneca's prose, several Roman historians, and so on. (Nevertheless, unless the editors have failed to trace Jonson at all adequately, the detail in his tragedies is far less indebted to sources than is Webster's.) Unlike Webster, Jonson was widely read in the classics and drew rarely if at all from works in his native tongue. Unlike Webster, rather than working directly from his books or from some such commonplace book as his Timber, he often drew his detail "out of fullnesse, and memory of my former readings," as he says he did for The Masque of Queenes,39 Not wholly unlike Webster, but more legitimately, he was proud to have his art manifest his learning, in accordance with his humanistic views on both imitation and tragedy. More important, " Dedication, lines 35-36 (JPfti., VII, s8i). 53

Introduction however, Jonson must have expected his "understanding reader" or auditor to recognize many of his sources, and to applaud his adaptation of them. Some measure of recognition would have been inevitable even for the relatively unlearned, as long as they had read a fair amount of contemporary, classic-laden, sententious literature, where the ancient parallels to many of Jonson's lines appear again and again. Since Webster's own capacity for recognition was apparently of this limited kind, he must have failed to realize how often his borrowings had ultimate classic origins. Thus the learned in his audience, unlike those in Jonson's, would have perceived more classical echoes than did the dramatist himself. Somewhat closer to Webster in method, however different from him in style, was George Chapman, the respected "friend" of A Monumental Column and the dramatist singled out for special praise, along with Jonson, in Webster's preface to The White Devil. Both wrote tragedies loosely based on recent Continental history, French for Chapman, Italian for Webster's extant work but French for his lost play on the house of Guise. Both shared at least one source in English, though Chapman's use was principally "historical," Webster's sententious: Grimeston's translation of the French chronicle by de Serres-Matthieu.40 Probably some of the remaining verbal parallels between Chapman's and Webster's tragedies, like the few now accounted for by de SerresMatthieu, stem from other sources in English shared by the two dramatists. But whereas Chapman employed some sources in English, and some in the languages of the Continent (where Webster seems to have sought translations), for sententious detail he was primarily indebted to the classics. In this respect he is at once like Jonson and yet like Webster. For Chapman's classical borrowings were less broadly based and more often at second hand than Jonson's; as Franck L. Schoell demonstrated long ago, he often used a commonplace book "partially identical with—possibly only an expansion and enrichment of—Erasmus' Parabolae sive Similia. . . ." 41 Clearly, he worked far more with works in their 40

For Chapman's indebtedness (in many ways like that of Shakespeare to Holinshed), see T . M. Parrott's standard edition. " C f . Schoell's " G . Chapman's 'Commonplace B o o k , " ' MP, X V I I (Aug., 1919), 199ai8, and his much more detailed Études sur l'Humanisme Continental en Angleterre à la Fin de la Renaissance (Paris, 1926). T h e latter work considers also some of Chapman's Continental sources.

54

Introduction original tongues, ancient or contemporary, than did Webster, but his procedure in composition apparently resembled that of his admiring friend, though it scarcely involved so continual a process of borrowing. John Marston, understandably, has received little scholarly attention in comparison with the dramatists just considered. As far as we now know, Webster's procedure in composition appears to be most like that used by Marston in mid-decade, especially in his satiric comedies. What little we know of his borrowing we owe almost wholly to Crawford's Collectanea a half-century ago, which reveals an indebtedness to Montaigne far more extensive than Webster's.42 It appears very probable that Marston similarly employed, less ravenously, several other works in English. My own casual reading has picked up a few signs of such indebtedness, and further discoveries may well reveal not only a striking similarity in method but also a direct influence by Marston upon Webster's reading.43 Though apparently better educated than Webster, Marston was like him in his love for a façade of erudition, often gained at secondhand. Similarly, whether working directly from the classics (as Webster probably never did) or from Continental contemporaries (as Webster often did), like Webster he was glad to use translations. Far more evidence is necessary before any convincing case can be made, but there is good reason to suspect that Marston's method of composition was strikingly akin to Webster's, except that it involved much greater haste, much less discrimination, and a less perpetual dependence upon sources. Middleton, Heywood, Dekker, Tourneur, even the more imitative Fletcher and Massinger, while revealing occasional signs of borrowing, suggest nothing comparable with the method of either Marston or Webster. Probably every Jacobean dramatist, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously, echoed lines or phrases or images of his fellows in the theater; a few, certainly, were sporadically indebted to such sources as Montaigne and Sidney. But Webster—with the possible but improbable exception " S e e H. Harvey Wood's commentary on Sophonisba, The Dutch Curtezan, and The Fawne. My own Marston citations are from Bullen's edition, where the plays are lineated. " S e e pp. 41-42. Perhaps all apparent borrowings from Marston are attributable to sources shared in common.

55

Introduction of Marston—differed so much in degree as to differ in kind. His procedure as imitator was so individual, at least among the major dramatists, that it is far more significant in illuminating him than in illuminating the imitative practices of his age. Excepting Shakespeare, he was the most impressive tragic dramatist of his day. Excepting no one, he was its most impressive borrower.

56

A P P E N D I X Dating

and

Ascription

DATING Present e v i d e n c e suggests that The

White

Devil

was completed

i n 1 6 1 0 , a n d f o r the most p a r t w r i t t e n earlier. O f the definite sources thus f a r discovered, o n l y t w o w e r e p u b l i s h e d a f t e r 1 6 0 8 . T h e first, J o n s o n ' s Masque

of Queenes

( 1 6 0 9 ) , p r o v i d e d a single

phrase (plus the passage i m i t a t e d i n W e b s t e r ' s 1 6 1 2 address to his readers). T h e second, M o n t r e u x ' s Honours tered N o v e m b e r 1 1 ,

Academie

(1610;

en-

1 6 0 9 ) , c o n t r i b u t e d n e a r l y a dozen passages

to the last half of the play. A f e w 1 6 1 1 - 1 6 1 2 w o r k s h a v e b e e n proposed as influences u p o n W e b s t e r ' s first tragedy, b u t i n n o case is the e v i d e n c e c o n v i n c i n g . 1 A n d n o n e of the several 1 6 1 2

publica-

1 Perhaps some slight confirmation for the date 1610 appears in a source for The Duchess of Malfi. Ariosto's Satyres, a translation by Robert Tofte (the translator of Montreux), was published in 1608 and again in 1611. Webster may have used either edition. The 1611 version, however, adds an abundance of marginal notes, most of them emphatically brief and pedestrian, mere superfluous identifications of Timon, Virgil, Apollo, and the like. Two of the notes, on the other hand, suggest a current interest in the tragedy of Brachiano, perhaps because Webster's play was then on the stage. The more interesting of these, since it radically disagrees both with history and with The White Devil, appears on page 80: "The Poet hauing repeated all the grieuous offences of his country, especially that of impoysoning, which is most common, cyteth one Baptist a notable Mountebanke, whom it was supposed, made that confection wherewith Victoria Corumbona impoysoned the Duke of Brachiano." The second, on page a of the added elegies, is almost as puzzling: "It is most certaine that amongst all the attributes of kingdoms there is none more certaine then iealousie to an Italian, as may appear . . . by the great massacre of the great house of Brachiano. . . ." What had Tofte in mind?

Introduction tions used in his Monumental Column and Duchess of Malfi has any striking parallels to The White Devil. With The Duchess of Malfi matters are more conjectural. Although not published until 1623, we know it was acted by 1614. Since several of its sources were first published in 1612, at the earliest it cannot have been completed before late in that year. 1613 seems most probable, especially in the light of the many sources shared by A Monumental Column (entered December 25, 1612) and the last half of the play. T h e only disputed question is whether Webster made additions to the tragedy between 1614 and 1623. John Russell Brown has argued convincingly against the view preserved by Lucas that I. i. 8 ff. is a late insertion alluding to the Concini murder of 1617. His arguments need not be repeated here. 2 More recently, it has been suggested that V. v. 9598 is borrowed from the second part of Don Quixote (1615; French trans., 1618; English trans., 1620) and was probably inserted at some time after 1618. 3 T h e parallel is undeniably a strong one. But, for reasons explained in the commentary, we have no good reason to believe Webster's actual source was Cervantes. My own research for the decade before 1623 is extremely incomplete (as the thin commentary for The Devil's Law-Case makes evident), but I have thus far seen no strong evidence of borrowings for The Duchess of Malfi dating later than 1612. Webster might, of course, have drawn on these sources long after 1612.1 see no reason to believe that he did. The Devil's Law-Case was probably written in 1617 or later. Lucas agrees. Bentley's Jacobean and Caroline Stage (V, 1250 f.) prefers 1610. One reason for Bentley's choosing the earlier date is his understandable distrust of "parallel passage" evidence. T h u s he denies Webster's indebtedness to Jonson's Devil is an Ass (acted 1616), unaware that the evidence is somewhat stronger than the Lucas edition indicates (see index and commentary). Certainly the parallels are unmistakable, and it is more reasonable to believe that Webster used Jonson than vice versa, considering the general practice of each poet. A common source is of course possible, but 1

See his "On the Dating of Webster's The White Devil and The Duchess of Malfi,"

PQ, X X X I (Oct., 1952), 353-362. For Brown's view on dating The

White Devil see

commentary on II. i. 50. a

F. M. Todd, "Webster and Cervantes," MLR,

58

LI (July, 1956), 321-323.

Appendix: Dating and Ascription Jonson made little use of English writers for his satiric detail, so far as I know. Even if one ignores the Jonson passages, one must face other evidence. At least four passages stem almost certainly from Overbury (1614),4 two more from Cecil (1617), one from Matthieu (1612); again, see index and commentary. It would seem strange, moreover, if 1610 were the correct date, that the play shares so few sources with The White Devil and so many with The Duchess of Malfi, although most sources for the first tragedy are used again for the second. It would seem strange, too, that these sources were less used for The Devil's Law-Case than for The Duchess of Malfi, contrary to Webster's general practice of borrowing most from a work when he first employed it. Strangest of all, perhaps, would be the paucity of sources thus far discovered; everything in the style of The Devil's Law-Case suggests it was composed in the same imitative fashion as were the tragedies. My own commentary, I feel sure, is sparse for the comedy primarily because I have investigated so little of the popular literature from 1615 on. Some such date as 1617 is surely right. For the date of Appius and Virginia, see below on ascription.

ASCRIPTION

T h e scope of the present study has excluded Webster's early and late collaborative efforts. Only one of the works treated in the commentary presents any problems whatever of authorship: the 1615 additions to the Overburian characters. Here, fresh evidence makes clearer than ever Webster's responsibility for "Commander," "Coward," "House-keeper," "Intruder," "Judge," and "Franklin." All the remaining characters may also be his; certainly there is strong reason to believe him the author of most of them. If so, we may expect corroborative evidence from further source discoveries. Meanwhile, mere parallels to The Devil's Law-Case, a later work, mean little. 1 T h e parallels to Overbury in The Duchess of Malfi are contrastingly weak; none indicate probable borrowings. Webster might conceivably have seen both the Overbury and Cecil in manuscript, but in the light of all the evidence there is little reason to believe he did so.

59

Introduction Ascription on the basis of sources and parallels is of course perilous. Carelessly handled, one might thereby "prove" that Webster wrote most of Marston, or that Sidney wrote a large share of Jacobean literature, while Montaigne wrote the remainder. Bentley's obvious contempt for the abuse of evidence and pseudo evidence has ample grounds in the semischolarship of the past century. Nevertheless, his contempt for the abuse sometimes leads him, apparently, to discount all evidence of the kind here studied. We see this reflected in his treatment of Anything for a Quiet Life. After a series of satiric thrusts at Sykes, Oliphant, and Lucas, he curtly concludes: "No significant evidence has been presented that Webster had anything to do with" the play (IV, 860). He believes it to be wholly Middleton's. Admittedly, some of Lucas' evidence is extremely weak. Too, although Lucas does not mention the fact, Middleton's Changeling twice echoes The Duchess of Malfi (a play he admired, as his commendatory poem shows), so that parallels between Webster's tragedy and Anything for a Quiet Life are somewhat less significant than Lucas suggests. One must depend far more on coincidence, however, to explain away the strongest parallels to Webster's other work (see ed. Lucas, IV, 66-68, where a half dozen such passages are mingled with much feebler evidence). As to the matter of sources, until evidence has been shown that Middleton commonly borrowed, frequent borrowings from a variety of sources constitute evidence of another hand in the play. When, in turn, these borrowings prove to be from sources used by Webster, what are the implications? My own research has paid little attention to Anything for a Quiet Life; perhaps several of Webster's know sources are clearly paralleled in this much later play; perhaps undiscovered sources for the relatively late Devil's Law-Case will provide abundant evidence. But all this is conjecture. Certainties, however slight, are worth mention. We know from Lucas that the Arcadia was used at least twice, once for a passage also in The Duchess of Malfi (and we do not know that Middleton employed Sidney's popular work). In addition, we now know that A. Q. L. I. i. 18-20 is clearly from Burghley's Certaine Precepts (1617), a source for The Devil's Law-Case (see above, pp. 39-40); and we can suspect that A. Q. L. V. i. 158-159, although it sounds proverbial, comes from the only work where I have seen 60

Appendix:

Dating

i t — d e Serres-Matthieu, General

and

Ascription

Inventorie,

p. 1049 (with three

Webster borrowings on the next page): "[like love,] the Moone is not pleasing, but when it is at the full." Evidence is still slight. But Webster was a more possible collaborator in Anything Life

for a

Quiet

than Bentley indicates.

O n e other of the collaborated plays deserves some mention. N o one denies that Webster had a hand in Appius

and

Virginia,

doubts continue as to the extent of his share. T h e

but

following

parallels to one of Webster's sources should be added to the evidence in Lucas, though only the asterisked passages are particularly strong: Appius and Virginia: I. i. 55-57. APPIUS: I have heard of cunning footmen that have worne Shooes made of lead some ten dayes 'fore a race T o give them nimble and more active feet. 5

I. i. 73-75. APPIUS: T o obey my Lord, and to know how to rule Doe differ much: to obey by nature comes, But to command by long experience. III. ii. 173-181. CLODIUS. My Lord, I must be heard, and will be heard, Were all the gods in Parliament, I'd burst Their silence with my importunity, But they should heare me. APPIUS. T h e fellow's mad; W e have no leasure now to heare you sir. This idea was common. See Lucas. • Repeated in Politeuphuia (1598), p. 88. 61 5

Diall of Princes (1557): II. xxxiii, sig. C5: "If the auncient Hystoriographers deceiue me not, when Viriatus was a thefe, he led wyth him alwayes at the least a hundred theues: the whiche were shodde with leaden shoes, so that when they were enforced to ronne, they putte of their shoes. And of this sort although in the daye they wente with leaden heales, yet in the night they ranne lyke swift buckes." •I. xiv, sig. f4: "For to knowe to obeye, and to knowe to commande, differ much. / For to know to obey, commeth by nature: but to knowe to commaund, commeth by long experience." 6 III. ii, sig. G i T : "Plutarche in his Apothegmes [Morals, trans. Holland (1603), p. 411] sayeth, that a poore, and aged woman, desired kynge Philippe of Macedonie . . . that he would heare her with iustice: and sithe she was very importunate uppon hym, kynge Philippe sayed on a daye unto her. I praye the woman be contented, I sweare by the gods, I haue no leasure to heare thy com-

Introduction playnte. The olde woman aunswered the kynge, Beholde kinge Philyppe, if thou hast not time to heare me with iustice, resigne thy kyngdome, and another shal gouerne the common wealthe."

CLODIUS. Hast now no leasure to heare just complaints? Resigne thy place O Appius, that some other May do me Justice then.

•III. ix, sig. H6T, of corrupt judges: "For much is the office of iustice peruerted, when one thiefe hangeth an other on the galouse.'

IV. i. 275-276. ICILIUS: The Office of Justice is perverted quite When one thief hangs another.7

•I. xiv, sig. f4T: "Without comparison, it is more profitable to the common wealthe, and more tollerable to men, that the prince be an euyll man, and therewithall a good prince: then an euyll Prince, and therewithall a good man."

V. i. 157-159. I C I L I U S :

Better had Appius been an upright Judg, And yet an evil man, then honest man, And yet a dissolute Judg.

Of course these parallels do not necessarily indicate Webster's hand. In The Malcontent, for example, although Webster may have made additions to the play, the clearest Guevara parallel appears in a portion thought definitely Marston's. Compare I. ii. 85-86 with Diall, II. i, sig. r2: "For the euyl wyues are worse, then the infernal furyes. For in hell there are none tormented, but the euil onli: but the euil woman tormenteth, bothe the good, and the euyl." Nevertheless, when used along with other evidence, these Guevara passages may prove an aid to ascription. I am unaware of further such parallels in Webster's many other newly discovered sources. From what we thus far know of his imitative practice, it is tempting to believe that Webster's share of the play was written early, probably prior to The White Devil. Although but slightly relevant to this appendix, one further parallel to Appius and Virginia seems worth including. Appius' device in I. i, especially 81 fF., is that told in The Lord Coke his Speech and Charge (1607), sigs. B i ft. There, Coke explains his own rising to be a judge by telling the story of a young Roman (unnamed) who debated whether to take office or not. Cf. sigs. B3Tf-:

By the graue and sage aduice of that Honored Lord, this yong man was perswaded contrarie to his former purpose, with humble thankfulness 7

Verbatim in D. M. IV. ii. 329-330, where it is the only strong parallel to Guevara's

Dia.ll. 6a

Appendix:

Dating

and

Ascription

to accept that Office, which the Senate without any meanes of his, was pleased freelie to bestowe vpon him: and yet generallie made shewe as if he ment the contrarie, and soddainlie preparing a sumptuous Feast, vnto which he inuited all his Friends, Kinsfolke, and familiar acquaintance, seeming that in regard he did rather choose to leaue his Countrie, then to take vpon him the Office of a Iudge: he had prouided a Banquet or Feast, to Banquet with his Friendes before his departure: and in some solemne maner would take leaue of them al. Who being, as they thought, to this end assembled: did sorrowfully expect the occation of their griefe, by the departure of their friend, which when the yong man perceiued, he spake thus vnto them. It is true that I purpose as I must, to take my leaue of you all, and to be a stranger to my dearest friends, and nearest Allies: I must forget all former friendships, and my most familiar Acquaintance, I must accompt as greatest strangers vnto me; Thus must I depart from you & yet continue amongst you, for by the loue, power 8c authoritie of the Senate, I am appointed to be a Iudge, and in the seate of Iustice, I must forget the remembrance of your former friendships and acquaintance, and onely in the person of a Iudge, with respect to keepe my conscience cleare, I must with equite & vprightnes, iustly administer iustice unto you all. I do not know Coke's source. But it is n o t the story of Appius as told in the known sources for Appius and Virginia.

63

COMMENTARY

This commentary can be used most conveniently with the edition of Webster by F. L. Lucas, whose text and line-numbering it follows. It seeks to present, with comment where appropriate, all known evidence of Webster's indebtedness for detail in his three uncollaborated plays, his memorial to Prince Henry, and his additions to the Overburian characters. For reasons explained in the introduction, it includes signs of borrowing as well as direct borrowings, and many of these involve some measure of the "commonplace." Needless to say, however, many a proverb or apophthegm or image would have appeared fresh to Webster and to most of his audience, even though modern scholarship can show several earlier instances. My indebtedness to a few Webster scholars is so frequent that I have indicated it below merely by the scholar's last name or initials: Anderson, Marcia Lee (M. L. A.). "John Webster's Imitation in The White Devil and The Duchess of Malfi" (unpublished M.A. thesis, Dept. of English, Duke University, 1937). "Webster's Debt to Guazzo," Studies in Philology, X X X V I (April, 1939), 192-205. "John Webster's The White Devil and The Duchess of Malfi: A Critical Study" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Dept. of English, Duke University, 1940). Bradbrook, Muriel C. (M. C. B.). Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge, 1935). "Two Notes Upon

Commentary Webster," Modern Language Review, XLII (July, 1947), 281294Brown, John Russell (J. R. B.). "On the Dating of Webster's The White Devil and The Duchess of Malfi," Philological Quarterly, XXXI (October, 1952), 353~3 62 Hunter, G. K. (G. K. H.). "Notes on Webster's Tragedies," Notes and Queries, New Series, IV (February, 1957), 53-55. Lucas, F. L. (F. L. L.), ed. The Works of John Webster (London, 1927). (I note Mr. Lucas for all source material included in his edition; in turn, he there indicates his indebtedness to earlier scholars.) Further abbreviations are conventional. Modern editions for authors most frequently cited are identified in the index; all others are specified in the notes themselves. Citations from the classics follow the Loeb Classical Library.

68

THE WHITE

Title

DEVIL

page

The White Divel: a term that might apply to Brachiano, the great man whose "Tragedy" this is, quite as readily as to Vittoria; indeed, it could apply to most of the characters of the play and hence thematically to the play itself. Lucas cites several instances of "white devil," but from works all published, and perhaps all written, after 1612. T h e only use I know of in drama definitely prior to Webster occurs in Tourneur's The Revengers Tragaedie (1607) III. v. 153; when the lecherous duke kisses the poisoned skull provided by Vindice, the exultant revenger cries: "Royall villaine, white diuill!" That cry, with the taunts that follow, may well be compared with the speeches of the revengers over dying Brachiano in W. D. V. iii. 150 ff. Since Tourneur's and Webster's dukes are lustful poisoners, it is perhaps relevant to quote dialogue from a later play, William Rowley's All's Lost by Lust II. vi. 63-66. There Antonio wishes to get rid of his wife: Lazarello. Griefe kills her, then you are a widower. Antonio. Horrible murther; twere lesse tyranny To kill at once, then by a lingring poyson. Lazarello. Ha? poyson? what white devill Prompted that? T h e expression seems to be very common from 1612 on, variously applied to nonconformists in religion, courtesans, mortgages, etc. Earlier instances are fairly common, but mainly in religious literature—e.g., Luther's Vpon the Epistle to the Galatians (1575 ),

Commentary on verse 4; or Viret, The World Possessed with Deuils, trans. Stocker (1583), where, as in Luther but at far greater length, the foes of the church are divided into black and white devils, open enemies such as the Turk, hypocritical enemies such as the Church of Rome (sigs. D4T-L8T). But secular applications do appear. Harington, for example, uses it for women merely because they excite the dangerous passion of love; he writes that Ariosto was "subiect to that passion of loue, but withall . . . his loue was placed vpon women of good worth and of great modestie. Now though I dare not excuse him in this so great a fault, yet partly in respect he was vnmarried, partly because these white diuels haue such a tempting power vpon the earth, me thinkes I should easily obtaine a pardon for him . . ." (Orlando Furioso, sig. Nng). Critics have always assumed, of course, that Vittoria is "The White Divel." In this they agree with the title pages of Q3 and Q4, and with the emphasis of the running title of all the quartos. Their view is in accord with Webster's portrayal of her; until the final scene of the play he seems to treat her with an intentional ambiguity, dramatically effective, that has encouraged radically conflicting interpretations from critics. In V. vi, the "white" is largely removed from the "diuel." Non inferiora secutus: Virgil, Aeneid vi. 170. The discovery of a direct source may some day clarify Webster's intended application. Could he mean he has followed in the tradition of those dramatists praised in the final paragraph of his " T o the Reader"? Lucas makes several other conjectures. I have not seen the tag used elsewhere until shortly after W. D. Cf. the slightly altered version in Thomas Adams, The Fatal Banquet (1614; Wks., I, 169), of fire: "the seat of grace, non inferiora secuta,—scorning the lower things."

To 3.

the

nos haec novimus

Reader esse

nihil.

Martial xiii. 2. 8. Dekker's excerpt prefacing Satiromastix includes Webster's Latin here and in lines 14-15: Ad Detractorem. 70

The

White

Devil

Non potes in Nugas dicere plura meas, Ipse ego quam dixi.—Qui se mirantur, in illos Virus habe: Nos haec nouimus esse nihil. But one of Montaigne's essays, used in I. ii. 19-20, may be Webster's source. T h e first eight lines of the epigram, with Florio's translation, appear in II. xvii (ed. 1603, p. 379). (F. L. L.) 7-9.

. . . most of the people that come to that Playhouse, resemble those ignorant asses (who visiting Stationers shoppes their use is not to inquire for good bookes, but new bookes).

Cf. Hall, Char., "Unconstant" (1608), ed. 1617, p. 223: "neither doth he in bookes and fashions aske How good, but How new." T h e jibe was common. T h u s Thomas Jackson, in his dedication to Davids Pastorall Poeme (1603), sig. complains of "the vanitie of Readers in these dayes": "the first question at euery Stacioners shoppe is, what new thing? and if it smell of the presse, and haue a goodly title (be the matter neuer so base and vnprofitable) it is a booke for the nonce. . . ." Cf. Jonson, Discoveries, lines 405406: "Expectation of the Vulgar is more drawne, and held with newnesse, then goodnesse." 11-12.

Nec Rhoncos metues, maligniorum, Nec Scombris tunicas, dabis molestas.

Martial iv. 86. 7-8, addressed to his book.

(F. L. L.)

13-20.

If it be objected this is no true Drammaticke Poem, I shall easily confesse it, non potes in nugas dicere plura meas: Ipse ego quam dixi, willingly, and not ignorantly, in this kind have I faulted: for should a man present to such an Auditory, the most sententious Tragedy that ever was written, observing all the critticall lawes, as heighth of stile; and gravety of person; inrich it with the sententious Chorus, and as it were life'n Death, in the passionate and waighty Nuntius: yet. . . .

Apparently an imitation of Jonson's second paragraph in the " T o the Readers" of Sejanus: First, if it be obiected, that what I publish is no true Poeme; in the strict Lawes of Time. I confesse it: as also in the want of a proper Chorus. such Auditors, as commonly Things are presented, to obserue the ould . . . Nor is it needful, or almost possible, in these our Times, and to state, and splendour of Drammatick Po'emes, with preseruation of any popular delight. . . . if in truth of Argument, dignity of Persons, 7i

Commentary grauity and height of Elocution, fulnesse and frequencie of Sentence, I haue discharg'd the other offices of a Tragick writer, let not the absence of these Formes be imputed to me. . . . (F. L . L . )

Webster does not explicitly mention either "the strict Lawes of Time" (which Jonson ignored) or "truth of Argument" (which Jonson kept). His practice, at least, is in accord with the theory of his friend Chapman, who vigorously denies the need of such "truth" in tragedy (The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois, dedication, 1613). Dekker's Lectori to The Whore of Babylon (1607) and Marston's to Sophonisba (1606) take the same position, and Dekker, although ignoring most of the "rules," defends calling his work a "Drammaticall Poem." 14-15.

non potes . . . dixi: Martial xiii. 2. 4-5. See above on line 3. (F. L. L.)

20-21.

O dura messorum ilia.

Horace, Epod. 3. 4 (of garlic-breathed harvesters). 21-22.

(F. L. L.)

. . . the breath that comes from the uncapable multitude, is able to poison it.

As in the taunt of "A neuer writer, to an euer reader" in the 1609 edition of Troilus and Cressida, a work with several echoes in W. D.: "nor like this the lesse, for not being sullied, with the smoaky breath of the multitude." 24.

—Haec hodie Porcis comedenda relinques.

Horace, Epist. i. 7. 19. 26-27.

(F. L. L.)

I confesse I do not write with a goose-quill, winged with two feathers.

Cf. the "goosequillian" pseudo playwright Posthast in Histriomastix III. i (in Wood's Marston, III, 273), and the similar "nimble swaggerer with a goose quill" in The Returne from Pernassus, Part Two, III. iv, lines 1357-1358. Perhaps Webster's expression reflects on content as well as speed of composition; cf. Crosse, Vertues Common-wealth (1603; reissued in 1605 as The Schoole of Pollicie), sig. Q3 t : "write not with a goose quill any longer, dense thy wit of grosse folly, and publish things profitable and necessary." 72

The

White

Devil

27-32.

I must answere them with that of Eurypid.es to Alcestides, a Tragicke Writer: Alcestides objecting that Eurypides had onely in three daies composed three verses, whereas himselfe had written three hundreth: T h o u telst truth, (quoth he) but heres the difference, thine shall onely bee read for three daies, whereas mine shall continue three ages.

T h e Latin apophthegm (from Valerius Maximus, De Dictis iii. 7, Ext. 1) is translated more accurately in Jonson's Discoveries, lines 2454-2462. Lucas thinks Webster's "Alcestides" reflects his general incompetence in Latin. "It is not uncharacteristic," he adds, "that the precise Jonson gives 'Alcestis' 100 verses, following the Latin, whereas Webster heightens it to 300." But the Latin in Erasmus, Manutius, and Lycosthenes reads "Alcestidi glorianti quod ipse perfacile centum absoluisset uno die," by which reading Webster's 300 for three days is no exaggeration. I suspect, however, that Webster was unfamiliar with any Latin versions. Lodowick Lloyd probably accounts for the difficulties noted above. Cf. his Linceus Spectacles (1607), p. 33: As Alcestides a Tragicall Poet taunted Euripides, for that he was three dayes in making three verses, sithence my selfe (said Alcestides) haue made three hundred Verses in three dayes, Euripides answered him, and said, Tui tantum in triduum sunt mei autem in omne tempus, Thy three hundred Verses are but for three dayes, mine are for all times. 41.

. . . wishing what I write may be read by their light.

Cf. the dedication to Pembroke of Jonson's Catiline (1611): "In so thick, and darke an ignorance, as now almost couers the age, I craue leaue to stand neare your light: and, by that, to bee read." (F. L . L.) T h e similarity seems slight. 45.

— n o n norunt, Haec monumenta

mori.

Martial x. 2. 12, later used on the title page of the 1615 Characters and the 1624 Monuments of Honor. It closes the " T o the Reader" of Dekker's A Knights Coniuring (1607), sig. A4 T (F. L. L.), but without being explicitly identified as Martial's and without Webster's unusual capitalization. So too in Thomas Adams, The Gallants Burden (1612), sig. B2T. T h e latter is an apparent source for D. M.; see index.

73

Commentary

I.

2-4.

i.

Ha, Ha, ó Democritus thy Gods That governe the whole world! Courtly reward And punishment.

Lucas objects that Democritus held no such views as Lodovico attributes to him. For the belief that he did see Pliny, Hist. Nat. ii. 5: "Innúmeros quidem credere . . . aut (ut Democrito placuit) duos omnino, Poenam et Beneficium, maiorem ad socordiam accedit." Holland's translation has little resemblance to Webster; closer is William Vaughan's The Golden-groue in its chapter on justice: ". . . the sect of Democritus concluded, that there were 2. things, which rule y® whole world, namely, Reward 8c Punishment" (1600, sig. D7 t ). But Webster's source was probably Guevara, Diall of Princes, trans. North (1557), III. i, sig. F47: "Plinie in his second booke saieth, y4 Democritus affirmed, there were .2. gods, whiche gouerned the uniuersal world: y4 is to wete, reward, & punishment. Wherby we maye gather, that nothing is more necessary, then true & right iustice. For the one rewardeth the good, & the other leaueth not unpunyshed the euill." See on V. vi. 189-190, below, for a further parallel to this context. Only the reference to Democritus is unusual. Book after book agrees with Bodin that "punishments and rewards are the two firmest supports of a Commonweale" (Six Bookes of a Commonxveale, trans. Knolles, 1606, p. 591), and the imperfect distribution of these "supports" is thematic in both Webster's tragedies. 4.

Fortun's a right whore.

The association in Lodovico's outburst between Democritus, his gods, and Fortune may be clarified by such a reference as Henry Cuffe's to "Democritus, the arch-patron of fortune" (The Differences of the Ages of Mans Life, 1607, p. 13). Fortune's harlotlike character was of course a centuries old commonplace; for the metaphor cf. King Lear II. iv. 52; Jonson, Catiline V. 600. 74

The White Devil 7-9.

[I.i]

T h i s tis to have great enemies, God quite them: Your woolfe no longer seemes to be a woolfe T h e n when shees hungry.

Perhaps adapted from Matthieu's supplement to de Serre's General Inventorie of the History of France, trans. Grimeston (1607), p. 1029, of the rapacious Turks: "There is none but this Morcell [Malta] that can satisfie them: the Wolfe would be no more a Wolfe if hee were full." As the clown says of bears in The Winter's Tale III. iii. 1 3 3 - 1 3 5 : "they are never curst [vicious] but when they are hungry. . . ." So too Lodge, Wits Miserie (Wks IV, 44): "All beasts of rauine do neuer prey on other till they be a hungry, and being fully satisfied, they refraine from further spoile. . . ." All are apparently related to the proverb "Hunger drives the wolf out of the wood" (Tilley, H 812). Lucas assumes Lodovico is bitterly referring to himself, impoverished, but both the traditional sense of the proverb and the context in Webster imply rather that he is speaking of his "great enemies." 11-12.

T h e violent thunder is adored by those Are pasht in peeces by it.

An effective intensification of de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 889: " T h e Thunder is Worshiped euen by them that are stroken with it: Punishments ordayned by Iustice are the chastisements of Gods hand, whose Powre is represented here belowe by the Prince, and His by his Magistrates." Webster's vigorous "pasht in peeces" is itself a not uncommon phrase, and occurs in at least two of the sources for this play—Nashe's The Unfortunate Traveller and Jonson's Sejanus. 22-23.

• • • your prodigall feastes, Wherin the Phaenix scarce could scape your throtes.

T h e banquet of Holophernes is thus reproved in Du Bartas, The Historie of Judith, trans. Hudson, VI. 7 - 1 6 (ed. Craigie, 1608 reading): O glutton throtes, o greedy guts profound the Phoenix sole can skarse escape your iawes. Another slight parallel to the same work occurs in IV. i. 44-45. 75

Commentary 24-26.

. . . fore-deeminge you A n idle Meteor which drawne forth the earth Would bee soone lost ith aire.

Cf. de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1050: " T h e desseignes of his enemies haue sometimes shewed themselues like vnto fixed Starres in the Firmament of their ambition, and in the end they haue proued but Comets 8c exhallations, which drawne out off the Earth, haue beene lost in the Ayre of their Vanity and Imagination." T w o other borrowings occur within the same passage. 29-30.

T h i s Well goes with two buckets, I must tend T h e powring out of eather.

Lucas is probably right in terming this "an apt description of a favourite mannerism of Webster's dialogue." If so, Webster thus gives a fresh turn to an old and popular image; for several examples see Tilley, B 695. Guevara, Diall of Princes, III. xiv, sig. K i T , makes the traditional application to the fluctuations of fortune: " T h e wepyng of the one, causeth y** other to laugh: so that if the bucket y4 is empty aboue doth not go downe the other which is ful beneth cannot come up." 32.

'Las they were flea-bytinges.

flea-bytinges: a very common sixteenth-century metaphor of diminution, commended in mid-century by Wilson's Art of Rhetorique (ed. Mair, pp. 125-126). Cf. Tilley, F 355. 44.

Have a full man within you.

Cf. Dekker, The Whore of Babylon V. ii. 101-104: Contract thy spirits togither, be compos'd; Take a full man into thee, for beholde All these blacke clowdes we cleere: looke vp, tis day, The sunne shines on thee still. . . . 45-50.

Wee see that Trees beare no such pleasant fruite There where they grew first, as where the[y] are new set. Perfumes the more they are chaf'd the more they render Their pleasing sents, and so affliction

76

The White

Devil

[I.i]

Expresseth vertue, fully, whether trew, Or ells adulterate.

Cf. Guevara, Diall of Princes, III. xli, sig. R2 T (a letter of Marcus Aurelius to banished Torcatus): "For the tree beareth not so muche fruite, where it first grewe, as there where it is againe planted: and the sauors are more odiferous [sic], when they are most chafed. I meane, that men of hye thoughtes, y* more they are wrapped in the frowninges of fortune, the more valiaunte and stoute they shewe them selues." Guevara is of interest mainly for juxtaposing the two images and applying them to a banished man (like Lodovico). T h e second image was especially common (cf. Tilley, S 746), and Webster may well be indebted to some further source for his formulation of it. 55-57.

I thanke them, And would account them nobly mercifull Would they dispatch me quicklie—

Cf. D. M. IV. i. 133, perhaps from Guazzo; also Seneca, De Beneficiis ii. 5.3, "Misericordiae genus est cito occidere," which Lodge translates "to dispatch man of life quickely, is in some occasions a kind and sort of mercie" (ed. 1620, p. 20). Thus in de SerresMatthieu, General Inventorie, p. 990, Biron "blinded his eyes againe, and for that it is a kind of grace to be soone dispatcht, and a great crueltie to languish in the expectation of a paine, he commanded the Executioner to make an end."

I.

1.

ii.

Your best of restl

Apparently a normal idiom for "good night"; cf. Marston, The Malcontent II. iii. 90, where Pietro exits with "the best of rest: good-night." 4-5.

"prompt as lightning." Cf. Tilley, L 279.

11

Commentary 17.

"talke freely." Flamineo's free speech, although characteristically cynical, is strangely inappropriate to a pander who wishes his services to be valued. But see p. 29, above. 19-20.

. . . yet why should Ladyes blush to heare that nam'd, which they do not feare to handle?

A coarsened condensation of Montaigne, II. xvii, p. 367: " W e have taught Ladies to blush, onely by hearing that named, which they nothing feare to doe. Wee dare not call our members by their proper names, and feare not to employ them in all kinde of dissolutenesse." (F. L. L.) Marston, The Dutch Courtezan III. i. 26 if., expands this theme with extensive borrowing from his favorite Montaigne essay, III. v. 21-22.

T h e y know our desire is increas'd by the difficultie of injoying.

From Montaigne, II. xv, p. 356, title: " T h a t our desires are encreased by difficultie." 22.

...

[whereas] satiety is a blunt, weary and drowsie passion—

From Montaigne, II. xv, p. 357: " T h e rigor of a mistris is yrkesome, but ease and facilitie (to say true) much more; forasmuch as discontent and vexation proceede of the estimation wee have of the thing desired, which sharpen love, and set it afire: Whereas Satietie begets distaste: It is a dull, blunt, wearie, and drouzie passion." Cf. Marston, The Fawn IV. i. 107-108: "Fie on this satietyl—'tis a dull, blunt, weary, and drowsy passion." (F.L.L.) «6-27.

Hang him, a guilder that hath his braynes perisht with quickesilver is not more could in the liver.

Cf. the debilitated and diseased cuckold-gull Sir Amoroso Debilidoso in Marston's The Fawn II. i. 188-190: "his brain's perished! His youth spent his fodder so fast on others' cattle, that he now wants for his own winter." See Lucas for the effect of "quicke-silver" on the brains of gilders, and V. iii. 162-165 for its effect on Brachiano. According to Clowes, Booke of Observations (1596), p. 226, it "is most commonlie vsed about the curation of the disease called the Frenchpocks." T h e belief that madmen are "could in the liver" is illustrated by the temptation-test given Hamlet in the old story (Furness Variorum, 16th ed., II, 95-96). 29-31.

A n Irish gamster that will play himselfe naked, and then wage all downeward, at hazard, is not more venterous.

78

The

White Devil

[I.ii]

Webster's Italians betray their English ancestry most clearly in the play's many references to Ireland and the Irish; cf. II. i. 298300, IV. i. 85, 1 4 1 - 1 4 2 , IV. ii. 97-98, V. iii. 239 (see notes on these passages). A single source for all or most of these allusions seems probable, but none has as yet been discovered. I do not share Lucas' confidence that the present passage comes directly from Stanyhurst's "Description of Ireland," chap. 8, in Holinshed (ed. 1808, VI, 68), on "a brotherhood of karrowes, that proffer to plaie at cards all the yeare long, and make it their onelie occupation. They plaie awaie mantle and all to the bare skin, and then trusse themselues in straw or leaues. . . . For default of other stuffe, they pawne their glibs [locks of hair on their foreheads], the nailes of their fingers and toes, their dimissaries [testicles], which they leese or redeeme at the courtesie of the winner." T h e point, according to Lucas, is that "Camillo would be as ready to stake his virility (having none) as any Irish gambler"; "wage all downeward" refers to the "dimissaries"("privie members" in Stanyhurst's source, Edmund Campion). But this seems far-fetched, and at best a jest which few in the audience would understand. Flamineo probably means that Camillo has ventured all in his amorousness, has lost brains, beard, "back," etc. 41-44.

T i s just like a summer bird-cage in a garden, the birds that are

without, despaire to get in, and the birds that are within despaire and are in a consumption for feare they shall never get out.

From Montaigne, III. v, p. 5 1 1 , of marriage: "It may be compared to a cage, the birdes without dispaire to get in, and those within dispaire to get out." (F. L. L.) Webster borrows an adjacent

sentence for IV. ii. 93-94. 45-48.

. . . this fellow by his apparell Some men would judge a pollititian, But call his wit in question, you shall find it Merely an Asse in's foot-cloath—

The basis is probably proverbial, as Lucas suggests; he quotes Mar-Martine (in Lyly, ed. Bond, III, 424): Plucke but the footecloth from his backe, The Asse will soone be seene, for which in turn Bond cites Pappe with An Hatchet (Wks., Ill, 400). Dekker alludes to the idea in The Whore of Babylon II. ii. 158-161: 79

Commentary Make me a courtier: come; Asses I see In nothing but in trappings, different be From foote-cloth nags, on which gay fellows ride, Saue that such gallants gallop in more pride. 77-78.

I do commit you to your pittifull pillow Stuft with horne-shavings.

Brathwaite either borrows from Webster or indicates a common source; cf. A Strappado for the Diuell (1615), ed. Ebsworth, p. 166, where the husband is told not to worry over the prospect of cuckoldry or to "thinke thy pillow with horne-shauings stuft." Webster varies the stuffing according to the cause of worry; cf. Char., "Franklin," lines 11-13, and D. M. IV. ii. 79-80. 87.

This is my counsell and I aske no fee for't.

In Westward Ho V. iv. 83, while giving advice to troubled husbands, Justiniano says: "Take my councell, lie aske no fee fort." T h e implied crack at lawyers was popular; cf. King Lear I. iv. 142-143; Field, A Woman is a Weather-cocke (1612) II. i. 108 ("lie giue you Counsell Sir without a fee"); A. V. III. ii. 238-239 ("I onely give you my opinion, / I aske no fee for't"). 88.

Come you know not where my night-cap wringes mee.

Proverbial since Plutarch, but with "shoe" instead of "nightcap" (Tilley, M 129). Flamineo's version is from Westward Ho I. i. 212-215, noted by Lucas, which combines the proverb with the familiar jest that every husband wants his cap to fit close; jealous Justiniano broods: "Immagine that I, or any other great man haue on a veluet Night-cap, and put case that this night-cap be to little for my eares or forehead, can any man tell mee where my Night-cap wringes me, except I be such an asse to proclaime it?" Hence the "large eares" in Flamineo's answer, one more of his references to the ass Camillo. 91-92.

. . . women are more willinglie & more gloriouslie chast, when they are least restrayned of their libertie.

T h e phrasing of this commonplace is apparently from Montaigne, II. viii, p. 230, though its application there is very different: "by how much richer they are, so much more milde and gentle 80

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are they: as more willingly and gloriously chaste, by how much fairer they are." (F. L. L.) 107.

T h e fault there Sir is not in the eye-sight.

Flamineo might better have chosen a species of perspective art such as Jonson did in his poem prefacing Breton's Melancholike Humours (1600); he was thus able to argue against censurers that " T h e fault's not in the obiect, but their eyes" (Wks., VIII, 362). Lucas cites Scot's discussion of "Strange things to be doone by perspective glasses" (Discouerie of Witchcraft [1584]). 108-109.

True, but they that have the yellow Jaundeise, thinke all objects they looke on to bee yellow.

Probably from Montaigne, II. xii, p. 347: "Such as are troubled with the yellow jandise, deeme all things they looke vpon to be yellowish. . . ." (F. L. L.) The idea was common, appearing in Nashe, Sidney, etc. It is here especially appropriate, perhaps accidentally, because yellow was the traditional color of jealousy. See on The Merry Wives of Windsor I. iii. 1 1 1 . 127-129.

(a lousy slave that within this twenty yeares rode with the blacke guard in the Dukes cariage mongst spits and dripping-pannes)

In The Woman-Hater (1607) the glutton-courtier Lazarillo has "followed your Court . . . from place to place, any time this seven yeare, as faithfully as your Spits and your Dripping-pans have done, and almost as greasily"; no wonder that at his death he expects "the black Guard / Shall be my solemn Mourners" (I. i, iii; Beaumont and Fletcher, Wks., X, 73, 80). 133-135.

(that hath an itch in's hams, which like the fier at the glasse house hath not gone out this seaven yeares)

As for lines 77-78, compare Brathwaite's Strappado, worth, p. 124, in a satiric description of a courtier:

ed. Ebs-

What makes him go so stiffe, has he the gout? No, but a fire in's hams that went not out These seuen yeares to my knowledge: then it has Begun (it seems bout time) when th'glasse-work was. For mere references to the undying fire, see Lucas; also D. IV. ii. 81-83. 81

M.

Commentary 136-137.

(when he weares white sattin one would take him by his blacke mussel to be no other creature then a maggot)

Lucas quotes Middleton's Michaelmas Term (1607) II. iii. 1 3 - 1 5 as Webster's source, which it may be (there are no other borrowings from the play): "how does he appear to me when his white satin suit's on, but like a maggot crept out of a nutshell—a fair body and a foul neck." 137-139.

. . . you are a goodly Foile, I confesse, well set out coverd with a false stone, yon conterfaite dyamond).

(but

From de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 882, but with a very different application: "It was a goodly foyle well set out, but couered with a false stone." Matthieu refers to an attempted deception by the Duke of Savoy. 144.

I am opening your case hard.

Cf. the double entendre in D. L. IV. ii. 255-256. (F. L. L.) Such play on the word "case" was very common, in Shakespeare, Marston, Fletcher, etc. See J. Q. Adams' note on Mason, The Turke (1610), line 2169, "I would the case were laid open" (Bang's Materialien, XXXVII). 146.

H e will give thee a ringe with a philosophers stone in it.

In contrast with the "counterfaite dyamond" which now covers Vittoria. For the double entendre Lucas cites Lyly, Gallathea V. i. 18-124, where an actual alchemist "multiplyed" a pretty wench "by the Philosophers stone." No other instance of the jest has been shown. Flamineo's emphasis has consistently been upon sensual gratification for Vittoria, not upon the prospect of wealth; here he may imply both. Cf. lines 2 1 1 - 2 1 8 below. 148-150.

T h o u shalt . . . swoone in perfumed lynnen like the fellow was smothered in roses—

Cf. Goulart, Admirable and Memorable Histories, trans. Grimeston (1607), p. 458, of allergies: " M A R T I N C R O M E R liber 8. of the History of Poland doth witnesse, that a Bishop of Breslawe named L A V R E N C E , was smothered with the smell of Roses"; Nashe, Unfortunate Traveller (WksII, 243), Surrey speaking: "Those who were condemned to be smothered to death by sincking downe into the softe bottome of an high built bedde 82

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of Roses, never dide so sweet a death as I shoulde die, if hir Rose coloured disdaine were my deathes-man." (F. L. L.) Webster probably adapted the passage from Nashe, whose work he had already used in W. Ho; there is no good evidence that he used Goulart before writing D. M. Flamineo's analogy—foreshadowing as it does the fatal consequences of unbridled lust—is a strangely ominous one for him to employ. His wit is frequently as impolitic as it is macabre. — s o perfect shall be thy happinesse, that as men at Sea thinke land and trees and shippes go that way they go, so both heaven and earth shall seeme to go your voyage. 150-152.

Webster may have known Jonson's rebuke to Lust xi. 69-71; the poem was in print by 1601):

(Forrest,

Peace, Luxurie, thou art like one of those Who, being at sea, suppose, Because they moue, the continent doth so. But his source is apparently Montaigne, II. xiii, p. 352: As they who travell by Sea, to whom mountaines, fields, townes, heaven and earth, seeme to goe the same motion, and keep the same course, they doe: Provehimur portu, terraeque urbesque rededunt. [Virg. Aen. iii. 72] [F.L.L.] Montaigne's application is much like that in Castiglione's Courtierj trans. Hoby (Everyman ed., p. 87): " . . . old men be like unto them, that sayling in a vessell out of an haven, beholde the ground with their eyes, and the vessell to their seeming standeth still and the shore goeth: and yet is it cleane contrarié. . . ." William Drummond and Luis de Granada use the image similarly. 152-153.

. . . tis fixt with nayles of dyamonds to inevitable necessitie.

Lucas, thinking the source "doubtless" Horace, Odes, III. 24. 5-8, terms it "characteristic of Webster's somewhat precarious erudition to transfix Necessity with her own nails." But Webster merely repeated what he found in de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 936: ". . . that which was yesterday voluntarie, is this day fastened with nayles of Diamonds to an ineuitable necessity."

83

Commentary 155.

(I will put brees in's tayle, set him gadding presentlie.)

A fairly common image, twice used by Shakespeare and several times by Jonson, as in Vnderwood, xv. 70-71: And then, leape mad on a neat Pickardill, As if a Brize were gotten i'their tayle. Tilley, B 651 ( " T o have a Breeze in his breech") begins with Webster. 161-162. "tumultuary opinion." The expression appears, with no contextual resemblance, in de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1030; Matthieu there disapproves the advancement of churchmen "by the tumultuary opinions of people" who are unqualified to pass judgment. 162. "quae negata grata": a commonplace idea, but the Latin remains untraced. 170-172.

. . . your silkeworme useth to fast every third day, and the next following spinnes the better. Tomorrow at night I am for you.

Unnatural history, according to Lucas. For the Renaissance belief, however, cf. Meres, Palladis Tamia, pp. 36 T f.: "Even as the silkworme keeps her bodie spare & empty, 8c vseth to fast two or three daies togither, that she may stretch out her selfe the better, . . . and spin her threed the finer: so man must endeuour to bring vnder his body, and as I may say, to dyet it for the nonce, that hee may no longer weaue the spiders web, but with the silke worme spin a new threed." Meres is quoting Thomas Playfere's Path-Way to Perfection (ed. 1616, p. 151), a sermon published many times after its delivery in 1593. Once again, Brathwaite's Strappado provides a striking parallel (see above on lines 133-135): . . . say thou ceast to loue, that thou againe Might loue more feruent, being taught to wooe, And wooing doe what Silke-wormes vse to doe; Who doe surcesse from labour now and then, That after rest the better they might spin. [ed. Ebsworth, p. 165] 173.

Youle spinne a faire thread, trust to't.

Proverbial (Tilley, T 252), and usually applied ironically to a badly done action, as in Drayton's " T o Prouerbe" (Idea, sonnet 59; Wks., II, 340): "You have spunne a faire Thred, he replyes in 84

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scorne." Vittoria's speech probably includes a double entendre; cf. Zuccone's words to his supposedly adulterous wife in Marston, The Fawn IV. i. 327-329: "But go thy ways: twist with whom thou wilt; for my part, tha'st spun a fair thread." Lucas says that at Vittoria's "first appearance she has only half broken her girlhood's chains; she has lost its innocence, but not as yet its timidity" (I, 94). Such an interpretation is fanciful, at best; certainly we see more signs of Vittoria's shrewdness and wit than of anything we could call "timidity." 186-187.

Hahaha, thou intanglest thy selfe in thine owne worke like a silke-worme.

Cf. Montaigne, III. xiii, p. 635: "Men misacknowledge the naturall infirmitie of their minde. She doth but quest and firret, and vncessantly goeth turning, winding, building and entangling her selfe in hir owne worke; as doe our silke-wormes, and therein stiffieth hir self." (F. L. L.) Cf. D. L. I. ii. 313-315. The image, with Montaigne's application, apparently became popular; I have encountered it in Charron, Matthieu, and Jonson. 188-190.

. . . women are like curst dogges, civilitie keepes them tyed all day time, but they are let loose at midnight, then they do most good or most mischeefe—

Montaigne, III. v, p. 530, which Lucas notes as "the source," can account for no more than a part of the analogy: "The marriages of that countrie [Italy] are in this somwhat defective. Their custome doth generally impose so severe obseruances, and slauish lawes vpon wives, that the remotest acquaintance with a stranger, is amongst them as capitall as the nearest. . . . Beleeve it, they will have fire: Luxuria ipsis vinculis, sicut fera bestia, irritata, deinde emissa: Luxurie is like a wilde beast, first made fiercer with tying, and then let loose" (Livy, xxiv. 4). For the old idea of tying "curst dogges" by day he quotes The Historie of Xenophon, trans. Bingham (1623), p. 101: "Dogges, that are curst, men vse to tie vp in the day, and let loose in the night." Topsell, Fovre-Footed Beastes (1607), p. 174, writes of the mastiff (with which women are similarly compared in D. M. IV. i. 15): "This dog is called . . . Cathenarius, a Cathena, of the chaine wherewith he is tyed at the gates, in the day time, least being lose he shoulde doe much mischiefe." 85

Commentary Webster was probably adapting the use of Xenophon in de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1032: "Curst Dogges are kept tyed all day, and let loose at night. But these People [Jews] should be straitly garded at all times." 194.

But all delight doth it selfe soon'st devour.

Proverbial? Cf. Greene, Menaphon (WksVI, 124; ed. Collins, II, 257): "Or like delight that doth it selfe deuoure." Quoted in context in Englands Parnassus (1600; ed. Crawford, no. 2021). 195-196.

Let me into your bosome happy Ladie, Powre out in stead of eloquence my vowes—

"Pour into your bosom," meaning "assure" or "confide," had grown so common it lacked whatever metaphorical quality it may once have had. Cf., for example, King John III. iii. 53; The Merry Devil of Edmonton III. ii. 22; D. M. III. i. 62. 200-202.

Sure Sir a loathed crueltie in Ladyes Is as to Doctors many funeralls: It takes away their credit.

Based ultimately on Seneca, De Clem. I. 24. 1: "Non minus principi turpia sunt multa supplicia quam medico multa funera"; trans. Lodge (ed. 1620, p. 602): ". . . no lesse dishonourable are many punishments to a Prince, then many funerals to a Physitian." 222-224.

Methought I walkt about the mid of night, Into a Church-yard, where a goodly Eu Tree Spred her large roote in ground—

Eu Tree: traditionally placed in graveyards and conventionally associated with death. See IV. iii. 123-125. Webster must have known a common superstition concerning it. On the authority of Virgil, Pliny, and Plutarch, John Maplet's A greene Forest (1567), p. 65*, observes: "It hath that secret maner of working, that whosoeuer sitteth or lyeth on sleepe under it, keatcheth no good thereby: for oftentimes hurt hath come thereby, and sometimes also death." T h e same warning appears, for example, in Turner's Herbal (1568), sig. Bb6 v , and in Rams little Dodeon* (1606), sig. B3 t . Yet Vittoria's "harmelesse Eu" of line 231 is also plausible. At least, according to Bright's Treatise of Melancholie (1586), p. 20, the yew is one of two trees "which in other some 86

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places carie with them certaine and assured perill, and in other some are vtterly harmeles." 224-227.

—under that Eu, As I sat sadly leaning on a grave, Checkered with crosse-sticks, their came stealing in Your Dutchesse and my husband—

"crosse-sticks": wooden crosses stuck in the grave, according to Lucas; but "leaning" seems to imply a sepulchral monument rather than a mere bed of earth. I have seen the word "crossesticks" but once, in Jonson's note g to A Masque of Queenes (which Webster knew), lines 269 ff. "Crosse sticks" are there one of the devices of witches "vsd and beleeud by them, to the raysing of storme and tempest"; see Herford and Simpson's note from Scot. Is it possible that "Checkered" is meant to modify "Your Dutchesse and my husband"? Consider the saving "whirlwind" (line 242), the references to witchcraft in lines 264 ff., and Brachiano's speech, lines 298-300, to Cornelia: Uncharitable woman, thy rash tongue Hath rais'd a fearefull and prodigious storme, Bee thou the cause of all ensuing harme. 229-231.

V I T . . . . And in rough termes they gan to challenge me, About this Eu. B R A C . That Tree? V I T . This harmelesse Eu.

T h e play on yew/you is here at its clearest. The same pun appears in Lyly, Sapho and Phao III. iv. 75-80, followed in IV. iii by lovesick Phao's dream of a "tall Caedar" and a discussion of whether "dreams haue their trueth." (F. L. L.) Direct indebtedness seems extremely improbable. (A note on the text, though unrelated to Webster's borrowing, is desirable. In line 230 the original quartos read "That Tree." Lucas, like Dyce and Sampson, replaces the period with a question mark. If the period is retained, Brachiano's speech indicates a cynical awareness of Vittoria's meaning, a kind of half-humorous cooperation in taking literally what he knows to be meant symbolically. However, there is no later evidence that Brachiano considers Vittoria responsible for suggesting the murders, although he proceeds to act on the suggestion. Cornelia hears the dream, yet 87

Commentary reproves her daughter only for prospective adultery. Vittoria is not present when the murders are revealed to Brachiano by dumb show [II. ii], even though it is conducted in her house. And in IV. ii she dares call God's revenge on the "most godlesse Duke" for having murdered Isabella, with never a suggestion that she too is guilty.) 238-240.

VIT. . . . Lord how me thought I trembled, and yet for all this terror I could not pray. FLAM. No the divell was in your dreame.

T o me these lines present a difficulty that has not troubled others. Compare the words of the villainous Cardinal in D. M. V. iv. 30-32; and for two more villains disturbed by peril, conscience, and an incapacity to pray see Claudius in Hamlet III. iii. 38 ff. and Lelia in Beaumont and Fletcher's The Captain (16091612; pub. 1647), IV. iv (Wks., V, 300). Somewhat parallel is Macbeth's distress at being unable to say "Amen" (II. ii. 23-33). More evidence is needed, but there appears to have been an established convention by which the audience could recognize the devil in Vittoria's dream without Flamineo's assistance. Yet this is troublesome. T h e parallels cited above (except that in Macbeth, where villain speaks to villain) occur in soliloquies or asides; Vittoria is professedly recounting "a foolish idle dreame" to her lover. Did Webster intend us to take this as a sign that the dream was "real," and that Vittoria did not recognize this indication of her evil? Or that she is confessing (hypocritically or sincerely) an unrepentant passion for Brachiano, but making it seem less evil than the opposition of her enemies? All this must seem to overlabor the lines, but the question remains: why did Webster include them? If intended as Vittoria's master stroke, the subtle device of an expert villain to make the dream sound genuine, herself guiltless, Webster was himself being oversubtle. Surely the present lines must have contributed to the growing complexity in any audience's impression of Vittoria. 279-281.

The lives of Princes should like dyals move. Whose regular example is so strong, They make the times by them go right or wrong.

Perhaps influenced by one of Webster's sources, Guevara's Diall of Princes, but more probably borrowed elsewhere. 88

The White Devil 307-308.

[I.ii]

What? because we are poore, Shall we be vitious?

A Stoical (and Christian) commonplace includes the obvious answer. Cf. "Anonymus," Remedies Against Discontentment (1596), sig. E3: "Fortune may bring thee to pouertie, to a lowe estate, it maye afflict thee, but it can neuer force thee to become vicious. . . ." What is obviously the same passage occurs in Charron, Barckley, Maxwell, etc., and probably stems from a classical source I have overlooked. 388-333.

I would the common'st Courtezan in

Rome,

Had bene my mother rather then thy selfe. Nature is very pitt[i]full to whoores T o give them but few children, yet those children Plurality of fathers—they are sure T h e y shall not want.

I have seen Flamineo's idea only in Guevara's Diall of Princes (and in the corresponding portion of his Golden Boke). In III. lxix, Marcus Aurelius addresses a former mistress: "Thou tellest me that thou hast two sonnes and lackest helpe for them, geue thankes to the Gods for the mercy they haue shewed the. T o .xv. children of Falricius my neighbour they gaue but one father, and to thine onely two sonnes they geuen .xv. fathers, wherefore deuyde them to their fathers, & euery one shall not haue a cenger" (this last clause was changed in 1568 to "euery one shall bee well prouided"). In III. Ixx, her outraged answer to this passage begins: "Thou sayest the gods used great pity on me to geue me fewe children, and them many fathers." 336-338.

Lycurgus wondred much, men would provide Good stations for their Mares, and yet would suffer T h e i r faire wives to be barren—

"Plutarch, Lycurgus, 15. Perhaps a passage from Webster's commonplace-book, for it is somewhat dragged in here." (F. L. L.) On the contrary, the argument is highly appropriate to both speaker and dramatic situation. Flamineo has repeatedly stressed the impotence of Camillo, has frequently equated man with the beasts, and is now bitterly attempting to "justifie" serving as pander. North's Plutarch reads as follows: "So Lycurgus thought also there were many foolish vaine toyes & fancies, in the lawes and 89

Commentary orders of other Nations, touching mariage: seeing they caused their bitches and mares to be limed and couered with the fairest dogs and goodliest stalons that might be gotten, praying or paying the maisters and owners of the same: and kept their wiues notwithstanding shut vp safe vnder locke and key, for feare lest other then themselues might get them with child, although they were sickely, feeble brained, and extreme old" (ed. 1612, p. 51). Although Elizabethan writers perpetually cite the policies of Lycurgus as instances of political wisdom, they rarely allude even faintly to the rather shocking recommendation implied here. 342-348.

As Rivers to finde out the Ocean Flow with crooke bendings beneath forced bankes, O r as wee see to aspire some mountaines top, T h e way ascends not straight, but Imitates T h e suttle fouldings of a Winters snake, So who knowes policy and her true aspect, Shall finde her waies winding and indirect.

Anderson notes a remotely similar analogy to a "subtle river" in Chapman, Byron's Conspiracy III. i. 67-74. Of equal significance is the expanded reference to "snakie ambition" in Sidney's Arcadia, V {Wks., II, 181), or to the "windings," "subtle turnings," and "snakey wayes" of treason in Jonson's Catiline III. 4 1 6 417. Both Sidney and Jonson refer to a snake in movement rather than in hibernation, and, like Chapman, indicate no more than common elements in obvious analogies. Undeniably, however, the leisurely progression of similes in this passage is far more typical of Jonson or Chapman than of Webster.

I I . i.

37-38.

Repentance then will follow; like the sting Plac't in the Adders tayle.

Tilley, S 859 ("There is a Sting in the tail of all unlawful pleasures") begins with 1650. Cf. Painter, Palace of Pleasure II. 90

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xxvii (1567), p. 28OT: "those Louers do imitate the Scorpion, whose venome lyeth in his taile, the ende of such loue, beyng the ruine of good renoume. . . . " 38-41.

. . . wretched are Princes When fortune blasteth but a petty flower Of their unweldy crownes; or ravesheth But one pearle from their Scepter.

Cf. T h e Countess of Pembroke's translation of Philip de Mornay, A Discourse of Life and Death (1592), sig. B4: "But say you, such at least whome nature hath sent into the world with crownes on their heads, and scepters in their hands . . . may call themselues happie. . . . Yet free doubtless they are not when the lightening often blasteth a flowre of their crownes, or breakes their scepter in their handes." 50-52.

Some Eagles that should gaze upon the Sunne Seldome soare high, but take their lustfull ease, Since they from dunghill birds their prey can ceaze—

Lucas cites Turberville on sluggish hawks, which is only partly to the point. That the eagle alone can and should gaze on the sun was of course commonplace (cf. Tilley, E 3). As for the dunghill birds, cf. the counsel to evil courtiers in Dekker, If It be not Good (pub. 1612) II. i. 62-67: . . . since the King Of birdes (the Eagle) letts you spred a wing So neere his owne, you should put vp such game As fits an Eagle, and pursue the same. And not like rauens, kites, or painted Iayes, Soare high, yet light on dunghills, for stinking preyes. Indebtedness to Dekker is possible (Brown thinks it certain), but The White Devil betrays no unmistakable borrowing from works so late. T h e two dramatists more probably shared a common source. 72.

"Spit thy poyson." Cf. Tilley, V 28.

73—74.

. . . lust carries her sharpe whippe At her owne girdle.

91

Commentary Does Heywood echo Webster or reflect a mutual source? Cf. his Gunaikeion: or, Nine Bookes of Various History Concerninge Women (1624), P- 441» prodigality and excess: "These are the sinnes that punish themselues, who as it is said of Lust, carrie their owne whips at their girdles." 76.

Wee'le end this with the Cannon.

A verbal similarity in de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 854, may be coincidence. Henry IV's envoys to the Duke of Savoy "braued it in words" and threatened "they must end this quarrell with the Canon in the plaines of Piedmont." 80-82.

'Twere good you'ld shew your slaves or men condemn'd Your new-plow'd [fore-head. Defiance!—and] I'le meete thee, Even in a thicket of thy ablest men.

Lucas thinks "Webster is probably echoing" Brutus' defiance of Cassius, Julius Caesar IV. iii. 43-44: Go show your slaves how choleric you are And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? For Francisco's "fore-head," cf. Lodge, Rosalynde (WksI, 18): "bending his browes as if anger there had ploughed the furrowes of her wrath." 96-98.

A meere tale of a tub, my wordes are idle— But to expresse the Sonnet by naturall reason, When Stagges grow melancholike you'le finde the season.

"tale of a tub": an old proverb (Tilley, T 45) with a twist, as Lucas observes; when "moulting time" comes, Brachiano will readily be found—in a Cornelius tub. Use of the expression in a double sense may have been more common than I realize; cf. Harvey's Pierce's Supererogation (Wks., II, 129): "Dubble V. is old-excellent at his Cornu copiae; and I warrant you, neuer to seeke in his Horne-booke: but debarre thossame horeson Tales of a tubb." T h e "tub" image continues with "season" in line 98. 105-107.

It is a more direct and even way T o traine to vertue those of Princely bloud, By examples then by precepts. 92

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For the familiar idea that "example is better than precept," cf. Tilley, E 213 (from 1570), O. E. P., p. 181 b (from 1400). Anderson notes the discussion of paternal responsibility in Guazzo, III (II, 54-55): "the Mayster doeth them not so muche good by his good instructions, as the Father doeth them harme by his evill Example, for that they are by nature lead rather to followe his steppes, then the maysters preceptes," etc. But Webster's direct source remains untraced. 118-115.

GIO. Give me a pike. FRAN. What, practising your pike so yong, faire cous? GIO. Suppose me one of Homers frogges, my Lord, Tossing my bul-rush thus—

Lucas quotes Chapman's version of the Batrachomyomachia, and sees a possible reminiscence of Heywood's Four Prentices of London (Wks., II, 203); after comparing himself to Achilles, Guy adds: Giue me thy Pike, He tosse it like a reed, And with this bul-rush make mine enemy bleed. An old play, though perhaps not published until 1615, the way "they toss their pikes so" is satirized in The Knight of the Burning Pestle, IV. i. 119-1 so.

Indeed I have heard 'tis fit a Generall Should not endanger his owne person oft.

In condemning this view, Giovanni's attitude is that of Montaigne, II. xxi, p. 390; there is no sign of borrowing, however, and Giovanni's opinion is the prevailing one of the Renaissance. Castruccio is ridiculed for holding the opposite view in D. M. I. i. 95 ff. (F. L. L.) Cf. Webster's own Char., "Commander," lines 15-17, and M. C., lines 67 fiB. 122.

"Like a danske drummer". Cf. Lucas; also Sharpham, Cupids Whirligig (1607), ed. Nicoll, p. 23: "beate . . . like the Denmarke Drummer." 124-126.

. . . if I live I'le charge the French foe, in the very front Of all my troupes, the formost man.

93

Commentary Though probably with Prince Henry in mind, Webster echoes the boast of Prince Edward in Richard III III. i. 91-93: An if I live until I be a man, I'll win our ancient right in France again Or die a soldier as I liv'd a king. 128-129.

(F. L. L.)

Forward Lap-wing, H e flies with the shell on's head.

Lucas somewhat supplements Tilley, L 69, on this popular proverb. 140-141.

See a good habite makes a child a man, Whereas a bad one makes a man a beast.

Henry Crosse, in his opening to Vertues Common-wealth (1603), sig. B i , is barely worth quoting: " T h e Stoikes, call Vice and Vertue, Animalia, liuing creatures, because by them a man is discerned, for in respect of Vertue, a man is said to be a man, which is the Etymologie of the word, and in respect of Vice, to be a beast. . . ." 142-144.

F R A N . . . . Come you and I are friends. B R A C . Most wishedly, Like bones which broke in sunder and well set Knit the more strongly.

A commonplace from Lyly and Greene on; cf. Tilley, B 515 ("A broken bone is the stronger when it is well set"). 187-188.

...

all his reverent wit

Lies in his wardrope.

Somewhat like Thersites to Achilles (Troilus and Cressida II. i. 108-109): "A great deal of your wit too lies in your sinews. . . ." 248-252.

T o dig the strumpets eyes out, let her lye Some twenty monethes a-dying, to cut off Her nose and lippes, pull out her rotten teeth, Preserve her flesh like

Mummia,

for trophies

Of my just anger.

Another Isabella, similarly deserted, is relatively unimaginative; her words are of interest only because Webster twice borrows from this page. Cf. Montreux, Honours Academie, trans. Tofte (1610), sig. Ff3: "I will pull out those shameless eyes, of that impudent Strumpet, who keepeth (uniustlie) that from me, which is 94

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mine owne: and whome thou preferrest before thy lawfull and chaste spouse. That done, I will hasten the heauens to shorten my life, I will make my daily prayers, that I may die quickly." But comparable outbursts are common in drama contemporary with Webster. 265. "manet alta mente repostum" (reposition in Qi): Virgil, Aeneid i. 26. But Webster probably found the tag elsewhere, perhaps in an emblem or device. Praz says it was the motto of Cosimo I Medici (Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery, I [ London, 1939], p. 203); Foxe uses the whole line marginally for Mary's bearing a grudge against Cranmer (ed. Pratt, VIII, 37); Lucas finds instances in the Carleton-Chamberlain letters, and even in an unspecified Continental account of Lodovico's behavior after the murder of Vittoria. Boklund supplements Lucas' evidence on the latter; see especially pp. 63, 83 f., 128 ft. 278-279.

"Unkindnesse do thy office, poore heart breake, "Those are the killing greifes which dare not speake.

Seneca's Curae leves locuntur, ingentes stupent (Hippolytus 607), as Lucas notes, was an exceptionally popular tag in Elizabethan literature. The Latin appears frequently; adapted translations are innumerable. Cf. Tilley, S 664, for a few examples. Explicit mention of heartbreak, though not in the Latin, appears in Florio's translation of the line in Montaigne, I. ii, p. 5, and in the adaptation in Macbeth IV. iii. 209-210: Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break. I know no instance with Webster's "dare" rather than "do" or 11 can. 28g-2go.

I'le send him to Candy.

Lucas, speculating on Flamineo's meaning, quotes Nashe's Unfortunate Traveller (WksII, 299): "He is not fit to trauell, that cannot, with the Candians, liue on serpents, make nourishing food euen of poison." The "Candians" did not live on Candy (Crete) but in Arabia; Webster, however, may not have realized this, and the Plinean commonplace in Nashe may be "the real clue" here, as Lucas believes. But the clue may well lie elsewhere, perhaps in 95

Commentary some allusion to the most famous of Machiavellians. Cf. John Bishop, Beautifull Blossomes (1577), p. 12 i T , on how Caesar Borgia "caused his elder brother Frauncis Duke of Candia to be murthered in the citie one night after they had supped together merrily abroade." Is the resemblance to Camillo's fate merely coincidence? 291-295.

FLA. A poore quackesalving knave, my Lord, one that should

have bene lasht for's letchery, but that he confest a judgement, had an execution laid upon him, and so put the whip to a non-plus. D O C T . And was cosin'd, my Lord, by an arranter knave then my selfe, and made pay all the coulourable execution.

Whether Webster's source or not, Bramble's device in Eastward Hoe V . iii. 64-69 closely parallels the doctor's: Sir, for Securities Case, I haue told him; Say he should be condemned to be carted, or whipt, for a Bawde, or so, why He lay an Execution on him o'two hundred pound, let him acknowledge a Iudgement, he shal do it in halfe an howre, they shall not all fetch him out without paying the Execution, o'my word. [M. L. A.] 298-300. Spaniards

[He] was once minded, for his Master-peece, because Ireland breeds no poyson, to have prepared a deadly vapour in a fart that should have poison'd all Dublin.

T h e jest may be original with Webster, composed from common elements. T h a t "Ireland breeds no poison" was of course a very old and widely held belief; it is discussed at length in Stanyhurst's "Ireland," chap. 1 (Holinshed, ed. 1808, VI, gff.). References to Don Diego's offensive behavior in St. Paul's appear in the plays of Dekker, Heywood, Middleton, etc.; cf. Lucas. A n d for the Irish hatred of anyone's breaking wind Lucas cites Nashe's Pierce Pennilesse ( W k s I , 188), on which McKerrow notes quite accurately that "references to this laudable peculiarity of the Irish are numerous"—for example in Marston, Dekker, and Beaumont and Fletcher. 301. ..

O Saint Anthony

fire!

Slang for breaking wind? Cf. Northward Ho III. i. 122: "Saint Antony's fire light in your Spanish slops!" Or Harington, Metamorphosis of Aiax (ed. 1927, p. 13): "he was stricken in his Posteriorus with S. Anthonies fier." Surely there must be some point to Brachiano's comment.

96

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This is the only occasion on which Brachiano appears to enter into the low jesting spirit of his servant Flamineo. Normally he seems to ignore it (as does Vittoria), without so much as the "No more" of line 308. 315.

Small mischiefes are by greater made secure.

Ultimately from Seneca's "Per scelera semper sceleribus tutum est iter" (Agam. 115), a line frequently quoted or echoed in Elizabethan drama. See Lucas; also Tilley, C 826. I have seen no close parallel to Webster's wording, however. 319-324.

M O N T . Here is an Embleme nephew pray peruse it. 'Twas throwne in at your window— C A M . At my window? Here is a Stag my Lord hath shed his homes, And for the losse of them the poore beast weepes— The word, Inopem me copia fecit. MON. That is. Plenty of homes hath made him poore of homes.

For "throwne in at your window," cf. Julius Caesar I. iii. 1 4 4 145. (F. L. L.) As for the "Embleme," Webster had probably read the slightly similar imprese described in Camden, Remaines (1605), sig. Z4: "He might seeme to reach at some of Vulcans order, which made a Bucke casting his homes, with I N E R M I S D E F O R M I S over him; and vnder him, C V R D O L E N T HAB E N T E S ? " Brachiano is apparently the stag (see lines 98, 3 5 8 359), behaving traditionally after satisfying his lust, and his loss of horns signifies the consequences of his hours with Vittoria. Thus copia in the tag may refer to the virile activity of Brachiano, and at the same time glance at the plenty of horns thereby transferred to the cuckolded Camillo. (See Lucas for alternate interpretations.) The Latin "word" (from Ovid, Metam. iii. 466, as Lucas notes) Webster could have found many places. It is the "mot" of a device described in Nashe's Unfortunate Traveller (WksII, 276), the signature of a pining lover in Willobie his Avisa (ed. Harrison, p. 168), etc. 330-348.

A n old tale. Uppon a time Phoebus the God of light Or him wee call the Sunne would neede be married. The Gods gave their consent, and Mercury Was sent to voice it to the generall world.

97

Commentary But what a pitious cry their straight arose Amongst Smiths, & Felt-makers, Brewers & Cooks, Reapers and Butter-women, amongst Fishmongers And thousand other trades, which are annoyed By his excessive heatel twas lamentable, They came to Jupiter

all in a sweat

And do forbid the banes; a great fat Cooke Was made their Speaker, who intreates of T h a t Phoebus

Jove

might be guelded, for if now

When there was but one Sunne, so many men Weare like to perish by his violent heate, What should they do if hee were married And should beget more, and those children Make fier-workes like their father?

A genuinely "old tale," and one much easier to find analogues for than most such tales in Webster. For its classic origins, see Lucas, but the version he cites involves heat-fearing frogs rather than men. T h e familiar Elizabethan version, though probably not Webster's direct source, does not. Cf. The Fables of Esop in English, ed. 1596, pp. 68-69: "Of the Theefe, and the Sunne. / No man is changed by nature, but an euill man may well haue a worse issue then himselfe, whereof Esope telleth such a fable. A thiefe held the feast of his wedding, and his neighbours came where the feast was kept and worshipped, and bare honour to the thiefe: and a wise man seeing that the neighbors of the thiefe were ioyfull and glad, saide to them. Yee make ioy and gladnesse of that whereof ye shoulde weepe, take heede then to my wordes, and understand your ioy. T h e sunne would once be married, but all the nations of the world were against him, and prayed Iupiter that he should keepe the sunne from wedding. Then Iupiter demanded of them the cause why they would not haue him to be married: one of them said to Iupiter, thou knowest well there is but one sunne, and yet he burneth us all, and if he be married and haue any children, they shal destroy all kind. Therfore this Fable sheweth, that we ought not to reioyce of euill fellowship." 336-339. In The Unfortunate Traveller (Wks., II, 228-229), Nashe's short catalogue of sweat-producing tradesmen includes cooks and felt makers, then mentions butter. 358-359.

Ere I returne the Stagge's homes may be sprouted, Greater then these are shed.

98

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Lodge, Wits Miserie (Wks., IV, 11), merely illustrates this aspect of the image discussed above, lines 321-324: "his horns are not yet budded, because he moulted them verie lately, in the lap of an Harlot."

II.

36-37.

ii.

Strike louder musicke from this charmed ground, T o yeeld, as fits the act, a Tragicke sound.

Anderson notes the conclusion to Act I of Marston's Antonio's Revenge, where Pandulfo, having just learned of his son's death, talks sententiously "as chorus to this tragedy" while music plays with a "slight touch" in the background; closing, he commands: Sound louder music: let my breath exact You strike sad tones unto this dismal act. W h y the murder of the relatively contemptible Camillo deserves louder music than that of the noble Isabella is no clearer than why it should be considered "farre more polliticke." It is the immediate cause, of course, of the trial which follows, but far less consequential for the ultimate fate of the lovers. Some carelessly chosen source, such as the Marston above, will perhaps explain, though not eliminate, the difficulty. For the common idea involved, cf. Bodenham's Belvedere, sig. L4: " A tragicke note best fits a tragicke chaunce." 55-56-

Both flowers and weedes, spring when the Sunne is warme, And great men do great good, or else great harme.

A t least the second of these lines seems to be adapted from William Alexander's Julius Caesar V. i, lines 2643-2650: As in fine fruits or weeds fat earth abounds, Euen as the laborers spend or spare their paine, The greatest sprites disdaining vulgar bounds, Of what they seeke the highest height must gaine. 99

Commentary T h e y , t h a t the crowne of g l o r y m a y b ' e n i o y d , A s onely b o r n e to b e i n a c t i o n still, H a d rather be (then idle) euill e m p l o y d , G r e a t sprites m u s t d o e great g o o d , or then great ill.

T h e immediately following lines compare a prince to "the glorious Sunne."

III. 11. 25-28.

i.

"in by the weeke": proverbial for "thoroughly caught." Gf. Lucas; also Tilley, W 244. LAW. . . .

I am sure a woman that will endure kissing is

halfe won. F L A M . True, her upper part by that rule—if you will win her nether part to[o] you know what followes.

Cf. Sharpham, Cupids Whirligig (1607), ed. Nicoll, p. 13: "the French prouerbe saies, Fame baissee est demie ioyee, a woman kis'd is halfe inioyed: but I feare he meanes but the vpper halfe." (F. L. L.) Tilley, W 657, gives no other early instance. Florio's Giardino di Recreatione (1591), p. 87, has an Italian version. Marston's The Fawn makes a similar upper-nether distinction: "in Cupid's Parliament all the young gallants are o'the nether house, and all the old signiors that can but only kiss are of the upper house" (V. i. 35-37). 41-45.

. . . what hast got But like the wealth of Captaines, a poore handfull?— Which in thy palme thou bear'st, as men hold water— Seeking to gripe it fast, the fraile reward Steales through thy fingers.

Cf. the Countess of Pembroke's translation of Philip de Mornay, A Discourse of Life and Death, sig. C i v : "I speake not heere of the 100

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wretchednes of them, who all their life haue held out their cap to receiue the almes of court fortune . . . : Of those, who holding it in their hands to hold it faster, haue lost it through their fingers." Slight parallels cited by Lucas from Montaigne and Sidney mention water explicitly, but without respect to the frustrations of those who serve great men. Marston makes use of the Sidney in The Dutch Courtezan III. i. 83-84: ". . . like water, more you would embrace the less you hold." 55-56.

Alas the poorest of their forc'd dislikes A t a limbe profferì, but at heart it strikes.

Hunter notes the faint resemblance in Northward Ho I. iii. 145-147: He fetch my blow Faire and a far off, and as Fencers vse Tho at the foote I strike, the head lie bruize. 60.

For love of vertue beare an honest heart.

See on D. M. I. i. 33-34; but Webster probably has a distinct source for the commonplace here. 63-65.

Were I your father, as I am your brother, I should not be ambitious to leave you A better patrimony.

Also based on a commonplace. Cf., for example, Ludovico Guicciardini, The Garden of Pleasure, trans. Sandford (1573), sig. N6: "parents cannot leaue their children a better inheritaunce, than if they shoulde be well brought up, and trayned in vertue euen from their youth: this patrimonye abideth wyth them for euer, neither can it be destroyed by the stormes of fortune." 69-71.

I saw him at last Tilting, he shewed like a peuter candlesticke fashioned like a man in armour, houlding a T i l t i n g staffe in his

hand, little bigger than a candle of twelve i'th pound.

Cf. Henry V IV. ii. 45-46 (similarly contemptuous): The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks With torch-staves in their hand. 76-78.

(F. L. L.)

He carries his face in's ruffe, as I have seene a serving-man carry glasses in a cipres hat-band, monstrous steddy

breaking—

101

for feare of

Commentary Conceited descriptions of heads in ruffs were popular at the time. Lucas cites Jonson and Middleton; for further instances, see M. C. Linthicum, Costume in the Drama of Shakespeare and his Contemporaries (Oxford, 1936), pp. 157-160.

III.

6-8.

ii.

. . . an unbidden guest Should travaile as dutch-women go to Church: Beare their stooles with them.

Basically proverbial; cf. Tilley, G 476 ("An unbidden Guest knows not where to sit [must bring his stool with him]"). Webster's "dutch-women," a rather strange analogy for Brachiano, remain unaccounted for. Perhaps they are merely an invention to give an old proverb new life. 14-22.

V I T . Pray my Lord, Let him speake his usuall tongue He make no answere else. F R A N . Why you understand lattin. V I T . I do Sir, but amongst this auditory Which come to heare my cause, the halfe or more May bee ignorant in't. MON. Go on Sir: V I T . By your favour, I will not have my accusation clouded, In a strange tongue: All this assembly Shall heare what you can charge mee with.

Is the resemblance to Henry VIII (based on Holinshed, but supposedly not acted until 1613) merely coincidence? Cf. Queen Katherine's protest when Wolsey begins to address her in Latin, III. i. 41-49: O, good my lord, no LatinI I am not such a truant since my coming A s not to know the language I have liv'd in.

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A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious; Pray, speak in English. . . . . . . Lord Cardinal The willing'st sin I ever yet committed May be absolv'd in English. 66-70.

You see my Lords what goodly fruict she seemes, Yet like those apples travellers report T o grow where Sodom and Gomora stood, I will but touch her and you straight shall see Sheele fall to soote and ashes.

Webster's direct source for this allusion to the proverbial apples of Sodom remains unidentified. Lucas cites Josephus, Mandeville, Bartholomeus Anglicus; additions would be easy (Vives adds several in his commentary on Augustine's Citie of God). Striking similarity to Webster, however, is rare enough that the following passages may be worth citing: Healey's translation of The Citie of God (1610), X X I . v, p. 843: " T h e apples of the country of Sodome, are faire to the eye, but beeing touched, fall to dust and ashes"; X X I . viii, pp. 848-849: " T h e country of Sodome . . . (as the Paynim stories themselues record, and all trauellers confirme) . . . is as a field of soote and ashes, and the apples of the soyle being faire without are naught but dust within"; and Roest's translation of van der Noot's Theatre (1569), p. 8: "Tertullian [margin: 'In his apologie. ca. 29.'] sayeth, that riches resemble and are much like unto the Apples of Sodome and Gomorre, which seemed goodly and faire to the eye, but being once touched, fell and straightway turned into dust & ashes." 81.

Ha? Whore—what's that?

Vittoria may be shocked, or may be pretending to be shocked, that Monticelso actually dares call her "whore"; compare her protest to "strumpet" in line 253, also her response and that of Flamineo to Brachiano's use of "whore" in IV. ii. 46, 77. If this is true, Monticelso intentionally misunderstands her meaning. Lucas prefers to interpret her speech as "an audacious climax of assumed innocence"; Anderson, in agreement, parallels Beaumont and Fletcher, The Maids Tragedy IV (1608-1611, pub. 1619), where Diagoras reportedly 103

Commentary . . . cal'd a Lady Whore, so innocent She understood him not. \Wks., I, 56] It is difficult to imagine Vittoria claiming an innocence greater than that of Desdemona. 82-83.

Shall I expound whore to you? sure I shal; He give their perfect character.

"their perfect character." According to Lucas, what follows "is indeed a perfect seventeenth-century 'Character' in verse, all the more interesting in connection with Webster's supposed contributions to the prose Characters known as 'Overbury's.' " Composed wholly of metaphors and similes, however, and without any direct description of a whore's activities, the piece actually has little in common with the prose characters of Hall, Overbury, or Webster himself. See Benjamin Boyce, The Theophrastan Character in England to 1642 (Cambridge, 1947), p. 141, passim. Monticelso's catalogue of evils can scarcely illuminate a supposedly ignorant Vittoria, but it is effective rhetoric to impress the ambassadors (and the audience). Only a few of the twelve figures involve any likeness to the whore beyond the threat to health and wealth. The progress by association, common elsewhere in Webster, may be unintentional: (1) deceitful sweet taste; (2) deceitful sweet smell; (3) deceitful promise of reward; (4) deceitful fair weather. "What are whores?" The attack shifts to evils at once real and undisguised: (5) bad weather, cold; (6) heat, of hell; (7) abusive taxes in low countries, even on perdition; (8) abusive law in England. "What are whores?" The associations become more remote: (9) flattering bells at weddings and funerals; (10) treasuries corruptly filled and emptied; (11, from 9 and 10) dead bodies begged; (12) counterfeit coin. The last figure, set apart by a preceding "What's a whore," shifts the guilt in some degree from Vittoria, a rhetorical blunder on Monticelso's part. 83-84.

They are first, Sweete meates which rot the eater.

Cf. Dekker, The Whore of Babylon (1607) V. i. 80-81: . . . what giues she me? good words (Sweet meates that rotte the eater:) 1 04

[F. L. L.]

The White Devil 93-95.

[III.ii]

They are those brittle evidences of law Which forfait all a wretched mans estate For leaving out one sillable.

Perhaps a topical reference to the Raleigh family's loss of Sherbourne in 1608 on a legal technicality (ten words having been omitted by a careless scribe in Raleigh's deed to his wife). See D. P. V. Akrigg, "Webster and Raleigh," N. Q_., CXCIII (Oct. 2, 1948), 427-428, and the fuller account in Edward Edwards, The Life of Sir Walter Raleigh (London, 1868), I, 466-474. T h e affair excited considerable comment, but I have seen no clear reference to it which Webster could have read. 96-97.

They are those flattering bels have all one tune At weddings, and at funerals.

Cf. Sir Thomas Wyatt I. ii. 21-23: The flattering belles that shrilly sound At the Kings funerall, with hollow heartes Will cowardly call thee Soueraigne. Cf. V. vi. 275, below. 99-102.

They are worse, Worse than dead bodies, which are beg'd at gallowes And wrought upon by surgeons, to teach man Wherin hee is imperfect.

T h e practice of begging bodies is alluded to frequently in Jacobean literature, especially that of Dekker; for a typical instance see his The Rauens Almanacke (1609), on the familiar nude heading almanacs: "does he not looke . . . like a theefe begd for an Anatomy in Surgeons Hall" ( W k s I V , 180). 112-113.

You know what Whore is; next the devell, Adultry, Enters the devell. Murder.

According to Lucas, "Doubtless the Biblical casting out of devils by Beelzebub is the ultimate source." Why? Murder has been the natural consequence of adultery, and Monticelso so orders his attack, but with no claim to be casting out devils. Similarly, in Dekker's If It be not Good II. iii. 63-64, where sins are controlled by devils, the archdevil Shackle-soule intends to 105

Commentary Ingender sin with sin; that wines rich heate May bring forth Lust, Lust murder may beget. Thus Samuel Hieron preaches on how sin begat sin in David: "The Deuill preuayling with him in the sinne of Adulterie, brought him to commit Murther also" (Penance For Sinne, ed. 1619, p. 319). 113-115.

F R A N . Your unhappy Husband is dead. V I T . O hee's a happy husband— N o w hee owes Nature nothing.

Cf. Nicolas de Montreux, Honours Academie, trans. Tofte (1610), sig. Nn3T: "That debtor, that is still vexed, haunted, and abused by his Creditor, because hee would pay what he oweth, is he not happie, when he hath made euen with all men, that he may (after) liue in quiet? If so, why (then) farre more blessed are they, who pay their due vnto Nature, vnto whom they are indebted. . . ." But indebtedness to Montreux is improbable. Vittoria's comment involves the mere combination of two common proverbs; cf. Tilley, D 168 (To pay one's Debt to nature) and N 244 (Happy is he that owes Nothing). 139-140.

. . . my defence of force like Perseus Must personate masculine vertue—

From Jonson, The Masque of Queenes (1609), lines 364-365, where there appears "a Person . . . in the furniture of Perseus; and, expressing heroicall, and masculine Vertue." A marginal note explains: "The Ancients expressed a braue, and masculine virtue, in three figures. (Of Hercules, Perseus, and Bellerophon) of wch I chose y* of Perseus. . . ." Webster clearly borrowed from the dedication to this masque in M. C., lines 23-28. (F. L. L.) 142-143.

I scorne to hould my life A t yours or any mans intreaty, Sir.

Cf. V. vi. 49. Lucas notes this stoicism in Montaigne and Sidney. 145-146.

Well, well, such counterfet Jewels Make trew [ones] oft suspected.

Monticelso's comment sounds proverbial, but I know only one passage at all similar, and in a work with further parallels. Cf. More's Richard the Thirde (Wks., ed. 1557, p. 67): "all thynges 106

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[III.ii]

were in late daies so couertly demeaned, one thing pretended and an other ment, that there was nothyng so plaine and openly proued, but that yet for the comen custome of close & couert dealing, men had it euer inwardely suspect, as many well counterfaited iewels make j" true mistrusted." Webster's parallels to More can of course be found also in the various chronicles which repeat him—Grafton, Holinshed, Stow, etc. 147-149.

For know that all your strickt-combined heads, Which strike against this mine of diamondes, Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall breake—

From de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1050, of a fortunately discovered conspiracy against Henry IV: "no small signe of the prosperity of his Raigne, and of his Fortune; and an assurance that those heads which shall strike against this rocke of Diamant will proue Glasse." 150-151.

These are but faigned shadowes of my evels. Terrify babes, my Lord, with painted devils.

A proverbial argument against false fears. Lucas cites Macbeth II. ii. 53-55: The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures. 'Tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil, for which Kittredge notes Selimus (Malone Soc. Rep., lines 425426): . . . a tale to terrifie yoong babes: Like diuels faces scor'd on painted poasts. Most references are to children terrified by masks. See Lipsius, Two Bookes of Constancie, trans. Stradling (1594), ed. Kirk, p. 180, with classical sources noted by Kirk; also Le Loyer, A Treatise of Specters, trans. Jones (1605), pp. 105-106. 152-155.

— f o r your names, Of Whoore and Murdresse they proceed from you, As if a man should spit against the wind, T h e filth returne's in's face.

T h e simile is proverbial, but apparently uncommon before Webster. Cf. Tilley, H 356. For the common Italian equivalent 107

Commentary (Chi sputa in su, lo sputo gli toma in su'l viso) cf. Charles Speroni, Proverbs and Proverbial Phrases in Basile's "Pentameron" (Univ. of Calif. Pub. in Mod. Phil., X X I V . 2; Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1941), No. 235, p. 219. The earliest recorded version occurs in Guevara's Diall of Princes (in Tilley), but the closest to Webster I have seen appears in Jacques Yver, A Courtlie controuersie of Cupids Cautels, trans. H. W. (1578), sig. P3, of one who listens to evil reports about his wife: "thou shalte be like him that spitteth againste the winde, whose slauer fleeth in his owne face. . . ." 169.

Cowardly dogs barke loudest.

Tilley, D 528, begins with Erasmus, Adagia, 908B: "Canes timidi vehementius latrant" (derived from Quintus Curtius vii. 4. 13, that a timid dog barks more violently than it bites). 171-172.

T h e sword you frame of such an excellent temper I'le sheath in your owne bowels.

A parallel in the de Serres portion of the General Inventorie at least clarifies the sense of Brachiano's image. Cf. p. 717, of the plots by the League to disgrace Henry III: "The Collosse they seeke to build, shall bee their ruine: the fire they kindle, shall burne them: the knife they forge, shalbe shethed in their owne bowells, and finally shall leaue of this League a shamefull and reprochefull memory." The same passage, substantially, appears in the second part of An Historical Collection (1598), ascribed to Matthieu; cf. p. 9: ". . . these kniues you forge, will bee tempered in your entralles: and . . . thereby you will leaue neither of your selues, nor your league, but a most pittifull and shamefull memorie." 173-177.

B R A . . . . There are a number of thy coate resemble Your common post-boyes. M O N T . Ha? B R A C . Your mercinary post-boyes— Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise T o fill your mouth's with grosse and impudent lies.

Cf. Foxe, Acts and Monuments (ed. Pratt, VI, 92-93), quoting Stephen Gardiner: " I mislike that preachers which preach by the king's licence . . . do openly and blasphemously talk against the Mass, and against the Sacrament. And to whom may I liken such 108

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readers and preachers? I may liken them unto posts; for the proverb says, that posts 'do bear truth in their letters, and lies in their mouths.' . . . I have not played the post with you, to carry truth in my letters, and lies in my mouth. . . ." (There is a subsequent reference to Gardiner's image in VI, 238.) Although the bishop calls his simile proverbial, I have seen no further instance of it. Lucas cites Bacon's version, Apophthegms, 16, "of the Protestants, who ground upon the Scripture" (1625; Wks., ed. i860, XIII, 332)178-183.

SER. My Lord your gowne. B R A C . Thou liest 'twas my stoole. Bestow't upon thy maister that will challenge The rest a'th houshold-stuffe—for Brachiano Was nere so beggarly, to take a stoole Out of anothers lodging.

Brachiano imitates the bravery of an earlier duke, father of William the Conqueror. Cf. Higden's Polychronicon, trans. Trevisa, VI. xix (ed. Lumby, VII, 127), of Duke Robert: "Also [re]tornynge by the emperour of Constantynnoble whiles he spak with hym, sawe that there was no benche in the hous, satte on his owne mantel, after the manere and the custume of his contre, and that same dede his knyghtes; and whan they rose thay lefte thaire mantels there as the duke comaunded, seieng that they oghte nought for to take awey with thaym thaire benches and thaire sittinges." Webster's direct source remains undiscovered—perhaps some chronicle which proved as useful to him as that of de SerresMatthieu. The much later version cited by Lucas from the Percy Anecdotes is far closer than Higden to Webster, especially in its conclusion: "The emperor, who had admired their whole behaviour, was quite surprised at this last part of it; and sent one of his courtiers to entreat the duke and his followers to put on their cloaks. 'Go,' said the duke, 'and tell your master that it is not the custom of the Normans to carry about with them the seats which they use at an entertainment' " (Chandos rep., pp. 391-392). 186.

Nemo me Impune Zac«[s]if.

This motto appeared on the Scotch "Thistle-mark" after 1578, as Lucas notes, but it seems probable that Webster found it in 109

Commentary some published work—and in one where he would not realize the possible affront to James I. After 1612 one sees it frequently, e.g., in Hall's Imprese of God, part 2, with reference to James (preached 1612, but apparently not published until the Recollection of 1617, p. 536): "Nemo me impune lacesset, is a good Posie; but Beati pacifici, is a better"; or Thomas Adams' Mystical Bedlam (pub. 1615; Wks., I, 273), of God; or the title page of Brathwaite's Strappado for the Diuell (1615). Webster's source may well have been whatever work he employed for the "Knights of severall Orders" in IV. iii. 5-17, but I have seen no early volume with the necessary data. Cf. Pierre d'Avity, The Estates, Empires, & Principallities of the World, trans. Grimeston (1615), p. 1189 (actually p. 1187), in his section on the history of knighthood: "Hence the order of the knights of S. Andrew (famous in that realme [Scotland]) tooke his beginning, being comonly called the knights of the Thistle. The kings armes and coine are enuironed with the coller of this order, being full of thistles, with this motto, Nemo me impune lacessit: for that no man can handle a thistle, but he shall pricke himselfe." It is possible, of course, but improbable, that Webster was adapting the motto of a famous Italian. Cf. the Imprese of Paolo Giovio, trans. Daniel (1585), sig. C6, on the device of Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan: "a Mastiffe or Greyhound crouching on his hinder legges 8c standing vp before, vnder a Pine tree, with this mot, Quietum nemo [me] impune lacesset, to signifie that he would not molest any man, but that he was readie to offend, and defend himself, if any dared to oppose them selues against him." T h e "me," not in Daniel, was part of the device, according to Palliser's Historic Devices (London, 1870), p. 191. 193-196.

As in cold countries husband-men plant Vines, A n d with warme bloud manure them, even so One summer she will beare unsavory fruite, A n d ere next spring wither both branch and roote.

T h e slight parallel from Marston's Sophonisba, cited by Lucas, may share its source with Webster: O ye powers I forgive, Through rotten'st dung best plants both sprout and live; By blood vines grow. [II. iii. 34-36] 110

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[III.ii]

What is the background for Bolingbroke's earlier lament, Richard II V. vi. 45-46? Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. 198-199.

I decerne poison, Under your guilded pils.

Cf. D. M. IV. i. 23-24. (F. L. L.) A commonplace image for evil intentions concealed by fair words, in Nashe, Chapman, Dekker, etc. "Gild" is the ordinary medical term, not a metaphor. 208.

Casta est quam nemo

rogavit—

Ovid, Amores i. 8. 43. (F. L. L.) Probably commonplace. I have encountered the Latin in Willobie his Avisa (1594, etc.), ed. Harrison, p. 10, and as the title of one of Henry Parrot's "long since compos'd" epigrams in The Mastive (1615), sig. G4V. For its English equivalent see Tilley, S 608. 210.

Frost i'th dog-daies!

Proverbial? T h e dog days were traditionally associated with lust. Hence in Beaumont and Fletcher's The Woman-Hater (pub. 1607) III. ii (Wks., X, 101), when the woman-hater suddenly pretends to be struck with lust, Oriana says: "I should have look'd as soon for Frost in the dog days . . . as hop'd this strange conversion above miracle." According to their Thierry and Theodoret (1607-1617, pub. 1621) V. i (Wks., X, 64), it is impossible to quench "a whore ith dogdayes." 211-214.

Condemne you me for that the Duke did love mee? So may you blame some faire and christall river For that some melancholike distracted man, Hath drown'd himselfe in't

Apparently based on Montreux, Honours Academie (1610), sig. Ee2: "But O you blinde and frantike Louers, who alwayes make your Mistresses the motiues of all your misfortunes. As if a faire Christall Riuer, and such a one, as is profitable vnto the whole Common-wealth, should be condemned, for drowning such as cast themselues headlong into the same, and not their owne foolish and desperate fault." Thomas Adams, despite his condemnation of plays, seems in turn to be indebted to Webster, unless 111

Commentary some third source remains undiscovered. Cf. his Diseases of the Soul (entered in November, 1614, pub. 1616; Wks., I, 493), of the lustful man: "He drowns himself in a woman's beauty, which is God's good creation, as a melancholy distracted man in a crystal river." 2x4-225.

If the devill Did ever take good shape behold his picture.

Commonplace? Cf. "Tourneur," Laugh and Lie Downe (1605; ed. Nicoll, p. 283), of a froward wife: "If there may be a Deuill in a humane shape, he will shew himselfe in her picture." There are many references, of course, to the devil disguised; e.g., Westward Ho II. ii. 152-153: Thou art a very bawd: thou art a Diuel Cast in a reuerend shape; thou stale damnationl 233-234.

W h o saies so but your selfe? if you bee my accuser Pray cease to be my Judge.

Cf. Jonson, Sejanus III. 200-201: . . . is he my accuser? And must he be my iudge?

[M. C. B.]

T h e idea is common; cf. Ling, Politeuphuia, ed. 1598, p i54T: "No man may bee both the accuser and iudge. Plut." Also Tilley, P 239. But Webster borrows twice more from Sejanus in this scene. Jonson's Silius is clearly the victim of tyrannical injustice; not even the English ambassador suggests that Vittoria is one. 237-239.

Were your intelligencing eares as [long] As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue I would not care though you proclaim'd them all.

Cf. Sejanus II. 453-457: Yea, had SEIANVS both his eares as long As to my in-most closet: I would hate To whisper any thought, or change an act, To be made IVNO's riuall. Vertues forces Show euer noblest in conspicuous courses. 266-270.

For you, Vittoria, your publicke fault, Joyn'd to'th condition of the present time, Takes from you all the fruits of noble pitty.

11a

[F. L. L.]

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[Ill.ii]

Such a corrupted triall have you made Both of your life and beauty.

Here Webster seems to draw phrases from Machiavelli's Florentine Historie, trans. Bedingfield (1595), a work to which he elsewhere betrays no verbal indebtedness. At the end of Bk. V (Tudor Trans., pp. 272 f.), the Earl of Poppi begs in defeat that "my miserie might be pittied. . . . Let therefore the vertue of your compassion, exceed the greatness of mine offence. . . . T o whome Neri answered, that . . . his fault joyned with the conditions of the present time, must of necessitie take from him all his wealth, and be inforced to abandon that countrey, as enemy to the Florentines, which as their friend he would not possesse. For he had made so evill a trial of himselfe, as he might not in any wise be suffered to remaine there . . (italics mine). The relevant Italian reads: "Al quale Neri rispose . . . che, aggiuntovi le condizioni de'presenti tempi, era necessario cedesse tutte le cose sue, e quelli luoghi nimico a' Fiorentini abbandonasse, che loro amico non aveva voluti tenere; perchè gli aveva dato di sè tale esemplo, che non poteva essere nutrito. . . ." 276-278.

V I T . A house of convertites, what's that? MON. A house Of penitent whoores.

Bishop Jewel, though scarcely a source, provides the clearest reference I have seen. In The Defense of the Apologie (1565) he quotes his opponent Harding concerning the courtesans of Rome: "if they turne and repent, there are houses called Monasteries of the Conuertites, and speciali prouision and discipline for them, where they are taught how to bewaile their vnchaste life so sinfullie past ouer" (Wks., 1609, p. 344). Monticelso has scarcely waited for Vittoria to "turne and repent." 280-281.

F R A N . You must have patience. V I T . I must first have vengeance.

From Sejanus IV. 1-2: [GALLVS.] You must haue patience, royall AGRIPPINA. AGR. I must haue vengeance, first: The sympathetic counsel of Agrippina's friend becomes hypocritical when spoken by Vittoria's enemy. [M. C. B.] 1 »3

Commentary 885-286.

V I T . A rape, a rape! M O N . How? V I T . Yes you have ravisht justice, Forc't her to do your pleasure.

Perhaps shares a common source with Chapman's later Chabot V. ii. 121-122: "a most prodigious and fearful rape, a rape even upon Justice itself." Tourneur, Atheist's Tragedy (1611) I. iv. 137-141, is similar only in the outcry: Seba. A rape, a rape, a rape! Bel. How now? D'am. What's that? Seba. Why what is't but a Rape to force a wench to marry, since it forces her to lie with him she would not? [F. L. L.] 292.

Instruct me some good horse-lech to speak Treason.

Bogard thinks this influenced (as perhaps it is) by Sejanus IV. 354-357, where Arruntius addresses Sejanus' eavesdropping spies: Wee'll talke no treason, sir, If that be it you stand for? Fare you well. We have no need of horse-leeches. Good spie, Now you are spi'd, be gone. «93-294.

For since you cannot take my life for deeds. T a k e it for wordes—

A 1606 account of the Gunpowder Plot trials offers a faint parallel and suggests some undiscovered source for Webster. While castigating Raleigh as a possible co-conspirator, Coke recalls the treason trial of 1603, where "Raleigh further said, that many more were hanged for wordes then for deeds" (A True and Perfect Relation, sig. Ki T ). 294-295.

— 6 womans poore revenge Which dwels but in the t o n g u e —

Probably an adaptation, perhaps itself proverbial, of " A woman hath no weapon but her tongue" (Tilley, W 675, but far commoner than is there indicated). In Guevara's Diall of Princes, III. l x x (paralleled above, I. ii. 328-333), Marcus Aurelius' enraged ex-mistress says that since she "cannot reuenge with my person, I will not spare to doe it with my tongue." Similarly in Guevara's Familiar Epistles (1574), p. 501: " O n the other side the poore 114

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women for that they haue no force to reuenge, thei profite themselues to complaine with their tongues." 295-297.

— I will not weepe, No I do scorne to call up one poore teare T o fawne [on] your injustice—

Vittoria three times boasts this evidence of "masculine vertue"; cf. IV. ii. 128-129, V. vi. 226. Anderson, who thinks V. iii clearly influenced by King Lear, believes the present passage an echo of II. iv. 279-281, 285-289 in that play. 305.

Through darkenesse Diamonds spred their ritchest light.

Cf. Whetstone's Heptameron of Ciuill Discourses (1582), a work clearly used for D. M., sig. D i : "a Diamond in the darcke, shineth of herselfe." The image sounds common, yet does not seem to be so. Whetstone uses it twice more in other works. 331-337.

GIO. What do the dead do, uncle? do they eate, Heare musicke, goe a-hunting, and bee merrie, As wee that live? F R A N . No, cose; they sleepe. GIO. Lord, Lord, that I were dead, I have not slept these sixe nights. When doe they wake? F R A N . When God shall please.

A comparable dialogue occurs between little Hengo and his uncle in Bonduca IV. ii (Beaumont and Fletcher, Wks., VI, 127128), as several critics have observed. Which play was prior is not known.

III.

l-i.

iii.

Wee indure the strokes like anviles or hard Steele, Till paine it selfe make us no paine to feele.

For a striking but probably coincidental similarity cf. Harington's Orlando Furioso, X X X . vii. Mad Orlando beats a herdsman 1

»5

Commentary with his fist "Till paine it selfe made him no paine to feele." (G. K. H.) The Italian has nothing comparable. Cf. also X X I V . vii ("Till paine it selfe made him past sence of paine") and X X V . lx ("Till ioy it selfe, of ioy did make vs werie"). Perhaps Harington recalled Seneca, Epist. 78. 8, of extreme physical pain: "Sed cito hae partes obstupescunt et ipso dolore sensum doloris amittunt. . . 11-13.

Your comfortable wordes are like honie. T h e y rellish well in

your mouth that's whole; but in mine that's wounded they go downe as if the sting of the Bee were in them.

Although Flamineo's simile has a Biblical ring at the beginning (cf. Psalms cxix. 103, etc.), it probably stems from someone's adaptation of Seneca, Epist. 109. 7, on the counsel of the wise: "Illo modo dicas licet non esse in melle dulcedinem: nam ipse ille, qui esse debeat, ita aptatus lingua palatoque est ad eiusmodi gustum, ut ilia talis sapor capiat, aut offendetur. Sunt enim quidam, quibus morbi vitio mel amarum videatur." Thus Cawdrey, Treasurie or Store-house of Similies (1600), p. 24, compares "good and profitable admonition" to honey: . . vnto him that is diseased with the Kinges Euill, hony is vnpleasant and bitter, when as vnto others the same is very sweete"; and Matthieu, Lewis the Eleventh (1614), sig. E i : "It is impossible to find truth in an enemies tongue. Hony how sweet soeuer it be, is sharpe and offensiue to a mouth vlcered with passion and slander." Cf. also North's Plutarch, "Phocion" (ed. 1612, p. 751): "For like as hony sweete by nature, applied vnto wounds, doth bring both smart and paine: euen so, sharpe words, though profitable, do bite the vnfortunate man. . . ." 19-20.

O Gold, what a God art thoul

Probably influenced by some such passage as that in Davies of Hereford, Humours Heau'n on Earth (1609), sig. H8, beginning: "O gold, the god which now the world doth serue. . . ." 24.

... it.

theres nothing so holie but mony will corrupt and putrifie

Perhaps from de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 941: "There is nothing so holy, but money will violate, nor so strong 116

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but it will force." This is merely a translation, however, of Cicero, In C. Verrem i. 2. 4: "nihil esse tam sanctum quod non violari, nihil tam munitum quod non expugnari pecunia possit." T h e Latin appears in the Adagia of Erasmus, Minutius, etc., and neither Latin nor English is very uncommon. Henry Crosse uses Webster's "corrupt" in his version: "There is nothing therefore so holy, so pure, so honest, so chaste, but money will corrupt, violate, and batter down" (Vertues Common-wealth, 1603, sig. L4). T w o parallels in Crosse suggest a common source not yet discovered; see on D. Ai. III. ii. 283-287, V. iv. 75-78. 43~45-

. . . if gentlemen enough, so many earlie mushromes, whose best growth sprang from a dunghill, should not aspire to

gentilitie.

mushromes . . . dunghill. D. L. IV. ii. 132-133 is similar. (F. L. L.) As Tilley, M 1319, makes clear, only the "dunghill" aspect of Webster's image is uncommon. Marlowe's Gaveston, Chapman's Bussy, Jonson's Cicero, etc., are all "mushrooms" to their enemies. 66-67.

And I doe wish ingeniously for thy sake The dog-daies all yeare long.

dog-daies: not Lucas' "evil days, days of calamity," but an eternal season of heat and lust, best weather for panders (see on III. ii. 210). In Webster's additions to Overbury, however, when the sexton similarly "wishes the Dogge-daies would last all year long," he does so because the heat encourages the plague, as Lucas there notes. 78-79.

LOD. Shalt thou & I joyne housekeeping? FLA. Yes, content. Let's bee unsociably sociable. LOD. Sit some three daies together, and discourse. FLA. Onely with making faces; lie in our clothes. LOD. With faggots for our pillowes. FLA. And bee lowsie. LOD. In taffeta lininges; that's gentile melancholie— Sleepe all day. FLA. Yes: and like your melancholike hare Feed after midnight. 117

Commentary Anderson compares the somewhat analogous "strict friendship" of Malevole and the odious Bilioso in Marston, The Malcontent I. i. 265 ff. T h e Flamineo-Lodovico dialogue may be a slightly adapted excerpt from some prose character on melancholy, broken into fragments so that each speaker can cap the other, a variation of the "two bucket" technique in I. i. 12-28. 103-104.

Though it be very letchery unto thee, Doo't with a crabbed Polititians face.

Cf. Sejanus I. 411-414: . . . then he aires himselfe Abroad in publique, there, to seeme to shun The strokes, and stripes of flatterers, which within Are lechery vnto him. . . . 128-129.

These rogues that are most weary of their lives, Still scape the greatest dangers—

From Montreux, Honours Academie (1610), sig. Ff3: "(Often) is it seene, that such desperate persons as are wearie of their liues, scape the soonest the greatest dangers. . . ."

IV.

1.

i.

Come, come my Lord, untie your foulded thoughts.

Cf. Chapman, Bussy D'Ambois IV. ii. 161: "dark words have tied my thoughts on knots." (M. L. A.) T h e image may have been common; cf. Sidney's Arcadia, III. ii ( W k s I , 366): "you have tied your thoughts in so wilfull a knot. . . ." 6.

What, are you turn'd all marble?

Cf. the several instances of "marble" under Tilley, H 311 ("A Heart as hard as a stone"). 7-9.

Shall I defye him, and impose a warre Most burthensome on my poore subjects neckes, Which at my will I have not power to end? 118

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[IV. i ]

For the familiar idea cf. Machiavelli, Florentine Historie (Tudor Trans., p. 140): " T o begin a warre, is in the power of everie man, but to end a warre, no man can, when himselfe so liketh." 10-13.

You know; for all the murders, rapes, and thefts, Committed in the horred lust of warre, H e that unjustly caus'd it first proceed. Shall finde it in his grave and in his seed.

Cf. Guevara, Diall of Princes, III. xiii, sigs. I5 y f.: ". . . if two Prynces take uppon theym warres betwene theim, and that bothe of theym seme to haue righte, yet the one of theym onelye hath reason. So that the Prynce whyche shall fyghte agaynste iustyce, or defende the uniuste cause, shall not escape oute of that warre iustified: Not issuinge out iustified, he shal remaine condemned, and the condemnation shall be, that all the losses, murders, burninges, hangings, & robberies which were done, in the one or other comon wealth, shal remaine upon the accounte of him, whiche toke upon him the uniuste warre. Although he doth not finde an other prince, that will demaunde an accompt of him here in this life, yet he shall haue a iust iudge, that wyll in another place laye it to his charge." Verbal resemblance between this turgid passage and Webster is fortunately slight, and the idea may be too common for the parallel to have any significance. Cf. the reflections of Williams, Henry VIV. i. 140-141; and Beaumont and Fletcher, Thierry and Theodoret (IGO'J-IQI']}-, pub. 1621) II. i ( W k s X , 15): This hath made me to prevent th'expence Of bloud on both sides, the injuries, the rapes, (Pages, that ever wait upon the war:) The account of all which, since you are the cause, Believe it, would have been required from you. 17-18.

. . . patient as the Tortoise, let this Cammell Stalke o're your back unbruis'd.

I have not yet discovered the fable apparently alluded to here. 18-81.

. . . sleep with the Lyon, And let this brood of secure foolish mice Play with your nosthrils, till the time bee ripe For th'bloudy audit, and the fatall gripe.

Concerning an allusion to this fable in Measure for Measure I. iv. 64, Audrey Yoder discusses various Elizabethan translations

Commentary of Aesop: ". . . the little mice o£ Shakespeare and Camerarius run by the sleeping lion, while Bullokar's run over his back, and Caxton's 'desport and play' about the lion" (Animal Analogy in Shakespeare's Character Portrayal [New York, 1947], p. 10). Webster's indebtedness to Aesop is probably indirect, however. 28-83.

Aime like a cunning fowler, close one eie, That you the better may your game espy.

Cf. Bartas His Deuine Weekes ir Worh.es, trans. Sylvester (ed. 1608, sig. Pi T ), on God's reason for establishing the Sabbath: Following good Archers guise, who shut one ey, That they the better may their mark espy. The French original (VII. 389-390) has little verbal similarity. Du Bartas of course contains many commonplaces found also in Webster, but there are no further parallels such as the one here cited. Hudson's translation of Judith, however, appears in the same volume; cf. lines 44-45 below, and I. i. 22-23. 44-45.

Your flax soone kindles, soone is out againe, But gold slow heat's, and long will hot remaine.

Cf. Du Bartas, The Historie of Judith, trans. Hudson, IV. 189190 (ed. Craigie, 1608 reading): The straw enkendles soone, & slakes againe: But yron is slow, and long will hote remaine. As Hunter observes, this is closer than the earlier version quoted in Englands Parnassus (ed. Crawford, no. 981, ending "long will heat retaine"). 75.

Better then tribute of wolves paid in

England.

Cf., for example, Camden, Britain, trans. Holland (1610), p. 665: "Great flockes of sheepe graze all ouer these mountaines, neither are they in danger of wolues, who were thought then to haue been ridde quite out of all England and Wales, when King Eadgar imposed upon Ludwall Prince of these Countries to present three hundred wolues yeerly unto him by way of Tribute. For, when, as William of Malmsbury writeth, hee had for three yeeres performed this, at the fou[r]th yeere, he gaue ouer, upon his protestation, that hee could finde no more." 120

The White Devil 76.

[IV.i]

'Twill hang their skinnes o'th hedge.

Cf. Tilley, H 362 ("To hang on the Hedge"). Guazzo (II; I, 245) says he has been so busy "that I had by this time left my skinne on the hedge, were it not that otherwhiles I force my selfe to use some recreation and honest pastime." 136.

When a mans head goes through each limbe will follow.

Proverbial (Tilley, F 655), and consistently used by or about politic villains. Thus in Dekker's If It be not Good, the Diuel is in it I. iii. 201-202, the devil boasts: Murder, and all sinnes els, hell can deuice, He broach: the head's in, draw the body after. Usually the image involves the head of a fox or a snake rather than of a man. T h e earliest recorded instance appears in 3 Henry VI IV. vii. 25-26, which Lucas notes. Cf. also Dekker-Webster's Sir Thomas Wyatt III. i. 120-121: The Fox is suttle, and his head once in, The slender body easily will follow. 139-

With empty fist no man doth falcons lure.

Proverbial (O. E. P., p. 170b; Tilley, H 111); closest is "1546 H E Y W O O D II. v. 54 . . . With emptie handes men maie no haukes allure," itself in Chaucer, Cant. Tales, D 415. See note, ed. F. N. Robinson, on the latter. "Fist" rather than "handes" is common. 141-142.

Like the wild Irish I'le nere thinke thee dead, Till I can play at footeball with thy head.

T w o later works imply a source for Webster's Irish I have not yet found. Cf. Thomas Gainsford, The Glory of England, (1618; ed. 1619, p. 150), of the Irish: "They are desperate in reuenge, and their Kerne thinke no man dead, vntill his head be off"; Pierre d'Avity, The Estates, Empires, ir Principalities of the World, trans. Grimeston (1615), p. 35, in his "Discourse on Ireland": "they which hold the second ranke, are called Kerne, they vse darts and a broad sword, and doe not thinke any man dead till they haue cut off his head." Grimeston makes clear in his introduc121

Commentary tion that he has frequently supplemented d'Avity; I do not know whether the above passage occurs in the original. As for playing football with heads, cf. F. P. Magoun, Jr., History of Football from the Beginnings to i8yi (Kölner Anglistische Arbeiten, X X X I , 1938), pp. 6, 23, 41-48. He cites instances from both Renaissance history and literature, and the latter might be easily supplemented. Edward Hawes, for example, thinks the skulls of Percy and Catesby " T w o foote-balls fit to make the Deuils sport" (Trayterous Percyes & Catesbyes Prosopopeia, 1606, sig. C4). 143.

Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta

movebo.

Aeneid vii. 312, as Webster may have realized. But this was perhaps the most standard tag of all for villains. I have seen it at least two dozen times prior to Webster's play, especially in antiRome and anti-Jesuit literature. T h o u g h often used soberly by indignant authors, it had become popular even within comic contexts. For the latter, cf. The Returne from Pernassus, Part T w o , IV. ii, line 1695; Marston's dedication to Antonio and Mellida, Part One; the title page of Dekker's If It be not Good, the Diuel is in it.

IV.

20-22.

ii.

Ud's foot you speake, as if a man Should know what foule is coffind in a bak't meate Afore you cut it up.

Cf. Chapman, May Day (ca. 1609; pub. 1611) V. i. 142-144: "She must have better skill in baked meats than I, that can discern a woodcock through the crust." (F. L. L.) Since "coffind," meaning "enclosed in pie crust," is common without churchyard connotations, Lucas argues that Symonds was therefore mistaken in thinking the phrase "an example of Webster's macabre mind." Symonds exaggerated, undoubtedly, but the two senses of "coffin" were not unassociated. Cf. Dekker, The Meeting of Gallants at an 122

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Ordinarie (1604; Plague Pamphlets, ed. Wilson, p. 116): "Now Cookes begin to make more Coffins then Carpenters, and burie more whole meate then Sextons"; also The Puritaine Widdow I. i. 166-169 (Shakespeare Apocrypha, ed. Brooke): "My fathers layde in dust; his Coffin and he is like a whole-meat pye, and the wormes will cut him vp shortlie." 40.

The Gods never wax old, no more doe Princes.

Cf. Corrozet, Memorable Conceits (1602), p. 264, with reference to Oed. at Col., 607-608: "The Poet Sophocles hath written: That the Gods onely haue this power and priuiledge, not to waxe old." Erasmus indicates some probable source for Webster's entire line. For the immortality of princes I know only his "Reges non senescunt"—which he applies to the king of the gods, and with respect to marriage. Cf. Bailey's Familiar Colloquies, "The Unequall Marriage" (ed. 1733, p. 431): "Ga. . . . [She is] a Wife fit for Jupiter himself. Pet. Phool what, so young a Girl to such an old Fellow as he? Ga. Kings don't grow old." 43-45.

Udsdeath, He cut her into Atomies And let th'irregular North-winde sweepe her up And blow her int' his nosthrils.

Cf. Beaumont and Fletcher, The Maid's Tragedy (1608-1611; pub. 1619) II (Wks., I, 22): No, let me know the man that wrongs me so, That I may cut his body into motes, And scatter it before the Northern wind. [M. L. A.] Indebtedness on either side, or to a common source, is possible. 52-53.

F L A . What mee, my Lord, am I your dog? B R A . A bloud-hound.

O. E. D. gives instances of this metaphorical use for "bloudhound" from 1400. Cf. 2 Henry IV V. iv. 31; Marston, Antonio's Revenge IV. ii. 82; Jonson, Sejanus III. 376. Also D. M. III. v. 60. 57-58.

I tell you Duke, I am not in Russia; My shinnes must be kept whole.

Perhaps suggested by Dekker, Seven Deadly Sinnes (1606; Wks., II, 28): " T h e Russians haue an excellent custome; they beate them on the shinnes, that haue mony, and will not pay their debts," 123

Commentary itself perhaps derived from Giles Fletcher, Of the Russe Common Wealth (1591), sig. H3. (F. L. L.) Dekker refers to the practice again in Iests to make you Merrie (1607; Wks., II, 355), and Day in the indefinitely dated Parliament of Bees (ed. Bullen, p. 65): Imp. Die. 65-66.

Let him have Russian law for all his sins. What's that? Imp.

A 100. blowes on his bare shins.

All your kindnesse to mee is like that miserable curtesie of Polyphemus to Ulisses, you reserve mee to be devour'd last.

With reference to Odyssey ix. 369-370 (F. L. L.), but from de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1013: "the most couragious was not without feare, thinking that the greatest courtesie they could expect from these Barbarians, was that which Vlisses attended of Poliphemus, to be deuoured last." 83-84.

lie give you the bels And let you flie to the devill.

A more common expression of rejection, especially in Elizabethan amatory poetry, than Tilley indicates, B 282 ( " T o take off [or 'give you'] your Bells and let you fly"). 84. Ware hawke. According to Lucas, "Hawke in slang meant a swindler—so here, 'beware of a trap'; Vittoria puts the same warning more plainly in the next line." But he gives no evidence of such use of the phrase. Tilley, H 227 (following O. E. P., p. 6926), is no more satisfactory: " A phrase applied to an officer of the law, who pounced upon criminals." Vittoria, surely, is the hawk, the language of falconry being continued from Brachiano's speech. Turberville, The Booke of Falconrie, ed. 1611, pp. 185-186, stresses the need for patience in training ("reclaiming," etc.) young hawks. Rewarding them with meat from their own kill is essential. If the spaniels try to seize the hawk's first partridge, "alight from your horse quickly, 8c taking it from the Spaniel, cast it out to your hawk crying, (ware hawke ware) and let her feed her fil on it." If she has abandoned her game after attacking it, the falconer should take a live partridge from his bag "In such sort as the Hawke may see it, and thinke that it is the same which she slew. A n d so crying when you cast it out, ware Hawke ware, make her seaze it, & feede her upon 124

The

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[IV. ii]

it, that she may be encouraged thereby" not to give up her prey again. It is not clear whether Flamineo is being cynical and means "Let her fly to feast on her prey," or is warning Brachiano against ungenerous impatience. Vittoria protests against the latter at line 1 9389.

How long have I beheld the devill in christalll

Although Lucas believes otherwise, probably no direct reference to Vittoria's beauty, or even to her being a devil, is intended —whatever the overtones of the image. T o behold the devil in crystal appears to have meant, generally, simply to be deceived, as by the apparent reality of an illusion. Cf. Lodge, Wits Miserie, sig. C 2 t (Wks., IV, 12); Rowlands, The Letting of Humors Blood in the Head Vaine, sig. D6T {Wks., I, 60). The devil seen in a crystal, after all, looked like a devil. 92-93.

Woman to man Is either a God or a wolfe.

From Montaigne, III. v, p. 5 1 1 , of marriage: "It is a match wherto may well be applied the common saying, homo homini aut Deus, aut Lupus. Man unto man is either a God or a Wolfe. Eras, chil. I. cent. I. 69. 70." 96-98.

Procure but ten of thy dissembling trade, [WJee'ld furnish all the Irish funeralls With howling, past wild Irish.

Another untraced allusion to the "wild Irish." Lucas cites Stanyhurst from Holinshed (ed. 1808, VI, 67), but this provides no explanation for Brachiano's reference to "dissembling trade"; it does not even identify the mourners as women. Webster's source must have included such information as that in Camden, Britain, trans. Holland (1610), Pt. II, p. 147, describing "wild Irish" preparations before a death, with "certaine women hired of purpose to lament." After the death, "they keepe a mourning and wailing for it [the soul], with loud howling and clapping of their hands together," etc. 103-105.

B R A . . . . all the world speakes ill of thee. V I T . No matter.

»85

Commentary He live so now lie make that world recant And change her speeches.

From Montaigne, III. v, p. 518, while discussing loss of reputation among women: "Some tolde Plato, that all the world spake ill of him; Let them say what they list (quoth he) I will so Hue, that He make them recant and change their speeches." Observe how frequently Vittoria's virtuous-sounding speeches can be traced to those of truly virtuous characters, Silius, Agrippina, and now an apocryphal Plato. Perhaps her next speech is similarly indebted to Queen Margaret. 105-108.

V I T . . . . You did name your Dutchesse. B R A . Whose death God pardon. V I T . Whose death God revenge On thee most godlesse Duke.

Cf. Richard III I. iii. 135-137: Rich. Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick, Ay, and forswore himself (which Jesu pardonl) Q. Marg. Which God revenge! [F. L. L.] 122-124.

I had a limbe corrupted to an ulcer, But I have cut it off: and now lie go Weeping to heaven on crutches.

Lucas calls this a "reminiscence, of course," of Mark ix. 45. Bradbrook is as positive that certain passages in D. M. IV. ii are "imitations" of Deuteronomy and Job. Webster's indebtedness is more probably to some intermediate contemporary source. 130. "drunke Lethe": apparently a common phrase; cf. Lodge, Wits Miserie (Wks., IV, 46); Crosse, Vertues Common-wealth, sig. G2; Jonson, etc., Eastward Ho V. iv. 15-17: " I haue . . . drunke Lethe, and Mandragora to forget you." 133.

I now weepe poniardes.

A much more farfetched image than Benedick's "She speaks poniards, and every word stabs" (Much Ado About Nothing II. i. 254-255), with which it is inevitably compared by editors. 134-135.

B R A . Are not those matchlesse eies mine? V I T . I had rather They were not matches.

Similarly, this piece of wit seems more appropriate to the comic dialogue in Chapman's May Day (ca. 1609; pub. 1611), I. i. 37-38: 126

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[ IV. ii ]

Lor. "A matchless eye." Ang. [ase'de] True, her eyes be not matches, or to the clown in A. V. III. ii. 43-44, where the wit recurs. (F.L.L.) 141.

Wee're blowne up, my Lord—

Cf. D. M. III. ii. 1 8 7 - 1 8 8 (F. L. L.); or Dekker, The Honest Whore V. ii. 46-48: Then all our plots Are turnd vpon our heads; and we are blown vp With our own vnderminings. 149-150.

In the seas bottome sooner thou shalt make A bonefire.

Cf. Guevara, Diall of Princes, III. xix, sig. L6 T : "Thoughe a man be neuer so simple, or so very a foole: yet he can not denaye, but it is impossible to make a fier in the botome of the sea. . . ." Vittoria has just called Brachiano a fool. 178-180.

Best natures doe commit the grossest faultes, When they're giv'n ore to jealosie; as best wine Dying makes strongest vinneger.

From Montreux, Honours Academie (1610), sig. Ff3 T , of a jealous wife: "There is no better Vineger, then that which is made of good wine when it sowreth. Euen so, the best Natures commit the grossest faults, when they giue themselues ouer vnto euill." T h e "vinnegar" part is of course proverbial, except for the use of "dying" (for which the O. E. D. offers no earlier instance); cf. Tilley, W 470. T h e "Websterian" wording is characteristic, whether original or not. 181-182.

T h e Sea's more rough and raging than calme rivers, But nor so sweet nor wholesome.

Again from Montreux, sig. Di T : "Doest thou make account of Loue, because hee is strong and violent? why so is the Sea, tempestuous, strong, violent, rough and of great power; but are his waters, as wholesome, fresh, sweet, and good, as are those of springs and lesser fountaines [?]" Webster wisely eliminates the verbiage characteristic of his source. 189-190.

I, I, your good heart gathers like a snow-ball Now your affection's cold.

127

Commentary A slight and probably coincidental resemblance appears in de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 849: "this great desseine [design] of the League (like vnto a Ball of Snowe) did increase in manie Townes whereas the Kings obedience was growne cold. . . ." As O. E. D. indicates, the snowball was a popular basis for imagery in the seventeenth century. Cf. Marston, Sophonisba V. iv. 13-16; Beaumont and Fletcher, Thierry and, Theodoret I. i (Wks., X, 5); Cornwallis, Essayes, "Of Imitation," ed. Allen, p. 64, etc. 193-194.

Your dog or hawke should be rewarded better Then I have bin.

Perhaps suggested by Montaigne. See on D. M. I. i. 59-61. ig5.

Stop her mouth, with a sweet kisse, my Lord.

" T o stop one's mouth" was of course proverbial (Tilley, M 1264); the witty adaptation of doing so with a kiss became almost equally so. Webster uses it again in D. M. III. ii. 26. For other instances, see for example Much Ado about Nothing II. i. 321-323; Troilus and Cressida III. ii. 141-145. 200—201 •

O, sir, your little chimnies Doe ever cast most smoke.

Apparently proverbial, though I have seen very few instances. Cf. Guevara, Familiar Epistles, trans. Hellowes (1574), p. 96: Certain men who "be little of bodie, although not of mind, euer as I see them go in Court, they seeme to me to be proud, furious, troubled, and angrie. And of this I do not much meruaile: bicause little chimneys always be somewhat fumishe or smokie." In A Chronicle, trans. Hellowes (1577), Guevara applies this generalization to a Roman senator named Fabius Cato, "a man of small stature, which would soone be offended, and as soone be pleased" (sig. G8t). Melbancke borrows the latter for Philotimus (1583), sig. F4. See also Thomas Crewe, The Nosegay of morall Philosophie (1580), professedly drawn from "many Italian authors," sig. B5: Q. What is the cause that little folkes are sooner angry than the great? A. They resemble heerein little chimneis, which ordinarily are more smokie then the greate. . . . 205.

You know that painted meat no hunger feedes.

128

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[IV. ii]

Proverbial? Hunter quotes Sharpham, Cupids Whirligig (1607), ed. Nicoll, p. 12: "husbands are but like to painted fruite, which promise much, but still deceaues vs when wee come to touch." Cornwallis complains that a florid prose style functions "but to feed the auditory with Dishes dressed by the painter not the Cooke" (Essayes, "Of Wordes," ed. Allen, p. 219), and Warner asks, "Who fat with painted meates they see" (A Continuance of Albions England [1606], XVI. ci, p. 401). 224-235.

Stay, my Lord; I'le tell you a tale. The crocodile, which lives in the river Nilus, hath a worme breds i'th teeth of't, which puts it to extreame anguish: a little bird, no bigger then a wren, is barbor-surgeon to this crocodile; flies into the jawes of't; pickes out the worme; and brings present remedy. T h e fish, glad of ease but ingratefull to her that did it, that the bird may not talke largely of her abroad for non-payment, closeth her chaps intending to swallow her, and so put her to perpetuall silence. But nature loathing such ingratitude, hath arm'd this bird with a quill or pricke on the head, top o'th which wounds the crocodile i'th mouth; forceth her open her bloudy prison; and away flies the pretty tooth-picker from her cruell patient.

Lucas on lines 238-241 satisfactorily interprets this tale's dramatic application. He is principally interested, however, in tracing elements of the story in Herodotus, Pliny, etc., and thinks Webster's tale a confusion of these. If any confusion exists it did not originate with Webster. Topsell's Historie of Serpents (1608), though probably not the direct source, includes all the essential elements; cf. pp. 135-136: "As for the little bird Trochilus, it affecteth and followeth them for the benefit of his owne belly: for while the Crocodile greedilie eateth, there sticketh fast in his teeth some part of his prey, which troubleth him very much, & many times ingendereth wormes, then the beast to helpe himselfe taketh land, and lyeth gaping against the sun-beames westward, the bird perceiuing it, flyeth to the iawes of the beast, and . . . procureth (as it were) licence of the Crocodile to pull foorth the wormes, and so eateth them all out, and clenseth the teeth thoroughly, for which cause the Beast is content to permit the Bird to goe into his mouth. But when all is clensed, the ingratefull Crocodile endeuoureth suddainly to shut his chappes together vpon the Bird, and to deuoure his friend, like a cursed wretch which maketh no reckoning of friendship, but the turne serued, requiteth good with euill. But Nature hath armed this little bird with sharpe J29

Commentary thornes vpon her head, so that while the Crocodile endeuoureth to shut his chaps and close his mouth vpon it, those sharpe thornes pricke him into his palate, so that full sore against his vnkind nature, hee letteth her flye safe away" (italics mine). Several works identify the Trochilus with the wren (e.g., Holland's Marcellinus, Maplet, Montaigne). Topsell's long marginal list of sources merely repeats those named in Gesner, but Gesner's Latin cannot account for the italicized passage above. Once again Thomas Adams indicates the probability of a common source, for his brief account offers parallels peculiar both to Webster and to Topsell. Cf. his "The Rage of Oppression" (in The Happiness of the Church, pub. 1618; Wks., I, 83): "They write of a bird that is the crocodile's tooth-picker, and feeds on the fragments left in his teeth whiles the serpent lies a-sunning; which when the unthankful crocodile would devour, God hath set so sharp a prick on the top of the bird's head, that he dares not shut his jaws till it be gone" (italics mine).

IV.

iff.

iii.

^ For this papal election Webster may have depended chiefly on Jerome Bignon, A Briefe, But An Effectuall Treatise of the Election of Popes (1605); see notes below. J. R. Brown has independently noted this source and discusses Webster's use of it with considerable detail. Cf. his " T h e Papal Election in John Webster's 'The White Devil' (1612)," N. Q., n.s., IV (Nov., 1957), 490-494. Interestingly, Webster might have found almost all but the Latin (for which Bignon cannot wholly account) in A Letter lately written from Rome (1585; S T C 21292*), which not only recounts the election of Cardinal Montalto (Monticelso) but appends an account of Brachiano and Vittoria. Boklund thinks this letter a definite source for certain details in the play (see especially his p. 122); his argument is not wholly convincing. 130

The 8-14.

White

Devil

[IV. iii]

That Lord i'th blacke cloak with the silver crosse Is Knight of Rhodes; the next, Knight of S. Michael; That, of the golden fleece; the French-man there, Knight of the Holy-Ghost; my Lord of Savoy, Knight of th'Annuntiation; the Englishman Is Knight of th'honoured Garter, dedicated Unto their Saint, S. George.

See on III. ii. 186. For Webster's purposes, the most serviceable work I have seen is Segar's Honor Military, and Ciuill (1602). In Bk. II, pp. 65-98, Segar singles out these six orders for special attention, provides for each a full plate showing the proper dress of a member, and includes all Webster's data (except that he ascribes a white rather than silver cross to the Knights of Rhodes). 19-36.

FRA. 'Tis o'th point of dinner time, Marshall the Cardinals service—LOD. Sir I shall. Enter servStand, let me search your dish, who's this for? ants with SER. For my Lord Cardinall Monticelso. severall LOD. [Who's] this . . . ? dishes covered. SER. For my Lord Cardinall of Burbon. FRE. [EMB.] Why doth he search the dishes— to observe What meate is drest? ENG. [EMB.] No Sir, but to prevent Least any letters should be convei'd in To bribe or to sollicite the advancement Of any Cardinall—when first they enter T i s lawfull for the Embassadours of Princes T o enter with them, and to make their suit For any man their Prince affecteth best; But after, till a generall election, No man may speake with them. LOD. You that attend on the Lord Cardinals Open the window, and receive their viands.

C f . B i g n o n , sigs. B3 T ff.: The Conclaue at Rome, is in a place ioyning to Saint Peters Churche, within the Popes Pallace. . . . The gates, lower windows, and all accesses, are so mured, and closed vp, that one cannot talke, or communicate with any of those within. . . . At the beginning, after they are entred, the Conclaue remains open,

Commentary for some little time, and then Princes Ambassadours vse to go in, and make their recommendations, and sollicitations in favour of him, or them, whom they knowe to be best liked, and affected by their Princes. After this, the Conclaue is shut, and then no man may any more goe in, nor communicate in any sort, with any one without, neither by letters, messengers, nor otherwise; nor likewise go out, till there be a new Pope created. . . . Euery day the necessarie prouision is brought them, which they giue them in at a window, or by the wicket of the gate, before which there is treble garde, wherof the neerest to the gate, consistes of the Prelates that are in Rome, who looke that none may communicate with those that are inclosed in the Conclaue, and for this cause, they searche the Vessells and platters, to see whether there bee not any letters hidden in the same. 37-40.

You must returne the service; the L.

Cardinals

Are busied 'bout electing of the Pope, T h e y have given o're scrutinie, and are fallen T o admiration.

admiration: "adoration," more properly, as Lucas observes; he mistakes the sense of "adoration," however, in making it the act of homage paid the pope after his election. Francisco's n e x t speech w o u l d in this case make little sense. Bignon, sigs. C i - 2 V , explains the election procedure in detail. I can quote only fragments: . . . and so they proceede to the election of the Pope: which for the most part also is performed after two manners, one by Scrutinie, 8c the other by Adoration. T h e scrutenie is held after this sort: euery Cardinall writes within a certaine billet of paper, his voice and choice, and at the end of Masse, he putteth it into the great challice of Gold, which standeth vpon the Altar. . . . Where by the way we must note, that to choose, 8c create a Pope, there must concurre two thirds of al the Cardinals voices in the conclaue. . . . T h e which falls out very seldome, by way of scrutenie: so as they are vrged to haue recourse to adoration. . . .The other maner, which is Adoration: is, when the Cardinalles being assembled together in the Chappell, turne towardes him, whom they desire to be made Pope, doing reuerence vnto him, and bending the knees very lowe, and when they see that the two thirds are gone to this maner of Adoration, T h e Cardinall thus adored, is made Pope. Montalto was so elected. 132

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41-47.

F R A N . I'le lay a thousand Duckets you here news A CardiOf a Pope presently—Hearke; sure he's elected, nal on the Behold! my Lord of Arragon appeares, Tarras. O n the Church battlements. A R R A G O N . Denuntio vobis gaudium magnum. Reverendissimus Cardinalis Lorenso de Monticelso electus est in sedem Apostolicam, £r elegit sibi nomen Paulum quartum. O M N E S . Vivat sanctus Pater Paulus Quartus.

After explaining the postelection procedure within the conclave, Bignon continues (sig. C3 T ): "In the mean while, the chiefest of the Cardinal Deacons, opening a little windowe, from whence the people which attend, may see, and be seene, he shewes forth a Crosse, pronouncing these words, with a loud voice; Annuncio vobis gaudium magnum: Papam habemus. Reuerendiss. Cardinalis Florentinus electus est in summum Pontificem, & elegit sibi nomen, Leo 2 [sic]." Webster's variations in the Latin perhaps indicate his use of some other source. Bignon includes nothing paralleling the Latin of lines 48, 62-63. 60-61.

T h e hand must act to drowne the passionate tongue, I scorne to weare a sword and prate of wrong.

From Alexander, Julius Caesar III. i, lines 1173-1174: Let other men lament, we must reuenge, I scorne to beare a sword and to complaine. 62-63.

Enter Monticelso in state. M O N . Concedimus vobis Apostolicam benedictionem sionem peccator[u]m.

ir remis-

T h e Latin is not in Bignon, who says merely that "the newe Pope is carryed into Saint Peters Churche. . . . And then hee giueth generall Absolution, and his Benediction to euery one, with much Solemnitie, 8c Ceremonies, which graunt full Indulgence . . . [sigs. C3 T £.]." Webster of course had to keep the scene unchanged. 85-87.

Italian beggars will resolve you that Who, begging of an almes, bid those they beg of Doe good for their owne sakes.

From Montaigne, III. v, p. 536: " . . . I have heard some beg in Italy: Fate bene per voi, Doe some good for your selfe." (F. L. L.)

133

Commentary 88.

Hee spreades his bountie with a sowing hand.

Repeated in M. C., line 39, with the substitution of "provident" for "sowing." In the present context, Lodovico scarcely suggests any wisdom in his benefactor. T h e basic source is Plutarch, Moralia, "De Athen." (see Holland's translation, p. 984), but the passage, with Erasmus' help, had become a commonplace. See Tilley, H 91. Lucas thinks Webster's line "a confused reminiscence" of Montaigne, III. vi, p. 541, where Plutarch's Greek has the following translation and commentary: Not whole sackes, but by the hand A man should sow his seede i'the land. That whosoeuer will reape any commodity by it, must sowe with his hand, and not powre out of the sacke: that come must be discreetely scattered, and not lauishly dispersed. T h e resemblance to Montaigne is slightly stronger in Char., "Housekeeper," lines 2-3, but only slightly. 89-go.

Like Kinges, who many times give out of measure; Not for desert so much as for their pleasure.

Perhaps shares a common source with Beaumont and Fletcher, The Woman-Hater (pub. 1607) I. i (Wks., X, 73): "We Princes do use, to preferre many for nothing, . . . whom we do use only for our pleasures, and do give largely to numbers; more out of policy to be thought liberal . . . than to reward any particular desert." T h e idea may be too commonplace for this slight parallel to have any significance (see, for example, Marston, The Fawn III. i. 306310); there is another faint parallel to the same dialogue, however, in I. ii. 127-129. See above. 108-103.

O thou'rt a foule blacke cloud, and thou do'st threat A violent storme.

Englands Parnassus (1600; ed. Crawford, no. 2144) quotes a similar image from Drayton's Peirs Gaveston (1593), lines 901906: Lyke as a clowde, foule, darke, and ugly black, Threatening the earth with tempest every howre, Now broken with a fearefull thunder-crack, Straight poureth down his deep earth-drenching showre, 134

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Thus for their wrongs now rise they up in armes, Or to revenge, or to amend theyr harmes. 105-106.

I know that thou art fashion'd for all ill, Like dogges, that once get bloud, they'l ever kill.

From Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy IV. ii, line 2184: "(As dogges that once get bloud would alwayes kill)." 158.

Hee soundes my depth thus with a golden plummet.

Hunter compares Chapman, Byrons Tragedy I. iii. 1 0 - 1 1 : . . . you were our golden plummet To sound this gulph of all ingratitude. Also Beaumont and Fletcher's later The Double Marriage I (Wks., VI, 333): . . welcome my golden plummet With which I sound my enemies depths and angers. 154-155.

There's but three furies found in spacious hell; But in a great mans breast three thousand dwell.

From Alexander, Alexandraean

Tragedy V. i, lines 2625-2626:

Some faine three furies but in all the hells, And ther's three thousand in one great mans breast.

V.

1-3.

i.

In all the weary minutes of my life, Day nere broke up till now. T h i s marriage Confirmes me happy.

The confident soliloquy of Sejanus just before his fall has a similar dramatic function, though little verbal resemblance. Cf. especially Sejanus V. 3-4: I did not liue, till now; this my first hower: Wherein I see my thoughts reach'd by my power. 135

Commentary Although the fall of all three principals is foreshadowed in the conversation which follows, the moment of apparent triumph is focused upon Flamineo rather than the "lovers." He alone, significantly, will begin to fall by his own violence before that of the revengers begins. A happy Brachiano, it is true, appears briefly to welcome the unrecognized conspirators, but there is no scene of the "lovers" together, happy just before the catastrophe, as in D. M. III. ii. Such a scene would be appropriate were the sympathetically romantic interpretations of Lucas, Haworth, etc., correct. Vittoria speaks triumphantly only after the death of Brachiano and the supposed death of Flamineo—just before her own death (V. vi. 132-134). 23-24.

They have vowed for ever to weare next their bare bodies those coates of maile they served in.

Perhaps suggested by Montaigne, I. xl, p. 133: "William our last Duke of Guienne . . . the last ten or twelve yeares of his life, for penance-sake wore continually a corselet, vnder a religious habit." (F. L . L.) 38-39-

Glories, like glow-wormes, afarre off shine bright But lookt to neare, have neither heat nor light.

Repeated in D. M. IV. ii. 141-142. Elizabethans frequently used the glowworm for comparisons, but the following passage on the vanity of ambition provides the closest parallel to Webster that I have seen. Cf. Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy V. iii, lines 3428-3429: Some things afarre doe like the Glow-worme shine, That lookt to neere haue of that light no signe. 69-7«.

. . . 6 that, that! That while he had bin bandying at Tennis, He might have sworne himselfe to hell, and strooke His soule into the hazzardt

Cf. Henry V I. ii. 262-263: We will in France (by God's grace) play a set Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.

[F. L. L.]

T o strike the ball into the hazard was to win the point. Hence, as Lucas notes, the image in Shakespeare is more appropriate than 136

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Webster's here. But a fall into the hazard appears to have been a fairly common symbol for catastrophe. Cf. Donne's reference to "that Erie of Arundell that last dyed (that tennis ball whome fortune after tossing and banding brikwald into the hazard)" (ed. Hayward, Letter III, p. 442); similarly, Robert Tailor, The Hogge Hath Lost his Pearl (1614) I. i, sig. BI T . 73-75.

I would have our plot bee ingenious, And have it hereafter recorded for example Rather than borrow example.

Cf. the boasts of the villain Romelio in D. L. III. ii. 89-90, III. iii. 20-22; also D. M. V. iv. 94-95. Anderson compares the villainous resolution of Catiline in Jonson's tragedy (1611), III. 746-751: The cruelty, I meane to act, I wish Should be call'd mine, and tarry in my name; Whil'st, after-ages doe toile out themselues, In thinking for the like, but doe it lesse: And, were the power of all the fiends let loose, With fate to boot, it should be, still, example. 88-go.

Tis not so great a cunning as men thinke T o raise the devill: for heeres one up allreadie, T h e greatest cunning were to lay him downe.

Cf. Bailey's Erasmus, Colloquies, "The Poetical Feast," ed. 1733, p. 202: " 'Tis an old Saying and a true, 'tis an easier Matter to raise the Devil, than 'tis to lay him." T h e Latin reads: "Vetus dictum est, Proclivius est evocare, cacodaemonem, quam abigere" (WksI, 721). Neither O. E. P., p. 5326, nor Tilley, D 319, offers any early instance other than Erasmus. For vulgar plays on the idea in Elizabethan drama, cf. Romeo and Juliet II. i. 23-27; Middleton, Women Beware Women I. i. 80-83. Lucas, noting the first of these, thinks a "similar double entendre" intended here, but this seems farfetched. Flamineo is simply complaining that he cannot now get rid of his old mistress, Zanche. See lines 146 if. In his present good spirits he appears to take a kind of perversely humorous pride in refusing to take his younger brother seriously. The progress from jesting to violence which follows is skillfully handled; cf. the Flamineo-Lodovico quarrel in III. iii.

137

Commentary 92-93.

. . . women are like to burres; Where their affection throwes them, there they'l sticke.

Lucas notes A Midsummer Night's Dream III. ii. 260. But figurative use of "burr" is extremely common, applied to courtiers, to women, to anything that clings, and appears in Hall, Marston, Day, Dekker, etc. Thus in Troilus and Cressida III. ii. 119-120, Pandarus promises Troilus that such as Cressida "are burrs . . . ; they'll stick where they are thrown." Cf. Tilley, B 723, 724. 100-101.

'Tis a ridiculous thing for a man to bee his owne Chronicle—•

Cf. D. M. III. i. 111 (F. L. L.); Char., "An Intruder into favour" (IV, 29). In Dekker, A Knights Coniuring (1607), sig. I47, a brave soldier is silent, "skorning to be his owne Chronicle." Cf. also Troilus and Cressida II. iii. 165-166: "Pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle." 101-102.

— I did never wash my mouth with mine owne praise for feare of getting a stincking breath.

Webster's indebtedness to Guazzo's Civile Conversation, trans. Pettie (1581) begins here. I cite the Tudor Translations reprint of the 1586 edition, which included a fourth book, translated by Bartholomew Young, not used by Webster. Cf. Bk. I (I, 95): ". . . they are so farre in love with themselves, that they are nothing set by of others: forgetting the saying, That hee which washeth his mouth with his own praise, soyleth himselfe with the suddes that come of it." (M. L. A.) Webster has relaxed the metaphor to strengthen the language, but in doing so he has merely followed another version of the proverb, that "proper praise stinks"; cf. Tilley, M 476. 106-109.

What difference is betweene the Duke and I? no more than betweene two brickes: all made of one clay. Onely't may bee one is plac't on the top of a turret; the other in the bottom of a well by meere chance.

Francisco's nucleus is Guazzo, II (I, 192): ". . . there is no more difference betweene the gentleman and the yeoman, then there is between two brickes made of self same earth: whereof the one is set in the top of a towre, the other in the bottome of a wel." (M. L. A.) 138

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116-119.

As shippes seeme verie great upon the river, which shew verie little upon the Seas: So some men i'th Court seeme Colossuses in a chamber, who if they came into the feild would appeare pittifull Pigmies.

T h e first half of Francisco's simile almost coincides with Guazzo, II (I, 221): "One saide, that as some ships seeme great uppon the ryver, which shewe very little uppon the Sea: so some seeme learned amongest the ignorant, which have but a little when they come amongest the learned." (M. L. A.) T h e verbal parallel is striking, even though the basis of analogy is itself commonplace. Cf. Seneca, Epist. 43. 2: "Navis, quae in flumine magna est, in mari parvula est"; and Erasmus, Parabolae {Wks., I, 592): "Navis in fluvio magna, in mari parva est: Sic mediocres alibi, alibi videntur insignes." For varying amplifications, cf. Nashe, The Anatomie of Absurditie (Wks., I, 21-22); Bacon, Apophthegms {Wks., X I I I , 400-401); Meres, Palladis Tamia, p. 107*. Meres also attributes to Seneca a contrast between "pigmy" and "Colossus" (p. i97 T ). 149-150. "wolfe by the eares": a proverb "ancient" even in Plutarch's day and very common in Webster's (Tilley, W 603). Lucas traces its history. 154-156.

. . . I run on, like a frighted dog with a bottle at's taile, that faine would bite it off, and yet dares not looke behind him.

Cf. "Beaumont and Fletcher," Love's Cure (i6o6?-i62i?; pub. 1647), V. iii {Wks., VII, 235): "I will . . . run a whoring like a dog with a broken bottle at's tail." T h e basic simile may have been commonplace, or indebtedness may lie either way; Sykes thought the present parallel a clue to authorship. 163.

For they that sleep with dogs; shall rise with fleas.

Perhaps from Guazzo, I (I, 38), of bad company: "hee which sleepeth with the dogs, must rise with the flees." (M. L. A.) Tilley, D 537, gives several examples from 1573 on; O. E. P., p. 365a, begins with a Latin version sometimes attributed to Seneca: " Q u i cum canibus concumbunt cum pulicibus surgent." 167-168.

Esop had a foolish dog that let go the flesh to catch the shadow.

Cf. Guazzo, II. (I, 135), in talking about rhetoric clouding meaning: "in busying his braine about the vaine pompe of wordes, hee . . . with Esopes Dogge, letteth fall the fleshe, to catche the 139

Commentary shadow." Verbal indebtedness to Guazzo is made somewhat more probable by comparing other references to this popular fable; cf. Tilley, S 951 (also his Elizabethan Proverb Lore, pp. 138-139); 0. E. P., p. 85a; Rollins' note, p. (234 f.), to his edition of The Paradise of Dainty Devices. 170-178.

Lovers oathes are like Marriners prayers, uttered in extremity; but when the tempest is o're, and that the vessell leaves tumbling, they fall from protesting to drinking.

A discussion of false lovers in Guazzo, I (I, 95), is similar only in its conclusion: " T h e othes of lovers, carry as much credite as the vowes of Mariners." (M. L. A.) T h e basis for comparison is common; see, for example, Luis de Granada's application, as quoted in Meres, Palladis Tamia, p. 102: " T h e repentance of wicked men fearing death, is like that which sailers make, when they are in daunger of shipwracke, they promise to chaunge their liues, and to embrace vertue in their extremitie, but when the storme is overpast, they return to their former vomit, . . . making no account of their vowes and protestations." 172-175.

And yet amongst Gentlemen protesting and drinking go together, and agree as well as Shooemakers and West-phalia bacon. They are both drawers on.

T h e base of the jest is at least as old as Gammer Gurtons Needle 1. i, where Diccon intends "a slyp of bacon . . . Shall serue for a shoinghorne to draw on two pots of ale." (F. L. L.) Thus, in John Healey's The Discovery of a New World (ca. 1609; from Hall's Mundus Alter et Idem) appears a catalogue of drink-inducers: "shooing-hornes . . . of all sorts, salt cakes, red herrings, Anchoues, & Gammons of Bacon (Westphalia may go pipe in an Iuie leafe, if it seeke to equall these) and aboundance of such pullers on" (ed. Brown, p. 49). 184-185.

Do you thinke that she's like a walnut tree? Must she be cudgel'd ere shee beare good fruite?

Proverbial (Tilley, W 644). T h e earliest noted instance in English is from Guazzo, III (II, 39): But what do you thinke of those husbandes which will beate their wives? . . . I remember I have redde, I know not where, these verses: 1 40

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A woman, an asse, and a walnut tree, Bring the more fruit, the more beaten they bee. [F. L. L.; M. L. A.] 195.

Hee wrongs me most that ought t'offend mee least—

Repeated, with reference to a friend, in C. C. III. i. 131. Cf. Guazzo, III (II, 85). In the long discussion of enmity between brothers, Annibale wisely corrects the attitude professed by Guazzo (and taken by Flamineo): GUAZ. But I thinke it rather a reasonable thing, that a man shoulde finde himselfe most greeved with him, whiche ought least to greeve him. ANNIB. And I thinke it reasonable, that a man shoulde be least offended with him, who ought to be most bolde with him. 198-200.

Like the two slaughtred sonnes of The very flames of our affection, Shall turne [two] waies.

Oedipus,

Perhaps suggested by the same context in Guazzo (II, 84): "it is sayd, that the enmity between Eteocles and Polinices was so great, that their bodyes being burnt together, the flames were seene most miraculously to part one from another: shewing plainly, that death was not able to take up their controversies, or set an end to their cancred hatred." (M. L. A.) Elizabethan allusions to the myth are common, and appear in more than one of Webster's sources, but I have seen no strong verbal parallel. in.

Alasl poore maides get more lovers then husbands—

Probably from Guazzo, III (II, 6): . . fayre women without riches fynde more Lovers than Husbandes." (M. L. A.) O. E. P., p. 5106, lists nothing before 1640; Tilley, B 178, begins with Webster. 82i.

Lovers dye inward that their flames conceale.

Tilley, F 265 ("Fire that's closest kept burns most of all"), offers several instances of this popular image; I have seen nothing verbally close to Webster.

141

Commentary

V.

18.

ii.

Do you turne your gaule up?

Lucas, unable to locate the phrase elsewhere, thinks Flamineo probably refers figuratively to the act of dying rather than literally to that of vomiting from the wound. But cf. Gosson, The Ephemerides of Phialo (in The School of Abuse, Arber rep., p. 63), where Gosson faces the prospect of venomous critics: "And I haue no doubte I shall please the wise, though the malicious turne vpp their gall." Very possibly Flamineo means "Do you dare show your bitter anger against me?"—perhaps with word-play as well on the meaning suggested by Lucas. 25-26.

That tree shall long time keepe a steddy foote Whose branches spread no [wider] then the roote.

Hunter compares Chapman, Byrons Conspiracy III. iii. 29-30: And being great, like trees that broadest sprout, Their own top-heavy state grubs up their root. 32.

O you abuse mee, you abuse mee, you abuse me.

Cf. King Lear IV. vii. 53, 77. 38-40.

(M. L. A.)

. . . fetch a looking-glasse, see if his breath will not staine it; or pull out some feathers from my pillow, and lay them to his

lippes—

Cf. King Lear V. iii. 261-265. 47-48.

. . . these have kill'd him, that would not let him bee better look't to.

Cf. King Lear V. iii. 269-270. 67-68.

(F. L. L.)

(M. L. A.)

One arrow's graz'd allready; it were vaine T'lose this: for that will nere bee found againe.

A common idea, though often with just the opposite application (as in The Merchant of Venice I. i. 140-144). Cf. Hall, Char., 142

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"Ambitious," ed. 1617, p. 230: " A small hope giues him heart against great difficulties . . . ; perswading him (like foolish boyes) to shoot away a second shaft, that he may finde the first." T h e only known parallel to Webster's "graz'd" appears much later, in John Hacket, Scrinia Reserata (1692), II, 20: "One Arrow must be shot after another, though both be grast, and never found again." (F. L. L.) Tilley, A 325, gives further examples, none close to Webster.

V.

iii.

T h e poisoning of Brachiano was probably suggested to Webster by some such account as that in Pierre Boaistuau, Theatrum Mundi, trans. Alday, ed. 1581, p. 167: "Another Florentine Knight, after that he had pulled off his helmet for to take aire, and to refresh him, an enimie of his rubbed it with a certaine poyson, which was the occasion that when he put it on againe, he dyed sodainly." T h e marginal attribution is to "Ierome Cardan in his booke of subtiltie," a work that seems to have been Webster's ultimate source for several passages. Boklund's recent work assumes that Boaistuau "should undoubtedly be considered the source of this incident" (p. 30), but some other borrower from Cardan is equally possible. 18-ig.

Where's this good woman? had I infinite worlds T h e y were too little for thee. Must I leave thee?

Lucas thinks this "certainly looks as if it were influenced" by the death speech of Argalus to Parthenia in Sidney, Arcadia, III. xii ( W k s I , 427): ". . . Death bringes nothing with it to grieve me, but that I must leave thee, and cannot remaine to answere part of thy infinit deserts, with being some comfort unto thee." I doubt it; the parallel here is slight, and no strong parallels to Sidney appear in W. D. xx-gg.

You kill without booke; but your art to save Failes you as oft, as great mens needy friends.

143

Commentary Should "mens" be "men"? The sense would then be like that in Sidney's Arcadia, II. xi ( W h s I , 216 f.) of a spaniel "shaking off the water (as great men do their friends, now he had no further cause to use it)." This vicious self-interest of great men is frequently attacked in the play, especially by Flamineo and Lodovico. That it should be mentioned by the great Brachiano is in keeping with his many self-critical reflections in the present scene. The idea expressed by the text as it stands is far less meaningful, both for the scene and the play as a whole. 30-31.

O thou soft naturall death, that art joint-twin T o sweetest slumber.

For the ancient and common "Sleep is the brother of death" (Tilley, S 526), I have seen nothing verbally similar to Webster. 38-33.

. . . the dull Owle Beates not against thy casement.

Cf. Tragedy's speech before the murder in A Warning for Faire Women (1599; The School of Shakspere, II, 268), II. 12-14: The ugly Screech-owl, and the night-Raven With flaggy wings, and hideous croaking noise, Do beat the casements of this fatal house. The violent death of Edward II is similarly foreshadowed in Drayton, The Barons Warres, V. xlii, lines 335-336 (strictly, not the Mortimeriados named by Lucas). 33-34.

. . . the hoarse wolfe Sents not thy carion.

See on V. iv. 97-98. 36-37.

How miserable a thing it is to die, 'Mongst women howling!

Perhaps ultimately derived from Plato's account of the death of Socrates; cf. Phaedo, 117 E (trans. Fowler): " I sent the women away chiefly for this very reason, that they might not behave in this absurd way; for I have heard that it is best to die in silence. Keep quiet and be brave." 39-40.

On paine of death, let no man name death to me, It is a word infinitely terrible—

144

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[ V. iii ]

Probably derived from some account of Lewis XI. Cf. Comines, The Historie of Philip de Commines, trans. Danett (1596), VI. xii (Tudor Trans., II, 108), of dying Lewis: . . never man feared death more then he, nor sought so many waies to avoide it as he did. Moreover, in all his life time he had given commandement to all his servants, as well my selfe as others that when we should see him in danger of death, we should onely moove him to confesse himselfe and dispose of his conscience, not sounding in his eares this dreadfull word Death, knowing that he should not be able patiently to heare that cruell sentence"; de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 286, of Lewis' stubborn hope he was not dying, "vntill the Diuines had taken counsell to let him vnderstand, that hee deceiued himselfe, and that his only hope must consist in the mercy of God. A hard sentence to a man that had so often commanded, that euen in the last pangs they should [not] pronounce that cruell word of death, the which he feared beyond the condition of man, and preuented by all the remedies that might be inuented." 49-58.

F L A . . . . most of them do but weepe over their step-mothers graves. F R A . How meane you? F L A . Why? They dissemble.

From Guazzo, II (I, 137): "He which in wordes and outward shew pretendeth us great good will, and in his heart wisheth and worketh us yll, may bee signified, and set foorth by us with this onely worde (Dissembler) yet you shall heare some fine head (refusing to use that common worde, which very infants understande) whiche will tearme him a wolfe clothed in a sheepes skin. Another will say, that in the likenesse of a Dove, hee caryeth the taile of a Scorpion: or, that he hath Honie in his mouth, and a Rasor at his girdle. Another will call him a painted Sepulchre, sugred pilles, or gilted copper. Another will say, hee maketh shewe of the cuppe, but giveth blowes of the cudgell: or, that hee weepeth over his Stepmothers grave" (italics mine). (M. L. A.) Flamineo is such a "fine head," and characteristically chooses the death-associated image. 56-58.

I had as good a will to cosen him, as e're an Officer of them all. But I had not cunning enough to doe it.

145

Commentary Probably suggested by de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1051, of Henry IV: "wee may say that hee hath wicked wretches inough in his Kingdome that would deceiue him, but they are not cunning enough to doe it." Matthieu's reason is that all treacheries against a king necessarily collapse, not that Henry, like Brachiano, is a greater villain. Three further parallels to Webster occur nearby. 66-67.

T o reprehend Princes is dangerous: and to over-commend some of them is palpable lying.

From Guazzo, II (I, 198-199): ". . . me thinkes you have regarde to that which is sayde by one, That to reprehend princes it is dangerous, and to commend them, plaine lying." (M. L. A.) Apparently proverbial; Florio offers a version in his Second Frutes (1591), sig. O i . Note that Flamineo twice qualifies the cynical generalization, a practice much more common to the last act than to the earlier portion of the play, but probably without dramatic significance. ®9~74'

Hee's fall'n into a strange distraction. Hee talkes of Battailes and Monopolies, Levying of taxes, and from that descends T o the most brain-sicke language. His minde fastens On twentie severall objects, which confound Deepe Sence with follie.

Cf. King Lear IV. vi. 178-179: O, matter and impertinency mix'dl Reason in madnessl In the ravings that follow, Anderson sees many parallels between the topics mentioned by distracted Brachiano and those of mad Lear, and on this basis she concludes that Webster was here "plainly more interested in his imitation of Shakespeare than in his characterization of Brachiano" {op. cit., p. 116). In no case is there any verbal indebtedness, however, and the occasional similarity of topics may easily be exaggerated. If Webster was imitating Shakespeare, there is good reason to believe he did so with a dramatic purpose proper to his own play. Brachiano does not go mad through mistreatment, hardship, or shock, as does Cornelia in this same act. There is no pretense 146

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that he does, and no apparent endeavor by the dramatist to excite pity. His ravings are the result of a brain afflicted with poison, halfforgetful of imminent death yet aware of the causes of that death. So much that he says appears dramatically relevant that it is tempting to seek sense in the rest. In the notes that follow I fear I am more concerned with commentary than with sources. 82.

Away, you have abus'd mee.

Although Brachiano thinks he is addressing a false steward, guilty of specific crimes, the consistent implications of his speeches addressed to Vittoria should not be ignored. Here the audience may remember Brachiano's early pledge to Vittoria (I. ii. 255258), the subsequent warnings that he not neglect his "awful throne" (II. ii. 27 ff.), and Lodovico's reference to the duke's evil government (V. i. 81-83). That Brachiano might now in his ravings reproach himself as a faulty governor is plausible, and as probable as his other dying reproaches. But his repeated complaints about economic difficulties, however appropriate to a man of his station, appear neither relevant nor meaningful to the play—except as they reflect a general corruption caused by irresponsible greatness and vicious greed. Ironically, Brachiano's lines make most "Sence" for the play when he "descends / T o the most brain-sicke language." 88-89.

• • • did you ever heare the duskie raven Chide blacknesse?

Probably from Troilus and Cressida II. iii. 221: " T h e raven chides blackness." (F. L. L.) 89-90.

...

or was't ever knowne, the divell

Raild against cloven Creatures?

Addressed to Vittoria, who responds with " O my Lord!" 91.

Let mee have some quailes to supper.

quailes: Elizabethan slang for loose women; again cf. Troilus and Cressida V. i. 57, of Agamemnon, "one that loves quails." (F. L. L.) The slang is common, and an Elizabethan audience could scarcely miss the implications, especially when the pander Flamineo answers with "Sir, you shall." 147

Commentary 92.

No: some fried dog-fish. Your Quailes feed o n poison—

dog-fish: technically the name of a kind of small shark, but common as a term of abuse. Cf. Hart's note on i Henry VI I. iv. 107. T h e sense here is probably akin to that in Mason's The Turke (1610), where Eunuchus refers to lecherous Bordello as a "Dogfish" (Bang's Materialien, X X X V I I , line 1413). Quailes feed on poison: a commonplace, soberly discussed by Bright, A Treatise of Melancholie (1586), p. 21: " T h e quailes feeding of Hemlock . . . moue more difficult questions, seing they make the poison holesome nourishment to themselues & yeeld their bodies, daintie dishes to our tables, notwithstanding." Cf. Lyly, Euphues (Wks., I, 222; ed. Croll traces through Erasmus back to Pliny); Drayton, dedication to Peirs Gaveston (1593; Wks., I, 158): "envious thoughts (like Quailes) feed only on poyson." Surely the audience would think of Vittoria, advanced through the poisoning of Isabella, and now advanced again through that of Brachiano. Perhaps the stress should be on "Your," even though Brachiano supposedly does not recognize Flamineo. 93-94-

T h a t old dog-fox, that Polititian Florence— He forsweare hunting and turne dog-killer.

dog-fox: like Ulysses in Troilus and Cressida V. iv. 12 (F. L. L.), though in a nonmetaphorical sense the proper term for a male fox. By Webster's verbal trick Brachiano moves from fishes to foxes (cf. IV. i. 136) to dogs. Such progression of thought by remote association is common in Webster and is especially appropriate for scenes of rage or madness. 95.

l i e bee frindes with him.

See II. i. 142-144, where Brachiano hypocritically accepts Francisco's offer of friendship; also III. ii. 306 if. 95-96.

For marke you, sir, one dog Still sets another a-barking.

O. E. P., p. 153a, cites only an unidentified Latin proverb before Webster: "Latrante uno, latrat statim et alter canis." In Tilley, D 539, Webster is the earliest example. Is Brachiano confessing that he is the dog who set Francisco barking? Or is this "dog-killer" now the second dog, resolved to 148

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[V.iii]

revenge after the treacherous manner of the first? Probably the latter, but the tone of the actor could easily turn the meaning either way. 97-102.

B R A . . . . Yonder's a fine slave come in now. F L A . Where? B R A . W h y there. In a blew bonnet, and a paire of breeches W i t h a great codpeece. Ha, ha, ha, Looke you his codpeece is stucke full of pinnes With pearles o'th head of them.

I find no applicable significance for "blew bonnet." T h e breeches, fashionable in the reign of Henry VIII, were actually known as "devil's breeches" (cf. the borrowing from Nashe quoted for D. M. II. ii. 37-49). See Linthicum, Costume in Elizabethan Drama, pp. 204-205. 103-105.

W h y 'tis the Devill. I know him by a great rose he weares on's shooe T o hide his cloven foot.

Satiric references to these ornamental rosettes are common; see Linthicum, pp. 243-245. But for this specific piece of wit, later used by both Jonson and Chapman (see Lucas), no instance before Webster is known. 105-106.

He dispute with him. Hee's a rare linguist.

In Marston's The Malcontent I. i. 69-74 the devil is praised as "the best linguist of our age," one who speaks all languages. In Webster, however, as Lucas observes, "linguist" has rather the meaning of "disputant" (for which I know no early example). Dekker, A Knights Coniuring (1607), sig. F2, mentions the devil's excellence "in disputation, being the subtillest Logician, but full of Sophistrie." It is a strange fellow devil that Brachiano imagines, a seemingly comic figure rather than a horrible summoner to hell; yet see lines 121-122, below. T h e grotesque element in Webster takes strange forms. 118-iig.

Ha, ha, ha. Her haire is sprinckled with Arras powder, T h a t makes her looke as if she had sinn'd in the Pas trie.

»49

Commentary sprinckled with Arras powder: for the marriage earlier in the day. The conjectured implications in Lucas are off the point. See Jonson, Hymenaei, lines 57, 184; also D. J. Gordon, "Hymenaei: Ben Jonson's Masque of Union," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, VIII (1945), 130, with many references: "the bride's [hair] is long and dressed with grey—grey hair which shows that she is about to enter a more responsible state." Brachiano's comment in the next line is thus doubly shocking, though perfectly consistent with the implications of his speeches above. Throughout this episode, though nowhere else except in his quarrel with her in IV. ii, he associates her with falsehood and wantonness. 123-124.

Looke you; six gray rats that have lost their tailes, Crall up the pillow—

For the nursery rhyme associations of rats without tails, see Lucas. Webster may have intended more ominous implications. Cf. Sandys, A Relation of the State of Religion (1605), sig. N4T: "if any man should be buried without their solemnitie, and some of their odors to accompany his coarse, he should bee thought a very heriticke, and to be sure to have some bad bruite set abroach, concerning him; as fell out not long since to a wealthie Citizen of Lucca who willed by his testament, to be buried in the night, without their ringing, tapering, censing, attending, or singing, hadde a rumour soone spread on him by the belly-deuote Friers, whom hunger and losse of hope, haue made wickedly irefull, that hee was haunted and molested, with rattes on his death bedde." 124-126.

—send for a Rat-cat[c]her. He doe a miracle: lie free the Court From all foule vermin. Where's Fldmineo?

Cf. the opposition of "Palace-rattes" to true courtiers in Sejanus I. 427, with Herford and Simpson's note. 126. "foule vermin . . . Flamineo?" The juxtaposition is "surely more than coincidence," as Lucas notes. Compare that in II. i. 52-53. 135-145. By the Crucifix.

LOD. Domine Brachiane, solebas in bello tutus esse tuo clypeo, nunc hunc clypeum hosti tuo opponas infernali. GAS. Olim hastd valuisti in bello; nunc hanc sacram hastam

150

The By the H[a]llowed taper.

White

Devil

[V.iii]

vibrabis contra hostem animarum. LOD. Attende Domine Brachiane, si nunc quoque probas ea quae acta sunt inter nos, flecte Caput in dextrum. GAS. Esto securus Domine Brachiane: cogita quantum habeas meritorum, denique memineris meam animam pro tua oppignoratam si quid esset periculi. LOD. Si nunc quoque probas ea quae acta sunt inter nos, flecte caput in l[ae]vum.

C f . Erasmus, " F u n u s , " Colloquies

{Wks., ed. 1703, I, 8 1 4 - 8 1 5 ) ;

I h a v e italicized the v e r b a l parallels to W e b s t e r : M A . Obsecro quid turn postea? P H . Porrecta est aegroto crucis imago & candela cerea [Webster's English stage direction, in accord with the use of crucifix and taper in this passage]. A d crucem porrectam dixit aegrotus: Soleo in bellis tutus esse meo clypeo; nunc hunc clypeum opponam hosti meo: & exosculatus admovit humero laevo. A d ceream vero sacram, Olim, inquit, hasta valui in bellis: nunc hanc hastam vibrabo adversus hostem animarum. M A . Satis militariter. P H . Has postremas voces edidit. Nam mox linguam mors occupavit, simulque coepit animam agere. Bernardinus [the Franciscan] a dextris imminebat morienti; Vincentius [the Dominican] a sinistris, uterque pulcre vocalis. M A . Q u i d occlamabant? P H . Huiusmodi ferme Bernardinus: Georgi Balearice, si nunc quoque probas ea quae sunt acta inter nos, flecte caput in dextrum: flexit. Vincentius contra; . . . Esto securus. Cogita quantum habeas meritorum, quod diploma; denique memineris meam animam pro tua oppignoratam, si quid esset periculi; haec si sentis & probas, flecte caput in laevum: flexit. T h e parallel was first n o t e d b y A . W . R e e d , " E r a s m u s a n d J o h n W e b s t e r , " T. L. S., J u n e 14, 1947, p. 295; h e quotes an e d i t i o n of Erasmus slightly less close to W e b s t e r i n some details of the L a t i n . Unless at V . iv. 118 if., b e l o w , W e b s t e r does n o t appear to b e otherwise i n d e b t e d to the c o l l o q u y a n d m a y b e d r a w i n g u p o n some c o m m o n or intermediate source. 150-161.

LOD. Devill Brachiano, Thou art damn'd. GAS. Perpetually. LOD. A slave condemn'd, and given up to the gallowes

»5»

Commentary Is thy great Lord and Master. GAS. True: for thou Art given up to the devill. LOD. O you slavel You that were held the famous Pollititian; Whose art was poison. GAS. And whose conscience murder. LOD. That would have broke your wives necke downe the staires Ere she was poison'd. GAS. That had your villanous sallets. LOD. And fine imbrodered bottles, And perfumes Equally mortall with a winter plague.

Compare the taunts of the successful revengers in Tourneur, The Revengers Tragaedie (1607) III. v. 153, beginning with Vindice's cry: "Royall villaine, white diuilll" 155-161. For the possibility that Webster alludes to Leicester's reputation see Lucas. No published source for Webster has been suggested. 178.

The snuffe is out.

snuffe: the offensive burnt wick, used figuratively almost as much as the familiar candle imagery from which it derives. Cf. Tilley, C 49; All's Well I. ii. 58-60; King Lear IV. vi. 39-40 (of "my snuff and loathed part of nature"), etc 178-180.

No woman-keeper i'th world, Though shee had practis'd seven yere at the Pest-house, Could have done't quaintlyer.

Cf. Jonson, Volpone I. v. 68-69: Faith, I could stifle him, rarely, with a pillow, As well, as any woman, that should keepe him. Apparently a topical reference; cf. Dekker, The Wonderfull Yeare (1603; Wks., I, 147): "neither shall you wring out of my pen . . . the villanies of that damnd Keeper, who kild all she keept." (F. L. L.) For later references in Dekker see F. P. Wilson's edition of The Plague Pamphlets (Oxford, 1925), pp. xxvii, 190, 217. 189.

There's nothing sooner drie than womens teares.

Proverbial except for the modifier "womens" (Tilley, N 288, beginning with Erasmus' Adagia, which in turn is from Cicero, 152

The White Devil

[ V. iii]

De Inventione i. 56. 109: "Quemadmodum enim dixit rhetor Appolonius, lacrima nihil citius arescit"). Hall's Holy Observations (1607; ed. 1617, p. 159) resembles Webster verbally: "there is nothing sooner dry then a teare." Application to women was inevitable, of course; cf. Tilley, W 638 ("Trust not a Woman when she weeps"), with cross references there. Flamineo's cynicism concerning Vittoria is thoroughly substantiated by V. vi. 191-192.

Court promises I Let wisemen count them curst, For while you live hee that scores best paies worst

From Montreux, Honours Academie (1610), sig. Ee6T, of lovers: ". . . they will not sticke for golden promises. But the old saying is, that he that scoreth best, paieth euer worst." This "old saying" is not in Tilley, nor have I encountered it elsewhere. 196. "Machivillian": a spelling too common in Webster's day to need illustration. Sometimes the pun on "villain" is explicitly indicated; in other instances there is no implication whatever of any intended pun. 199. "tickles you to death." As an intensifying phrase "to death" had been fairly common for two centuries; its literal application may have been a more recent turn of wit. Cf. "tickling to death with bodkins" in Marston's Insatiate Countess (1613) V. ii. 78; "tickle 'em to death with miserie" in Tourneur's Atheist's Tragedie (1611) III. iii. 49; or Thomas Scot, Certaine Pieces of this Age Parabolized (1616), sig. 18, of an honest courtier: He cannot candy poyson; wants the waies To tickle truth to death, with her own praise. Cf. Much Ado about Nothing III. i. 80. "die laughing . . . saffron": a commonplace in the herbals, as Lucas indicates; e.g., Lemnius, Herbal for the Bible, trans. Newton (1587), sigs. N8V f.: "immoderate vse thereof will cause a man to laugh excessiuely, and (as learned Physicions affirm) doth so overioy him, that it putteth him in danger of his life. . . ." But I know no application comparable to Webster's. 199-200.

804-207.

Miserie of Princes, That must of force bee censur'd by their slavesl

153

Commentary Not only blam'd for doing things are ill, But for not doing all that all men will.

From Alexander, Alexandraean

Tragedy V. i, lines 2723-2726:

. . . [A prince] for euery action that is his, The censure of a thousand tongues must haue, Not onely damn'd for doing of things amisse, But for not doing of all that all men craue. 208.

One were better be a thresher.

Cf. Jonson, Volpone I. i. 53-56: You are not like the thresher, that doth stand With a huge fiaile, watching a heape of corne, And hungrie, dares not taste the smallest graine, But feeds on mallowes, and such bitter herbs. 212-215.

. . . though forty devils Waight on him in his livery of flames, I'le speake to him, and shake him by the hand, Though I bee blasted.

A slight resemblance, almost surely coincidental, appears in Twelfth Night III. iv. 95-96: "If all the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possess'd him, yet I'll speak to him." (F. L. L.) 248-249.

. . . shee simpers like the suddes A Collier hath bene washt in.

"Simper" being an old alternate form of "simmer," play on the word was common. Nashe is using a proverbial image (Tilley, F 789) in The Unfortunate Traveller (WksII, 225): "I sympered with my countenance like a porredge pot on the fire when it first begins to seethe." T h e "Collier" is an appropriate choice for black Zanche, the washed "Ethiop" of line 271. 270-271.

. . . make that sun-burnt proverbe false, And wash the Ethiop white.

O. E. P., p. 693a, indicates the proverb's antiquity; Tilley, E 186, suggests its Elizabethan popularity.

154

The White Devil

V.

[V.iv]

iv.

4-8.

Wise was the Courtly Peacocke, that being a great Minion, and being compar'd for beauty, by some dottr[el]s that stood by, to the Kingly Eagle, said the Eagle was a farre fairer bird then herselfe, not in respect of her feathers, but in respect of her long Tallants.

From Guazzo, II (I, 203): " . . . perchaunce he liked better to yeelde with his tongue, then with his heart, by the example of the

Peacocke, who saide the Eagle was a fayrer byrde then hee, not in respect of his feathers, but of his beake and talents, which caused that no other birde durst stand in contention with him" (italics mine). (M. L . A . ) 10-14.

F L A . Your Grace must be merry: 'tis I have cause to mourne

— f o r wot you what said the little boy that rode behind his father on horsebacke? G I O . W h y , what said he? F L A . W h e n you are dead, father, (said he) I hope then I shall ride in the saddle—

From Guazzo, I I I (II, 43): " . . . the world is now come to this passe, that the child is no sooner come to any understanding, but that he beginneth to cast in his head of his fathers death: as a little childe riding behind his father, sayde simply unto him, Father, when you are dead, I shal ride in the Saddle." (M. L . A.) 14-16.

O 'tis a brave thing for a man to sit by himselfe: he may stretch himselfe in the stirrops, looke about, and see the whole compasse of the Hemisphere—

Appropriate; see I. ii. 3 0 4 - 3 0 7 , II. i. 1 1 9 - 1 2 6 . Flamineo's expansion of the above passage may be from a further source, perhaps related to the "outlandish proverb" that " W h e n one is on horseback he knows all things." But for this I know no instance before Herbert in 1640 (Tilley, H 718). 18-19.

'Twere fit you'd thinke on what hath former bin— I have heard griefe nam'd the eldest child of sinne.

Cf. D. M. V. v. 73-74. 1

55

Commentary ai-88.

I am falling to peeces already, I care not, though like

chus]

[Anaxar-

I were pounded to death in a mortar.

Based on Montreux, Honours Academie (1610), sig. F3T f.: "For what trouble can there arise unto a vertuous man? . . . Anacharsis, being pounded to death in a morter, iested at death." Lucas, following Sykes, has changed the Anacharsis of the quartos to Anaxarchus, improving Flamineo's accuracy but impairing that of the text. Lucas thought Webster was perhaps confused by Montaigne, who refers to "Anaxarcus . . . being laid along in a trough of stone, and smoten with yron sledges" and in the same essay (II. ii) mentions Anacharsis. But Webster's slip obviously stems from Honours Academie. 26.

"In d[e]cimo sexto": a common image, already used by Webster in The Induction to the Malecontent, lines 74-75. See Lucas; also Herford and Simpson on Cynthia's Revels I. i. 51. 35-40.

Say that a gentlewoman were taken out of her bed about midnight, and committed to Castle Angelo, to the Tower yonder,

with nothing about her, but her smocke: would it not shew a cruell part in the gentleman porter to lay dame to her upper garment, pull it ore her head and eares; and put her in nak'd?

Greene once promised a pamphlet on "The stripping Lawe, wherein I will lay open the lewde abuses of sundry Iaylors in England" (A Disputation; Wks., X, 237). Flamineo's farfetched analogy may involve some grossness I have not managed to find. Conceivably, his wit was suggested by the very different wit of More as told by Camden (since Webster borrows an adjacent passage for lines 105-106, below). Cf. Remaines (1605), sig. Ff4: "when at his entring into the Tower, one of the Officers claimed for a fee, his vpper garment, (meaning his gowne or his cloke) he offred him his cappe." 41-48.

Doth hee make a Court ejectment of mee? A flaming firebrand casts more smoke without a chimney, then within't.

From de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 972, on the possibility of banishing Biron to military duty outside France: "Hee had beene more dangerous without it, then with in. A burning firebrand casts more flame and smoake without a Chimney, then with in it." 156

The White Devil 60

[V.iv]

ff.

According to Lucas, " T h e episode that follows is full of echoes of Shakespeare; some will feel, too full." But except for the parallel to Ophelia's distribution of flowers, the supposed "echoes" are probably coincidental. 62. "dead and rotten": recurs in the "parallel scene" in King Lear V. iii. 285, a scene apparently imitated in V. ii. 38-40. (F. L. L.) T h e phrase is common. 62-64.

Reach the bayes, He tye a garland heere about his head: 'Twill keepe my boy from lightning.

That Tiberius wore a wreath of laurel to protect him from lightning was a commonplace, to which Webster might have found many Elizabethan allusions. For that in Sejanus III. 1 2 1 - 1 2 3 , Jonson marginally quotes Suetonius, "Tiberius," 69, and adds a reference to Pliny, Hist. Nat. xv. 40. Lucas notes the latter. He also makes the interesting—but very dubious—suggestion that Cornelia's pathetic precaution was inspired by Cymbeline IV. ii. 270-271: Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, Arv. N o r the all-dreaded thunder-stone.

But that play appeared quite late to have influenced W. D., and the supposed borrowing from it in D. M. IV. ii. 239-241 is by no means certain. 70-73.

You're very wellcome. There's Rosemarie for you, and Rue for you, Hearts-ease for you. I pray make much of it. I have left more for my selfe.

to Flamineo.

Probably "a close imitation of Ophelia's madness" (F. L. L.) as all editors observe: Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

Laer. A

document in madness! T h o u g h t s and remembrance fitted. Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, and here's some for me. W e may call it herb of grace o' Sundays. O, you must wear your rue with a difference! [IV. v. 1 7 5 - 1 8 3 ]

Cornelia's distribution scarcely parallels Ophelia's in significance. Perhaps it makes most sense if, as the stage direction suggests, all 157

Commentary three flowers are given to Flamineo: rosemary, for remembrance of Marcello; rue, for both sorrow and repentance; hearts-ease (the common Elizabethan term for the pansy), for the peace of mind Flamineo can never find. 74.

You are, I take it, the grave-maker.

Cf. D. M. IV. ii. 115. 76-77.

. . . heere's a white hand: Can bloud so soone bee washt out?

Cf. Macbeth V. i. 32-48 (F. L. L.), II. ii. 60-67; Hamlet III. iii. 43-46. But also Seneca, Hippolytus 7 1 5 - 7 1 8 , Hercules Furens i S S B - i S « ^ Tilley, W 85; etc. 78-79.

When scritch-howles croke upon the chimney tops, And the strange Cricket ith oven singes and hoppes. . . .

Cf. D. M. II. ii. 83; Macbeth II. ii. 16: " I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry" (F. L. L.); Dekker, The Whore of Babylon III. i. 1 1 3 - 1 1 6 : And on the house-tops of Nobilitie (If there they can but sit) like fatall Rauens, Or Skrich-Owles [they] croake their fals and hoarsely bode, Nothing but scaffolds and vnhallowed graues; Middleton, Blurt, Master Constable (1602) IV. ii. 1 5 - 1 6 : Ravens croak on chimneys' tops; The cricket in the chamber hops. This last is part of a song of forboding sounds. Webster may well be drawing upon some old and familiar song for "childish" Cornelia. 80-81.

When yellow spots doe on your handes appeare, Bee certaine then you of a Course shall heare.

Lucas quotes a work of 1620 for this superstition. Cf. also A Warning for Faire Women (1599) I. 606 ff. S. S.'s The Honest Lawyer (1615? pub. 1616) IV mentions the owl on the chimney top, the crickets' cry in the oven, the yellow spot on the hand, plus many more superstitions (sigs. G3 T -G4). 158

[v-iv]

The White Devil 83-84, 86-88.

Couslep-water is good for the memorie: Pray buy mee 3. ounces of't. He give you a saying which my grandmother Was wont, when she heard the bell tolle, to sing ore Unto her lute.

Lucas wisely rejects so-called Shakespearean "echoes" noted by Stoll and Sampson. The first is the call for an "ounce of civet" in King Lear IV. vi. 1 3 2 - 1 3 3 ; the second Desdemona's recalling a song in Othello IV. iii. 26 ff. 89-92.

Call for the Robin-Red-brest and the wren, Since ore shadie groves they hover, And with leaves and flowres doe cover The friendlesse bodies of unburied men.

No direct source has been suggested for any part of this beautiful song. There are many loose parallels for the robin superstition, however. Lucas' account is considerably supplemented in David Lack, Robin Redbreast (Oxford, 1950), pp. 29-57. Lack's earliest reference is from Lupton's Thousand Notable Things, which passed through at least six editions prior to Webster's play. In addition, he has found nine other authors alluding to the robin legend between 1595-1616. Almost all specify a covering of moss (Cymbeline IV. ii. 224-228 is unusual in adding flowers); none mentions the wren (but Richard Johnson's Seven Champions of Christendom attributes the robin's kindness to "other little birds" as well). I know no Elizabethan version of the proverb cited by Lucas linking robin and wren. 97-98.

But keepe the wolfe far thence, that's foe to For with his nailes hee'l dig them up agen.

men,

See on D. M. IV. ii. 332-334. 103-104.

His wealth is sum'd, and this is all his store: This poore men get; and great men get no more.

T h e second line is probably from Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy I. i, lines 75-76; having previously enjoyed "all th'earths store," Alexander the Great's ghost protests the fact of *59

Commentary . . . some few footes of earth, to be a graue, Which meane men get: and great men get no more. T h e idea is common; witness Joseph Hall's Virgidemiarum, II. ii. 57-58: Fond foole, six feete shall serue for all thy store: And he that cares for most, shall finde no more. 105.

Now the wares are gone, wee may shut up shop.

From Camden, Remaines, 1605, sigs. Ggi £., of Sir Thomas More: "When he was in prison, and his bookes and papers taken from him, he did shutte his chamber windowes both day and night, saying, When the wares are gone, and the tooles taken away, we must shut vp shop." F. P. Wilson, in pointing out the borrowing (Library, 4th ser., X X V I , 55), comments: "The stage-craft is admirable, for the homely proverb serves not only to close the inner stage but to express the distraction of Cornelia's mind. . . . Whether Webster was using his commonplace-book here is a matter of no consequence to our reading of the play. . . . But it is of some consequence to know that Webster's audience and readers would recognize that he (no less than Sir Thomas More) was putting an old saying to a new use." I doubt, however, that this was Webster's intention, or that he expected more than a minority to recognize the ancestry of Cornelia's speech. T h e O. E. P. cites only one instance before Camden, and Tilley, W 68, begins with Webster. Camden drew the story from Stapleton; cf. The Lyfe of Syr Thomas More by Ro: Ba:, ed. Hitchcock and Hallett (E. E. T . S. 222), p. 326. 106.

Blesse you all good people. Exeunt Cornelia and Ladies.

Cf. Ophelia's parting, Hamlet IV. v. 200. 116-117.

(F. L. L.)

Oft gay and honour'd robes those tortures trie, "Wee thinke cag'd birds sing, when indeed they crie.

Cf. Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy IV. ii, lines 2389-2390, on the misery of the great despite their "robes" and "purple": As Birds, whose cage of golde the sight deceiues, Do seeme to sing whilst they but waile their state. 160

The White Devil

[V.iv]

Lucas cites Sidney's Arcadia, I, Eclogues ( W k s I , 139): The house is made a very lothsome cage, Wherein the birde doth never sing but cry. Though the lines contrast "sing" and "cry" as do Webster's, the resemblance is probably coincidental (or indirect, via Alexander); Webster very rarely borrows from Sidney's verse, and I find no strong evidence that he employs the Arcadia at all for The White Divel. Here, Sidney's shepherd is describing the misery of marriage to a shrewish wife. 118

ff.

Enter Brachia[no's] Ghost. In his leather Cassock & breeches, bootes, a coule; [in his hand] a pot of lilly-flowers with a scull

in't.

Stage direction. T h e discovery of a source may some day clarify the significance of detail in this apparition. T h e "Observations of Venice" in Coryat's Crudities (1611; ed. 1905, I, 393-394) refers to a common superstition Webster probably knew: "Also I observed another thing in their burials that savoreth of intollerable superstition: many a man that hath beene a vitious and licentiousliver, is buried in the habits of a Franciscan Frier [Cf. Francisco's murderous "Franciscans"]; the reason forsooth is, because they beleeve there is such virtue in the Friers cowle, that it will procure them remission of the third part of their sinnes: a most fond and impious opinion." This practice is satirized in Erasmus' "Funus," in passages immediately preceding and following the Latin paralleled by Webster in V. iii. 135-145; the dying Balearicus is given a consecrated Franciscan's coat and cowl, and is dressed in them after his death. As for the "pot of lilly-flowers with a scull in't," the similarity to Boccaccio's story of the Pot of Basil, suggested by Lucas, seems extremely remote. O. E. D., however, notes several sixteenthcentury illustrations for "lily-pot" in the following sense: "a flower-pot with a lily growing in it; a representation of this, commonly occurring as a symbolic accessory in pictures of the Annunciation, and hence frequent as a religious emblem." Webster evidently intended a grotesque, though perhaps common, juxtaposition of symbols, one appropriate to the Incarnation, the other to death. Rosemary Freeman, English Emblem Books (London, 161

Commentary 1948), pp. 8-12, offers a partial confirmation. She reproduces and discusses a continental emblem, later used by Wither, where one symbolic figure is Vice or Pleasure. Beside Pleasure is a vase with flowers; above her is a skull with crossbones. John Crow has pointed out to me that Qi actually reads "gilly," not "lilly." A misprint seems probable. 131-134.

. . . our Italian Church-men Make us beleve, dead men hold conference W i t h their familiars, and many times Will come to bed to them, and eat with them.

Perhaps suggested by Lavater, Of Ghostes and Spirites Walking By Nyght (1572), I. xv (Shakespeare Assn. Rep., p. 68): "As he laye there alone broade awake, sodenly the Image o£ hys friende lately deceased, came before him maruellous pale and leane, euen as he was when he saw him last on his death bed, whome when he behelde, being almost besides himselfe with feare, he demaunded of him who he was? But the gost making no answere, but slipping of his clothes layde him downe in the same bed, and drewe neare, as if he would haue embraced him. The other gaue him place, and keeping him of from him, by chaunce touched his fote, which seemed so extreamly cold, as no ice in the world might be compared vnto it. Wherat the other looking very lowringly vppon him, tooke vp his clothes againe, and rose out of the bed, and was neuer afterwardes seene." Lavater notes his source, Alexander ab Alexandra, Genialium Dierum Libri. VI (1532), II. ix. (M. L. A.)

V. 3-5.

v.

For my part, I have payd All my debts, so if I should chance to fall M y Creditours fall not with mee.

Cf. Machiavelli, Florentine Historie (Tudor Trans., p. 384), of Giacopo de Poggio, one of the conspirators eventually hanged for 162

The White Devil

[V.v]

attempting to murder Lorenzo de Medici at Mass—like Lodovico, a wild creature but with virtues: "This good also may be said of him, that the night before the Sunday appointed for the murther (to the end no friend should be partaker of his misfortune) hee paide all his debts, and delivered all the merchandise he had of other mens to the propper owners, with marveilous care and diligence."

V.

18.

vi.

. . . the[y] say affrights cure agues.

Common? Cf. Heywood, The Rape of Lucrece (1608), I (Wks., V, 168): "the commonwealth is sicke of an Ague, of which nothing can cure her but some violent and sudden affrightment." 34~39"

FLA. . . . I made a vow to my deceased Lord, Neither your selfe, nor I should out-live him, The numbring of foure howers. VIT. Did he enjoyne it? FLA. H e did, and 'twas a deadly jealousy, Least any should enjoy thee after him, That urg'd him vow me to it.

T h e most famous instance of such jealousy appears in Josephus' account of Herod, but I know no probable direct source for Webster. Lodge's translation has no verbal resemblance, and no sign of borrowings elsewhere. Slightly too late is Lady Elizabeth Cary's closet play Mariam (1603-1605; pub. 1613); according to the Argument, sig. A?, Herod, thinking of his wife Mariam before departing on a dangerous trip, "out of a violent affection (vnwilling any should enioy her after him) . . . gaue strict and priuate commaundement, that if hee were slaine, shee should be put to death." Lucas notes a similar command by Sforza in Massinger's later play, The Duke of Milan III. iii, but the plot of that play is 163

Commentary also based upon Josephus. See also Markham's Herod and Antipater: With the Death of faire Marriam (1622); is this related to the "myne Herodias" mentioned by Markham in part two of his English Arcadia (16x3), sig. A3T? 59-61.

. . . ô the cursed Devill Which doth present us with all other sinnes Thrice candied ore.

Cf. D. M. I. i. 299-300. 68-73.

(F. L. L.) Leave your prating,

For these are but grammaticall laments, Feminine arguments, and they move me As some in Pulpits move their Auditory More with their exclamation then sence Of reason, or sound Doctrine.

From Montaigne, III. iv, p. 503, of hearing rhetorical lamentations for relatives: "When such like repetitions pinch me, & that I looke more nearely to them, I finde them but grammaticall laments, the word and the tune wound me. Euen as Preachers exclamations doe often mooue their audytorie more, then their reasons. . . ." (F. L. L.) Strictly, Vittoria has spoken no "laments." 77-80.

T o kill one's selfe is meate that we must take Like pils, not chew't, but quickly swallow it— T h e smart a'th wound, or weakenesse of the hand May else bring trebble torments.

Based on Montaigne, II. xiii, pp. 353 f., the last sentence of which Lucas cites for lines 77-78: "It hath hapned in our dayes, that some having resolved to die, and at first not stricken deepe enough, the smarting of his flesh, thrusting his arme backe, twice or thrice more wounded himselfe anew, and yet could never strike sufficiently deepe. . . . [He cites examples.] T o say truth, it [death] is a meate a man must swallow without chewing, vnlesse his throate be frost-shod." The audience would scarcely observe that the latter portion of Vittoria's sententious argument is more appropriate to suicide by steel than by pistols. "Weaknesse of the hand" must here be a trembling trigger finger. 80-82.

I have held it A wretched and most miserable life, Which is not able to dye.

164

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[v-vi]

This certainly appears to reflect one of the commonest of Senecan (and Christian) commonplaces, "Male vivet quisquis nesciet bene mori (De Tranquil. Animi 11.4). Both Latin and translation appear everywhere, always to the effect that man's principal responsibility on earth is to learn how to die. Webster's source, however, concerns the Duke of Biron's frustrations when kept from suicide. Cf. de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 971: "Scorning at death, he sayd, that it could not come vnlooked for, to a Man well resolued, nor strange to him that hath foreseene it, nor shamefull to a resolute Minde. Yet he found that it is a miserable life not to be able to dye, being depriued of all meanes to aduance Death, and to haue no other consolation but in the onely desire of an impossible thing." 108-113.

Whither shall I go now? O Lucian thy ridiculous Purgatory— to finde Alexander the great cobling shooes, Pompey tagging points, and Julius Caesar making haire buttons, Haniball selling blacking, and Augustus crying garlike, Charlemaigne selling lists by the dozen, and King Pippin crying Apples in a cart drawn with one horse!

See Lucas' references to Lucian, Rabelais, and Shakespeare. None explains Flamineo's selection of detail, though Lucian does have Alexander's father Philip "cobbling old shoes to get somewhat towards his living." Rabelais, in an infinite catalogue, has Alexander a clothes patcher, Hannibal a kettle maker and seller of eggshells. Shakespeare names none on Flamineo's list. A farfetched wit, whether Webster's or not, apparently determines most of the occupations; e.g., bald Caesar, hair buttons; black Hannibal, blacking; King Pippin (Pepin), apples. 117-119.

Of all deaths the violent death is best, For from our selves it steales our selves so fast The paine once apprehended is quite past.

From Alexander, Julius Caesar IV. i, lines 1988-1991: O, of all deaths vnlookt for death is best. For from our selues it steales our selues so fast, That euen the mind no fearefull forme can see, Then is the paine ere apprehended past. 127-128.

. . . what a religious oath was Stix that the Gods never durst sweare by and violate I 165

Commentary Cf. Iliad xv. 36 ff. Chapman's version circumlocutes "Styx." According to Bacon, "a very common tradition"; cf. his De Sapientia Veterum (1609; Wks., XII, 439): "Pervulgata est narratio, et in compluribus fabulis interponitur, de unico illo juramento, quo dii superi se obstringere solebant, cum poenitentiae locum sibi nullo modo relinqui volebant. Illud juramentum nullam majestatem coelestem, nullum attributum divinum advocabat et testabatur; sed Stygem. . . . Haec enim formula sacramenti sola, neque praeter earn alia quaepiam, firma habita est et inviolabilis. . . ." Dekker, A Knights Coniuring (1607), sig. I i y , refers to the "Stigian Torrent, whose waters are so reuerend, that the gods haue no other oath to sweare by." 137-138.

No fitter offring for the infernall furies T h e n one in whom they raign'd while hee was living.

From Alexander, Croesus IV. i, lines 1469-1470: No fitter offering for th' infernall Furies Then one, in whom they raign'd while as he stood. 148-145.

O I smell soote, Most s[t]inking soote, the chimneis a-fire, My liver's purboil'd like scotch holly-bread; There's a plumber laying pipes in my guts, it scalds.

Flamineo lets his fancy run wild over the tortures of hell, something Webster's characters never do at the moment of actual death. He is perhaps parodying such cries as Barterville makes in Dekker's If It be not Good (pub. 1612) V. iv. 8-9: "I am perboild, I am stewd, I am sod in a kettle of brimstone pottage. it scaldes, it scaldes," etc. Brown thinks this Webster's source, which it conceivably is. But see on II. i. 50-52. 146-148.

F L A . . . . Wilt thou out-live mee? Z A N . Yes, and drive a stake Th[o]rough thy body; for we'le give it out, T h o u didst this violence upon thy selfe.

Montreux, Honours Academie, sig. Xx3 v , is of interest only because Webster used the work: "the Lawe forbidding such to be capable of Christian buriall (but hauing a stake knockt into their bowels, to be laid in the common high waies) who as Iudas shall lay violent hands vpon themselues." 166

The White Devil 164-166.

[V.vi]

For one Hypermnestra that sav'd her Lord and husband, forty nine of her sisters cut their husbands throates all in one night.

From Montreux, Honours Academie (1610), sig. LI3: "For one Hypernestra, that remembered her husband, fortie nine of her Sisters, cut their husbands throats." The alterations show that Webster was familiar with the story, although he follows Montreux closely. 170.

W e have brought you a maske.

An appropriate piece of irony, in the light of earlier plays. Disguised revengers effect their revenge in a masque at the close of Marston's Antonio and Mellida, Part T w o (1599) and of Tourneur's The Revengers Tragaedie (1607). Use of a masque in the denouement of less violent intrigue plays was common; cf. Marston, The Malcontent (1604), The Fawn (1606); Middleton, The Five Gallants (1607). 178-179.

Fate's a Spaniell, Wee cannot beat it from us.

Perhaps from Nashe's Lenten Stuffe (1599; ed. McKerrow, III, 196), although the work is without other parallels to Webster: "Fate is a spaniel that you cannot beate from you. . . ." "Spaniel" comparisons are of course very common, but the application to Fate is striking. (F. L. L.) 180-181.

Let all that doe ill, take this pre[ce]dent: Man may his Fate foresee, but not prevent.

Probably from Alexander, Croesus III. ii, lines 1373-1374: Man may his fate foresee, But not shunne heavens decree. Only the context of borrowings from Alexander makes indebtedness probable, however. T h e same idea differently expressed in D. M. III. ii. 90-92 is from the Arcadia. Cf. also Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond (1592), line 411: But fate is not preuented though fore-knowne, and Marston's What You Will V. i. 364-365: . . . preview, but not prevent, No mortall can, the miseries of life. 167

Commentary Chapman's The Revenge of Bussy d'Ambois III. ii. 243-246 well explains why man is thus trapped by Fate: How vain are men's foreknowledges of things, When Heaven strikes blind their powers of note and use; And makes their way to ruin seem more right Than that which safety opens to their sight. 182-183.

And of all Axiomes this shall winne the prise, 'Tis better to be fortunate then wise.

A still commoner commonplace (Tilley, H 140), variously worded; Webster took it from Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy III. i, line 1107: It's better to be fortunate then wise. 184-187.

V I T . O your gentle pitty: I have seene a black-bird that would sooner fly T o a mans bosome, then to stay the gripe Of the feirce Sparrow-hawke. GAS. Your hope deceives you.

Based on Montreux, Honours Academie (1610), sig. Rr5 T : ". . . (chusing as the Blackebird vseth, rather to commit himselfe vnto the mercie of a man, then to endure the griping nailes of the Sparrow-hawke, that followeth him in flight). . . ." Perhaps Webster knew the story told in Lodowick Lloyd's Pilgrimage of Princes (ed. 1607; sig. Mi T ): "A simple sparrow which to auoid the griping pawes of a hungry Sparhaucke, that would haue preid upon him, fledde unto Artaxerxes bosome being in campe, where after long panting as well for feare, as for wearinesse in Artaxerxes bosome, he said: It is as little maisterie unto a Prince, or commendation to a valiant Captaine to destroy that which of it selfe doth yeeld, as it is a fame unto Artaxerxes, to kill this poore Sparrowe, that fledde for succour." 189-igo.

Foole! Princes give rewards with their owne hands, But death or punishment by the handes of others.

Cf. Guevara, Diall of Princes, III. i, sig. F5T: "As naturall as both the righte, and lefte arme . . . in a man: so necessarye is reward, and punishement, in a prince. But as we helpe our selues more with the right arme, then with the lefte: so y*® prince oughte more to endeuour him selfe to reward, then for to punishe. For 168

The

White Devil

[ V. vi ]

the punishment oughte to be, by the handes of a straunger: but the rewarde oughte to be, w4 his owne handes proper." Hunter notes the idea in Machiavelli, The Prince, chap. 19 (ed. Craig, pp. 82 f.), and in Lipsius, Sixe Bookes of Politickes, IV. xi, the latter from Xenophon's Hiero ix. 3. 197-198.

GAS. Recommend your selfe to heaven. F L A . Noe I will carry mine owne commendations thither.

From Montaigne, I. xl, p. 128: "And of those base-minded jesters or buffons, some have bin seene, that even at the point of death, would never leave their jesting and scoffing. . . . [When a priest told such a man, dying,] to recommend himself to God, he asked, Who is going to him? And the fellowe answering, your selfe shortly; If it be his good pleasure, I would to God it might be to morrow night, replied he: Recommend but your selfe to him, said the other, and you shall quickely be there: It is best then, answered he, that my selfe carry mine owne commendations to him." (F.L.L.) 224-885.

I am to[o] true a woman: Conceit can never kill me.

Proverbial? Cf. Lyly, Sapho and, Phao III. iii. 57-58. When it is suggested that the cause of Sapho's illness "may be some conceite," Mileta comments: "Then is there no feare, for yet did I neuer heare of a woman that died of a conceite." (F. L. L.) I doubt Lucas' statement that "conceit" here means "vanity" as well as "imagination"; O. E. D.j at least, gives no clear instance of the former as early as Webster. 231-232.

Death cannot alter my complexion, For I shall neere looke pale.

Unlike Vittoria above. Zanche's courage (or bravado) at the prospect of death is at least equal to that of her mistress; contrast the effective use of Carióla as foil to the Duchess in D. M. IV. ii. 245 ff. Anderson notes Zanche's idea in Jonson, Masque of Blackness (1608), lines 149-150; Niger $ays of the Aethiop maids: . . . Death her selfe (her selfe being pale and blue) Can neuer alter their most faithfull hiew. 169

Commentary 239-240.

Search my wound deeper: tent it with the Steele T h a t made it.

Slightly reminiscent of the mythical cure of Telephus. Webster may be indebted to some allusion such as that in Lodge, Scillaes Metamorphosis (Wks., I, 22), where Cupid sends a dart That like Achilles sworde became the teint To cure the wound that it had caru'd before. Lodge's "sword" is a mistake, but thereby closer to Webster; cf. Tilley, S 731 ("The Spear of Achilles could both wound and heal"). 247.

Shee hath no faults, who hath the art to hide them.

For the idea, cf. Tilley, S 472-473. 249. "I know not whither." Traditional. For example, in A Dialogue of Dying Well, trans. Verstegan (1603), sig. C4V, Peter of Lucca thus represents the words of a dying sinner: "I must needs go, and I know not whether." So too Gascoigne, Droomme of Doomes day (Wks., II, 443): "Let the heathen feare to dye, who may truely say, I know not whether I goe." And Brathwaite, Prodigals Teares (1614), p. 98, combines this with Webster's favorite "mist": "When he dies, he . . . leaueth the world sorrowfully, for like a man in a mist, he is roming he knowes not whither." Thus several of Webster's villains echo a memento mori commonplace when they face the prospect of death: Vittoria here, Flamineo above (line 108, but in parody), Julia (D. M. V. ii. 315316), Romelio (D. L. V. v. 10). 250-251.

"Prosperity doth bewitch men seeming cleere, "But seas doe laugh, shew white, when Rocks are neere.

Cf. Alexander, Croesus I. i, lines 65-73: Vaine foole, that thinkes soliditie to finde The fome is whitest, where the Rocke is neare, The greatest dangers oft do least appeare. Their seeming blisse that trust in frothie showes. . . . 252-253.

"Wee . . . cease to dye by dying.

170

The

[v-vi]

White Devil

Perhaps too common to deserve citing unless one could indicate Webster's actual source. Cf. for example Gascoigne's Droomme ('WksII, 232); or Innocentius Ill's centuries old The Mirror of Mans Lyfe, trans. Kirton (1576), sig. D5: "we cease from dying, when we cease to liue." 254-256.

. . . falce reporte Which saies that woemen vie with the nine Muses For nine tough durable lives.

Nine lives have been long attributed to women and cats (Tilley, W 652), but I have seen no parallel for Flamineo's reference to the Muses. 258.

Noe, at my selfe I will begin and end.

A slight resemblance in Alexander, Darius I. i, lines 1 7 7 - 1 8 2 is probably coincidental: Who on himselfe too much

depends,

But at himselfe beginnes, and ends. . . . No further parallels to Webster appear in this, the best of Alexander's tragedies. 259-260.

"While we looke up to heaven wee confound "Knowledge with knowledge. 6 I am in a mist

Flamineo appears to be saying that we cannot live as if we "begin and end" here and at the same time consider heaven or look for it hereafter; by his awareness of another kind of truth this overconfident exponent of "Court wisedome" is finally driven to the "mist" in which he dies, or rather to an awareness of that mist. Cf. D. M. IV. ii. 1 5 3 - 1 5 9 . Yet all this perhaps extends the meaning beyond anything intended by Webster. Act IV of Alexander's Croesus ends in a long chorus with two interrelating themes: man's presumption (1) in soaring "too high with Natures wings" in the pursuit of worldly knowledge, and (2) in seeking to know and forestall his destiny. Thus lines 2080-2086: The heau'ns that thinke we do them wrong, To trie what in suspence still hings, This crosse upon us iustly brings: With knowledge, knowledge is confusde, 171

Commentary And growes a griefe ere it be long. That which a blessing is, being rightly usde, Doth grow the greatest crosse, when it's abusde. Flamineo's speech may be simply an extension of his reflections in lines 181 and 183 (both very possibly from Alexander, and the former from Croesus). Cf. V. iv. 120 ff.; also D. L. V. iv. 213, 218222. 261-262.

O happy they that never saw the Court, "Nor ever knew great Man but by report.

From Alexander, Alexandraean

Vittoria dyes.

Tragedy V. i, lines 2767-2770:

Then when that I conceiude with griefe of heart The miseries that proper were to court: I thought them happie that retir'd apart Could neuer know such things, but by report. It is disappointing, perhaps, to have Vittoria's last words blame temptation rather than herself, and with so impersonal a reference to Brachiano. Lucas wisely rejects Sampson's proposal that the speech be ascribed to Zanche, but does not allow the passage to disturb his convictions about "the devotion of these lovers." Seccombe and Allen thought the speech "a remark almost as irrelevant as it is trivial"; Boas calls it "the only words that fall from her which she could never have uttered". I disagree. Her speech is sententious, admittedly, and Webster may have employed it in part to "instruct." But we have no grounds whatever to consider it foreign to Vittoria's character or inappropriate as her final comment on a career tortured in the rise, sudden in the fall, and all inevitable after once begun. «63-264.

I recover like a spent taper, for a flash A n d instantly go out.

Candle imagery again; see on V. iii. 178. Cf. Sidney, Arcadia, III. xii (Wks., I, 425), where Argalus performs most gloriously in battle just before dying, "like a Candle, which a little before it goes out, gives then the greatest blaze"; Sharpham, Cupids Whirligig (1607), ed. Nicoll, p. 37: ". . . my heart is very light, and I feare tis but like a Candle, burnt into the Socket, which lightens a little before it goes out." See Tilley, L 277. Lucas cites a later work, perhaps borrowing from Webster. 172

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[V.vi]

865-268.

Let all that belong to Great men remember th'ould wi[v]es tradition, to be like the Lyons ith Tower on Candlemas day, to mourne if the Sunne shine, for feare of the pittifull remainder of winter to come.

Probably based on Guazzo, II (I, 211): ". . . he which will long injoy the favour of his Prince, must like the Beare, in faire wether, be sad to think of the foule that is to come: whiche doubtfull thought, will keepe him in such humilitie and lowlynesse as Princes like of." If this is a borrowing, Webster has considerably altered the application, while substituting common Elizabethan references for Guazzo's "Beare" and "faire wether." For the old superstition—without reference to lions—that a sunny Candlemas presaged a bad winter ahead, see Tilley, C 52 (from 1523). References in Lucas are dated later than W. D. but stress the antiquity of the belief. 273-274.

"This busie trade of life appeares most vaine, "Since rest breeds rest, where all seeke paine by paine.

From Alexander, Julius Caesar II. ii, lines 1013-1014: Ease comes with ease, where all by paine buy paine: Rest we in peace, by warre let others raigne. 302-303.

Let guilty men remember their blacke deedes, Do leane on crut\c\hes, made of slender reedes.

With reference to the general vulnerability of evil? or the perishable support of great men? For the Scriptural overtones, cf. Ezekiel xxix. 6-7, 2 Kings xviii. 21, Isaiah xxxvi. 6; also Tilley, R 61. Epilogue 3.

Haec fuerint nobis praemia si placui.

Martial ii. 91. 8: "This shall be my reward if I have pleased." The "this" in Martial refers to a special privilege the poet seeks from Domitian; in Webster it must refer to the pleasure in giving pleasure. Lucas objects that "as usual Webster obscures the point of his Martial," but there seems little ground for objection. Whether a conscious adaptation or a tag drawn from a contemporary, the application seems clear and effective. 173

T H E D U C H E S S OF

Title Hora.

MALFI

page

Si quid

Candidus

Imperti

si non

his utere

mecum.

Horace, Epist. i. 6. 67-68: Si quid novisti rectius istis, Candidus imperti: si non, his utere mecum. Perhaps Webster meant, as Lucas conjectures: "If you know a better play, let's hear it; if not, hear mine." One can only guess. Webster probably borrowed the Latin without strict concern for its literal meaning. Lucas finds it at the end of Dekker's Lanthorne and Candle-light (1609); I have met it, addressed to the reader, in John Chamber, Thomas Adams, and Sir John Melton, and on the title page of Sir Thomas Smithes Voiage and Entertainment in Rushia (1605). None of these identifies Horace as the author, or shortens the first line, or agrees in detail with Webster's capitalization and punctuation. Dedication 3-6.

Men (who never saw the Sea, yet desire to behold that regiment of waters,) choose some eminent River, to guide them thither;

and make that as it were, their Conduct, or

Postilion.

Cf. Erasmus' Adagia (from Plautus, Poenulus III. iii): "Viam qui nescit, qua deveniat ad mare, / Eum oportet amnem quaerere comitem sibi." Tilley, R 137, cites no published example before Webster. T h e only instance I have noted is in Thomas Granger,

The Duchess of Malfi Familiar Exposition or Commentarie on Ecclesiastes (1621), p. 14: "Whereof arose that speech, He that knoweth not the way to the Sea, let him seeke for a Riuer to be his guide." Webster's application, original or not, seems a puzzling distortion of the intended sense. io.

...

ancien'st Nobility,

being but a rellique of time past.

Already used in D. L. I. i. 40-41; from Overbury's "Wife." (F. L. L.)

I.

6-16.

i.

In seeking to reduce both State, and People T o a fix'd Order, the[ir] juditious King Begins at home: Quits first his Royall Pallace Of flattring Sicophants, of dissolute, A n d infamous persons—which he sweetely termes His Masters Master-peece (the worke of Heaven) Considring duely, that a Princes Court Is like a common Fountaine, whence should flow Pure silver-droppes in generall: But if't chance Some curs'd example poyson't neere the head, "Death, and diseases through the whole land spread.

Perhaps principally from Elyot's Image of Governance (1541), the apparent source for I. i. 456-461, below. In cap. viii, sig. D4T, the mother of Alexander Severus "with good reson perswaded to hym, that he coulde neuer wel stablyshe his astate Imperyall, but onely by reducynge of the senate and people into their prystinate order, whyche coulde neuer be brought to passe, except that fyrste his own palaice were cleane purged of personages corrupted with vices, and into their places men of approued vertue and wysedom elected. And semblably that to the example of themperours owne householde, the sondry dignities and offices in the weale publik were aptly distributed: consydering that the princis palaice is lyke a common fountayne or sprynge to his citie or countrey, wherby the people by the cleannes therof longe preserued in honestie, or

175

Commentary by the impurenes therof, are with sundry vyces corrupted. And vntylle the fountain be purged, there can neuer be any sure hope of remedy. / Wherefore Alexander immediatly after that he had receiued of the senate and people the name of Augustus, . . . fyrste he dyscharged all minysters, . . . banyshing also out of his palaice, al such as he mought by any meanes knowe, to be persones infamed, semblably flatterers, as well those, whiche therfore were fauoured of his predecessour, as theym, whom he apprehended abusyng hym with semblable falsehode" (italics mine). (J.R.B.) Despite the similarity of Webster to Elyot, Webster's source may well lie elsewhere. T h e basic idea and image may be found in countless Renaissance works, occasionally following Elyot but more often drawing on Plutarch (as Erasmus does, for example, in his Enchiridion). For the latter, cf. Morals, trans. Holland (1603), "That a Philosopher ought to converse especially with Princes and great Rulers," p. 292: "they that corrupt and spoile princes, kings, and great rulers (as doe these flatterers, false sycophants and slaunderous promoters) are abominable unto all, are chased out and punished by all; like unto those that cast deadly poison, not into one cup of wine, but into a fountaine or spring that runneth for to serve in publike, and whereof they see all persons use to drinke." 17-83.

A n d what is't makes this blessed government, But a most provident Councell, who dare freely Informe him the corruption of the times? T h o u g h some oth'Court hold it presumption T o instruct Princes what they ought to doe, It is a noble duety to informe them What they ought to fore-see.

These lines seem somehow related to the "Letters of the Emperour Traiane" in Painter, Palace of Pleasure, II (1567), xiii, p. 87. T h e Senate addresses Trajan: "sith you wrote unto us the maner and order what we ought to do: reason it is that we write to you againe what you ought to foresee. . . . Princes oftentimes be negligent of many things, not for that they will not foresee the same, but rather for want of one that dare tel them what they ought to doe." See below, on I. i. 98-99, 105-106. 176

The Duchess of Malfi 26-29.

[!•*]

Indeede he rayles at those things which he wants, Would be as leacherous, covetous, or proud, Bloody, or envious, as any man, If he had meanes to be so.

Cf. Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy V. ii, lines 2932-2934: We what we wish for most, seeme to mislike: And oft of others doe the course disproue, Whilst we want nought but meanes to doe the like. 30.

I doe haunt you still.

Several "echoes" of Hall's Characters (1608) and Epistles (16081611) appear in D. M., and especially in the present scene. Many, such as the one noted here, are extremely slight and may be wholly coincidental; others surely indicate that Hall either was a direct source or is the sign of such a source. For convenience I have quoted all Hall references from the 1617 Recollection of his works. Cf. his Char., "Ambitious," ed. 1617, p. 230: "Hee still haunteth the Court, and his vnquiet spirit haunteth him"; also Beaumont and Fletcher, The Woman-Hater (1607) I. iii (Wks., X, 81), where the count seeing an intelligencer says: "Yonder's my old Spirit, that hath haunted me daily, ever since I was a privy Counsellor. . . 33~34-

• • • miserable age, where onely the reward of doing well, is the doing of it!

Probably adapted from Montaigne, II. xvi, p. 365: "Recte facti, fecisse merces est [Seneca, Epist. 81. 20]: Officii fructus, ipsum officium est [a variation of Cicero, De Finibus 2. 22]. The reward of wel doing, is the doing, & the fruit of our duty, is our dutie." (F. L. L.) Unlike Antonio (see on lines 503-506, below) or Marcello (see W. D. III. i. 60), Bosola finds no comfort in the concept that virtue is its own reward; in fact by "doing well" he can scarcely mean "acting virtuously," as Seneca did. 37.

I wore two Towells in stead of a shirt.

Cf. / Henry IV IV. ii. 47 (F. L. L.); Middleton, Michaelmas Term II. i. 73-78. 39-40.

. . . black-birds fatten best in hard weather.

177

Commentary A medieval idea, according to Lucas. I have seen it only in Hall's Epistles VI. vii (1611; Recollection, ed. 1617, p. 465), on those who have "growne wealthy with warre, like those Fowles which fatten with hard weather. . . ." 42-45.

I have knowne many travell farre for it [honesty], and yet returne as arrant knaves, as they went forth; because they carried

themselves alwayes along with them.

T h e terminal wording (repeated in Char., "Young Gallant," lines 16-17) echoes Montaigne, I. xxxviii, p. 119: "It was told Socrates, that one was no whit amended by his travell: I beleeve it well (saide he) for he carried himselfe with him." (F. L. L.) T h e story is from Seneca (Epist. 28. 1-2; 104. 7), appears in most Renaissance collections of apophthegms, and was of inevitable interest to an age concerned with the proper function of travel in the education of a gentleman. 45-48.

Some fellowes (they say) are possessed with the divell, but this great fellow, were able to possesse the greatest Divell, and make

him worse.

Perhaps suggested by Donne's description of Ignatius Loyola, "so indued with the Diuell, that he was able to tempt, and not onely that, but (as they say) even to possesse the Diuell" (Ignatius his Conclaue, 1611, p. 15). 50-53.

He, and his brother, are like Plum-trees (that grow crooked over standing-pooles) they are rich, and ore-laden with Fruite,

but none but Crowes, Pyes, and Catter-Pillers feede on them.

T h e basic image can be found in the apophthegmata of Erasmus, Manutius, etc., attributed to the Cynic philosopher Crates. For a typical version, cf. Lipsius, Sixe Bookes of Politickes, trans. Jones (1594), sig. O3, of prodigal princes: " W h o m Crates long since, did liken to those figge trees which do grow on the toppes of steepe and high mountains, of the which, men cannot gather the fruit, but onely Crowes and Kites, that is, strumpets, and flatterers." Every version I have seen says "figtrees"; only Thomas Adams places them elsewhere than high on the mountains. Cf. his Gallants Burden (1612), sig. F2, of riotous gallants rather than the usual princes: "they abounde with the guiftes of Nature, but like 178

The Duchess of Malfi

f I. £]

Fig-trees growing ouer deepe Waters, full of Fruite, but the Iayes eate them: Ruffians, Harlots, vicious Companions enioy those Graces, that might honour God." Adams and Webster perhaps share a common source, one including the princes, "Crowes," and "flattring Panders"; but stronger parallels to this sermon appear later in the play (especially III. ii. 3 7 1 - 3 7 3 , V. ii. 337-338, 372). Webster's "standing-pooles" reflect one of the commonest Elizabethan metaphors, usually for filth-gathering slothfulness. T o the instances in Tilley, P 465, and O. E. P., p. 618a, one might readily add examples from Ascham, Crosse, Dekker, Hall, etc. 57-58.

. . . what creature ever fed worse, then hoping

Tantalus?

Adapted from Whetstone, Heptameron of Ciuill Discourses (1582), sig. I2T: ". . . no man dyneth worse, then hoping Tantalus." 59-60.

There are rewards for hawkes, and dogges, f \ when they have done us service.

Cf. Montaigne, II. xii, p. 266: "The men that serve vs, doe it better cheape, and for a lesse curious and favourable entreating, than we use vnto birds, vnto horses, and vnto dogges. . . . We share the fruites of our prey with our dogges and hawkes, as a meede of their paine and reward of their industry." T h e first edition of D. M. reads for hawkes, and dogges, and [end of line] when. Lucas follows the later editions in simply omitting the "and." But he concedes "it is possible that a word has dropped out, e.g. horses," and he offers a slight parallel from Massinger for this conjecture. The possibility is somewhat supported by the first sentence from Montaigne above (Lucas cites only the second, for W. D. IV. ii. 193). His principal reason for omitting the "and" is that "reward" was a technical term, proper to dogs and hawks but not to horses. There is no evidence, however, that Webster was aware of this technicality, while "reward" in the ordinary sense is thematically important to both tragedies. See on W. D. I. i. 2-4. 60-64.

BOS. . . . for a Souldier, that hazards his Limbes in a battaile, nothing but a kind of Geometry, is his last Supportation. D E L . Geometry?

B O S . I, to hang in a faire paire of slings. . . . x

79

Commentary For the proverbial (but puzzling) expression "hang by geometry," see Lucas; Tilley, G 82; Melbancke, Philotimus (1583), sig. X4: "loaded with more griefe, then can be borne with Geometry (whereon the bodie of man doeth hange)"; Fen ton's Bandello (1567; Tudor Trans., I, 250), of a landscape, "hangynge (as it were) by a frame of geometrye, beawtified on all partes." 78-74.

. . . he was releas'd By the French Generall (Gaston de Foux) W h e n he recover'd Naples.

Perhaps suggested by Painter, as Lucas believes. The Palace of Pleasure, II. xxiii (ed. 1567, p. 170*) dates the Duchess' tragedy as happening "almost in our time, when the French under the leading of that notable captaine Gaston de Foix, vanquished the force of Spaine and Naples at the iourney of Rauenna. . . ." 79-83.

If too immoderate sleepe be truly sayd T o be an inward rust unto the soule; If then doth follow want of action Breeds all blacke male-contents, and their close rearing (Like mothes in cloath) doe hurt for want of wearing.

Cf. Char., "Milke-mayde," lines 9-10: "nature hath taught her [ioo] Immoderate sleepe is rust to the soule." (F. L. L.) Although no source, Lyly's Euphues includes the essential sententiae of Antonio's speech (Wks., I, 251): "The man beeing idle the minde is apte to all vncleanenesse. . . . Doth not the rust fret the hardest yron if it bee not vsed? Doth not the Moath eate the finest garment, if it bee not worne? . . . Doth not common experience make this common vnto vs, that . . . the sharpest wit enclineth onely to wickednesse, if it bee not exercised?" In the remainder of his argument Euphues includes the perils of "immoderate sleepe." 98-99» 105-106.

It is fitting a Souldier arise to be a Prince, but not necessary a Prince descend to be a Captain. . . . Beleeve my experience: that Realme is never long in quiet, where the Ruler, is a Souldier.

Probably from Painter, Palace of Pleasure, II (1567), xiii, "Letters of the Emperour Traiane," p. 84: "Truly it liketh me wel, that from the degree of Captains men be aduaunced to be Emperors, but I thinke it not good, that Emperours do descend to be Cap180

The Duchess of Malfi.

[I.i]

tains, considering that the realme shal neuer be in quiet, when the Prince is to great a warrior." This is the only strong indication that Webster read more in Painter than the account of the Duchess of Malfi. He might, of course, have obtained the lines elsewhere. The source is Guevara, and a slightly variant translation appears in Fenton's Golden Epistles, ed. 1582, p. 131. See introduction, pp. 21-22. m-118.

She told him (my Lord) he was a pittifull fellow, to lie, like the Children of Ismael, all in Tents.

Lucas notes a comparable pun on "tents" in Middleton, More Dissemblers besides Women (ca. 1615?) II. iii. 103, and a slighter one in Troilus and Cressida V. i. 11-12. 117-121.

C A S T . . . . How doe you like my Spanish Gennit? ROD. He is all fire. F E R D . I am of Pliney's opinion, I thinke he was begot by the wind.

Cf. Pliny, Hist. Nat. viii. 67; trans. Holland (1601), chap. 42, p. 222: "In Portugall, along the river Tagus, and about Lisbon, certaine it is, that when the West wind bloweth, the mares set up their tailes, and turne them full against it, and so conceive that genitall aire in steed of naturall seed: in such sort, as they become great withall, and quicken in their time, and bring foorth foles as swift as the wind. . . ." (F. L. L.) Lucas cites many allusions to the idea among classical authors. Cf. also the jennet described in Fairfax's Tasso, VII. lxxvi f.; Drayton's commentary in PolyOlbion (Song VI, line 366; Wks., IV, 126) on mares "begotten by the wind." 124-186.

Me thinks you that are Courtiers should . . . laugh when I laugh, were the subject never so wity—

Similarly, in Melbancke, Philotimus (1583), sig. E2T, the ambitious "must laugh when they laugh"; and in Boaistuau, Theatrum Mundi, trans. Alday, ed. 1581, p. 95, courtiers "must frame themselues to laugh when the Prince laugheth." 144-146.

—as out of the Grecian-horse, issued many famous Princes: So, out of brave Horse-man-ship, arise the first Sparkes of growing

resolution.

Lucas notes the Trojan horse simile in Cicero. It appears also in Goslicius, The Covnsellor (1598), sig. F2; in Allot's Wits 181

Commentary Theater (1599), adapted from Goslicius; in Guazzo, II (I, 185), but none has an application very similar to Webster's. 159-160.

The Spring in his face, is nothing but the Ingendring of Toades.

Cf. Chapman, Bussy D'Ambois III. ii. 452: "that toad-pool that stands in thy complexion." T h e "Spring" image recurs in The Merchant of Venice I. i. 88-89: There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond. For the last half of the image, cf. Troilus and Cressida II. iii. 169170: "I do hate a proud man as I hate the engend'ring of toads"; also Othello IV. ii. 59-62. (F. L. L.) 163-166.

. . . he should have beene Pope: but in stead of comming to it by the primative decensie of the church, he did bestow bribes, so largely, and so impudently, as if he would have carried it away without heavens knowledge.

Cf. Hall, Char., "Ambitious," ed. 1617, p. 231: "His wit so contriues the likely plots of his promotion, as if hee would steale it away without Gods knowledge." 171-172.

If he laugh hartely, it is to laugh All honesty out of fashion.

Cf. Hall, Char., "Profane," ed. 1617, p. 221: "Euery vertue hath his slander and his iest to laugh it out of fashion"; also Webster's own character of "An Improvident young Gallant," lines 7-8. 175-179.

He speakes with others Tongues, and heares mens suites, With others Eares: will seeme to sleepe o'th bench Onely to intrap offenders, in their answeres; Doombes men to death, by information, Rewards, by heare-say.

Principally from Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy II. i, lines 57o-57i» 577-578: Whilst he that rulde still needing to be rulde, Spake but with others tongues, heard with their eares. That of himselfe cannot discerne a crime: But doomes by information men to death. 182

The Duchess of Malfi 180-183.

[!•*]

Then the Law to him Is like a fowle blacke cob-web, to a Spider— He makes it his dwelling, and a prison To entangle those shall feede him.

T h a t laws, like cobwebs, trap the little and allow the great to escape is a proverb as ancient as it is common (Tilley, L 116). I have seen only one application prior to D. M. that is comparable with Webster's; cf. Field, A Woman is a Weather-cocke ( 1 6 1 2 ) II. i. 3 1 6 - 3 1 9 , of law: Others report, it is a Spiders web Made to entangle the poore helplesse flies, Whilst the great Spiders that did make it first, And rule it, sit i'th midst secure and laugh. . . . 185-186.

[F. L. L.]

He nev'r paies debts, unlesse they be [shrewd] turnes, And those he will confesse that he doth owe.

Cf. Char., "Intruder into favour," lines 2 0 - 2 1 . (F. L . L.) Perhaps adapted from Chapman, Seven Penitential Psalms (1612), " A great M a n , " line 29: "Paies neuer debt, but what he should not ow." (M. C. B.) 188-189.

They that doe flatter him most, say Oracles Hang at his lippes.

Cf. Hall, Char., "Flatterer," ed. 1 6 1 7 , p. 224: " H e hangs vpon the lips which he admireth, as if they could let fall nothing but oracles. . . ." 194-209.

For her discourse, it is so full of Rapture, You onely will begin, then to be sorry When she doth end her speech: and wish (in wonder) She held it lesse vaine-glory, to talke much, Then your pennance, to heare her: whilst she speakes, She throwes upon a man so sweet a looke, That it were able raise one to a Galliard That lay in a dead palsey; and to doate On that sweete countenance: but in that looke, There speaketh so divine a continence, As cuts off all lascivious, and vaine hope. Her dayes are practis'd in such noble vertue, That sure her nights (nay more her very Sleepes) 183

Commentary Are more in Heaven, then other Ladies Shrifts. Let all sweet Ladies breake their flattring Glasses, And dresse themselves in her.

Based on Guazzo, I I (I, 241-242); the entire passage deserves quoting, though only the italicized portions are directly reflected in Antonio's description: . . . that which maketh men have her in admiration is, that notwithstanding the surpassing excellencie, which is in her, shee maketh no more account of her selfe then other women doe, and seemeth to shewe, that shee doeth not knowe what good parts are in her. So that by this discrete humilitie, shee is exalted to higher dignitie, and men have her in the more honour. I say then that this Lady in conversation is singuler, and mervellous: for of all the noble partes in her, you shall see her make a most delightfull harmony. For first, to the gravenesse of her wordes, agreeth the sweetenesse of her voyce, and the honestie of her meaning: so that the mindes of the hearers intangled in those three nets, feele themselves at one instant to bee both mooved with her amiablenesse, and bridled by her honesty. Next, her talke and discourses are so delightfull, that you wyll only then beginne to bee sory, when shee endeth to speake: and wishe that shee woulde bee no more weary to speake, then you are to heare. Yea, shee frameth her jestures so discretely, that in speakyng, shee seemeth to holde her peace, and in holding her peace, to speake. Moreover, when shee knoweth a matter perfectly, and discourseth of it discretely, to the great commendation of her witte, yet shee wyll seeme to speake of it verie doubtfully, to shew her great modestie. She wyll also in talke cast oft times upon a man such a sweete smyle, that it were enough to bryng him into a fooles Paradise, but that her countenance conteineth such continencie in it, as is sufficient to cut off all fond hope. And yet shee is so farre from solemne lookes, and distributeth the treasure of her graces, so discretely and so indifferently, that no man departeth from her uncontented. . . . I cannot sufficientlye set foorth unto you the graces and perfections of this perfect peece, but for conclusion I will say, that shee may well bee set for an example, whereto other women ought to conforme them selves, to bee acceptable and well thoughte of in the companie they shall come in. [M. L. A.] 198. your: probably should read you, as the parallel in Guazzo suggests and as Anderson proposed when pointing out the borrowing. J . C. Maxwell, apparently unaware of Anderson's article, made the same proposal in AT.Q./n.s., C X C I I I (July 10, 1948), 302. 184

The Duchess of Malfi 206-207.

Q I. i ]

Conceivably suggested by Donne, Of the Progresse of the Soule (1612), lines 463-464:

Whose twilights were more cleare, then our mid-day; Who dreamt devoutlier, then most use to pray. [F. L. L.] 208-209. 211.

Cf. Char., " A vertuous Widdow," lines 20-22. (F. L. L.) "play the wire-drawer": probably common. I have seen but one instance; in An Answer to a Catholike Englishman (1609), p. 309, William Barlow objects that "Tortus, according to his name, plaies the wire-drawer, and will needs stretch the resemblance, into an identity, forcing it to agree in euery point." 214.

She staines the time past: lights the time to c o m e —

Repeated, with slight alteration, in M. C., line 278. From Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy III. ii, line 1319: "Staine of times past, and light of times to come." 245-246.

F E R D . M y brother here (the Cardinal!) could never abide you. BOS. Never since he was in my debt.

For the idea, cf. Seneca, Epist. 19. 11: "Leve aes alienum debitorem facit, grave inimicum"; Lodge's translation reads: " A little Debt maketh a man a Debtor; a great, an Enemie" (ed. 1620, p. 201). 250-252.

There's no more credit to be given to th'face T h e n to a sicke mans uryn, which some call T h e Physitians whore, because she cozens him.

uryn . . . Physitians whore. Cf. John Chamber, A Treatise Against Iudicial Astrologie (1601), p. 84: ". . . the water decerning so oft, that it is well called of some, meretrix medicorum." In A Defence of Iudicial Astrologie (1603), p. 193, Sir Christopher Heydon replies: "he imagines the starres to be as deceitful in the direction of the Astrologer, as vrine is to instruct the Phisitian, which in the 7. chapter [17th, actually] he calleth Meretricem medicorum: the Physicians harlot." Heydon's index refers to this as if it were a proverb: "Urina est medicorum meretrix." 256.

Distrust, doth cause us seldome be deceiv'd.

Cf. Ling's Politeuphuia (1598), p. 255: " H e that neuer trusteth, is neuer decerned." Tilley, T 559, and O. E. Pp. 673b, begin with 185

Commentary 1616. Both indicate an Italian or Spanish origin for the proverb. Cf. Henri Estienne, World of Wonders, trans. Carew (1607), p. 114: "Non ti fidar & non saray gabato, that is, Trust not, and thou shalt not be deceiued." 257-258.

Y o u see, the oft shaking of the Cedar-Tree Fastens it more at roote.

Lucas cites Chapman, Bussy d'Ambois

I. i. 5-6:

As cedars beaten with continual storms, So great men flourish. Jonson makes a similar generalization in Sejanus IV. 69-70. But Webster's ultimate source is Seneca, De Providentia 4. 16: "Non est arbor solida nec fortis nisi in quam frequens ventus incursat: ipsa enim vexatione constringitur et radices certius figit; fragiles sunt quae in aprica valle creverunt." The direct source may be Hall, Epistles IV. vi (1608; ed. 1617, p. 405): "the oft-shaking of the tree, fastens it more at the roote." Webster's particularization of "cedar" is in accord with the traditional use of that tree as a symbol of greatness. (The more common Elizabethan sentence, of course, expresses just the opposite reflection—the safety of the shrub while great trees perish.) 260-262.

For to suspect a friend unworthely, Instructs him the next way to suspect you, A n d prompts him to deceive you.

Conceivably, as Lucas says, from Montaigne, III. ix, p. 570: "Multi fallere docuerunt, dum timent falli, et aliis ius peccandi suspicando fecerunt. Many haue taught others to deceauve, while themselues feare to be deceaued, and haue giuen them iust cause to offend, by suspecting them uniustly." There is little verbal resemblance, however, and Bosola's word "friend" is scarcely a natural one for him to use; it probably appears in the source for the passage. Montaigne's own source (Seneca, Epist. 3. 3) is specifically concerned with how to trust friends; Montaigne is not. Moreover, a second parallel to the same Senecan context appears in V. ii. 267-268. Though Webster's ultimate source is undoubtedly Seneca, his direct indebtedness is probably to someone other than Montaigne. 186

The Duchess of Malfi 286-288.

[I-i]

. . . these curs'd gifts would make You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor, And should I take these, they'll'd take me [to] Hell.

Perhaps suggested by Alexander, Alexandraean lines 2791-2798:

Tragedy

V. i,

I tolde, that such a summe but seru'd, to make H i m a corrupter, me corrupted thought: A n d foule for him to giue, for me to take, If vsde, shamde both, vnusde, did serue for nought. B u t all those baites I neuer daign'd to touch, Lest I that all my life had liude so free M i g h t be possest too much, possessing much, If taking riches, it had taken me. 299-300.

Thus the Divell Candies all sinnes [o'er].

Cf. W. D. V. vi. 59-6 x. 317.

(F. L. L.)

Sometimes the Divell doth preach.

Cf. Tilley, D 230, 266 for related ideas. 328-329.

Their livers are more spotted Then Labans sheepe.

From Whetstone, Heptameron of Ciuill Discourses (1582), sig. C 3 t : "a company as spotted as Labans Sheepe"; Webster borrows from the immediately succeeding passage in III. ii. 31-39. Whetstone, who frequently repeats himself, uses the same simile in his English Myrror (1586), sig. C3; I have not encountered it elsewhere in Elizabethan literature. In both instances Whetstone applies it to those of the Church of Rome who have taken but disregarded the vow of chastity. Webster's application is similar, but made more vivid by "liver." Cf. Rosalind's promise "to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't" (As You Like It III. ii. 442-445). Her pastoral simile, of course, has little in common with Whetstone's Biblical one. 347.

Hypocrisie is woven of a fine small thred.

Probably from Ariosto's Satyres (1608), III, p. 43: "Hypocrisie is wouen of fine thrid." The line is not in Ariosto's Italian, and 187

Commentary is evidently proverbial; cf. Rowlands, The Letting of Humours Blood (1600), Sat. 5: "Hipocrisie with a fine threed is spunne" (Wks., I, 69). 351-353.

You may . . . privately be married Under the E[a]ves of night.

Eaves of Night. For this "vivid phrase," discussed by Lucas, cf. Dekker, The Whore of Babylon (1607) III. i. 158, on how to be secretive: "Flie with the Batt vnder the eeues of night." Thomas Adams in his Gallants Burden (also a source for this tragedy) clearly borrows either from Dekker or Dekker's source. Cf. sig. D4 t , of the pope: "hee hath other Watch-men vnder him, Vncleane birdes, fluttring from that Vulture of Babilon, and flying like Battes and Owles vnder the eues of night. . . ." 355-357.

. . . like the irregular Crab, Which though't goes backward, thinkes that it goes right, Because it goes its owne way.

Ling's Politeuphuia (1598), p. 37v, merely illustrates the simile: "As the Sea-crab swimmeth alwayes against the streame, so doth wit alwayes against wisdome." Lucas quotes Sidney's reference to the "Crab-fish, which . . . lookes one way and goes another" (Arcadia, II. iii; Wks., I, 164). 366.

Wisdome begins at the end.

Is the Cardinal threatening earthly or heavenly punishment? In the latter sense, "Respice finem" is an omnipresent Elizabethan admonition. Cf. Tilley, E 125 ("Remember the End"), E 128 ("Think on the End before you begin"). 380-381.

What cannot a neate knave with a smooth tale, Make a woman beleeve?

Cf. "Overbury," Char. (1614), " A Good Woman": "Shee leaues the neat youth telling his lushious tales" (ed. Rimbault, p. 47). (F. L. L.) 390. "wincked, and chose." See Lucas; also Tilley, W 501 (from 1621). 448-451.

DUCH. What doe you thinke of marriage? A N T . I take't, as those that deny Purgatory,

188

The Duchess of Malfi

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It locally containes, or heaven, or hell, There's no third place in't.

Cf. Charron, Of Wisdome, trans. Lennard (ca. 1612), I. xlvi: "marriage is not a thing indifferent: It is either wholly a great good, or a great evil: a great content, or a great trouble; a paradise or a hell." In Chaucer's day, purgatory and hell were the common terms; see F. N. Robinson's note on the Wife of Bath's "in erthe I was his purgatorie" (Frag. D, line 489). T h e sixteenth century, even among those who did not "deny Purgatory," seemed to prefer the heaven-hell alternatives. One of Webster's sources refers constantly to this opposition; cf. Whetstone, An Heptameron of Ciuill Discourses (1582), sig. Di T , on "the opinion of Plato, That Marriage was a Parradice on earth, if her Lawes be obserued: and a Hell in the House, where her S[t]atutes are broken." 456-461.

Say a man never marry, nor have children, What takes that from him? onely the bare name Of being a father, or the weake delight T o see the little wanton ride a cocke-horse Upon a painted sticke, or heare him chatter Like a taught Starling.

Directly or indirectly from Elyot, The Image of Governance (1541), cap. xxvi, sig. Pi T , Alexander Severus to his mother: "I am sure, that sterilitie can no more hurte me, but onely take from me the name of a father, or the dotynge pleasure to se my lytell sonne ryde on a cokhorse, or to here hymn chatter and speake lyke a wanton." (J. R. B.) 479.

This goodly roofe of yours, is too low built.

Cf. Hall, Char., "Humble man," ed. 1617, p. 203: "He is . . . a rich stone set in lead; and lastly, a true Temple of God built with a low roofe." (F. L. L.) For the first metaphor cf. M. C., line 4. 483-485.

Ambition (Madam) is a great mans madnes, That is not kept in chaines, and close-pent roomes, But in faire lightsome lodgings.

Cf. Hall, Char., "Ambitious," ed. 1617, p. 230: "Ambition is . . . an aspiring, and gallant madnesse"; also Jonson, Catiline III. 247-252. But neither is plausible as a source, any more than Rosalind is for the "lightsome lodgings" that follow; cf. As You 189

Commentary Like It III. ii. 420-422: "Love is merely a madness, and . . . deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do." 503-504.

Were there nor heaven, nor hell, I should be honest.

Cf. Hall, Char., "Honest man," ed. 1617, p. 201: ". . . if there were no heauen, yet he would be vertuous." 504-506.

A N T . . . . I have long serv'd vertue, And nev'r tane wages of her. DUCH. Now she paies i t —

Cf. Hall, Epistles VI. x, ed. 1617, p. 473: "Serue honestie euer, though without apparant wages: shee will pay sure, if slow." 507-508.

The misery of us, that are borne great!— We are forc'd to wo[o], because none dare wo[o] us.

Lucas compares Painter's account (ed. 1567, p. 175T), where the Duchess reflects to herself: "Alas said she, am I happed into so strange misery, y* with mine own mouth I must make request to him, which with al humilitie ought to offer me his seruice?" 517-518.

Make not your heart so dead a peece of flesh T o feare, more then to love me.

Cf. Hall, Char., "Profane," ed. 1617, p. 220 (subsequently borrowed by Thomas Adams): " T o matter of Religion his heart is a peece of dead flesh, without feeling of loue, of feare. . . ." Unlike the Duchess, Hall excludes fear as well as love from our "dead flesh," perhaps unnecessarily; according to Gabriel Harvey, Pierce's Supererogation, "there is noe deade fleshe in affection or courage . . ." (Eliz. Crit. Essays, II, 254). 519.

This is flesh, and blood.

Cf. Tilley, F 367 ("To be Flesh and blood as others are"). 520-521.

'Tis not the figure cut in Allablaster Kneeles at my husbands tombe.

Cf. Merchant of Venice I. i. 83-84: Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? [F. L. L.] 190

The Duchess of Malfi

[I.i]

532.

"signe your Quietus est": as Lucas indicates, an image both common and mortality-laden. Tilley, Q 16, provides a few more instances. 533-534.

I have seene children oft eate sweete-meates thus, As fearefull to devoure them too soone.

Repeated in A. V. I. i. 20-21. Arcadia, I. xv (Wks., I, 96) includes a slight resemblance: "Zelmanes eyes were (like children afore sweet meate) eager, but fearefull of their ill-pleasing governors." (F. L. L.) No clear use of Sidney appears until III. ii. 69-70. 549-550.

Blesse (Heaven) this sacred Gordian, which let violence Never untwine.

Cf. D. L. II. iv. 49-51. As Lucas notes, the image is an ominous one—too ominous, perhaps, to be dramatically plausible. Though commonplace (Tilley, G 375), I have seen it only twice applied to marriage. Cf. Richard Johnson, Seauen Champions of Christendome (1596), p. 21: " O therefore knit that gordion knot of wedlocke, that none but death can afterwards unty . . ."; and William Heale, An Apologie for Women (1609), sig. B47: "Marriage . . . is a Gordian knot that may not bee loosed but by the sworde of death." 555-557.

T h a t we may imitate the loving Palmes (Best Embleme of a peacefull marriage) T h a t nev'r bore fruite devided.

Lucas quotes the basic passage from Holland's Pliny, xiii. 4, and cites some contemporary references to the idea, including that in Webster's own character of " A vertuous Widdow," line 1. As for "Best Embleme of a peacefull marriage," cf. Arcadia, III. xii {Wks., I, 423), of Parthenia's Argalus: "In this shield (as his owne device) he had two Palme trees, neere one another, with a worde signifying, In that sort flourishing'; and Daniel's translation of Paolo Giovio's book on imprese (1585), sig. H2 T : " T h e same S. Stampo . . . hauing married a wife . . . represented this deuise: two Palme trees, the male and female, which neuer bring foorth fruite, vnles they are one planted by the other, adioyning thereunto this mot: "Mutua foecunditas." Thus Thomas Adams, Com191

Commentary mentary on 2 Peter (1633), p. 904: "Palmes are thé embleme of marriage, that doe not beare fruite divided." 564-568.

DUCH. . . . Maid, stand apart, I now am blinde. A N T . What's your conceit in this? DUCH. I would have you leade your Fortune by the hand, Unto your marriage bed.

Perhaps influenced by Montaigne, II. xvii, p. 374: "Concerning ambition, . . . it had beene needefull (to advance me) that fortune had come to take me by the hand." Whether a source or not, Montaigne's idea harmonizes with Webster's emphasis on Antonio's "ambition."

II.

8-9.

i.

. . . hum, three, or foure times, or blow your nose (till it smart againe,) to recover your memory—

Cf. Char., "A Fellow of an House," lines 12-13. 27-28.

(F. L. L.)

There was a Lady in France, that having had the small pockes, flead the skinne off her face, to make it more levell.

Cf. Montaigne, I. xl, p. 132: "Who hath not heard of hir at Paris, which onely to get a fresher hew of a new skinne, endured to have hir face flead all over." (F. L. L.) See Carroll Camden, The Elizabethan Woman (Houston, 1952), p. 184, on "skin-peelers." 35-39.

OLD LADY. It seemes you are well acquainted with my closset? BOS. One would suspect it for a shop of witch-craft, to finde in it the fat of Serpents; spawne of Snakes, Jewes spittle, and their yong children's] ordures—and-all these for the face.

More economical, and somewhat less offensive, than the corresponding passage in Ariosto's Satyres, trans. Tofte (1608), IV, pp. 59-60: 192

The

Duchess

of Malfi

[H-i]

Knew Herculan but where those lips of his, He layeth when his Lidia he doth kisse. He would disdaine and loath himselfe as much, As if the loathsom'st ordure he did touch. He knowes not, did he know it he would spewe, That paintings made with spettle of a Iewe, (For they the best sell) nor that loathsome smell, (Though mixt with muske and amber nere so well), Can they with all their cunning take away T h e fleame and snot so ranke in it doth stay. Little thinks he that with the filthy doung, Of their small circumcised infants young, T h e fat of hideous serpents, spaune of snakes, Which slaues from out their poisonous bodies takes. [F. L. L.] Bosola's conclusion, though scarcely delicate, replaces grossest addition to Ariosto:

Tofte's

But knew men which doe kisse them, what I know, They would so farre in detestation grow, T h a t ere they would touch maskes so foule as this, Mensis profluuium they would gladly kisse. 41.

"kisse one of y o u fasting": for Speed's reason: "She is

Gentlemen

not to be kiss'd fasting, in respect of her breath" of Verona III. i. 326).

67.

The fins of her eie-lids looke most teeming blew.

(Two

Cf. Marston, The Malcontent I. i. 102-104, of one w h o will "ride at the r i n g till the fin of his eyes look as blue as the w e l k i n . " (F. L . L.) 71 ff. I have a tricke, may chance discover it (A pretty one)—I have bought some Apricocks. . . . Bosola's trick with the apricots was conceivably suggested by a remotely similar device narrated by Guevara (from Livy). Cf. Diall of Princes, II. ix, sig. t2: " T h e case was, that this damsel being with childe, Largius Mamillus brought her to solace her selfe in his orteyard, where were sondry yong frutes, and as then not ripe to eate, whereof with so great affection she did eate, y* forthw® she was delyuered i n y 1 same place of a creature: so y t on the one parte she was deliuered, & on the other parte the child dyed." 193

Commentary 81-82.

Oh Sir, the opinion of wisedome is a foule tettor, that runs all over a mans body.

A Websterian version of Montaigne, II. xii, p. 282: "The opinion of Wisedome is the plague of man." (F. L. L.) Henry Crosse, Vertues Common-wealth (1603), sig. Ni}T, is slightly more delicate on "blinde superstition": "a daungerous disease, and a sore that must be healed, least it fester and run ouer the whole body." 82-83.

. . . if simplicity direct us to have no evill, it directs us to a happy being.

From Montaigne, II. xii, p. 285: "I say therefore, that if simplicitie directeth vs to have no evil, it also addresseth vs, according to our condition to a most happy estate." (F. L. L.) 83-84.

For the subtlest folly proceedes from the subtlest wisedome.

From Montaigne, II. xii, p. 284: "Whence proceedes the subtilest follie, but from the subtilest wisdome?" (F. L. L.) 91-92.

I looke no higher then I can reach.

Tilley, S 825, makes evident the popularity of Philautus' proverb in Euphues and his England ( W k s I I , 108): "things aboue thy height, are to be looked at, not reached at." Bosola takes an even more conservative position, perhaps also proverbial. 92-93.

. . . they are the gods, that must ride on winged horses.

From Montaigne, I. xlii, p. 144: "A1 the true commodities that Princes have, are common vnto them with men of meane fortune. It is for Gods to mount winged horses, and to feed on Ambrosia." (F. L. L.) 98.

T h e Divell, that rules i'th'aire, stands in your light.

Repeated with little change in D. L. V. iv. 222. According to the Bishops' Bible version of Ephesians ii. 2 the devil "ruleth in the ayre" (F. L. L.), and the expression is consequently common. For "stands in your light" cf. Tilley, L 276, 330. But I have seen nothing similar to Webster's entire line. 101-103.

Say you were lineally descended from King Pippin, or he himselfe, what of this? search the heads of the greatest rivers in the World, you shall finde them but bubles of water. 1

94

The Duchess of Malfi

[H.i]

Probably from Montaigne, II. xii, p. 339: "Lawes take their authority from possession and custome: It is dangerous to reduce them to their beginning: In rowling on, they swell, and grow greater and greater, as do our rivers: follow them vpward, vnto their sourse, & you shall find them but a bubble of water, scarse to be discerned, which in gliding-on sWelleth so proud, 8c gathers so much strength." (F. L. L.) Based directly or indirectly on Seneca, De Beneficiis iii. 29.4 (or on one of the other passages where Seneca uses the same image): "Adspice Rhenum, adspice Euphraten, omnes denique inclutos amnes. Quid sunt, si illos illic, unde effluunt, aestimes?" 103-109.

Some would thinke the soules of Princes were brought forth by some more weighty cause, then those of meaner persons—they

are deceiv'd, there's the same hand to them: T h e like passions sway them, the same reason, that makes a Vicar goe to Law for a tithe-pig, and undoe his neighbours, makes them spoile a whole Province, and batter downe goodly Cities, with the Cannon.

Based on Montaigne, II. xii, p. 274: "The soules of Emperours and Coblers are all cast in one same mold. Considering the importance of Princes actions, and their weight, wee perswade our selves, they are brought forth by some as weighty and important causes; wee are deceived: T h e y are mooved, stirred and remooved in their motions, by the same springs and wardes, that we are in ours. T h e same reason that makes vs chide and braule, and fall out with anie of our neighbours, causeth a warre to follow betweene Princes; T h e same reason that makes vs whippe or beate a lackey, maketh a Prince (if he apprehend it) to spoyle and waste a whole Province." (F. L. L.) 158-159.

'Tis a pretty Art: this grafting.

With a double entendre perhaps suggested by Montaigne; the same page used for lines 102-103 above has "graft the forked tree" in an unmistakable sense. Marston borrows the image in The Fawn IV. i. 104-105. (F. L . L.) 161-162.

T o make a pippin grow upon a crab, A dampson on a black thorne.

*95

Commentary Breton merely explains Webster's choice of trees; c£. his Wil of Wit, ed. 1606, sig. 11: "is not the Damson tree to be accounted off, aboue the Blackthorne tree? is not the Pippin tree to be esteemed aboue the crabtree? the Abricock aboue the common plum?"

II.

13-14.

ii.

The Orrenge tree bear[s] ripe and greene fruit, and blossoms altogether.

For the fact Lucas cites Bacon's later Sylva Sylvarum, and for its figurative application M. C., lines 45-46. Cf. Maplet, A greene Forest (1567), p. 55, of the "orenge tree": "This tree is at all season of ye yeare fruite bearing or fruitfull: insomuch that it is neuer found without fruit, but after a diuers sort in their qualitie & maner: for when the first of their fruit is mellow, and readie ripe: then the second you shall espie greene and sower: and the thirde newe blosoming and in flower." Figurative use appears to be fairly uncommon; cf. H. P. (probably Henry Peacham), The More the Merrier (1608), Epigram 59, sig. E3T: My wit her fruite yeeldes like the Orenge tree Som bloom'd, some green, some ripe some rotten be. 16-19.

If we have the same golden showres, that rained in the time of Jupiter the Thunderer: you have the same Dan[d\es still, to hold up their laps to receive them.

Bosola's phraseology is similar to that in Pettie's Petite Pallace, "Cephalus and Procris" (ed. Hartman, p. 201): " T h e Gentlewoman . . . beegan to yeeld to his desyre, & with Danae to holde up her lappe to receive the golden showre. O god golde, what canst thou not do?" But Matthieu suggests some single source for the present lines and lines 21-22; cf. his History of Lewis the Eleventh, trans. Grimeston (1614), sig. Xxx2 v : "Princes pierce through all things, whereas they make the Sunne pass vnto the Center: Whilst they haue showers of Gold they shall alwaies finde Danaes." 196

The Duchess of Malfi 19-22.

BOS. OLD BOS. in one

t11-"]

. . . didst thou never study the Mathematiques? L A . What's that (Sir?) Why, to know the trick how to make a many lines meete center.

many lines meete in one center: proverbial; cf. Henry V I. ii. 210; Adams, The Gallants Burden (1612), sig H i , of London: "as many Lines meete at the Center; so all sinnes by a generall confluence to this place." For Bosola's double entendre, Lucas cites Montaigne, III. v, p. 514: "All the worlds motions bend and yeelde to this [sexual] coniunction: it is a matter euery-where infused; and a Centre whereto all lines come, all things looke"; also Marston, The Dutch Courtezan II. i. 121-122: "love is the centre in which all lines close, the common bond of being." 37-49.

SERV. There was taken even now A Switzer in the Duchesse Bed-chamber. 2.SERV. A Switzer? S E R V . With a Pistoll in his great cod-piece. BOS. H[a], ha, ha. SERV. The cod-piece was the case for't. 2.SERV. There was a cunning traitor. Who would have search'd his cod-piece? SERV. True, if he had kept out of the Ladies chambers: And all the mowldes of his buttons, were leaden bullets. a.SERV. Oh wicked Caniball: a fire-lock in's codpiece? S E R V . 'Twas a French plot, upon my life. 2.SERV. T o see what the Divell can doel

Based on Nashe, The Unfortunate Traveller ( W k s I I , 223), of a stupid Switzer captain whom Wilton duped: "The French King . . . desired to see him, but yet he feared treason. . . . In was Captaine gogs wounds brought, after hee was throughly searched; not a louse in his doublet was let passe, but was askt Queuela, and chargd to stand in the Kings name; the molds of his buttons they turnd out, to see if they were not bullets couered ouer with thred; the cod-peece in his diuels breeches (for they wer then in fashion) they said plainly was a case for a pistol. . . ." (M. L. A.) 80-84.

How superstitiously we mind our evilsl The throwing downe salt, or crossing of a Hare;

*97

Commentary Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse: Or singing of a Criket, are of powre T o daunt whole man in us.

A slight resemblance in Montaigne is worth mention only because Webster used the same page for II. i. 103-109. Cf. II. xii, p. 274: "A gust of contrarie winds, the croking of a flight of Ravens, the false pase of a Horse, the casuall flight of an Eagle, a dreame, a sodaine voyce, a false signe, a mornings mist, an evening fogge, are enough to overthrow, sufficient to overwhelme, and able to pul him [man] to the ground." Cf. also Wither, Abuses Stript and Whipt (1613), "Of Vanity. Satire I " (ed. Gutch, p. 218): For worthless matters some are wond'rous sad, Whom if I call not vain, I must term mad; If that their noses bleed some certain drops, And then again upon the sudden stops; Or if the babbling fowl we call a jay, A squirrel, or a hare but cross the way; Or if the salt fall towards them at table, Or any such-like superstitious babble, Their mirth is spoil'd, because they hold it true That some mischance must thereupon ensue. 87.

[F. L. L.]

Old friends (like old swords) still are trusted best.

For analogous proverbs cf. Tilley, F 321, F 755, W 740; "old friends to trust" seem to have been compared with almost everything that in any way improves with age—but not with "old swords."

II.

6-9.

iii.

List againe— It may be 'twas the mellencholly bird, (Best friend of silence, and of solitarines) The Oowle, that schream'd so.

198

The Duchess of Malfi

[II. iii]

Compare the tension developed by night sounds in Macbeth II. ii. 2-4, 15-19. 52-53.

You are an impudent snake indeed (sir) Are you scarce warme, and doe you shew your sting?

With reference to the common fable of the countryman and the ungrateful snake, as Lucas notes. Tilley, V 68, provides many contemporary allusions. 72-80.

What's here? a childes Nativitie calculated! . . .

In Tamburlaine's Malady and Other Essays on Astrology in Elizabethan Drama (University, Alabama, 1953), p. 100, Johnstone Parr observes "that the configurations which Webster presents did not occur at any time during the early years of the sixteenth century." He speculates on whether Webster wrote the otherwise sound horoscope out of his own extensive knowledge (an extremely improbable possibility) or "simply lifted the horoscope from one of the astrology texts of the sixteenth century which were replete with illustrative horoscopes and the nativities of famous personages; and, by merely changing its date to coincide with that of the Duchess' history, infused it into his play." Parr's own search for the source was in vain, perhaps because he looked only in texts more specialized than Webster employed. 93-93.

Though Lust doe masque in ne[e]r so strange disguise, She's oft found witty, but is never wise.

O. E. P., p. 721 b, offers a single example of "It is good to be witty and wise," spoken by Lust in The Trial of Treasure (1567) III. 72. Webster's version was probably proverbial. Cf. Breton, Melancholike Humors (1600; ed. Harrison, p. 30): "Love is witty, but not wise"; also A Poetical Rhapsody (1602; ed. Rollins, p. 232, "An Inuectiue against Women"): "Are women wise? Not wise, but they be witty."

199

Commentary

II.

24-27.

iv.

We had need goe borrow that fantastique glasse Invented by Galileo the Florentine, T o view another spacious world i'th'Moone, And looke to find a constant woman there.

For this allusion to Galileo's recent invention, cf. Donne, Ignatius his Conclaue (1611), pp. 116-117, Lucifer speaking: "I will write to the Bishop of Rome: he shall call Galilaeo the Florentine to him; who by this time hath throughly instructed himselfe of all the hills, woods, and Cities in the new world, the Moone. And since he effected so much with his first Glasses, that he saw the Moone, in so neere a distance, that hee gaue himselfe satisfaction of all, and the least parts in her, when now being growne to more perfection in his Art, he shall haue made new Glasses, and . . . he may draw the Moone, like a boate floating vpon the water, as neere the earth as he will." Ignatius readily accepts the moon as new territory for him to proselyte, she being notoriously inconstant. (M. L. A.) For definite borrowings from this work, cf. III. i. 36-40, III. v. 48-49. 52-53.

Rest firme, for my affection to thee, Lightning mooves slow to't.

T h e customary comparison between love and lightning is that in Greene's Menaphon (Wks., VI, 76): "your loues are like lightning, which no sooner flash on the eie, but they vanish." As Lucas observes, "Lightning is a dubious symbol for a constant affection; as perhaps the Cardinal is well aware." He notes the probable source: Donne, Of the Progresse of the Soule, "Harbinger to the Progresse" (1612), lines 11-12: . . . thy flight which doth our thoughts outgoe So fast, that now the lightning moves but slow. 2 00

The Duchess of Malfi

II.

[II.v]

V.

5.

"loose i'th'hilts": proverbial, apparently, but neither Lucas nor T i l l e y (H 472) offers an example prior to Webster. T h e earliest instance I have seen perhaps has no sexual implications. Cf. Breton's Crossing of Proverbs (1616; Wksed. Grosart, II, 8): P. A light supper makes cleane sheets. C. Not so, he that is loose in the hiltes, may make worke for the Launderesse. 33-34.

Apply desperate physicke— W e must not now use Balsamum, but fire.

Again Matthieu suggests the existence of some source. Cf. the second part of An Historical Collection (1598; a translation of his Histoire des derniers troubles de France), sig. Iii T : "those great Phisitians that sought to remedie the sicknesses of this estate, perceiued that they had not vsed such medicines as were conuenient for the diseases, that their plaisters were too little for the greatnesse of that wound, that to bring those humors down, they had rather haue applyed Iron & fire, then any oyntments. . . . " 44-45.

Unequall nature, to place womens hearts So farre upon the left-sidel

Lucas writes a long note on the figurative use of "left" in Ecclesiastes x. 2: " A wise man's heart is at his right hand; but a fool's heart at his left." But Matthieu, without being Webster's source, again provides a clue in a different direction. Cf. his History of Lewis the Eleventh (1614), sig. W f . : " T h e hearts of men lie on the left side, they are full of deceit, T r u t h , freedome and loyalty are rare, vnknowne and exiled qualities." T h e margin indicates Matthieu is being both literal and figurative: "Aristotle 201

Commentary in his first book of the history of beasts saith that man onely hath his hart on the left side, and all beasts haue it in the middest of their brests." 46-49.

Foolish men, That ere will trust their honour in a Barke, Made of so slight, weake bull-rush, as is woman. Apt every minnit to sinke it!

Cf. Beaumont and Fletcher, The Maids Tragedy II. i (Wks., I, 21), a work not published until 1619: Ohl we vain men That trust out all our reputation, To rest upon the weak and yielding hand Of feeble Women! [M. L. A.] 50-51.

Thus Ignorance, when it hath purchas'd honour, It cannot weild it.

Lucas quotes a faint parallel from Chapman; but cf. Hall, Char., "Of the Truly-Noble," ed. 1617, p. 206: "He so studies, as one that knowes ignorance can neither purchase honour, nor wield it." 52-53.

Me thinkes I see her laughing, Excellent Hyenna—

Cf. As You Like It IV. i. 156 for the laugh (Tilley, H 844, offers only one other example), and Lyly's Euphues {Wks., I, 250, from Erasmus) for the hyena-woman-dissimulation relationship. 61.

You flie beyond your reason.

Cf. Dekker, The Honest Whore IV. iv. 92: "How passion makes you fly beyond your selfe." 63-64.

'Tis not your whores milke, that shall quench my wild-fire, But your whores blood.

Cf. Chapman, Byron's Tragedy V. ii. 296-297: "we must quench the wild-fire with his blood . . ." That the fire of passion must be quenched with blood is common; cf., for example, Honigmann on King John III. i. 340-345, and the parallel to the D. M. plot in Gainsford's later Rich Cabinet (1616), sig. B3T, of Alexander killing Clytus in anger: "furie enflamed by the wild-fire of desperate rage, could not be quenched but with the life-bloud as it 202

The Duchess of Malfi.

[H- v ]

were of his own (or one he lou'd as his own) hart. Whereupon ensued too late repentance; which grew to such excesse of sorrow, as diuided the King (as mad) from himselfe." 90-91.

. . . dippe the sheetes they lie in, in pitch or sulphure, Wrap thém in't, and then light them like a match.

Cf. Painter's account of cruelties comparable with that accorded the Duchess (ed. 1567, p. 192): "We may confesse also these brutal brethren to be more butcherly than euer Otho erle of Monferrato, & prince of Vrbin was, who caused a yeoman of his chamber to be wrapped in a sheete poudred with sulpher 8c brimston, & afterwards kindled with a candle, was scalded & consumed to death, bicause only he waked not at an hour by him apointed." (F. L. L.)

III.

36-40.

i.

Great Princes, though they grudge their Officers Should have such large, and unconfined meanes T o get wealth under them, will not complaine Least thereby they should make them odious Unto the p e o p l e —

From Donne, Ignatius his Conclaue (1611), p. 92: ". . . Princes, who though they enuy and grudge, that their great Officers should haue such immoderate meanes to get wealth; yet they dare not complaine of it, least thereby they should make them odious and contemptible to the people." (M. L. A.) 51-52.

A Count! he's a meere sticke of sugar-candy, (You may looke quite thorough him).

Repeated with slight alteration in D. L. II. i. 153-155. There is a remote similarity in Much Ado about Nothing IV. i. 318-319, where Beatrice scorns Claudio as "a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely!" (F. L. L.) 203

Commentary 59. 6a. 62-64.

"Paper-bullets." Cf. Much Ado about Nothing II. iii. 249 (F. L. L,.); Day, lie of Guls, sig. C4. "powre it in your bosome." See on W. D. I. ii. 195196. . . . my fix'd love Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay deny Faults, [were] they apparant in you.

From Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy IV. i, lines 1994-1996: Loue cannot finde an imperfection forth: But doth excuse, extenuate, or denie Faults where it likes, with shaddowes of no woorth. 67.

This deadly aire is purg'd.

Referring to the "pestilent ayre" of line 60 above. Cf. Montaigne, II. iii, p. 207: "And God be thanked, since this good advertisement, our ayre is infinitely purged of them." (F. L. L.) The slight similarity, exclusively verbal, is almost surely coincidence. 6iW>9.

Her guilt treads on Hot burning cultures.

For the ancient test of walking on hot ploughshares (coulters, "cultures"), see Lucas, whose note is based on Burton. Anderson cites Lavater, Of Ghostes and Spirites Walking by Night, I. xix (Shakespeare Assn. Rep., pp. 91-92), of "Chunegunda wife vnto Henry the 2" suspected of adultery: "But she afterwardes declared hir innocencie by treading vppon hote glowing plowshares, (as the custome was then) without any hurting hir feete. . . ." Reference to Emma's trial appears in all the chronicles, usually without Webster's noun "cultures." The source usually noted, however (Higden's Polychronicon, VI. xxiii; ed. Lumby, VII, 165), says "sche passed unhert nyne brennynge cultres." So too Camden's Britain, trans. Holland (1610), p. 2 1 1 , which tells how Emma passed "barefoot upon nine culters red hote in Winchester Church without harme (an usuall kind of triall in those daies and then called Ordalium) and so cleered her selfe of that imputation, that she made her chastitie by so great a miracle more famous to posterity." 72-76.

BOS. . . . 'Tis rumour'd she hath had three bastards, but

204

The Duchess of Malfi

[Hl.i]

By whom, we may go read i'th'Starres. F E R D . Why some Hold opinion, all things are written there. BOS. Yes, if we could find Spectacles to read them—

Cf. Camden, Remaines (1605), sigs. V3 T f.: ". . . each mans fortune is written in his name [say the French], as Astrologians say, all things are written in heaven, if a man could reade them." 82-86.

F E R D . Can your faith give way T o thinke there's powre in potions, or in Charmes, T o make us love whether we will or no? BOS. Most certainely. F E R D . Away, these are meere gulleries. . . .

For other dramatic reflections of this debated question cf. Othello I. i. 172-175 (F. L. L.), I. ii. 72-75,1, iii. 60-64; a l s ° Marston, Sophonisba V. i. 18-20, where the witch Erictho discourses on the impossibility of controlling love by "philters or hellcharms." 104-106.

He that can compasse me, and know my drifts, May say he hath put a girdle 'bout the world, And sounded all her quick-sands.

The last two lines are repeated with little change in Char., "House-keeper," lines 19-20, an almost certain sign of borrowing. The first metaphor, of "a girdle 'bout the world," was fairly common to describe a literal circumnavigation like Drake's; Lucas cites instances in Shakespeare, Chapman, Middleton, and Massinger; Bullen adds Dick of Devonshire; Parrott notes Whitney's Emblems (ed. 1586, p. 203). 110-111.

. . . you Are your owne Chronicle too much.

See on W. D. V. i. 100-101.

205

Commentary

III.

ii.

6.

"with cap, and knee": as Lucas observes, a regular phrase for "with cap in hand and bended knee." Cf. i Henry IV IV. iii. 68: "The more and less came in with cap and knee." 10.

Indeed, my Rule is onely in the night.

Anderson finds the suggestion for this in Painter's account (ed. 1567, p. i8oT): "Bologna more oft held the state of the steward of the house by day, than of Lord of y same, and by night supplied that place. . . ." 26. "stop your mouth." See on W. D. IV. ii. 195. 27-28.

Venus had two soft Doves T o draw her Chariot.

Cartari merely illustrates a commonplace; cf. The Fountaine of Ancient Fiction, trans. Linche (1599), sig. CC3: "Pausanias saith, that Venus is drawne in a coach through the airie passages, with two white Doues (as Apuleius also affirmeth) being birds of all others most agreeable and pleasing vnto her, 8c are called the birds of Venus: for it is written indeed, that they are most abundantly inclined to procreation, & that almost at all times of the year, they ingender, increase, and bring forth their young. . . . [On the contrary] Horace and Virgil affirme, that the chariot of Venus is drawne by two white Swans. . . 31-39.

O fie upon this single life: forgoe it: We read how Daphne, for her peevish [fjlight Became a fruitlesse Bay-tree: Siri[n]x turn'd T o the pale empty Reede: Anaxar[e]te Was frozen into Marble: whereas those Which married, or prov'd kind unto their friends Were, by a gracious influence, transhap'd Into the Oliffe, Pomgranet, Mulbery:

2 06

The Duchess of Malfi Became

Flowres,

precious

Stones,

[III. i i ] or

eminent

Starres.

From Whetstone, Heptameron of Ciuill Discourses (1582), sig. C4, in the initial debate on "the difference between the Married state and the single lyfe": And where Ismarito, attributes such Glorie unto a Single lyfe, because that Daphne was metamorphosed into a Bay tree, whose Branches are alwayes greene: In my op[i]nion, his reason is fayre lyke the Bay Tree; for the Bay Tree is barren of pleasant fruict, & his plesing words of weighty matter. Furthermore, what remembrance is theare of faire Sirinx coynesse, refusing to be God Pans wife? other then that she was metamorphosed into a fewe unprofitable Reedes: Or of Anaxaretes chaste crueltie towardes Iphis, ouer [MC] then that she remaineth an Image of Stone in Samarin. Many other suche lyke naked Monumentes remayne, of nice contempners of Marriage. But in the behalf of Manage, thousands haue ben changed into Olyue, Pomegranate, Mulberie, and other fruictfull trees, sweete flowers, Starres, and precious stones, by whom the worlde is beautified, directed and noorished. Webster may have used the 1593 edition, titled Amelia. There "Paris" is misprinted for "Pans." This error, plus the reference to "naked Monumentes" a few lines after, may have reminded Webster of "Paris' case," which Antonio discusses in lines 40—47. Lucas cites relevant passages from Ovid to account for Antonio's speech, but he finds the "Oliffe" inappropriate and the "Pomgranet" inexplicable. He probably explains Webster's references, nevertheless, better than Webster himself could have done. 32. flight: Lucas' alteration for the "slight" of the quartos, because "her flight is too essential a part of the story." T h e fact that there are careless misprints in the next two lines somewhat strengthens his argument, even though Webster's source refers only to Daphne's refusal. 43-47.

T h i s was Paris' case A n d he was blind in't, and there was great cause: For how was't possible he could judge right, Having three amorous Goddesses in view, A n d they starcke naked?

207

Commentary Cf. Alexander, Julius Caesar I. i, lines 59-60, in which Juno is complaining about the judgment of Paris: No wonder too though one all iudgement lost, That had three naked goddesses in sight 57-60.

Did you ever in your life know an ill Painter Desire to have his dwelling next doore to the shop Of an excellent Picture-maker? 'twould disgrace His face-making, and undoe him.

A slight resemblance in Montreux, Honours Academie (1610), sig. Aa5, is probably coincidental: "There is nothing galleth the Foxe so much, as to be found to be nigh vnto the Lion, because his beastliness is knowne by the excellencie of the other. And the bad Painter, will (alwaies) shun the companie of such a one as is cunning, for feare least the perfection of his worke, should disgrace the vnskilfulnes of the other." 69-70.

You have cause to love me, I entred you into my heart Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keyes.

Webster's clear indebtedness to the Arcadia begins here and dominates the last half of the play. Cf. I. xi ( W k s I , 69): ". . . his fame had so framed the way to my mind, that his presence so full of beauty, sweetnes, and noble conversation, had entred there before he vouchsafed to call for the keyes." (F. L. L.) 74.

Love mixt with feare, is sweetest.

Perhaps too common an idea for any nonverbal parallel to have significance. Montaigne discusses it, however, in a section Webster certainly read. He reflects, for example, that "the diflicultie of assignations or matches appointed, the danger of being surprised, and the shame of ensuing to morrow . . . are the things that give relish and tartness to the sawce" (II. xv, p. 356). Cf. Marston, The Insatiate Countess (1613) III. ii. 8-13: Isa. Fear in this kind, my Lord, doth sweeten love. Mass. To think fear joy, dear, I cannot conjecture. Isa. Fear's sire to fervency, Which makes love's sweet prove nectar; Trembling desire, fear, hope, and doubtful leisure, Distill from love the quintessence of pleasure. 208

The Duchess of Malfi 78-79.

[Ill.ii]

. . . know whether I am doomb'd to live, or die, I can doe both like a Prince.

From Arcadia, I. iv (Wks., I, 25): "Lastly, whether your time call you to live or die, doo both like a prince." T h e passage is borrowed still more literally in D. L. II. i. 321-322 and in Char., "House-keeper," lines 22-23. Lucas calls the present lines "a typical utterance of Webster's cardinal virtue of courage in despair." (F. L. L.) 81-85.

F E R D . . . . Vertue, where are thou hid? what hideous thing Is it, that doth ecclipze thee? D U C H . 'Pray sir heare me: F E R D . O r is it true, thou art but a bare name, A n d no essentiall thing?

From Gynecia's soliloquy of self-condemnation in Arcadia, II. i (Wks., I, 146): " O Vertue, where doost thou hide thy selfe? or what hideous thing is this which doth eclips thee? or is it true that thou weart never but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing . . . ?" Lucas traces the idea that virtue is but a word to the account of Brutus' death in Dio Cassius. (F. L. L.) 90-94.

O h most imperfect light of humaine reason, T h a t mak'st [us] so unhappy, to foresee What we can least prevent: Pursue thy wishes: A n d glory in them: there's in shame no comfort, But to be past all bounds, and sence of shame.

From the same soliloquy: " O imperfect proportion of reason, which can too much forsee, & too little prevent. . . . In shame there is no comfort, but to be beyond all bounds of shame." (F. L. L.) For the first of these sententiae, see on W. D. V. vi. 181. 98-99.

Alas: your sheeres doe come untimely now T o clip the birds wings, that's already flowne.

From Arcadia, II. v (Wks., I, 177), when Philoclea is warned against falling in love: "Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheeres come to late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away." (F. L. L.) 100-102.

D U C H . . . . Will you see my Husband? F E R D . Yes, if I could change Eyes with a Basilisque.

209

Commentary Cf. the repartee in Richard III I. ii. 149-150: Rich. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! 118-120.

[F. L. L.]

I would have thee build Such a roome for him, as our Anchorites T o holier use enhabit.

Lucas, following Crawford, notes an allusion to the anchorite's cell in Donne, Of the Progresse of the Soule, lines 169—172. But such allusions are very common; e.g., Dekker, If It be not Good III. iii. 130-131, where the subprior resolves to be "(shut vp from worldly Light, / Betweene two walls,) and dye an Anchoryte." 145-156.

Upon a time Reputation, Love, and Death, Would travell ore the world: and [i]t was concluded That

they should part, and take three severall

wayes: Death told them, they should find him in great Battailes: O r Cities plagu'd with plagues: Love gives them councell To

enquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepheards,

Where dowries were not talk'd of: and sometimes 'Mongst quiet kindred, that had nothing left By their dead Parents: stay (quoth Reputation) Doe not forsake me: for it is my nature If once I part from any man I meete, I am never found againe.

Based on Pierre Matthieu, The Heroyk Life and Deplorable Death of the most Christian King Henry the fourth, trans. Grimeston (1612), sig. Ssi T : Reputation . . . the goddesse of great courages is so delicate, as the least excesse doth blemish it, an vniust enterprise dishonoreth it. . . . It is a spirit that goes and returnes no more. They report that water, fire, and reputation, vndertooke to goe throughout the world, and fearing they should goe astray, they gaue signes one vnto another: Water said that they should finde her where as they sawe reeds, and fire whereas the smoke appeared, loose me not said reputation, for if I get from you, you will neuer finde mee againe. [Conceivably, Webster used some source other than Matthieu. A very close parallel to Webster's version appears in John Spencer, Things New and Old a1o

The Duchess of Malfi

[Ill.ii]

(1658), no. 552, with a marginal attribution (perhaps that given in Spencer's actual source) to Mapheus Vegius, De Educatione Liberorum. I find nothing comparable in Vegius.] Ferdinand's speech may be part of a late insertion; perhaps the half-line 160 originally followed the colon in line 140. Certainly the Duchess' claim which provokes Ferdinand's answer is contradicted by her own earlier words (III. i. 55-57) and by Antonio's " T h e common-rable, do directly say / She is a Strumpet" (III. i. 29-30). T h e present dialogue is dramatically plausible, however, and much less of an intrusion than some of Webster's borrowings. 160-162.

Why should onely I Of all the other Princes of the World Be cas'de-up, like a holy Relique?

T h e simile may be taken from Guazzo, III (II, 75): ". . . not to suffer a mayde to go abrode but once or twise in the yeare, and to keepe her inclosed like a holy relique, is the way to make her . . . more easie to bee caughte in a net." 213-214.

. . . our weake safetie Runnes upon engenous wheeles.

Cf. Tilley, W 893 ("The World runs on wheels"), the expression usually implying both speed and impermanence. Only "enginous" is uncommon, and for that Lucas cites Dekker, The Whore of Babylon (1607) I. ii. 165-166: For that one Acte giues like an enginous wheele Motion to all, sets all the State a going. So too in Dekker's Seven Deadly Sinnes of London (1606; Wks., II, 49): "the Enginous Wheeles of the Soule are continually going." 215-217.

I must now accuse you Of such a fained crime, as Tasso calls Magnanima Mensogna: a Noble Lie.

Lucas explains the allusion to Gerus. Lib. II. xxii. Although there are two striking parallels to Fairfax's translation of Tasso in M. C., lines 85-88, I doubt that Webster was familiar with the work in either Italian or English. He could, of course, have obtained the Italian from Richard Carew's bilingual version of 1594, but his source was probably less direct. Both Carew and Fairfax translate "Magnanima Mensogna" as "noble lie." 8 11

Commentary 247-248.

You may see (Gentlemen) what 'tis to serve A Prince with body, and soule.

Only such a work as this would seek a source for the simple words of Antonio's equivocation. Cf. Henri Estienne, A World of Wonders, trans. Carew, p. 215, of Antoine du Prat, Chancellor under Francis I: For he died . . . of a strange disease hauing his stomacke eaten thorow with wormes, not without fearefull cursing of God through extreame impatience, occasioned aswell by extremitie of paine, as through spite and anger to see all his coffers sealed vp before his face: so that he could not refrain but breake forth into these words: "See what is gotten by seruing the king with body and soule?' George North's translation of the passage (The Stage of Popish toyes, 1581, sig C i ) ends: "thus it is to serue the King both with bodye and soule." 249-251.

Heere's an example, for extortion: what moysture is drawne out of the Sea, when fowle weather comes, powres downe, and runnes into the Sea againe.

Lucas quotes Suetonius, "Vespasian," 16, for an image that became a Renaissance commonplace—that of the prince using his officials like sponges, first filled with water and then squeezed dry. Webster's image is analogous, but quite different; I have seen no instance of it. Tilley, R 140 ("All Rivers run into the sea") is also related, but omits stages of the natural process included in Webster. Cf. Cotgrave's Dictionarie (1611), s. v. Mer: "Les Rivieres retournent en la mer: Prov. (Said when Princes doe squeeze out of their spungie Officers the moisture which they haue purloyned from them.)" 254.

He could not abide to see a Pigges head gaping—

Cf. The Merchant of Venice IV. i. 54: "Why he cannot abide a gaping pig" (but the cause is not Judaism). (F. L. L.) Similar to Shakespeare's sense is Henry Parrot, The Mastive (1615, but "long since composed"), sig. Ei T : Darkas cannot endure to see a Cat, A breast of Mutton, or a Pigs head gaping. 212

The Duchess of Malfi 273-274.

[Ill.ii]

[They] . . . thought none happy But such as were borne under his bless'd Plannet. . . .

Cf. de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 860: "All Spaine admires his Fortune: the most Happie thinke, that they must be borne vnder the same planet that will be Happie. But no man can say how long this happines will continue. . . . " 275.

. . . and doe these Lyce drop off now?

An ancient image, and a very common one in the Renaissance. Cf. Plutarch, Morals (ed. 1603), " T o discerne a flatterer from a friend," p. 85: "For these flatterers resemble lice for all the world: And why? These vermine we see never haunt those that be dead, but leave and forsake the corps so soone as ever the blood (whereof they were woont to feede) is extinct or deprived of vitall spirit: Semblably, a man shall never see flatterers, so much as approch unto such persons as are in decay. . . 278-280.

Princes pay flatterers, In their owne money: Flatterers dissemble their vices, And they dissemble their lies, that's Justice.

From Matthieu's memorial to Henry IV (1612), sig. CC3: "Princes pay flattery with her owne money, Flatterers dissemble the vices of Princes, and Princes dissemble the lyes of flatterers." 283-287.

Sure he was too honest: Pluto the god of riches, When he's sent (by Jupiter) to any man He goes limping, to signifie that wealth That comes on god's name, comes slowly, but when he's sent [On] the divells arrand, he rides poast, and comes in by scuttles.

Cf. Bacon's later "Of Riches" (1625): "The Poets faigne that when Plutus, (which is Riches,) is sent from Iupiter, he limps, and goes slowly; But when he is sent from Pluto, he runnes, and is Swift of Foot. Meaning, that Riches gotten by Good Meanes, and lust Labour, pace slowly: But when they come by the death of Others . . . they come tumbling vpon a Man. But it mought be applied likewise to Pluto, taking him for the Deuill. For when Riches come from the Deuill, (as by Fraud, and Oppression, and 213

Commentary vniust Meanes,) they come vpon Speed." (F. L. L.) Less complete versions appear in Melbancke and Crosse (each beginning, like Bacon, with " T h e Poets faine," the common introduction for such mythological lore, and Melbancke's continuing with "Plutus the God of riches"). Cf. also Jonson, Loue Restored, lines 232-239. A n d Thomas Adams, who seems so often to have shared sources with Webster, in his Commentary on 2 Peter (1633), p. 920, ending: " T h e moral was; T h e riches that come in Gods name and are sent to honest men, come slowly: but they that come by unjust dealing, flow in apace." Webster's source remains to be discovered, but the ultimate source is Lucian, Timon, 20; cf. trans. Hickes (1634; Watergate Library, pp. 152-153): Plutus. . . . When I goe to any man as sent from Jupiter, I know not how, I fall lame, and so decrepite on both legges, that I can hardly get to my journeies end, before the man grow old that is to enjoy mee: but when the time of my departure comes, you shall see mee with wings on my backe flie away more swiftly then a bird. . . . Mercurie. I cannot beleeve thee in that: for I could name many unto thee, that as yesterday had not a halfe-pennie to buy themselves an halter, and this day come to be rich and wealthie men. . . . Plutus. That's another matter, Mercurie: for I do not then goe upon mine owne feete, neither is it Jupiter, but Pluto that sets mee aworke to goe to them, who is also a bountifull bestower of riches, as his name imports. For the common substitution of Pluto for Plutus, see Lucas. 294.

Both his vertue, and forme, deserv'd a farre better fortune.

From Jonson's dedication to The Masque of Queenes (1609), lines 12-13, addressed to Prince Henry: ". . . both yo r vertue, 8c yo r forme did deserue yo r fortune." Webster uses the passage more extensively in M. C., lines 23-30. (F. L. L.) 295.

His discourse rather delighted to judge it selfe, then shew it selfe.

From Arcadia, I. v ( W k s I , 32), which describes Parthenia as having "a wit which delighted more to judge it selfe, then to showe it selfe." (F. L. L.) 214

The Duchess of Malfi 296-298.

[III.ii]

His breast was fill'd with all perfection, A n d yet it seem'd a private whispring roome. It made so little noyse o f t .

See on M. C., lines 78-79. 300-301.

W i l l you make your selfe a mercinary herald, Rather to examine mens pedegrees, then vertues?

From Arcadia, I. ii (Wks., I, 15): " . . . I am no herald to enquire of mens pedegrees, it sufficeth me if I know their vertues." (F.L. L.) 303-306.

For know an honest states-man to a Prince, Is like a Cedar, planted by a Spring, T h e Spring bathes the trees roote, the gratefull tree Rewards it with his shadow.

These lines appear to be verbally influenced by Arcadia, I. xv (Wks., I, 96), though in Sidney the description is given no moral application: " . . . a little River neere hand, which for the moisture it bestowed upon rootes of some flourishing Trees, was rewarded with their shadowe." 311-314.

. . . since the mallice of the world Would needes downe with thee, it cannot be sayd yet T h a t any ill happened unto thee, Considering thy fall was accompanied with vertue.

The idea is one of the major Senecan commonplaces, but the language is Sidney's. Cf. Arcadia, I. iv (Wks., I, 24): ". . . if the wickedness of the world should oppresse it [prosperitie], it can never be said, that evil hapneth to him, who falles accompanied with vertue." (F. L. L.) 344-345.

O the secret of my Prince, Which I will weare on th'in-side of my heart.

There is little resemblance in Hamlet III. ii. 78: " I will wear him in my heart's core" (F. L. L.); or in Matthieu's Henry the fourth, sig. T i : "Hee was not insensible of their miseries: . . . hee had them imprinted in the bottom of his heart. . . ." 353-364.

BOS. . . . I would wish your Grace, to faigne a Pilgrimage

Commentary T o our Lady of Loretto, (scarce seaven leagues From faire Ancona). . . . C A R . In my opinion, She were better progresse to the bathes at Leuca, Or go visit the Spaxo In Germany.

Painter provided Loretto and Ancona. Montaigne, in a passage mentioning both places, suggested alternative destinations: "Rarenes and difficultie giveth esteeme unto things. Those of Marca d'Ancona in Italie, make their vowes, and goe one pilgrimage rather vnto Saint lames in Galicia, and those of Galicia rather vnto our Ladie of Loreto. In the countrie of Liege, they make more accoumpt of the Bathes of Luca; and they of Tuscanie esteeme the Baths of Spawe more then their owne" (II. xv, p. 357). (F. L. L.) Webster used the first sentence of the above passage for D. L. V. v. 66-67. 369-370.

Past sorrowes, let us moderately lament them, For those to come, seeke wisely, to prevent them.

From Alexander, Croesus III. i, lines 1019-1022: We should such past misfortunes pretermit, At least no more immoderately lament them, And as for those which are but comming yet, Vse ordinary meanes for to preuent them. 371-373.

A Polititian is the divells quilted anvell, He fashions all sinnes on him, and the blowes Are never h e a r d —

Cf. Chapman, Byron's Tragedy (1608) I. ii. 53-54: . . . great affairs will not be forg'd But upon anvils that are lin'd with wool.

[F. L. L.]

This may account for "quilted," but for the rest cf. Thomas Adams, The Gallants Burden (1612), sigs. C i T f . : "an insensible Heart is the Deuils Anuile, he fashioneth all sinnes on it, and the blowes are not felt." (The preceding part of Adams' sentence appears in V. ii. 372.) The metaphor of man's heart as the devil's anvil was fairly common in religious literature of the early i6oo's. 373.

— h e may worke in .a Ladies Chamber.

Cf. Char., "Jesuite," lines 18-19. 816

(F. L. L.)

The Duchess of Malfi

III.

17-19.

iii.

FERD. He's no Souldier? DEL. He has worne gun-powder, in's hollow tooth. For the tooth-ache.

Cf. Char., "Roaring Boy," lines 18-21. 45-48.

[Ill.iii]

(F. L. L.)

These factions amongst great men, they are like Foxes,—when their heads are devided They carry fire in their tailes, and all the Country About them, goes to wracke for't.

Cf. Char., "Pettifogger," line 1; Judges xv. 4 (F. L. L.). I have not discovered any direct source for Webster's line, or any passage with quite the same application, but the basic image was extremely popular in controversial literature of the day—for example, in the prose of William Watson, David Owen, Thomas Adams, Daniel Price, and in Coke's speech against the Gunpowder traitors. One instance will serve; cf. Thomas T u k e , Picture of a true Protestant (1609), sigs. E4f.: "For howsoeuer Atheists, Papists, and Schismatiques be loose in their heads, yet they are tied fast together by the tailes (like Samsons foxes) with a firebrand of mischiefe in the middest to spoile and burne vp Gods corne, and to set fire on his rickes, if they be not with great care and labour preuented." 50-57.

I knew him in Padua, a fantasticall scholler, Like such, who studdy to know how many knots Was in Hercules club, of what colour Achilles beard was, Or whether Hector were not troubled with the tooth-ach— He hath studdied himselfe halfe bleare-ei'd, to know The true semitry of Caesars nose by a shooinghorne, And this he did T o gaine the name of a speculative man.

217

Commentary This lamentable intrusion, inconsistent with what we know of both Delio and Bosola, is expanded from Matthieu's memorial to Henry IV (1612), sig. Qq3 T : " T h e study of vaine things is a toilsome idlenesse, and a painfull folly. T h e spirits beeing once stroken with this disease . . . spend whole nights to finde how many knots were in Hercules club, and of what colour Achilles beard was. . . ." Lucas cites Montaigne, I. xxxviii, p. 120: "This man, whom about mid-night, when others take their rest, thou seest come out of his studie meagre-looking, with eyes-trilling, fleugmatike, squalide, and spauling, doost thou thinke, that plodding on his bookes he doth seek how he shal become an honester man; or more wise, or more content? There is no such matter. Hee will either die in his pursute, or teach posterity the measure of Plant us verses, and the true Orthography of a Latine worde." 61-62.

That Cardinall hath made more bad faces with his oppression Then ever Michael

Angelo

made good ones.

Cf. Dallington, The View of Fraunce (1604), sig. N2: "when I was in Italy, ye should heare them say in derision, that the King of Spayne had made more ill faces vpon the Exchange, in one day, then Michael Angelo, the famous Paynter and Caruer, had euer made good faces in all his life." T h e king failed to pay his debts. Lucas thinks "oppression" means "stress of emotion"; Dallington's passage indicates that Silvio refers to the faces of the Cardinal's victims, not to that of the Cardinal. 63-64.

He lifts up's nose, like a fowle Por-pisse before A storme—

T h e idea is very common, but without Webster's application; cf. Tilley, P 483 ("The Porpoise plays before a storm"). Most instances make the porpoise "dancing," "sportive," etc., very unlike the Cardinal. 70-71.

In such a deformed silence, witches whisper Their charmes.

Cf. Char., "Divellish Usurer," lines 17-19. 218

(F.L.L.)

The Duchess of Malfi 74-76.

[III. iii]

M e thinkes her fault, and beauty Blended together, shew like leaprosie— T h e whiter, the fowler.

Probably from Chapman, Seven Penitential great Man," lines 17-19:

Psalms (1612), " A

111 vpon ill he layes: th'embroderie Wrought on his state, is like a leprosie, The whiter, still the fouler.

[F. L. L.]

Cotgrave's Dictionarie explains: "Cagot: m. An hypocrite, or dissembler; also a white leaper. . . . Caquots: m. White Leapers, infected inwardly; (for their faces are very cleere, and faire.)"

III.

45~47-

iv.

If that a man be thrust into a well, N o matter who sets hand to't, his owne weight Will bring him sooner to th'bottome.

Cf. Montaigne, II. xxxi, p. 413, of losing one's temper: ". . . the mischiefe is, that after you are once falne into the pit, it is no matter who thrusts you in, you never cease till you come to the bottome. T h e fall presseth, hasteneth, mooveth and furthereth it selfe." (F. L. L.) 48-49.

Fortune makes this conclusion generall, " A l l things do helpe th'unhappy man to fall.

From Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy IV. i, line 1931: " A l l things must help th' vnhappy man to fall."

219

Commentary

I I I . v. 8-9.

But your wiser buntings Now they are fledg'd, are gon.

Melbancke merely illustrates the image; cf. Philotimus (1583), sig. A3: "Your frends be fledd. In deede you brought them well up till they were flidge, and therefore no maruaile though they bee flowne." 11-13.

Physitians thus, With their hands full of money, use to give ore Their Patients.

Proverbial? Cf. Painter, Palace of Pleasure, II (1567), xxvii, " T h e Lorde of Virle," p. 277T. T h e physicians can't cure the lord of his love-sickness. "And therfore dispairing of his helth, with handes full of money they gaue him ouer." Lucas compares Timon III. iii. 11. 17-24.

DUCH. I had a very strange dream to-night. A N T . What was't? DUCH. Me thought I wore my Coronet of State, And on a sudaine all the Diamonds Were chang'd to Pearles. A N T . My Interpretation Is, you'll weepe shortly, for to me, the pearles Doe signifies your teares.

Based on Matthieu's memorial to the murdered Henry IV (1612), sig. H3: "Some few daies before this fatall accident shee [the queen] had two dreames, the which were true predictions, when as the Iewelers and Lapidaries prepared her crowne [for her coronation] she drempt that the great diamonds and all the goodly stones which shee had giuen them to inrich it were turned into Pearles, the which the interpreters of dreames take for teares." 220

The Duchess of Malfi

[

I I I v

]

26.

"the wilde benefit of Nature." T h e phrase, repeated in A. Q. L. IV. i. 82, may be a reminiscence of Arcadia, IV (Wks., II, 119): "to have for foode the wilde benefites of nature." (F. L. L.) 33-34.

Thou do'st blanch mischiefe— Wouldst make it white.

Cf. Hall, Char., "Enuious," ed. 1617, p. 233: "hee saith, Fame is partiall, and is wont to blanch mischiefes"; Thomas Adams, England's Sickness (pub. 1615; Wks., I, 403): "His first allurement is a mellifluous language, able to blanch mischief." 34-35*

• • • like to calme weather At Sea, before a tempest. . . .

Cf. Tilley, C 24 ("After a Calm comes a storm"). 37-39.

Send Antonio to me; I want his head in a busines: A politicke equivocation— He doth not want your councell, but your head.

For what seem today pieces of overobvious equivocation, Webster turned to history. Cf. Jean Bodin, Six Bookes of a Commonweale, trans. Knolles, p. 631, of tricks in breaking faith: "Others distinguish vpon the word, as king Lewis the 11, who making a shew that he had need of the good councell and aduice of Lewis of Luxembourg Constable of France, he said, T h a t he wanted his head." T h e device, conveyed to the Constable in a letter, was successful; as a result the Constable perished. I do not know where Webster found the story. It appears in Danett's History of Comines (1596), in de Serres' General Inventorie (1607), and in Matthieu's History of Lewis the Eleventh (1614), but I suspect that Webster's indebtedness lies elsewhere. 44.

I had rather have his heart, then his mony.

From Camden's Remaines (1605), sig. Ee4T, of Richard III: ". . . when diverse shires of England offered him a benevolence, hee refused it, saying, I know not in what sence; I had rather have your hearts, than your money." 48-49.

He will by no meanes beleeve his heart is with him Untill he see it. 2 SI

Commentary From Donne, Ignatius his Conclaue (1611), p. 89, Loyola speaking: . . wee consider not the entrails of Beasts, but the entrails of souls, in confessions, and the entrails of Princes, in treasons; whose hearts wee do not beleeue to be with vs, till we see them." 60. "Blood-hounds." See on W. D. IV. ii. 53. 6i-6s.

No truce, though hatch'd with nere such politick skill Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies will.

Cf. Alexander, Alexandraean

Tragedy V. iii, lines 3250-3253:

For all the fauour that she could procure, Was leaue to liue a priuate person still; And yet of that she could not be made sure, Which did depend vpon her enemies will. 65-66.

Every small thing drawes a base mind to feare: As the Adamant drawes yron.

T h e wording of the simile in line 66 is common; see, for example, Lyly's Euphues (Wks., I, 212) or Greene's Menaphon (Wks., VI, 81). Webster uses the simile, variously worded, frequently. Did "Load-stone" in Hall remind him of it? Cf. Epistles I. vi, ed. 1617, p. 331, of "miracles": "One Load-stone hath more wonder in it, then a thousand such euents. Euery thing drawes a base minde to admiration." 71-72.

Let us not venture all this poore remainder In one unlucky bottom.

Again the basic wording is fairly common. Lucas cites The Merchant of Venice I. i. 42: " M y ventures are not in one bottom trusted." Cf. Tilley, A 209. A nonverbal parallel in More's Richard the Thirde is of interest, especially because other parallels to Webster appear in the work. W h e n Richard's representatives seek to take her younger son from sanctuary, Queen Elizabeth objects: "Kepe one safe 8c both be sure, and nothing for them both more perilouse, then to be both in one place. For what wise merchaunt aduentureth all his good in one ship?" (Wks., ed. 1557, p. 51). Compare the situation here. A n d cf. F. M. 1.1, ii. 41-42: . . . that Merchant is not wise That ventures his whole fortunes in one bottome. 222

The Duchess of Malfi 75-78.

[III.V]

Heaven hath a hand in't: but no otherwise, T h e n as some curious Artist takes in sunder A Clocke, or Watch, when it is out of frame T o bring't in better order.

Cf. M. C.j lines 241-244. Probably from Donne, though there is very little verbal resemblance and the essential image is not uncommon in the literature of meditation. Cf. Anatomy of the World, A Funerall Elegie, lines 37-40: But must wee say she's dead? may't not be said That as a sundred clocke is peecemeale laid, Not to be lost, but by the makers hand Repollish'd, without errour then to stand . . . ? 81-84.

[F. L. L.]

T h o u art happy, that thou hast not understanding T o know thy misery: For all our wit A n d reading, brings us to a truer sence Of sorrow.

Webster's source probably remains undiscovered. Lucas cites Ecclesiastes i. 18: "For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." Montaigne discusses this passage, and parallels in Sophocles and elsewhere, in II. xii. T h e idea appears in Sidney's verse, from which Webster rarely if ever borrows, in a melancholy meditation perhaps used below, lines 93-95; cf. Arcadia, II. xii ( W k s I , 227): The child feeles that; the man that feeling knowes, With cries first borne, the presage of his life, Where wit but serves, to have true tast of woes. 84-85.

In the eternall Church, Sir, I doe hope we shall not part thus.

Cf. Arcadia, II. xiii {Wks., I, 233): ". . . when she thought him dead, she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as by knife) to send her soule, at least, to be maried in the eternall church with him." (F. L. L.) 89.

"Man (like to Cassia) is prov'd best, being bruiz'd.

A "favorite commonplace," as Lucas observes, but I know no close parallel referring to cassia. T h e prefatory poems to Du Bartas offer typical instances. Cf. that of R. R. (ed. 1608, sig. B7V): 223

Commentary As Camomile, the more you tread it down, The more it springs; Vertue despightfully Vsed, doth vse the more to fructifie: and Sylvester's, sig. Q6 T : Thus, Vertue's Palms, oppressed, mount the more: And Spices, bruz'd, smell sweeter than before. See on W. D. I. i. 45-50, and the several instances in Tilley, S 746. 90-91.

Must I like to a slave-borne Russian, Account it praise to suffer tyranny?

Apparently Webster's lone use of Astrophel and Stella (included in the Arcadia folios from 1598 on); cf. Sonnet 2: . . . and now like slave-borne Muscovite: I call it praise to suffer tyrannie. [F. L. L.] But see also on IV. i. 133. 92-95.

And yet (O Heaven) thy heavy hand is in't. I have seene my little boy oft scourge his top, And compar'd my selfe to't: naught made me ere Go right, but Heavens scourge-sticke.

Perhaps based on Arcadia, II. xii (Wks., I, 227 f.): Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see (Even like a toppe which nought but whipping moves) This man, this talking beast, this walking tree. But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse, While that we do at his sweete scourge repine, The kindly way to beate us to our blisse. 97-98.

[F. L. L.]

Heaven fashion'd us of nothing: and we strive, T o bring our selves to nothing.

From Donne, Anat. of the World, First Ann., lines 155-157: Wee seeme ambitious, Gods whole worke t'undoe; Of nothing hee made us, and we strive too, T o bring our selves to nothing backe. [F. L. L.] 106-107.

My heart is turnde to a heavy lumpe of lead, With which I sound my danger.

Cf. M. C., dedication, lines 12-13. 224

The Duchess of Malfi 108.

[III.v]

My Laurell is all withered.

Cf. M. C., lines 1 3 2 - 1 3 3 , for "withred laurels" (where Webster adds the adjective "withred" to a borrowing from Matthieu). Lucas thinks the Duchess' speech "perhaps an echo of Cleopatra's parting cry" (Antony and Cleopatra IV. xv. 64): "O, wither'd is the garland of the war." For the attendant superstition see Lucas; also Milles, The Treasurie of Auncient and Moderne Times (1613), sig. Eei T , of wondrous laurels (discussed in Pliny and Suetonius) planted ceremoniously by Augustus and his successors: "Suetonius . . . saith, that at such times as any Emperour dyed; the Plant of Laurell likewise withered, and all the branches cut from those boughs, which had been planted at the time of his triumph. And when Nero died, who was the last of the Caesars Linage, all the Bay-trees dryed vp and withered. . . . " n i - i 13.

When Fortunes wheele is over-charg'd with Princes, The waight makes it move swift.

Cf. Alexander, Alexandraean

Tragedy V. i, lines 2836-2838:

The wheele of Fortune still must slippery proue, And chiefly when it burdend is with kings, Whose states as weightiest most must make it moue. 113-114.

I wo[u]ld have my ruine Be sudden.

Compare Agrippina's words in Sejanus IV. 3-4: . . . O, my fortune, Let it be sodaine thou prepar'st against me. Webster uses the preceding two lines in W. D. III. ii. 280-281. 116.

What Divell art thou, that counterfeits heavens thunder?

Cf. Jacques Hurault, Politicke, Moral, and Martial Discourses, trans. Golding (1595), p. 56: "For as saith Plutarch in his booke of the Education of princes, God is angrie with those that imitate and counterfait him, in following his lightenings and thunders." Thus Plutarch, Morals, trans. Holland (1603), p. 295: "God indeed hateth and punisheth those who will seeme to imitate thunder, lightning, sun-beames and such like," affecting divinity and abusing power. 225

Commentary isi-132.

O misery: like to a rusty ore-char[g]'d Cannon, Shall I never flye in peeces?

A n improvement on Donne, Of the Progresse of the Soule, lines 181-182 (of the body liberating the soul at death): Thinke that a rustie Peece, discharg'd, is flowne In peeces. . . . [F. L. L.] Cf. D. L. III. iii. 297. 126-127.

I have heard that Charons boate serves to convay All ore the dismall Lake, but brings none backe againe.

Cf. Alexander, Julius Caesar V. i, lines 2577-2578: Ah, th'vnrelenting Charons restlesse barge Stands to transport all ouer, but brings none backe. 130-132.

With such a pitie men preserve alive Pheasants, and Quailes, when they are not fat enough T o be eaten.

From Arcadia, III. xxiii (Wks., I, 488 f.): ". . . (with the same pittie as folkes keepe foule, when they are not fatte inough for their eating). . . (F. L. L.) 145-146.

Man is most happy, when's owne actions Be arguments, and examples of his Vertue.

Cf. Hall, Epistles VI. ix, ed. 1617, p. 470 (encouraging a prisoner of the Inquisition to martyrdom): "It is an happy thing when our owne actions may be either examples, or arguments of good." 152-153. To

. . . why art thou so bold mixe thy selfe with our high state floods . . . ?

of

Cf. 2 Henry IV V. ii. 129-133: The tide of blood in me Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now. Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, Where it shall mingle with the state of floods And flow henceforth in formal majesty. 169.

There's no deepe Valley, but neere some great Hill. 826

[F. L. L.]

The Duchess

of Malfi

[m-v]

Cf. Tilley, H 467 ("There is no Hill without its valley"), with only one instance before Webster. As Lucas suggests, the line may mean that "Misery and greatness go together." Cotgrave, s. v. Montée, suggests an alternate interpretation: "Apres grande montée grande vallée: Prov. After toyle rest, after paine ease. / Apres grande vallée rude montée: Prov. The contrarie."

IV.

4-6.

i.

She's sad, as one long us'd to't: and she seemes Rather to welcome the end of misery T h e n shun it.

From Arcadia, II. xxix (Wks., I, 332): "But Erona sadde indeede, yet like one rather used, then new fallen to sadnesse . . . seemed rather to welcome then to shunne that ende of miserie. . . ." (F.L.L.) 6-7.

. . . a behaviour so noble, As gives a majestie to adversitie.

From Arcadia, I. ii (Wks., I, 16): " . . . a behaviour so noble, as gave a majestie to adversitie." (F. L . L.) 8-9.

Y o u may discerne the shape of lovelinesse More perfect, in her teares, then in her smiles.

From Arcadia, II. x x i x (Wks., I, 333), of Erona's sadness, in which Plangus can "perceyve the shape of lovelinesse more perfectly in wo, then in joyfulnesse. . . ." (F. L. L.) ia-13.

Her mellancholly seemes to be fortifide W i t h a strange disdaine.

Cf. Alexander, Croesus IV. i, lines 1431-1432, of Croesus after the death of his son: Lo, with a silent pittie-pleading looke, Which shewes with sorrow mixt a high disdaine. 227

Commentary 14-17.

. . . this restraint (Like English Mastiffes, that grow feirce with tying) Makes her too passionately apprehend Those pleasures she's kept from.

Cf. Arcadia, I. iv (Wks., I, 25): "Leave womens minds, the most untamed that way of any: see whether any cage can please a bird? or whether a dogge growe not fiercer with tying? what dooth jelousie [of a father for his daughters], but stirre up the mind to thinke, what it is from which they are restrayned?" (F. L. L.) See also on W. D. I. ii. 188-190. 19-20.

I will no longer study in the booke Of anothers heart.

Adapted from de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1033, of a Spanish secretary addressing a French would-be traitor: "Hee sayd vnto him that the King of Spaine resolued not to studie any more in the Bookes of an others heart, hauing so good Intelligence with the King of France, as he desired not to vnderstand his affaires by any other Instrument the[n] his Ambassadors." 23-24.

'Pray-thee, why do'st thou wrap thy poysond Pilles In Gold, and Sugar?

See on W. D. III. ii. 198-199; also Tilley, P 325 ( " T o sugar [gild] the Pill"). 37-40.

D U T C H . I would aske you pardon: F E R D . You have it; For I account it the honorabl'st revenge Where I may kill, to pardon.

Cf. Tilley, R 92 ( " T o pardon is a divine Revenge"); Joseph Hall, Char., "Valiant man" (ed. 1617, p. 203): "he holds it the noblest reuenge, that he might hurt and doth not"; Guevara, Golden Epistles, trans. Fenton (1582), p. 219: " A n d albeit no man ought to seeke his reuenge, as by the same to throw himselfe into destruction yet to hym that is of base condition it is no dishonour to reuenge, where to the man of myghte and power, the most honor is to pardon: for that in the world, ther is not more haughtie kinde of reuenge, than to forgiue an iniurie by vertue." 40-41.

F E R D . . . . where are your Cubbs? D U C H . Whoml F E R D . Call them your children.

228

The Duchess of Malfi

[IV.i]

Perhaps no direct borrowing is involved, but Ferdinand's word must have run familiarly in many ears. In Raleigh's 1603 trial, the conspirators were charged with having said "there would never be a good world in England, till the King and his Cubs (meaning his Royall issue) were taken away. . . ." Coke repeats the phrase frequently, with the highest indignation, both for its language and its regicidal content. Cf. Overbury's The Arraignment and Conviction of Sr Walter Rawleigh (pub. 1648); also State Trials. I have seen no references to the expression in works published prior to Webster's play. 42-44.

For though our nationall law distinguish Bastards From true legitimate issue: compassionate nature Makes them all equall.

Cf. de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1027, of Henry IV's treatment of his bastard son: " A father how great & powreful soeuer, cannot thinke too soone nor to often, to breed vp the youth of his child in vertue, nor to assure his fortune: I say a child without distinction, for although the Law doth distinguish Bastards from them that are lawfully begotten, yet nature makes no difference." Repeated with minor changes in D. L. IV. ii. 278-280. Is it only coincidence that, especially in the latter, Webster echoes the language of a very different passage in Guevara? Cf. Diall of Princes, III. xxxiii, sig. O6: "And admit that in this life, fortune doth make difference betwene us in estates, yet nature in time of our birth, and death, dothe make us all equall." 50.

You were too much i'th'light.

Cf. D. L. I. ii. 52-53. Perhaps related to Hamlet's variously interpreted "I am too much i' the sun" (I. ii. 67). (F. L. L.) 51. "here's a hand." Praz thinks Webster indebted to Herodotus II. cxxi, where a thief escapes in the dark by leaving a dead man's arm in the grasp of his intended captor. But the resemblance is slight, and there is no evidence that Webster was in any way familiar with Herodotus. On the other hand, as Lucas notes, Ferdinand's use of the hand and wax figures may well have been suggested by the remotely comparable devices in Arcadia, III. xxi ff., where Cecropia makes it appear that Pamela and Philoclea have been executed. 229

Commentary 68-71.

He doth present you this sad spectacle, That now you know directly they are dead, Hereafter you may (wisely) cease to grieve For that which cannot be recovered.

Lucas compares 2 Samuel xii. 22-23. But Webster is probably indebted to some specific source for this commonplace counsel. Cf., for example, Petrarch, Phisicke against Fortune, trans. Twyne (1579), sig. Kk3 T : "Admit death be euyll, whiche the learned denye, truely no man wyl denie but that weepyng is in vayne, for that whiche cannot be recouered." 73-76.

. . . it wastes me more, Then were't my picture, fashion'd out of wax, Stucke with a magicall needle, and then buried In some fowle dung-hill.

Lucas mentions brief references to this superstition in Chapman's Seven Penitential Psalms, " A Fragment," and in Jonson's Masque of Queenes. Both are works Webster used, and either might have suggested to him the present lines, though neither includes all elements of the superstition. Another of Webster's sources is more complete, in treating dramatically one of the famous conspiracies against Elizabeth; cf. Dekker, The Whore of Babylon II. ii. 166-181: 3. King. . . . Art thou come! Can thy blacke Arte Enter Coniurer This wonder bring to passe? Con. See, it is done. King. Titaniaes picture right. Con. This virgin waxe, Burie I will in slimie putred ground, Where it may peece-meale rot: As this consumes, So shall shee pine, and (after languor) die. These pinnes shall sticke like daggers to her heart, And eating through her breast, turne there to gripings, Cramp-like Convulsions, shrinking vp her nerues, As into this they eate. King. Thou art fam'd for euer, Where wilt thou burie it? Con. On this dunghill. 230

The Duchess of Malfi

[IV. i ]

King. Good: And bind it down with most effectuall charmes. 79-80.

If they would bind me to that liveles truncke, And let me freeze to death.

A form of torture ascribed to Mezentius in Virgil's Aeneid viii. 485-488. Cf. Marston, The Fawn I. ii. 203-205: " O MezentiusI a tyranny equal if not above thy torturing; thou didst bind the living and the dead bodies together, and forced them so to pine and rot." (F. L. L.) Elizabethan references are common. Anderson notes that both Whitney and Alciat have emblems picturing this punishment, in each case to symbolize ill-matched marriages. Marston so applies the passage here quoted. 92-94.

Things being at the worst, begin to mend: the Bee When he hath shot his sting into your hand May then play with your eye-lyd.

T h e common proverb (Tilley, T 216) and the "Websterian" image are both from Whetstone, Heptameron of Ciuill Discourses (1582), sig. U3: ". . . let this comfort you: that thinges when they are at the worst, begin againe to amend. . . . T h e Bee, when he hath lefte his stinge in your hande without dainger may playe with your eye lidde." 99-106.

D U T C H . . . . I account this world a tedious Theatre, For I doe play a part in't 'gainst my wilL BOS. Come, be of comfort, I will save your life. D U T C H . Indeed I have not leysure to tend so small a busines. BOS. Now, by my life, I pitty you. D U T C H . Thou art a foole then, T o wast thy pitty on a thing so wretch'd As cannot pitty itfself].

From Arcadia} II. xxix ( W k s I , 333), again of Erona: "But she (as if he had spoken of a small matter, when he mencioned her life, to which she had not leisure to attend) desired him if he loved her, to shew it, in finding some way to save Antiphilus. For her, she found the world but a wearisom stage unto her, where she played a part against her will: and therefore besought him, not to cast his love in so unfruitfull a place, as could not love it selfe." (F. L. L.) 231

Commentary 108-111.

D U C H . . . . W h a t are you? [she turns

suddenly

to a Servant.] S E R . O n e that wishes y o u l o n g life. D U C H . I w o u l d thou wert hang'd for the horrible curse T h o u hast given me.

Rather dragged in, from Arcadia, III. xxiii (Wks., I, 485), of Pyrocles: ". . . he heard one stirre in his chamber, by the motion of garments; and he with an angry voice asked, Who was there? A poore Gentlewoman (answered the partie) that wish long life unto you. And I soone death to you (said he) for the horrible curse you have given me." (F. L. L.) lso.

L o o k e you, the Starres shine still.

For Bosola's famous answer to "I could curse the Starres," it is perhaps worth quoting Montaigne, especially since Webster made use of a passage a few lines earlier in the essay. Cf. II. xiii, pp. 352 f.: "Wee entraine and carrie all with vs: Whence it followeth, that wee deeme our death to be some great matter, and which passeth not so easily, nor without a solemne consultation of the Starres; . . . the world suffers it selfe to be so easily conicatcht, deeming that our owne interests disturbe heaven, and his infinitie is moved at our least actions. Non tanta caelo societas nobiscum est, ut nostro fato mortalis sit ille quoque siderum fulgor. There is no such societie betweene heauen and us, that by our destinie the shining of the starres should be mortall as we are" (with marginal note: Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 8). 122-1*3.

Plagues, (that make lanes through largest families) Consume them!

Somewhat less appropriate for "Plagues" than for Chapman's cannon; cf. Seven Penitential Psalms, "A Fragment," line 44: Wars that make lanes thro whole posterities. Also Bussy D'Ambois III. ii. 469: "a murthering piece, making lanes in armies." (F. L. L.) 133.

" I t is some mercy, w h e n m e n kill w i t h speed.

If Guazzo, IV (II, 129) is Webster's source, he gave it some much needed condensation: 232

The Duchess of Malfi

[IV. i ]

It is of mercie and a gentille deede, Without delaies to hasten death with speede. But the idea is a Senecan commonplace; see on W. D. I. i. 55-57. Also Astrophel and Stella, sonnet 48: " A kind of grace it is to kill with speede," which Hunter regards as Webster's source. 170.

"Intemperate agues, make Physitians cruell.

"Crudelem medicum intemperans aeger facit" (Publilii Syri Mimi Sententiae, ed. Meyer, p. 23). Did "aeger," or someone's translation of it, produce Webster's "agues"? Though not in Tilley or O. E. P., the proverb appears in Taverner's Proverbes (1539), Part II, sig. B3 y ; both Latin and translation are in Charron, Of Wisdome, trans. Lennard (ca. 1612), p. 359; and Davies provides a good literal translation in Microcosmos (1603; Wks., I, 46a): Intemp'rate Patients make Phisitions cruell.

IV. i i . 9-12.

D U C H . . . . Discourse to me some dismall Tragedy. C A R I . O 'twill encrease your mellancholly. D U C H . T h o u art deceiv'd, T o heare of greater griefe, would lessen mine—

Suggested by Alexander, Croesus III, i, lines 853-854: Tell on at length th'originall of all, To heare of greater griefe, 'twill make mine lesse. 15-16.

T h e Robin red-brest, and the Nightingale, Never live long in cages.

Perhaps from the discussion of differing tastes in Satyres (1608), III, p. 33: The cage is to the Nightinglale [sic] a hell, The Thrush and Black-bird both do loue it well The Robin red-brest rob'd of libertie, Growes sad and dies with inward melancholy. 233

Ariosto's

[F. L. L.]

Commentary T h e r e is nothing similar in the Italian. 20-21 •

Do'st thou thinke we shall know one another. In th'other world?

Cf. Marston, The Dutch Courtezan (1605) IV. iv. 72-75: Bea. . . . shall we know one another in the other world? Cri. What means my sister? Bea. I would fain see him againl O my tortured mindl Arcadia, V ( W k s I I , 165) discusses the nature of our immortality, of our life "in the other world"; Pyrocles is willing to "yeeld, that we shall not knowe one another, and much lesse these passed things, with a sensible or passionate knowledge." T h e Duchess betrays no such doubt in lines 216-2x8 below. 26.

I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow.

Cf. King John III. iv. 48-49: I am not mad. I would to heaven I were! For then 'tis like I should forget myself. T h o u g h the somber application in Shakespeare and Webster is very unusual, it has a proverbial basis: " H e is a fool that forgets himself." Tilley, F 480, gives no instance before Shakespeare, but Chaucer indicates the proverb was old even when he wrote Troilus and Criseyde, V. 97-98. 27-28.

Th'heaven ore my head seemes made of molt[e]n brasse, T h e earth of flaming sulphure, yet I am not mad.

Obviously related to God's threatened punishment in Deuteronomy xxviii. 23: " A n d the heaven that is over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that is under thee shall be iron." (M. C. B.) Many Elizabethans cite the passage; few explicate it. W h e n they do, they usually agree with Calvin that it signifies the barrenness of heaven and earth in a time of draught. Hence William Perkins' interpretation, that the misery overhead is the wrath of God while that under foot is hell fire, may somehow be connected to Webster's version (Wks., ed. 1612, I, 464). 29-32.

I am acquainted with sad misery, As the tan'd galley-slave is with his Oare, Necessity makes me suffer constantly, A n d custome makes it easie. 234

The Duchess of Malfi,

[IV. ii]

From the words of Admiral Chastillon's imprisoned wife, as reported in de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 817: "I am inured to my afflictions, as a Galley slaue to his oare. Necessity teacheth me to suffer constantly, and custome makes my suffrance easie." I have encountered variations on the theme, all mentioning the galley slave, in La Noue, Du Vair, Charron, Sir Clement Edmondes, etc. The basic source is Seneca, De Tranquil10. 1; Lodge's translation (ed. 1620, p. 646) reads: "Thinke with thy selfe, that such as are fettered at the first can hardly bear their shackles or the irons on their legs, but afterwards being better resolued doe suffer the same, and conclude to endure them patiently; necessity teacheth them to sustayne them constantly, and custome easily." 32.

— w h o do I looke like now?

T h e same imagery-provoking question is more appropriate in the comic context of Dekker's The Honest Whore (1604) II. i. 33; Roger asks Bellafront, "Troth Mistris, what do I looke like now?" 33-34.

Like to your picture in the gallery, A deale of life in shew, but none in practise.

From Arcadia, I. xiii (Wks., I, 90); at the sight of Philoclea, Pyrocles says he "stood like a well wrought image, with some life in shew, but none in practise." (F. L. L.) 37-38.

A n d Fortune seemes onely to have her eie-sight, T o behold my Tragedy.

Perhaps adapted from Arcadia, II. xxix [Wks., I, 331), where Antiphilus thinks himself as prosperous "as if fortune had only gotten eies to cherish him." (M. L. A.) 42-46.

A great Physitian, when the Pope was sicke Of a deepe mellancholly, presented him W i t h severall sorts of mad-men, which wilde object (Being full of change, and sport,) forc'd him to laugh. A n d so th'impost-hume broke.

Cf. Donne, Of the Progresse of the Soule, lines 477-479: When no Physitian of redresse can speake, A joyfull casuall violence may breake A dangerous Apostem in thy breast. [F. L. L.] 235

Commentary As Lucas observes, the idea of accidentally cured imposthumes was both old and common (see on D. L. III. ii. 163 ff.), but I know no other reference to one cured by laughter. Yet Donne, obviously, must have had some instance or tradition in mind. Donne's use is literal, Webster's figurative. 79-80.

I cannot sleepe, my pillow is stuff't with a littour of Porcupines.

See on W. D. I. ii. 77-78; also Henry King's later "Elegy Occasioned by sickness," line 67: "His Pillow quilted with a Porcupine." (F. L . L.) 81-83.

Hell is a meere glasse-house, where the divells are continually blowing up womens soules, on hollow yrons, and the fire never

goes out.

Cf. Dekker, A Knights Coniuring (1607), sig. C4 T , describing hell: "for like the Glasse-house Furnace in Blacke-friers, the bone fires that are kept there, neuer goe out." (F. L. L.) For Webster's elaboration, cf. II. ii. 5-9, above. 107. "paired the divells nayles." For this insult to the devil, cf. Twelfth Night IV. ii. 140, with notes thereon. (F.L.L.) 111.

A l l the Colledge may throw their caps at me.

Cf. Char., "Quacksalver," line 10; examples of the phrase in Lucas; also Tilley, C 62. Dekker most resembles Webster; cf. The Dead Terme (1608; Wks., IV, 82), of an intended trick: "if he went away with it cleare, all the fresh men in Cambridge should throw their cappes at him, and not mend the deuise." (F. L . L.) 118-120.

D U C H . . . . do'st thou perceive me sicke? BOS. Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sicknesse is

insensible.

Anderson notes Montaigne, II. xxv, p. 397 (from Seneca, Epist. 50. 4): "Let us not seeke our euell out of us; it is within us, it is rooted in our entrailes. And onely because we perceiue not to be sicke, makes our recouerie to proue more difficult." But Erasmus suggests some other source; cf. Coll., "Inquisitio de Fide" (Wks., I, 728), of a Lutheran undisturbed by excommunication: "Sed hoc periculosius solet esse malum, quia non sentitur." 123-125.

T h o u art a box of worme-seede, at best, but a salvatory of greene mummey: what's this flesh? a little cruded milke, phantasticall puffe-paste.

236

The Duchess of Malfi

[ IV. ii ]

worme-seede: a pun, apparently. I have seen no parallel for this figurative use, nor for the "greene mummey" metaphor which follows. cruded milk: ultimately from Job x. 10, though Webster may not have realized the fact. Perhaps he drew upon Donne, Of the Progresse of the Soule, lines 165-166: This curded milke, this poore unlittered whelpe, My body.

[F. L. L.]

puffe-paste: fairly common as a deprecatory metaphor. Lucas quotes Beaumont and Fletcher; O.E.D. quotes Marston; one may add a minor source for Webster—Ariosto's Satyres (1608), I, p. 9, which scorns great men as 'pufpast babies." 135-136.

T h o u sleep'st worse, then if a mouse should be forc'd to take up her lodging in a cats eare.

Cf. Lucas; Tilley, M 1231; O. E. P., p. 54ft. 141-142.

"Glories (like glowe-wonnes) afarre off, shine bright, But look'd to neere, have neither heate, nor light.

Repeated from W. D. V. i. 38-39; perhaps from Alexander. 181.

The Schritch-Owle,

and the whistler

shrill.

Cf. the catalogue of "fatall birds" in Faerie Queene II. xii. 36: The ruefull strich, still waiting on the bere. The whistler shrill, that who so heares doth dy.

[F. L. L.]

Englands Parnassus (1600; ed. Crawford, no. 2263) quotes six lines of the stanza, and perhaps accounts for the present line. Spenser's work has no other strong parallel to Webster. 188-191.

Of what is't fooles make such vaine keeping? Sin their conception, their birth, weeping: Their life, a generall mist of error, Their death, a hideous storme of terror—

T w o quotations at least illustrate the tradition. Cf. The Misfortunes of Arthur, "Epilogus," lines 13-15: Whereof (alas) should wretched man be proude, Whose first conception is but Sinne, whose birth But paine, whose life but toyle, and needes must dye? 237

Commentary and Tobias Hume, Musicall Humors lowes, Eng. Mad. Verse, p. 483):

(1605), cxiv. 1 - 6 (in Fel-

Alas, poor men, why strive you to live long T o have more time and space to suffer wrong? Our birth is blind and creeping; Our life all woe and weeping; Our death all pain and terror. Birth, life, death, what all but error? 192.

Strew your haire, with powders sweete.

Cf. Jonson's Oberon (1611; pub. 1616), line 104, among the hoped for rewards of the satyrs from Oberon: Strew our heads with poulders sweet? Webster shows no further sign of knowing this masque, and the resemblance here is probably coincidental. 215-218.

BOS. Doth not death fright you? D U C H . W h o would be afraid on't? Knowing to meete such excellent company In th'other world.

Cf. Montaigne, I. xxv, p. 75: "So many thousands of men, lowelayde in their graves afore-vs, may encourage-vs, not to fear, or be dismayed to goe meete so good company in the other world. . . ." 222-224.

What would it pleasure me, to have my throate cut With diamonds? or to be smothered With Cassia? or to be shot to death, with pearles?

Montaigne reflects on the familiar story of Heliogabalus (from Lampridius): Verily, it is not so great a matter, being in perfect health, and well settled in mind, for one to resolve to kill himself. . . . Heliogabalus the most dissolute man of the world, amidst his most riotous sensualities, intended, whensoever occasion should force him to it, to have a daintie death. . . . He . . . caused cordes to be made of gold and crimson silke, therewith to strangle himselfe: And a ritch golden rapier, to thrust himselfe through: And kept poison in boxes of Emeraldes and Topases, to poison himselfe with, according to the humor hee might have, to chuse which of these deaths should please him. . . . Notwithstanding, touching this man, the wantonesse of his preparations makes it more likely, that he would have fainted, had he beene put to his triall [II. xiii, p. 353]. [M. L. A.] 238

The Duchess of Malfi

[IV. ii]

Webster borrowed from this page elsewhere, and conceivably he here found the suggestion for the Duchess' speech. But the resemblance seems too slight to be significant. So too de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, pp. 988-989. Having been praised for the "constant and generous resolution he had to die," Biron "answered that he had beene long resolued, and that it was not the paine of death, but the manner that did amaze him." Matthieu reflects: "The most stately death is not the least troublesome, the greater the preparation is the more remarkable is the infamy. It is no great honor to kneele vpon a veluet Cushion, vpon a Scaffold spred with Tapistry, & to haue by him an Executioner clad in black veluet, and Crimson Silke, with the sword of gold of Heliogabalus." 225-226.

I know death hath ten thousand severall doores For men, to take their Exits.

A Senecan commonplace (Phoenissae, 152-153 has the thousand ways; Epist. 70. 14 has "exit": "unum introitum nobis ad vitam dedit, exitus multos"). Tilley, D 140, gives several instances before Webster, including Marston and Montaigne, but the dramatist's direct source remains undiscovered. 228-229.

Y o u may open them both wayes: any way, (for heaven sake) So I were out of your whispering.

Cf. Richard's words in the deposition scene, Richard II IV. i. 315: Whither you will, so I were from your sights. 229-231.

[F. L. L.]

T e l l my brothers, T h a t I perceive death, (now I am well awake) Best guift is, they can give, or I can t a k e —

Cf. Alexandraean Tragedy IV. ii, lines 2163-2164, where a queen grieving over the corpse of her murdered husband is welcoming the sword, cord, and poison given to speed her own suicide: Fit gifts for her to giue, for me to take, Since she exceeds in hate, and I in griefe. 237-238.

Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength, Must pull downe heaven upon me.

239

Commentary Cf. Beaumont and Fletcher, Thierry and Theodoret (1621), a play probably written after D. M. In IV. i (Wks., X, 44), when about to kill Ordella as a sacrifice to bring him potency, Thierry prays: . . . pull heaven upon her, You holy powers, no humane spot dwell in her, No love of any thing, but you and goodness. . . . "Pull" is more appropriate to the Duchess* speech, for Thierry intends to use his dagger. 259-141.

Yet stay, heaven gates are not so highly arch'd As Princes pallaces—they that enter there Must go upon their knees.

Cf. Cymbeline III. iii. 2-7: Stoop, boys; this gate Instructs you how t'adore the heavens and bows you To a morning's holy office. The gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbands on without Good morrow to the sun. [F. L. L.] J . M. Nosworthy, Cymbeline1 s most recent editor, thinks Shakespeare's passage derived from a sermon of Henry Smith. I doubt it; certainly Smith is not Webster's source. In fact the only striking resemblance between Shakespeare and Webster here is in the use of "arch'd." The rest is commonplace. Cf. All's Well IV. v. 52-55; or Leonard Wright, Pilgrimage to Paradise (1608), pp. 39-40: "And therefore Saint Augustine (very aptly) compareth heauen, unto a faire stately Palace, with a little doore, whereat no man can enter except hee stoup very lowe." >41-842.

Come violent death, Serve for Mandragora, to make me sleepe.

Cf. Donne, Anat. of the World, A Funerall Elegie, lines 79-80: And the worlds busie noyse to overcome, Tooke so much death, as serv'd for opium. 259.

[F. L. L.]

Here's your wedding Ring.

Perhaps suggested by Painter's account, where the maid's mur240

The Duchess of Malfi

[IV. ii]

derers "sodainly caught hir by the hair of the head, & in stead of a carcanet placed a roape about hir necke" (p. igi T ). (F. L. L.) 270-273.

F E R D . Is she dead? BOS. Shee is what You'll'd have her: But here begin your pitty— Shewes the Alas, how have these offended? children strangled.

Cf. Sejanus V. 833-834, where the Nuntius is about to tell of the slaughter of Sejanus' children: L E P . W h a t can be added? W e know him dead. N V N . T h e n , there begin your pitty. 274-275.

The death Of young Wolffes, is never to be pittied.

Delamothe's Treasure of the French Tongue, which had two editions by 1603, has an analogous proverb; cf. ed. 1615, p. 24: "The death of a yong wolfe doth neuer come too soone." Tilley, D 145, gives no other early example. For a more striking parallel to Delamothe, see on V. ii. 155-156. 278.

Other sinnes onely speake; Murther shreikes out.

Cf. Hall, Epistles VI. viii (to W. J . condemned for murder), ed. 1617, p. 467: "Other sinnes speake, this crieth, and will neuer be silent, till it be answered with it selfe." 279-280.

The Element of water moistens the Earth, But blood flies upwards, and bedewes the Heavens.

Probably from Nashe, The Unfortunate Traveller (Wks.} II, 320): "water powred forth sinkes downe quietly into the earth, but bloud spilt on the ground sprinkles vp to the firmament." (F. L. L.) The eventual basis for both Hall and Nashe is Genesis iv. 10: "the voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground." 281.

Cover her face: Mine eyes dazell: she di'd yong.

It is startling, but probably only coincidental, how often in sixteenth-century poetry the lover complains that his eyes are "dazzled" by the beauty of the beloved. But a Shakespeare concordance is enough to show the commonness of the word with no such amorous context. Cf., for example, 3 Henry VI II. i. 25: "Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?" 241

Commentary »88-290.

You have bloodely approv'd the auncient truth, That kindred commonly doe worse ag[r]ee Then remote strangers.

Cf. More's Richard the Thirde (Wks., ed. 1557, p. 50), where Queen Elizabeth argues against her youngest son being taken from sanctuary to be companion to his brother: "As though . . . children could not play but w l their kyndred, wit whom for the more part they agree much worse then wyth straungers." 329-330.

T h e Office of Justice is perverted quite When one Thiefe hangs another.

Repeated in A. V. IV. i. 275-276, where it is one of several parallels to Guevara in the play. From Diall of Princes, III. ix, sig. H6T, of corrupt judges: "For much is the office of iustice peruerted, when one thiefe hangeth an other on the galouse." 332-334.

T h e Wolfe shall finde her Grave, and scrape it up: Not to devoure the corpes, but to discover T h e horrid murther.

Cf. W. D. V. iv. 97-98, though there the wolf acts as "foe to men" rather than as an instrument of divine justice. Lucas cites the murder-discovering wolf recorded in John Reynolds, The Triumphs of Gods Revenge against the Crying and Execrable Sinne of Murther, VI. xxvii (1635). I have seen no earlier parallel. 345-346.

You have a paire of hearts, are hollow Graves, Rotten, and rotting others.

In Volpone III. ix. 39, Mosca refers to Corbaccio and Volpone as "two, old rotten sepulchers," but only because treasure could be found in graves. 347. "Like two chain'd bullets." Cf. Chapman, Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois (1613) V. i. 7-9: . . . who in th'act itself Includes th'infliction, which like chained shot Batter together still. And Heywood, Challenge

for Beauty (ca. 1634) II (Wks., V, 26):

My friend and I Like two chaine-bullets, side by side, will fly Thorow the jawes of death. 242

[F. L. L.]

The Duchess of Malfi 349-351.

[IV. ii]

I stand like one T h a t long hath ta'ne a sweet, and golden dreame. I am angry with my selfe, now that I wake.

Cf. Cymbeline

V. iv. 127-129:

Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favour, dream as I have done; Wake, and find nothing. The image of frustrated awakening is of course very common. Downame's Second Part of the Christian Warfare (1611), p. 271, is typical; commenting on Psalms lxxiii. 20, he says that David "compareth this worldly prosperitie to a dreame, which delighteth whilst a man sleepeth, but when hee awaketh vanisheth away, and leaueth nothing behind it, but sorrow and discontent, because their ioyes and hopes are frustrated." 353-353.

Get thee into some unknowne part o'th'world T h a t I may never see thee.

The entire dialogue between Ferdinand and Bosola bears comparison with that between King John and Hubert after Hubert's supposedly killing young Arthur on orders (King John IV. ii. 203 ff.). For the present speech Lucas cites line 242: "Out of my sight, and never see me more!" 355-359.

I serv'd your tyranny: and rather strove T o satisfie your selfe, then all the world; A n d though I loath'd the evill, yet I lov'd You that did councell it: and rather sought T o appear a true servant, then an honest man.

From Arcadia, II. x (Wks., I, 2 1 1 - 2 1 2 ) ; Tydeus and Telenor, rash assistants to the villainous Plexirtus, "willingly held out the course, rather to satisfie him, then al the world; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the evill he did, yet they liked him that did the evill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender." 363-364.

While with vaine hopes, our faculties we tyre, W e seeme to sweate in yce, and freeze in fire.

The following is probably too common an idea in amorous poetry to have any significance; Des Portes, Rodomonths In243

Commentary fernall, trans. Markham (1607), sig. C5, of unhappy lovers " T h a t burne in yce, and frieze in scorching fire." 378-373.

AlasI I dare not call: So, pitty would destroy pitty.

T h e idea that pity can destroy pity appears also in Alexander, but in a very different way. T h e r e a villain reflects that pity for Olympia's past victims will eliminate pity now for Olympia. Cf. Alexandraean Tragedy IV. ii, lines 2257-2259: O, but I can precipitate he?- fall, Euen by the meanes that might support her most: For pittie shall spoile pittie. . . . O u t of context, as they would appear in a commonplace book, Alexander's lines correspond in sense with Webster's. 381.

Mercy I

she dies.

Since Lucas thinks the Duchess is probably making "a last halfconscious appeal to her murderers to spare her," a faint parallel in a play acted by the same company at about the same time is worth quoting. In Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca V. iii ( W k s V I , 157), little Hengo dies in his loving uncle's arms: Hengo. Pray for me; And noble Uncle, when my bones are ashes, Think of your little Nephew. Mercy. Car. Mercy. You blessed Angels take him. 38a.

Oh, she's gone againe: there the cords of life broake.

Perhaps indirectly related to the "silver cord" ("sylver lase" in the Bishop's Bible) of Eccesiastes xii. 6, but I doubt it. (F. L . L.) 383-386.

O h sacred Innocence, that sweetely sleepes O n Turtles feathers: whil'st a guilty conscience Is a blacke Register, wherein is writ A l l our good deedes, and bad.

Even more remote is Chapman's slightly similar passage on "innocence," cited by Bradbrook as a source; cf. Byron's Conspiracy V . ii. 85 ff. For the concluding sentence, cf. Ling's Politeuphuia (1598), pp. 244

The Duchess of Malfi

[IV. i i ]

i o T - u : "The conscience is a booke wherein our daylie sinnes are written." Why does Bosola place "good deedes" in a "guilty conscience"? 391-392.

My estate is suncke below The degree of feare.

From Arcadia, II. x ( W k s I , 208): ". . . our state is soncke below the degree of feare." (F. L. L.)

V.

11-13.

i.

I cannot thinke, they meane well to your life, That doe deprive you of your meanes of life, Your living.

Cf. D. L. IV. ii. 6 i o - 6 n . For the idea as expressed in The Merchant of Venice IV. i. 373-377, editors note Ecclesiasticus xxxiv. 22: "He that taketh away his neighbour's living, slayeth him." 23-24.

You are my friend: But this is such a suit, Not fit for me to give, nor you to take.

See above on I. i. 286-288. Perhaps from Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy V. i, lines 2791-2793: I tolde, that such a summe but seru'd, to make Him a corrupter, me corrupted thought; And foule for him to giue, for me to take. 37-40.

Sir, I thanke you: And he shall know how doubly I am engag'd Both in your guift, and speedinesse of giving, Which makes your graunt, the greater.

Based directly or indirectly on a proverb as ancient as it was common: "He gives twice who gives quickly." Cf. Tilley, G 125; O. E. P., p. 239b. 49-52,

It were not fit I should bestow so maine a peece of wrong 845

Commentary Upon my friend: 'tis a gratification Onely due to a Strumpet: for it is injustice.

As Lucas says, Montaigne probably suggested this entire episode; cf. I. xxix, p. 98: "Epaminondas had caused a dissolute yoong man to be imprisoned: Pelopidas entreated him, that for his sake he would set-him at libertie, but he refused him, and yeelded to free-him at the request of an harlot of his, which likewise sued for his enlargement; saying, it was a gratification due unto a Courtizan, and not to a Captaine." From Plutarch's Moralia; cf. Holland's translation (1603), p. 426, ending: ". . . saying: T h a t in such pettie favours and curtesies as these it became him to gratifie concubines and harlots; but not generals and great warriours." 81.

For better fall once, then be ever falling.

Probably from Montaigne, I. xxxii, p. 108: " T h e r e is no man so base-minded, that loveth not rather to fall once, than ever to remaine in feare of falling." (F. L. L.) From Seneca's "Nemo tam timidus est, ut malit semper pendere quam semel cadere" (Epist. 22. 3). Jonson's version appears in a context from which Webster borrows elsewhere; cf. Sejanus IV. 13-14: AGR. . . . who would not Choose once to fall, then thus to hang for euer?

V.

5-20.

ii.

PESC. 'Pray-thee, what's his disease? D O C . A very pestilent disease (my Lord) They call Licanthropia.

PESC. What's that?

I need a Dictionary to't. D O C . I'll tell you: In those that are possess'd with't there ore-flowes Such mellencholy humour, they imagine Themselves to be transformed into Woolves, Steale forth to Church-yards in the dead of night, And dig dead bodies up: as two nights since 246

The

Duchess

of

Malfi

[V.ii]

One met the Duke, 'bout midnight in a lane Behind St. Markes Church, with the leg of a man Upon his shoulder; and he howl'd fearefully: Said he was a Woolffe: onely the difference Was, a Woolfles skinne was hairy on the out-side, His on the In-side: bad them take their swords, Rip up his flesh, and trie.

From Goulart, Admirable and Memorable Histories, trans. Grimeston (1607), pp. 386-387 (Goulart's story of the Duchess is on pp. 364-367): For there be Licanthropes in whom the melancholike humor doth so rule, as they imagine themselues to be transformed into Wolues . . . and all night doe nothing but runne into Church-yardes, and about graues . . . one of these melancholike Licanthropes . . . carried then vpon his shoulders the whole thigh and the legge of a dead man. . . . a Countri-man neere unto Pauia, in the yeare 1541 . . . did constantlye affirme that hee was a Wolfe, and that there was no other difference, but that Wolues were commonlie hayrie without, and hee was betwixt the skinne and the flesh. Some (too barbarous and cruell Wolues in effect) desiring to trie the truth thereof, gaue him manie wounds vpon the armes and legges—[as the result of which the man died]. S^-S*Cf. Arcadia, I. i x (Wks., I, 56): "Eagles we see fly alone; and they are b u t sheepe, which alwaies heard together" (F. L . L.); also Troilus and Cressida I. ii. 265-266, Pandarus' comment after the great ones pass over the stage singly followed by the soldiers in a group: " T h e eagles are gone. Crows and daws, crows and daws!" I n q u o t i n g Sidney, Ling's Politeuphuia, p. i67 T , also changes " h e a r d " to "flock," or follows a textual variant I have not seen. 32-40.

FERD. . . . Looke, what's that, followes me? MAL. Nothing (my Lord). FERD. Yes: MAL. 'Tis your shadow. FERD. Stay it, let it not haunt me. MAL. Impossible; if you move, and the Sun shine:

FERD. I will throtle it. [Throws himself on the ground.'] MAL. Oh, my Lord: you are angry with nothing. FERD. You are a foole: How is't possible I should catch my shadow unless I fall upon't?

247

Commentary Cf. Robert Parsons, First Booke of the Christian Exercise (1582), sig. 0 8 y , on the "vanitie of this wor[l]dlie honour. It is like a mans owne shadowe, which the more a man runneth after, the more it flyeth: and when he flyethe from it, it followeth hym agayne: and the onely waye to cache it, is to fall downe to the grounde vpon it." All but the conclusion to this passage was of course extremely common; see, for example, Tilley, L 518. But Parsons' conclusion I have not elsewhere met, except in Bunny's Protestant version of Parsons. I suspect Ferdinand's mad behavior is based on some such treatment of the madness of worldly vanity. See also Tilley, S 261-262, from Erasmus' " U m b r a m suam metuere" and " C u m umbra pugnare." 45. Cf. Tilley, P 109 ("Patience is a virtue"). 46-48.

T o drive six Snailes before me, from this towne to Mosco; neither use Goad, nor Whip to them, but let them take their

owne time.

Cf. "You drive a snail to Rome," a proverb for which Tilley (S 582) cites only a manuscript collection before Webster. 52.

What I have don, I have don: I'll confesse nothing.

Cf. Iago's traditional words (Othello V. ii. 303-304): Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word. [F. L. L.] 78-80.

Hence, hence, you are all of you, like beasts for sacrifice, there's nothing left of you, but tongue, and belly, flattery, and leachery.

Cf. North's Plutarch, "Phocion," ed. 1612, p. 751: "For indeed Demades selfe was the shipwracke of the commonwealth, because he liued so insolently, and gouemed so lewdly. Insomuch as Antipater sayd of him, after he was very old: that there was nothing left of him, no more then of a beast sacrificed, b u t the tongue and belly." T h e story reappears in Plutarch's Moralia, in the apophthegm collections of Erasmus, Manutius, Lycosthenes, etc., and, in English, in Bacon's collection ( W k s X I I I , p. 353, no. 115). Perhaps "flattery, and leachery" is Webster's addition. Cf. Middleton, Michaelmas Term IV. i. 91-93: "—what's got over the devil's back (that's by knavery) must be spent under his belly (that's by lechery). . . . " 248

The Duchess of Malfi

[ V. ii ]

Conceivably, Webster's source was the 2d eclogues of his favorite Arcadia (Wks., II, 230), on old men: It shews they fetch their wit from youthfull yeares Like beast for sacrifice, where save the tong And belly nought is left. . . . 89-93.

Y o u have heard it rumor'd for these many yeares, None of our family dies, but there is seene T h e shape of an old woman, which is given By tradition, to us, to have bin murther'd By her Nephewes, for her riches.

From Goulart, Admirable Grimeston, p. 620:

and Memorable

Histories,

trans.

There is a Noble and ancient familie at Parma, called TORTELLES, hauing a Castell, in the which there is a great Hall, vnder the Chimney wher-of there doth some-times appeare an ancient Woman, seeming to be a 100. yeares old. This signifieth that some one of the familie shall dye soone after. I have heard PA VLA BARBIANO a worthy Lady of that family report . . . that a young Maide of that house being sick, the old Woman appeared, which made all to thinke that the Maide should soone dye: but the contrarie happened: for the sicke Maide escaped, but an other of the same family which before was in very good health dyed sodenly. They say this old woman whose shadow appeares, was some-times a riche Lady, who for her money was slaine by her Nephews, which cutte her body in peeces, and cast it into the Priuies. CARDAN liber. 16. Chap. 93 of the diuersitie of things. [M. L. A.] in-112.

I do not thinke but sorrow makes her looke Like to an oft-di'd garment.

Apparently from Donne, Anat. of the World, First lines 355-356: And colour is decai'd: summers robe growes Duskie, and like an oft dyed garment showes. 121-128.

T h e y that thinke long, small expedition win, For musing much o'th'end, cannot begin.

Cf. Alexander, Julius Caesar IV. i, lines 1803-1804: Who muse of many things, resolue of none, And thinking of the end, cannot beginne. 249

Anniversary,

[F. L. L.]

Commentary 135-137.

—may be Antonio, Although he do account religion But a Schoole-name. . . .

Cf. Arcadia, IV (Wks., II, 133), o£ an ambitious villain: "As for vertue, hee counted it but a schoole name." 155-156.

There cannot be a surer way to trace, Then that of an old Fox.

Proverbial, at least in French. Tilley, W 164, gives no early instance except in Delamothe (see on IV. ii. 274-275); cf. ed. 1615, pp. 20-21: " T h e r e is no surer way to follow then that of an old foxe. / II n'y a routte que de vieux renards." Cotgrave, s. v. Regnard, gives the same French but a translation far less close to Webster. 174-175.

Compare thy forme, and my eyes together, You'll find my love no such great miracle.

From Arcadia, V {Wks., II, 186): "Let her beawtie be compared to my yeares, and such effectes will be found no miracles." T h e passage is imitated much more literally in D. L. II. i. 258-260. (F.L.L.) 177-179.

This nice modesty, in Ladies Is but a troublesome familiar, That haunts them.

Suggested by Arcadia, III (Wks., II, 31): "the cumbersome familiar of womankinde, I meane modestie." For the context, see below on lines 233-236. 181-182.

Sure, there wants fire, where there are no lively sparkes Of roughnes.

From Arcadia, III. xvii (Wks., I, 452-453); see below on lines 204-205. 183-184.

Why, ignorance in court-ship cannot make you do amisse, If you have a heart to do well.

From Arcadia, I. xvii (Wks., I, 106): ". . . doing all things with so pretie grace, that it seemed ignorance could not make him do amisse, because he had a hart to do well. . . ." Used again in 250

The Duchess

of Malfi

[ V. i i ]

Char., "Milke-mayd," lines 21-23. (F. L . L.) Sidney's basis was the common proverb, "Nothing is impossible to a willing heart" (Tilley, N 299). 186-187.

Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge, I must plead unguilty.

In Arcadia, III. x (Wks., I, 403), Pamela protests against the compliment of "Beautie, which it pleaseth you to lay to my (as I thinke) unguiltie charge." 187-189.

Your bright eyes Carry a Quiver of darts in them, sharper Then Sun-beames.

Cf. Arcadia, I. xvii (Wks., I, 107), of one suffering from "the dart of Love": "For he had even from her infancie loved her, and was striken by her, before she was able to knowe what quiver of arrowes her eyes caried." 199-201.

For if I see, and steale a Diamond, T h e fault is not i'th'stone, but in me the thiefe, That purloines it.

William Warner uses this unusual argument similarly, but in a work without further parallels to Webster; cf. Albions England, ed. 1602, XI. lxvii, sig. T 7 , concerning beautiful women: Yeat that they tempt, not theirs but ours the sinne: for if I see, And steale a pretious Gemme, the Gemme faults not, the Theft in me. 202-205.

We that are great women of pleasure, use to cut off These uncertaine wishes, and unquiet longings, And in an instant joyne the sweete delight And the pritty excuse together.

Julia's speech here and in lines 180-182 above stems from Arcadia, III. xvii (Wks., I, 452-453). Cecropia discusses the pleasure women find in rape: "For what can be more agreable, then upon force to lay the fault of desire, and in one instant to joyne a deare delight with a just excuse? or rather the true cause is . we thinke there wants fire, where we find no sparkles at lest of furie." What Julia may mean by "excuse" is not clear. 219-220. "mice T h a t forsake falling houses": as Pliny says, Hist. Nat. viii. 42 (chap. 28 in Holland). (F. L. L.) T h o u g h Tilley, M 1243, begins with Bacon's 1612 Essays, earlier examples 251

Commentary are fairly easy to find. See, for example, Whetstone, English Myrror (1586), sig. L.4T: "YOU may learne instructions of safetie of Mise, which runne from houses which are readie to fall." 228-229.

You are like some, cannot sleepe in feather-beds, But must have blockes for their pillowes.

Perhaps based on Arcadia, III. xii (Wks., I, 419): "she was like them that could not sleepe, when they were softly layed." (F. L. L.) 233-236.

. . . do not delay me, No more then I do you: I am like one That is condemn'd: I have my pardon promis'd. But I would see it seal'd.

Like lines 177-178, above, from Arcadia, III (Wks., II, 31). Gynecia has been promised the gratification of her lustful desires. "But in deede this direct promise of a short space [of time until her longing will be satisfied], joyned with the cumbersome familiar of womankinde, I meane modestie, stayed so Gynecias minde, that she tooke thus much at that present for good payment: remayning with a paynefull joye, and a wearysome kinde of comfort, not unlike to the condemned prisoner, whose minde still running uppon the violent arrivall of his cruell death, heares that his pardon is promised, but not yet signed." 237-238.

You shall see me winde my tongue about his heart, Like a skeine of silke.

Cf. Chapman, The Gentleman Usher (1606) III. ii. 372-373: For he that cannot turn and wind a woman Like silk about his finger is no man. 244.

[F. L. L.]

Yond's my lingring consumption.

Cf. "Overbury," Char. (1614), "A Very Woman": "She is Salomons cruell creature, and a mans walking consumption." (F. L. L.) 252-258.

Are you so farre in love with sorrow, You cannot part with part of it? or thinke you I cannot love your grace, when you are sad, As well as merry? or do you suspect I, that have bin a secret to your heart. These many winters, cannot be the same Unto your tongue?

252

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[V. ii]

From Arcadia, II. v. (Wks., I, 176): " D o you love your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I shall not love a sadde Pamela, so well as a joyfull? O r be my eares unwoorthie, or my tongue suspected?" (Originally pointed out by Crawford, but accidentally omitted in the Lucas edition.) 260-261.

T h e onely way to make thee keepe my councell, Is not to tell thee.

Cf. 1 Henry IV II. iii. 114: " T h o u wilt not utter what thou dost not know" (F. L. L.); Tilley, W 649; Marston, The Fawn III. i. 171-174: Dul. Phi. Dul. Phi. 267-270.

May I rest sure thou wilt conceal a secret? Yes, madam. How may I rest assured? Truly thus—do not tell it me. JUL. . . .

It is an equall fault,

T o tell ones secrets, unto all, or none. C A R D . T h e first argues folly. J U L . But the last tyranny.

As so frequently happens, a single sententia is broken up into not wholly convincing dialogue. A t least I believe it to be a single sententia. Only the first half, however, derives from Seneca. Cf. Epist. 3. 4: "Neutrum faciendum est. Utrumque enim vitium est, et omnibus credere et nulli." Lipsius discusses this in his Sixe Bookes of Politickes, trans. Jones (1594), sig. Q3, but without any mention of "folly" or "tyranny." I would think the latter Webster's own addition, except for Gentillet, Discourse vpon the Meanes of Wei Gouerning, ed. 1608, p. 218: "as saith the Poet Aeschilus: No friend to trust, what common more? Each tyrant hath this ill in store." 283.

"breasts hoop'd with adamant": perhaps ultimately from Horace, Odes i. 3. 9, as Lucas says, but Webster's source was undoubtedly in English. Cf. Chapman, Bussy D'Ambois III. ii. 224-226: "if my heart were not hooped with adamant, the conceit of this would have burst it" (F. L. L.); Marston, Antonio and Mellida V. i. 311: " A n d 'twere not hooped with steel, my breast would break."

253

Commentary 285-286.

. . . 'tis more easie T o tie knots, then unloose them.

Cf. Arcadia, II. xxvi {Wks., I, 318), of rebels who don't know how to terminate their rebellion, "finding it far easier to tie then to loose knots." T h e Cardinal's reflection certainly sounds proverbial, but I know no other example. T h e appropriateness of the image is far more evident in Sidneyl 314-315.

'Tis weakenesse Too much to thinke what should have bin done—

From Arcadia, I. iv {Wks., I, 24): ". . . it is weakenes too much to remember what should have beene done. . . ." (F. L. L.) 316.

I know not wh[i]ther.

See on W. D. V. vi. 248-249. 388-329.

And wherefore should you lay faire marble colours, Upon your rotten purposes to me?

Cf. Arcadia, II. xvii {Wks., I, 260): "Shall I labour to lay marble coulours over my ruinous thoughts?" (F. L. L.) 330-332.

Unlesse you imitate some that do plot great Treasons, And when they have done, go hide themselves i'th'graves Of those were Actors in't?

From Chapman, Seven Penitential Psalms, "A Great Man," line 62: Plots treason, and lies hid in th'actors graue. 337-338.

[F. L. L.]

There are a many wayes that conduct to seeming Honor, and some of them very durty ones.

Cf. Hall, Epistles I. iii, ed. 1617, p. 323: "I care not how many thousand wayes there are to seeming honour, besides this of vertue: they all (if more) still leade to shame"; or Adams, Gallants Burden, sig. B2 t , almost surely from Hall: "There are infinite wayes that conduct to seeming Honour, excluding Vertue; the end of them al is shame." Either may be Webster's source. 254

The Duchess of Malfi 365-367-

[ V. i i ]

Oh poore Antonio, though nothing be so needfull T o thy estate, as pitty, Yet I finde Nothing so dangerous.

Adapted from Arcadia, II. x (Wks., I, 207): "In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull unto us as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous unto us, then to make our selves so knowne as may stirre pittie." 372-373.

Securitie some men call the Suburbs of Hell, Onely a dead wall betweene.

Probably from Adams, Gallants Burden (1612), sig. Ci T : "Securitie is the very suburbes of Hell. . . ." For the remainder of Adams' sentence see on III. ii. 371-373 above. The metaphor "suburbs of Hell" was apparently common among preachers. O. E. D. cites passages from Arthur Dent and Samuel Purchas. William Perkins uses it for the state of a sinner at death (Wks., ed. 1 6 1 2 , 1 , 464) and for death itself when unqualified by the death of Christ (II, 36). 379-380.

T h e weakest Arme is strong enough, that strikes With the sword of Justice.

Cf. Char., "Commander," lines 27-28. From Arcadia, III. xii (Wks., I, 422): ". . . think not lightly of never so weake an arme, which strikes with the sword of justice." (F. L. L.) 382-383.

O Penitence, let me truely tast thy Cup, That throwes men downe, onely to raise them up.

Cf. the wholly different idea in Alexander, Croesus V. i, lines 2774-2776: T h o u g h I haue tasted of afflictions cup, Y e t it may be, the gods for a good cause H a u e cast me downe to raise a thousand vp.

255

Commentary

V. 3-9.

iii.

And to yond side o'th'river, lies a wall (Peece of a Cloyster) which in my opinion Gives the best Eccho, that you ever heard; So hollow, and so dismall, and withall So plaine in the destinction of our words, That many have supposde it is a Spirit That answeres.

Probably based on an undiscovered source. Cf. Scot, Discouerie of Witchcraft, X V . xli (ed. Summers, p. 270): "And in some places these noises of eccho are farre more strange than other, speciallie at Ticinum in Italie, in the great hall, where it rendereth sundrie and manifold noises or voices, which seeme to end so lamentablie, as it were a man that laie a dieng; so as few can be persuaded that it is the eccho, but a spirit that answereth." Anderson cites essentially the same passage from Lavater, Of Ghostes and Spirites Walking by Nyght, I. xi (Shakespeare Assn. Rep., pp. 50-51). Both stem from Cardan, De Subtilitate, xviii. For the popularity of echo scenes see Lucas on line 21. 10-12.

I doe love these auncient ruynes: We never tread upon them, but we set Our foote upon some reverend History.

From Montaigne, III. ix, p. 597, of ancient Rome, which doth interest, concerne and passionate me. And therefore can I not so often looke into the situation of their streetes and houses, and those wondrous-strange ruines, that may be saide to reach downe to the Antipodes, but so often must I ammuse my selfe on them. Is it by Nature or by the errour of fantasie, that the seeing of places, wee know to have bin frequented or inhabited by men, whose memorie is esteemed or mencioned in stories, doeth in some sorte moove and stirre vs vp as much or more, than the hearing of their noble deedes, or reading of their compositions? Tanta vis admonitionis inest in locis: Et id quidem in hac urbe infinitum; quacumque enirn ingredimur, in 256

The Duchess of Malfi

[ V. i i i ]

aliquant historiam vestigium ponimus [Cicero, De Finibus 5. 1-2]. So great a power of admonition is in the verie place: And that in this Citty is most infinite; for which way soeuer wee walke, wee sette our foote upon some Historie. For Marston's coarsened expansion of the passage, see Sophonisba IV. i. 144 ff. (F. L. L.) 18-20.

But all things have their end: Churches, and Citties (which have diseases like to men) Must have like death that we have.

Cf. Montaigne, II. xxiii, p. 393: " T h e infirmities and conditions of our bodies, are likewise seene in states and governments: Kingdomes and Commonwealths as well as we, are borne, florish, and fade through age." But many passages at least as similar might easily be cited; the idea was forever being expressed. 59.

Come: I'll be out of this Ague.

See below, on V. iv. 78-79. 60-61.

For to live thus, is not indeed to live: It is a mockery, and abuse of l i f e —

Cf. Chapman, The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois 66, of living without the king's smile:

(1613) II. i. 63-

Life of that nature, howsoever short, Is a most lingering and tedious life; Or rather no life, but a languishing, And an abuse of life. T h e Chapman, and probably the Webster, is from de SerresMatthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1050, of the Count of Auvergne's tragic end: "But it shall be an incomparable miserie to bee alwayes depriued of the Kings grace and fauour, whithout [jic] the which the best conditions are most lamentable, and a life of this manner how short soeuer, is a tedious and a languishing Life, it is no Life, it is to languish and to abuse Life." Antonio, of course, is on his way to try gaining the Cardinal's "grace and fauour." 6«.

I will not henceforth save my selfe by halves.

From Montaigne, II. xv, p. 359: "I will neither feare, nor save my selfe by halfes."

257

Commentary 70-72.

T h o u g h in our miseries, Fortune have a part, Yet, in our noble suffrings, she hath n o n e — Contempt of paine, that we may call our owne.

From Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy IV. ii, lines 2455-2457: For in our actions Fortune hath a part, But in our suffrings, all things are our owne: Loe now I loath the world. . . .

V. 25-26.

iv.

'Twas nothing but pure kindnesse in the Divell, T o rocke his owne child.

For two variations on the image cf. Pierre Le Roy, Pleasant Satyre or Poesie (1595), sig. T2 T : "the Flemmings haue made a prouerbe, which saith, that when the Frenchman sleepeth, the diuell rocketh the cradle"; John Downame, Second Part of the Christian Warfare, II. xxix, p. 660, of sinners: "they die of a spirituall lethargie, and be rocked asleepe of the diuell in the cradle of security, and so caried quietly into hell. . . ." 31-32.

I would pray now: but the Divell takes away my heart For having any confidence in Praier.

Apparently based verbally on Sidney, though altered to reflect the familiar idea already used in W. D. I. ii. 238-240. Cf. Arcadia, III. xiii ( W k s I , 432), of coward Damaetas: "Faine he would have prayed, but he had not harte inough to have confidence in praier." 45.

. . . blacke deedes must be cur'de with death.

As Lucas says, another adaptation of Seneca's "Per scelera semper sceleribus tutum est iter"; see on W. D. II. i. 315. Cf. Marston, The Malcontent V. ii. 208, where the Latin is preceded by the following translation: "Black deed only through black deed safely flies." 258

The Duchess of Malfi 63-64.

[ V. i v ]

W e are meerely the Starres tennys-balls (strooke, and banded Which way please them)—

Perhaps suggested by a sentence in Arcadia used for V. v. 125 f. (q.v.), but one of the commonest metaphors of the Renaissance. I have seen an abundance of instances, from Petrarch on, but none of them verbally close to Webster. Lucas locates the idea as early as Plautus, Captivi, Prol. 22: "Enimvero di nos quasi pilas homines habent." Renaissance editions of Plautus marginally mark the line as sententious, capitalize the simile, and then fulsomely annotate it. 76-78.

(Like wanton Boyes, whose pastime is their care) W e follow after bubbles, blowne in th'ayre. Pleasure of life, what is't?

Webster's source is probably one shared directly or indirectly by the following. Closest is Crosse, Vertues Common-wealth (1603), sig. G2 t : " H e that followes pleasure, is . . . like a wanton boy that blowes vp feathers into the aire, and spends the time in running vp and downe after them; for what is pleasure but a puffe?" John Downame lacks some of the elements in Crosse, but includes others in Webster; cf. The Second Part of the Christian Warfare (1611), p. 296, of "vaine-glory": "What do they but like wanton and foolish boyes run after a sopie bubble, raysed with the breath of their companions mouthes . . . ?" Comparable passages, but without "wanton Boyes," occur in Alexander, Parsons, Drummond (who uses "bubble" for the "pluma" of his supposed source, and introduces "sporting children"; ed. Ward, I, 107, 225), etc. 78-79.

. . . onely the good houres Of an Ague.

Cf. V. iii. 59; D. L. I. ii. 293-295. Cf. Hall, Epistles I. ii, ed. 1617, pp. 321-322: " A l l these earthly delights . . . are but as a good day betweene two agues . . ."; or Downame again, p. 145: "our whole life being like a continuall ague, which, euery second or third day, interchangeth health with sicknesse." 92-93.

I have this Cardinall in the forge already, Now I'll bring him to th'hammer.

A n extension of the metaphor in the common "Strike while the iron is hot" (Tilley, I 94), but itself uncommon. In Sejanus

259

Commentary II. 495, hoping to discover Sejanus' plots, Silius leaves to "see what's in the forge." 94-95.

I will not Imitate things glorious, No more then base: I'll be mine owne example.

Lucas compares W. D. V. vi. 256-257; see also V. i. 73-75 of the same play. There is a slight similarity in de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 975 (itself based on what Velleius Paterculus said of Homer); according to one contemporary, "Biron had none before him to imitate: . . . he could imitate none but himselfe, and . . . he made himselfe inimitable to them that should come after him." Similarly, on p. 844, Henry IV is quoted as saying, "I will not bragge, but I dare boldly say, that I haue no example to imitate, but of my selfe."

V.

1-3.

v.

[Enter] Cardinall (with a Booke). I am puzzell'd in a question about hell: He saies, in hell, there's one materiall fire, And yet it shall not burne all men alike.

At least there are clues as to the sort of book the Cardinal is reading; what book Webster read remains undiscovered. Cf. Luis de Granada, Granados Spirituall and heauenlie Exercises, trans. Meres (1598), sig. I10: "Wee must knowe that there is but one fire in Hel, but al sinners are not tormented in it after the same manner: . . . [because of] the diuersity of sinnes: they haue the same fire, and yet it dooth not burne all the damned that be therein alike." (Meres quotes this, with slight alterations, in Palladis Tamia, pp. 332^333.) T h e work goes on, however, to say "there is as great difference between materiall fire, and the fire of hell, as there is between painted fire on a wal, and naturall fire . . ." (a matter disputed by Burton, for example). Granada indicates his source, one which was itself translated in Webster's day (by P. W., 260

The Duchess of Malfi

[V.v]

Paris, 1608; I quote from its edition by E. G. Gardner [London, 1911], pp. 237-238); cf. The Dialogues of Saint Gregory IV. xliii: " T h e fire of hell is but one: yet doth it not in one manner torment all sinners. For every one there, according to the quantity of his sin, hath the measure of his pain. For as, in this world, many live under one and the same sun, and yet do not alike feel the heat thereof: . . . so in that one fire, divers manners of burning be found . . . : so that although the fire be there all alike, yet doth it not in one manner and alike burn and torment them that be damned." 4.

How tedious is a guilty conscience!

Since Bogard (p. 47) thinks the word "tedious" a sign of the Cardinal's "worldly cynicism," evidence to the contrary is worth citing, even though it involves no actual source. Englands Parnassus (1600), in its section on "Conscience," quotes stanzas 32-33 of Sackville's "Induction" to The Mirror for Magistrates; there "deepe remorse of Conscience" suffers in the "iawes of hell," Tossed and tormented with [the] tedious thought Of those detested crimes which she had wrought. [ed. C r a w f o r d , no. 178] 5-7.

W h e n I looke into the Fish-ponds, in my Garden, M e thinkes I see a thing, arm'd with a Rake T h a t seemes to strike at me.

Ultimately (as Bullen pointed out long ago) from the life of Pertinax attributed to Julius Capitolinus (Scriptores Historia Augustae XIV. 1: "ipse ante triduum quam occideretur in piscina sibi visus est videre hominem cum gladio infestantem." Webster's source, as Enid Glen suggested (T. L. S., April 11, 1936, p. 316), may have been Lavater, Of Ghostes and Spirites Walking by Nyght, I. xii (Shakespeare Assn. Rep., p. 61): "Iulius Capitolinus . . . reporteth, that Pertinax for ye space of three dayes before he was slayne by a thrust, sawe a certayne shaddowe in one of his fishepondes, whiche with a sword ready drawen threatened to slay him, & therby much disquieted him." Though vague or muddled references to this apparition are relatively common, the only other clear version I have seen was lifted from Lavater with little change; cf. Lodowick Lloyd's thrice printed Pilgrimage of Princes, ed. 1607, 261

Commentary sig. Zi. This, in turn, appears in Allot's Wits Theater 158-. 9-10.

(1599), p.

There sits in thy face, some great determination, Mix'd with some feare.

Cf. Arcadia, I. ix (Wks., I, 57), where Musidorus gazes at the strange and sickly appearance of enamoured Pyrocles: "he might see in his countenance some great determination mixed with feare." 53 _ 54*

Thou tookst from Justice her most equall ballance, And left her naught but her sword.

Although no source, Coke well illustrates Bosola's meaning. Cf. The Lord Coke his Speech and Charge (1607), sig. C3T: "Our auncient Fathers did in their Pictures and Emblemes oftentimes enclose a very great and substantiall wisedome: Iustice (as you know) vseth euer to bee painted with a Sword in the one hand, and a paire of Scales or Ballance in the other; thereby signifying, That Iustice neuer strikes her Stroke, till first the cause be weighed in the Ballance. . . . " 56-58.

Now it seemes thy Greatnes was onely outward: For thou fall'st faster of thy selfe, then calamitie Can drive thee.

From Arcadia, II. xxix (Wks., I, 332): "For Antiphilus that had no greatnesse but outwarde, that taken away, was readie to fall faster then calamitie could thrust him." (F. L. L.) Used also in Char., "Intruder into favour," lines 27-28. 64.

. . . give me a fresh horse.

For this, and line 27 above, Lucas follows Sampson in citing the famous "my kingdom for a horse!" of Richard III V. iv. 7, 13. 73-74.

I suffer now, for what hath former bin: "Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

cf. w. D.y. iv. 18-19. Now you're brave fellowes: Caesars Fortune was harder then Pompeys: Caesar died in the armes of prosperity, Pompey at the feete of disgrace: you both died in the field—

75-77.

From Whetstone, Heptameron of Ciuill Discourses (1582), sig. H2, where Ferdinand's raving appears as a sober sententia: "What 262

The Duchess of Malfi

[ V. v ]

difference was there between the Fortunes of Cesar and Pompey, when their endes were both violent: saue that I hould Cesars to be the harder: for that, he was murthered in the Armes of Prosperytie, and Pompey, at the feete of Disgrace." 78-80.

. . . the paine's nothing: paine many times is taken away with the apprehension of greater, (as the tooth-ache with the sight of

a Barbor, that comes to pull it out) there's Philosophy for you.

Perhaps based on the Countess of Pembroke's translation of Philip de Mornay, A Discourse of Life and Death {1592), sig. A2 T : ". . . we apprehende death as an extreame payne, we doubt it as a rocke, we flye it as a theefe. We doe as . . . they who all the weeke long runne vp and downe the streetes with payne of the teeth, and seeing the Barber comming to pull them out, feele no more payne." 90-92.

My sister, ohl my sister, there's the cause on't. "Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, "Like Diamonds, we are cut with our owne dust.

T h e final line was apparently proverbial as a variant on "Diamonds cut diamonds" (Tilley, D 323), though Tilley offers no instance before Webster. Cf. Nashe's dedication to Christs Teares over Jerusalem (Wks., II, 9): "An easie matter is it for anie man to cutte me (like a Diamond) with mine owne dust." Anderson notes Beaumont and Fletcher, Bonduca (1609-1614? pub. 1647) V. i {Wks., VI, 145), where a noble suicide is called a "rich Diamond / Cut with thine own dust." Cf. also Robert Anton's Philosophers Satyrs (1616), sig. L,3T, on the relation between art, nature, and experience: . . . all three must Like Diamonds cut themselues with their owne dust: Which nothing else can perfect but their owne. In the light of the preceding lines, does Ferdinand mean that his sister is of his "blood" and therefore of his "owne dust"? 94-95.

. . .

I hold my weary soule in my teeth,

'Tis ready to part from me.

Cf. Montaigne, II. xxxv, p. 430: "The soule must be held fast with ones teeth, since the lawe to Hue in honest men, is not to Hue as long as they please, but so long as they ought." (F. L. L.) Mon263

Commentary taigne is translating Seneca, Epist. 104. 3. T h e relevant Latin is "in ipso ore retinendus est"; Montaigne translates it "il faut arrester l'ame entre les dents"; similarly, Lodge says the soul must be "retained betwixt our teeth" (ed. 1620, p. 432). 95-98>

I do glory T h a t thou, which stood'st like a huge Piramid Begun upon a large, and ample base, Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing.

A close parallel appears in chapter six of Don Quixote's second part (Madrid, 1615), where Quixote catalogues for his niece four species of pedigree: . . . otros que aunque tuuieron principios grandes acauaron en punta como piramide, auiendo diminuido, y aniquilado su principio hasta parar en nonada, como lo es la punta de la piramide, que respeto de su bassa 6 assiento no es nada (Leaf 21, recto, as quoted by F. M. Todd). Shelton's translation (1620), p. 36, is less close: "Others, that though they had great beginnings, yet they end pointed like a Pyramis, having lessened and annihilated their beginning, till it ends in nothing." Todd, after carefully comparing all versions available to Webster, concludes that the dramatist (1) must have borrowed either from the Spanish or from its 1618 French translation, and (2) must have inserted Bosola's speech several years after the play was first acted. A t present, however, we have no adequate reason to believe that Webster ever worked directly from Continental sources, or that he made any late additions to this tragedy, or that he was familiar with the second part of Don Quixote. I suspect he drew upon some earlier work shared directly or indirectly by Cervantes. J. G. Fucilla, a scholar versed in Cervantes and his methods, agrees; he thinks the undiscovered source probably a book on politics or government. See appendix. 116.

T h o u wretched thing of blood.

Cf. Coriolanus II. ii. 113-114: He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was tim'd with dying cries. 118.

In a mist.

See on W. D. V. vi. 259-260. 264

[F. L. L.]

The 123-124.

Duchess

of Malfi

[V. v ]

It may be paine: but no harme to me to die, In so good a quarrell.

Cf. Arcadia, III. ix (Wks., I, 400), where Philanax expects to be unjustly executed, "thinking it wrong, but no harme to him that shoulde die in so good a cause." T h e reflection has a proverbial background. Cf. Taverner's Proverbes (1539), sig. C i : "Est honesta turpitudo pro bona causa mori" [from Mimi Publiani]. / It is an honest shame to dye for a good quarrell"; also the words of More to Margaret according to Ro. Ba.'s life (E. E. T . S., p. 208): "if happilie it fortune me to loose my head for this, I may haue wronge, but not harme." 125-126.

In what a shadow, or deepe pit of darknesse, Doth (womanish, and fearefull) mankind livel

From Arcadia, V (Wks., II, 177): ". . . in such a shadowe, or rather pit of darkenes, the wormish mankinde lives, that neither they knowe how to foresee, nor what to feare: and are but like tenisballs, tossed by the racket of the hyer powers." (F. L. L.) In this play, where the Duchess displays more courage than any of the male characters, one wonders if Webster changed "wormish" to "womanish" for any reason other than metre. 127-128.

Let worthy mindes nere stagger in distrust T o suffer death, or shame, for what is just—

Alexander, Croesus I, lines 153-154, is barely worth quoting: A worthy mind needes neuer to repent T'haue suffered crosses for an honest cause. 143-144.

Nature doth nothing so great, for great men, As when she's pleas'd to make them Lords of truth.

From Arcadia, II. vii {Wks., I, 190): "Nature having done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded." (M. L. A.) 145-146.

"Integrity of life, is fames best friend, Which noblely (beyond Death) shall croivne the end.

See on M. C., line 328.

265

A MONUMENTAL

Title Ostendent

COLUMNE

page

terris hunc tantum

fata.

Virgil, Aeneid vi. 869. For its appropriateness—this is almost the only tag whose use Lucas approves—Webster is probably indebted to Camden. Cf. Remaines (1605), sig. which recommends for Sir Philip Sidney, "that which Maro said of Marcellus . . . Ostendunt terris hunc tantum fata, nec ultra esse sinunt." Dedication i-8.

My Right Noble Lord: I present to your voidest easure of Survey, these few sparkes. . . .

Cf. Chapman's dedication to Petrarchs Seven Penitentiall Psalms (1612), lines 6-7: "I presumed to preferre to your emptiest leisure of reading, this poore Dedication." (F. L. L.) Webster's alterations look like a conscious attempt to disguise the borrowing. 12-13.

. . . you

have

already,

(with

much

lead

upon

your

heart)

sounded both the sorow Royal, and your Owne.

Cf. D. M. III. ii. 131-132 (F. L. L.); D. M. III. v. 106-107: My heart is turnde to a heavy lumpe of lead, With which I sound my danger: ai-88.

O utinam mores animumq; effingere Pulcrior in terris nulla tabella foret.

possem!

Martial x. 32. 5-6, the first line of which actually runs "Ars utinam . . . posset!" (F. L. L.)

A Monumental A Funeral 4-5.

Columne Elegy

But as a perfect Diamond set in lead, (Scorning our foyle) his glories do breake forth.

Cf. Hall, Characters, "Humble man," ed. 1617, p. 203: " H e is . . . a rich stone set in lead; and lastly a true Temple of God built with a low roofe." For the last half of this quotation, cf. D. M. I. i. 479. 10-11.

"We should not grieve at the bright Sunnes Ecclips "But that we love his light.

Cf. Matthieu, Henry the fourth (1612), sig. Bbbi: "the more that wee consider what hee hath bin, the more we grieue for that he is no more, the more our eyes were pleased with this sweete light, the more troublesome the Eclipse thereof is. / But this sun is not quite gone. . . ." 14.

"For wounds smart most, when that the bloud growes cold.

Cf. Machiavelli, The Florentine Historie (Tudor Trans., p. 395): "But as a wounde when the bloud therein groweth colde, grieveth the bodie more, then when it was received, so this small rest [from war], caused the Florentines to know the travailes they had endured." 15-16.

If Princes thinke that Ceremony meet, T o have their corps imbalm'd to keepe them sweet. . . .

Cf. D. M. II. i. 62. 19-20.

(F. L. L.)

T o adorne which, in her deserved Throne, I bring those colours, which Truth calles her owne.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Ll2 T : "This truth hath no need to bee set forth with other coulours then her owne." 88.

"Love that's borne free, cannot be hir'd nor bought.

From Alexander, Alexandraean Tragedy IV. i, line 1829: "But Loue borne free, cannot be thrald, nor bought." 23-88.

Some great inquisitors in nature say, Royall and Generous formes sweetly display

267

Commentary Much of the heavenly vertue, as proceeding From a pure essence, and elected breeding. How ere, truth for him thus much doth importune, His forme, and vertue, both deserv'd his fortune.

From Jonson's dedication to Prince Henry of The Masque of Queens (1609), lines 1-13: "When it hath bene my happinesse (as would it were more frequent) but to see yor face, and, as passing by, to consider you; I haue, w4h as much ioy, as I am now farre from flattery in professing it, calld to mind that doctrine of some great Inquisitors in Nature, who hold euery royall and Heroiqueforme to pertake, and draw much to it of the heauenly vertue. For, whether it be y* a diuine soule, being to come into a body, first chooseth a Palace fit for it selfe; or, being come, doth make it so; or that Nature be ambitious to haue her worke aequall; I know not: But, what is lawfull for me to vnderstand, & speake, that I dare; wch is, that both yor vertue, & yor forme did deserue yo r fortune." Also lines 17-19: "it comes neare a wonder, to thinke how sweetely that habit flowes in you. . . ." Line 28, slightly altered, recurs in D. M. III. ii. 294. (F. L. L.) 29-30.

For 'tis a question, not decided yet, Whether his Mind, or Fortune were more great.

From Alexander, Julius Caesar V. ii, lines 2843-2844 (of Caesar): The man of whom the world in doubt remain'd I£ that his minde, or fortune was more great. 33-37-

His minde quite voyd of ostentation, His high-erected thoughts look't downe upon The smiling valley of his fruitfull heart. Honour and Curtesie in every part Proclaim'd him.

T h e first couplet stems from the praise of Musidorus in Arcadia, I. ii (Wks., I, 16): "a mind of most excellent composition (a pearcing witte quite voide of ostentation, high erected thoughts seated in a harte of courtesie . . . )." Perhaps this influenced the next two lines as well. Cf. Char., "House-keeper," lines 16-17. (F- L. L.) 39.

He spread his bounty with a provident hand.

Cf. W. D. IV. iii. 88 (where it is given almost the opposite application): "Hee spreades his bountie with a sowing hand." 268

A Monumental 40.

Columne

And not like those that sow th'ingratefull sand.

Cf. Tilley, S 87 ("He sows the sand"); Marston, The Malcontent IV. i. 123: " G o sow the ingrateful sand, and love a woman." 41-44.

His rewards followed reason, nere were plac't For ostentation; and to make them last, He was not like the mad and thriftlesse Vine, That spendeth all her blushes at one time.

Partly from Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Q q i : " H i s liberality dispenseth so iustly the graces, which to haue them continue long he poureth forth sparingly. He gaue by reason, not by ostentation. . . ." T h e same passage is more fully imitated in Char., "House-keeper," lines 1 - 2 . 45-46.

But, like the Orange tree, his fruits he bore; Some gather'd, he had greene, and blossomes store.

See on D. M. II. ii. 1 3 - 1 4 . 48-49.

(F. L . L.)

Wee stood as in some spacious Theater Musing what would become of him.

For a bare parallel in idea cf. Donne, Of the Progresse Soule, Second Anniv., lines 67-69: Shee, to whom all this world was but a stage, Where all sat harkning how her youthfull age Should be emploi'd. 53~54-

of the

[F. L. L.]

Men came to his Court as to bright Academies Of vertue and of valour.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. B2 T : " T h e brauest resolutions [princes, etc.] came as to an Accademie of valour and vertue." 56-57.

. . . by night Minerva bore a torch to give him light.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. LI3: " H i s valour was not without judgment, nor his designes without conduct. Minerua hath alwayes caried a torch before this Vlisses." 58-59.

As once [on] Rhodes Pindar reports of old, Soldiers expected 'twould have raign'd down gold. . . . 269

Commentary An allusion to Pindar, Olymp. vii. 34-38 (F. L. L.), but Webster undoubtedly drew his inspiration at second hand. There is no mention of Pindar in de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, pp. 998-999, concerning the birth of a daughter to Henry IV: "The Heauens which in former times did raine gold at Rhodes for the birth of Minerua, doth now power forth a great shower of Ioye for the birth of the Kings first lawefull daughter." Perhaps Webster obtained supplementary information from his "friend" Chapman, or from Chapman's friend Grimeston. Matthieu's French original reads marginally: "Pindare, Philostrate, & Claudian disent qu'il pleut de l'or k la naissance de Minerue" (Histoire de France, II, ed. 1610, p. 384). 74.

Who ne're saw feare but in his enemies flight.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Ss2: "They say a Prince should neuer see the portrait of feare but on his enemies backe. . . ." 76-77.

Who knew his humble shadow spread no more After a victory then it did before.

Cf. Char., "Commander," lines 8-9; also Bacon's later Apophthegms. (F. L. L.) Archidamus' famous reminder to proud Philip of Macedon appears everywhere—in Rhodiginus, Erasmus, Manutius, Hurault, Coignet, Lloyd, etc. Webster probably drew upon Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Cc2 (and again, sig. Rri): "He did not thinke that his body yeelded a greater shaddow after, then before his victories. . . ." 78-79.

Who had his breast instated with the choice Of vertues, though they made no ambitious noise.

Cf. the similar idea in D. M. III. ii. 297-298. (F. L. L.) Though probably no source, Daniel offers a striking parallel. Cf. his Funeral Poeme Vpon the Earle of Devonshire (1606; Wks., ed. Grosart, I, 173): . . . vertue neuer had a fairer seate, . . . where all things sweete, And all things quiet, held a peacefull rest; Where passion did no suddaine tumults raise 270

A Monumental

Columne

That might disturbe her, nor was euer brest Contain'd so much, and made so little noyse. 80-81.

Whose resolution was so fiery still, It seem'd he knew better to die then kill.

Cf. Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. K k i , on how France breeds men who "cannot yeeld to dangers" and "teacheth them to goe on and how to dye better then to kill." 82.

A n d yet drew Fortune, as the Adamant, Steele.

For the commonplace "adamant" simile see on D. M. III. v. 66. 83.

Seeming t'have fixt a stay upon Her wheele.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Vvi T ; in the period of Henry's prosperity Matthieu was naively fearless and thought the king especially favored of God: "he will settle a new beliefe of the stability of worldly things, he will fixe a naile to stay fortunes wheele. . . ." T h e historian had already used the image for Biron in the General Inventorie, p. 992: "one would haue said to haue seene him at the height of his prosperities; That he had fixed a Nayle on Fortunes wheele, that it might not turne. . . ." 84-88.

W h o jestingly, would say it was his trade T o fashion death-beds, and hath often made Horror looke lovely, when i'th'fields there lay Armes and legges, so distracted, one would say T h a t the dead bodies had no bodies left.

For what Lucas calls "surely the most detestable lines in all Webster," there seems to be an indebtedness to Fairfax's Tasso (1600), though I find no strong parallels elsewhere in Webster. Cf. Godfrey of Bulloigne XX. xxx (of armies before battle): Horrour it selfe in that faire sight seem'd faire, [Bello in si bella vista anco £ l'orrore] and X X . xlvi: In parts so many were the traitours cleft, That those dead men, had no dead bodies left. [Va in tanti pezzi Ormondo e i suoi consorti Che il cadavero pur non resta ai morti.] Cf. Herrick's Hesperides, " T o the King," lines 7-8 (ed. Moorman, p. 25): 271

Commentary War, which before was horrid, now appears Lovely in you, brave Prince of Cavaliersl 90-92.

Who knew that battailes, not the gaudy show Of ceremonies, do on Kings bestow Best Theaters.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. E4: "If the Noblemen which serued in this action [the queen's coronation] take it ill that they haue beene forgotten in this discourse, they must remember that their names are written else-where, and that the hazards of battells, and not the pompes of Ceremonies are their true Theaters." Verbal indebtedness is somewhat greater in Char., "Commander," lines 1 2 - 1 3 . 102-105.

And as Marcellus did two Temples reare T o Honour and to Vertue, plac't so neare They kist; yet none to Honours got accesse, But they that past through Vertues: So. . . .

Lucas cites Livy and Valerius Maximus on Marcellus' temples. His account closes: "The Pontifices, however, forbade the erection of one temple to both deities on technical religious grounds; and it was on this account, not for any allegorical reason such as Webster suggests, that the two shrines were erected side by side." Nevertheless, the allegorical significance was a commonplace among the Elizabethans. I have seen it, for example, in Estienne, Hurault, Coignet, Bodin, Romei, Segar, Perkins, Wm. Jewel, James Maxwell, Wm. Vaughan, etc. One instance will serve; cf. Barnabe Rich, Roome for a Gentleman (1609), sig. C4: "Marcus Marcellus builded a Temple in Rome, which he called the Temple of Honour; but so seated, that none could enter it, but they must first passe thorough the Temple of Vertue." 109-110.

O Greatnessel what shall we compare thee to? T o Giants, beasts, or Towers fram'd out of Snow.

There is a slight resemblance in Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Xx3 t : "Your greatnesses are but heapes of snow, which we see melt into water. . . . " A stronger parallel to Webster appears in a later work; cf. Drummond's A Cypresse Grove, ed. L. E. Kastner, lines 335-343: "What haue the dearest Fauorites of the World . . . to glorie in? Is it Greatnesse? . . . How like is that to Cas272

A Monumental

Columne

ties or imaginarie Cities raised in the Skies by chaunce-meeting Cloudes? or to Gyantes modelled (for a sport) of Snow which at the hoter lookes of the Sunne melt away and lye drowned in their owne moisture?" Though Drummond may here be indebted to Webster (as to Shakespeare, Sidney, and Donne for passages in the immediate context), some other source for both writers seems at least as probable. Yet Drummond (lines 382-389) parallels a second passage in M. C., one for which Matthieu appears to have been Webster's source; see below on lines 152-192. 120-122.

And though he died so late, hee's no more neere T o us, then they that died three thousand yeare Before him.

Cf. Montaigne, III. ix, p. 596 (which Lucas traces to Lucretius): "They [Lucullus, Metellus, and Scipio] are deceased, and so is my father, as fully as they: and as distant from me and life in eighteene yeares as they were in sixteene hundred." 124-126.

Why should the Stag or Raven live so long? And that their age rather should not belong, Unto a righteous Prince?

Perhaps suggested by Donne, Anat. of the World, First Anniv., lines 115-116: When, Stagge, and Raven, and the long-liv'd tree, Compar'd with man, dy'd in minoritie. [F. L. L.] But Donne does not include the explicit complaint that normally accompanies this commonplace (which Renaissance writers usually attribute to Hesiod, Theophrastus, Plutarch, or Cicero—in all of whom it can be found). Cf., for example, Cardanus Comforte, ed. 1576, pp. 32 f.: "Theophrastus . . . complained of nature: because she had ordained so long life in Stags and Rauens (al moste unprofitable beastes) and to man, beynge the most noble and wyseste creature allowed so shorte a terme to liue in." 129.

The Turtle Dove never out-lives nine yeare.

Cf. Pliny, Hist. Nat. x. 52 (chap. 35 in Holland), that "Turtles live eight yeeres." (F. L. L.) 131.

"Of all, the shortest madnesse is the best

273

Commentary Cf. D. L. III. iii. 7 (with " f e v e r " rather than "madnesse"). Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Ii3, echoes a very common French proverb (Tilley, F 439): " A l l the reuolted T o w n e s . . . confesse that the shortest follyes are the best." 132-139.

Wee ought not thinke that his great triumphs need Our withred [laurels]—Can our weake praise feed His memory, which worthily contemnes Marble and Gold and Oriental Gemmest His merits passe our dull invention, And now me-thinkes I see him smile upon Our fruitlesse tears—bid's us dispeirce these showers, And say's his thoughts are farre refin'd from ours.

Expanded from Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sigs. T 2 f . : " B u t his triumph needeth not our lawrels, his memory contemneth our marbles, his merits surpasse our discourses, his happinesse derideth our Complaints, and his thoughtes are not ours." For the "withred [laurels]" of line 1 3 3 , see on D. M. III. v. 108. Matthieu confirms Lucas' textual emendations here and in line 207. 140-145.

As Rome of her beloved Titus said, That from the body the bright soule was fled For his owne good and their affliction, On such a broken Columne we leane on And for our selves, not him, let us lament, Whose happinesse is growne our punishment.

Cf. Suetonius, " T i t u s , " 10. (F. L . L . ) Webster's source is Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. ZZ3: "Wherefore let vs rather lament for our selues then for him, and let vs say of him as R o m e did of Tytus, Hee is gone for his owne good, and for our afflictions; death which hath raised him to immortall felicities, doth plunge vs into a gulfe of miseries." 152-192.

Jupiter [on] some businesse once sent downe Pleasure unto the world, that shee might crowne Mortals with her bright beames, but (her long stay Exceeding farre the limite of her day, Such feasts and gifts were numbred to present her, That shee forgot heaven and the God that sent her,) Hee cals her thence in thunder, at whose lure, 274

A Monumental

Columne

Shee spreds her wings and to returne more pure, Leaves her eye-seeded roabe wherein she's suited, Fearing that Mortall breath had it polluted. Sorrow . . . found, Where Pleasure laid her garment: from the ground Shee takes it, [dons] it. . . . And since this cursed maske, which to our cost Lasts day and night, we have entirely lost Pleasure, who from heaven wils us be advis'd, That our false Pleasure is but Care disguis'd.

Apparently a much expanded version of Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. I3T: "Iupiter commanded Pleasure to retyre to Heauen, for that hee was so well followed and serued by men, as hee did no more care to leaue the earth. T o returne more purely, hee disrobed him-selfe. Greefe, who all the time of his aboad on earth had beene banished, found those clothes and disguised him-selfe. Since shee [sic] hath alwaies deceiued the world, which vnder the shewes of ioy incounters sorrow: the greatest ioyes being but meere vexations couered with little pleasure." I know no other instance of this fable except that in Drummond's later work (see above, on lines 109-110). If Drummond borrowed from Webster, it is strange that he retained nothing (other than Pleasure's sex and Sorrow's name) not in the French original. Yet Matthieu cannot account for the Drummond-Webster parallel previously noted. Probably both passages of A Cypresse Grove stem from some source as yet undiscovered, one which may prove a source for Webster as well. 197-200.

O cruell Tyrant, how canst thou repaire This ruine? though hereafter thou shouldst spare All mankind, break thy Dart & Ebon Spade, Thou canst not cure this wound, which thou hast made.

Cf. Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Zz3T: "If death after this blow should haue broken his bow, dispairing euer to make the like shot, that would not cure the wound which his arrow hath made." 201-204.

Now view his death-bed; and from thence let's meet In his example our owne winding-sheete. There his humility, setting apart All titles, did retire into his heart.

275

Commentary Adapted

from Matthieu's description

coronation (Henry

the fourth,

of the queen at her

sig. E 2 y ) : "humility retyred vnto

her heart, and left nothing but sweetnesse in her eyes." 205-210.

O blessed solitarinesse that brings, The best content, to meane men and to Kings!— Manna the [re] [falls] from heaven, the Dove there flies With Olive to the Arke (a sacrifice Of Gods appeasement), Ravens in their beaks Bring food from heaven.

Based on Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. G 4 : "hee commended sollitarinesse, wherein hee found the true tranquillity of the mind. T h e r e is nothing wanting; Manna falls there, the rauens bring bread from Heauen." 219-220.

As great Accountants (troubled much in mind) When they heare newes of their Quietus sign'd.

Cf. D. M. I. i. 5 3 2 . 221-222.

(F. L . L . )

Never found prayers, since they converst with death, A sweeter aire to flye in then his breath.

For line 222, cf. D. L. I. i. 1 4 5 - 1 4 6 ; both are from Arcadia, II. vi (Wks., I, 1 8 3 - 1 8 4 ) : "his fame could by no meanes get so sweete & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath. . . . " (F. L . L . ) 241-244.

Or like a dyall broke in wheele or screw, That's tane in peeces to be made go true: So to eternity he now shall stand, New form'd and gloried by the All-working hand.

See on D. M. III. v. 7 5 - 7 8 ; both passages seem to be based on Donne, though the resemblance is limited to the idea. (F. L . L . ) 245-246, 249-250. Slander which hath a large and spacious tongue, Farre bigger then her mouth, to publish wrong: That like dogges lickefs] foule ulcers, not to draw Infection from them, but to keepe them raw. Based on Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. N n 2 T : "Slander, who hath much toung, and little fore-head, who is not pleased but in licking vlcers. . . ." 276

A Monumental «77-278.

Columne

Whose beames shall breake forth from thy hollow Tombe, Staine the time past, and light the time to cornel

Like D. M. I. i. 214, line 278 is from Alexander, Tragedy III. ii, lines 1 3 1 8 - 1 3 1 9 (of Alexander):

Alexandraean

My sonne that was the glorie of his time, Staine of times past, and light of times to come. 279-281.

O thou that in thy owne praise still wert mute, Resembling trees, the more they are tane with fruit, The more they strive to bow and kisse the groundl

Cf. Guazzo, II (I, 220): "as a tree, the more it is taken with fruit, the more it bendeth to the ground: so a man, the more he is stored with learning, the more he ought to humble himselfe." Similarly, Du Bartas recommends humility by the example of ears of corn, Which, still the fuller of the flowery grain, Bow down the more their humble heads again. [I. vii; ed. 1608, sig. P3] 283.

. . . men rotten vapours do persue.

Cf. Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. V4, of "great ones who all their life long runne after the dremes and vapours of the world." 284.

They could not be thy friends, and flatterers too.

Tilley, F 709, cites only Erasmus before Webster. For the apophthegm, which appears more than once in Plutarch, cf. Allot's Wits Theater (1599), p. 1 3 1 : "Phocion sayde to King Antipater, that hee could not haue him both for his friende and flatterer." Webster may be drawing on Alexander, Croesus II. i, line 382 (Solon to Croesus): " I cannot be your friend and flatter to[o]." 318-321.

. . . favour they bestow Upon the Muses, never can be lost: For they shall live by them, when all the cost Of guilded Monuments shall fall to dust.

Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnets, 55: Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this pow'rful rhyme. 328.

"The

evening life.

showes the day, and death 277

crownes

[F. L. L.]

Commentary Perhaps from Alexander, Croesus II. i, line 425: "The euening shew's the day, the death the life." Alexander later changed "shew's" to "crownes," and the latter is fairly common. Cf. Tilley, E 190 ("the Evening crowns the day"). Impresa.

My Impresa to your Lordship, a Swan flying to a Lawrell for shelter; the Mot. Amor est mihi causa.

If this device is Webster's own creation, it would not be hard to trace its evolution. For the "Swan," cf. line 314, above. As Feme says, Blazon of Gentrie (1586), p. 57: "Herealdes know, that the proper ensignes of Poetrie, is the swanne: the byrd of Phoebus, and consecrated to the Muses: which doth signifie nothing, but that purity and clennes of stile, which is required in a sacred Poet, that ought to dedicate al his labours, to Phoebus the president of letters." For its flight to the laurel, cf. Camden, Remaines (1605), sig. Z2: "the Laurell sacred to learning is never hurt by lightning, and therefore the Cocke resorteth therevnto in tempests [cf. line 295], as naturall Historians testifie. . . ." And for the "Mot," from Ovid, Metam. i. 507, cf. Nashe's Unfortunate Traveller, where the following is twice used as a "mot": "Amor est mihi causa sequendi" (Wks., II, 239, 271).

278

CHARACTERS

For Webster's Characters this commentary presents only direct evidence of sources. It excludes the many parallels, noted in Lucas, between the Characters and Webster's other work. A worthy 2-3.

C ommander

in

the

War

res

He never bloudies his sword but in heate of battaile.

Webster probably shares a source with Matthieu's History of Lewis the Eleventh (1614), sig. Y2, which praises "those generous Nations which carry not their sword to kill, but in fighting." 3-4.

. . . and had rather save one of his owne Souldiers, then kill tenne of his enemies.

Again cf. Matthieu, sig. N2, margin: " A Prince should alwayes haue in his mind, euen in the heat of Combats, that royall saing of Scipio which Anthony the Gentle did so much esteeme. Se malle vnum seruare Ciuem quarn mille hostes occidere. Jul. Capitoll." The sententia in translation appears in de Serres, Three Partes of Commentaries (1574), Bk. X, sig. E2, and in Corrozet's Memorable Conceits (1602), where it is told of Philip de Villiers, master of Rhodes. The apophthegmata of Erasmus and Manutius include it under Antoninus Pius. 7-8.

. . . no coward can be an honest man.

Proverbial, though not in Tilley; variously worded, it appears in Cornwallis, Marston, Sir John Davies, etc. See on D. L. V. iv. 78-79-

Commentary 8-9.

He doth not thinke his body yeeldes a more spreading shadow after a victory then before.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Cc2: "He did not thinke that his body yeelded a greater shaddow after, then before his victories. . . ." But see on M. C., lines 76-77. 12-13.

He knowes, the hazards of battels, not the pompe of Ceremonies are Souldiers best theaters.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. E4, of the French noblemen: "the hazards of battells, and not the pompes of Ceremonies are their true Theaters." Cf. M. C., lines 90-92. 16-17.

• - - f r o m his example, they all take fier as one T o r c h lights many.

Cf. Tilley, C 45 ("One Candle can light many more"). 17-19.

Hee understands in warre, there is no meane to erre twice; the first, and least fault beeing sufficient to ruine an Army.

From de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 886: "Scipio said, that a Generall of an army must be well aduised what he doth, for in matters of Warre there is no meanes to erre twise, the first fault being sufficient to ruine an Army." For the basic commonplace, included in the adagia and apophthegmata of Erasmus and Minutius, see Tilley, W 43. An apparent reuse by Webster in A. Q. L. I. i. 18-20 has a different source (Burghley's Certaine Precepts [1617], p. 5). 22-23.

He hath learn'd aswell to make use of a victory as to get it.

Probably indirectly indebted to "Maharbal's reproach to Hannibal for failing to march on Rome after Cannae—vincere scis, Hannibal, victoria uti nescis. (Livy xxii. 51)." (F. L. L.) 27-28.

. . . never is he known to slight the weakest enemy that comes arm'd against him in the hand of Justice.

Cf. D. M. V. ii. 379-380, from Arcadia.

(F. L. L.)

32-34.

. . . for his continuall dangers have beene as it were so many meditations of death; he thinkes not of his owne calling, when hee accounts life a continuall warfare.

For this juxtaposition of commonplaces Webster must have drawn on some such work as Leonard Wright's Pilgrimage to 280

Characters Paradise, ed. 1608, p. 27: "Plato calleth a Philosophers life, a meditation of death. But, it may truely be said, that the whole race of a Christian mans life, is nothing else but a continuall warfare." 34-36.

. . . his praiers then best become him when armed Cap a pea. He utters them like the great Hebrew Generall, on horsebacke.

Lucas thinks this an allusion to Judas Maccabaeus. But of. de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 987, of Biron just prior to his execution: . . and yet hee seemed much more carefull of worldly things, and of the affaires of his house, then of his Soules health, and as it were a yong apprentise in the first prayers of his Relligion, praying vnto God not as a deuout Christian, but as a Soldiar, not as a relligious Man, but as a Captaine, not as Moyses or Elias, but like to Iosua, who, on horse-backe and with his sword in his hand prayed and commanded the Sonne to stand still." If this is Webster's source, he has radically altered its application. 37-39.

He thinkes warre is never to be given ore, but on one of these three conditions: an assured peace, absolute victorie, or an

honest death.

From de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 840: . . armes should not bee layd downe, but with these three conditions, either an assured peace, an absolute victorie, or an honest death." A vaine-glorious 10-11.

C o ward

in

Command

When hee comes at first upon a Camisado, he lookes like the foure windes in painting, as if hee would blow away the enemy.

Slightly similar is Breton's simile in A Poste With A Packet of Madde Letters, part II, ed. 1609, sig. G i : "with a swelling conceit of your wealth, [you] make your face like one of the foure windes." 19-21.

. . . such is the nature of his feare, that contrarie to all other filthy qualities, it makes him thinke better of another man then

himselfe.

From Arcadia, III. xiii ( W k s I , 432), of cowardly Dametas: "fearefulnesse (contrarie to all other vices) making him thinke the better of another, the worse he found him selfe." 281

Commentary A noble

and

retir'd

House-keeper

1-3.

Is one whose bounty is limited by reason, not ostentation: & to make it last, he deales it discreetly, as we sowe the furrow, not by the sacke, but by the handfull.

See on W. D. IV. iii. 88, M. C., lines 33, 39-40. 5-7.

He knows there is no such miserie as to outlive good name, nor no such folly as to put it in practise.

From Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. SsiT: "There is no such misery as to suruiue ones reputation, nor so great a folly as to put it in hazard." 12-13.

His heart never growes old, no more then his memorie.

From de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1019, of Henry IV: ". . . hee is alwaies in action farre from Idlenesse. . . . like vnto Phocion, his valour will neuer growe olde no more then his memorie." 14-16.

. . . nor hath he onely yeeres, to approve he hath lived till hee bee old, but vertues.

Cf. Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Yy3: "Hee held them miserable, who had nothing but yeares to prooue that they had liued, and them more miserable, who had suruiued their reputation." 16-17.

His thoughts have a high aime, though their dwelling bee in the Vale of an humble heart.

Cf. M. C., lines 33-34, from Arcadia. 18-19.

(F. L. L.)

The Adamant serves not for all Seas, but his doth.

From de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 850: "He sayd that he was not fit for this age, and that he was like vnto the Adamant, which serues not for all seas." 19-20.

. . . he hath, as it were, put a gird about the whole world, and sounded all her quicksandes.

See on D. M. III. i. 105-106. sg-23.

(F. L. L.)

. . . whether his time call him to live, or die, he can do both nobly. 282

Characters From Arcadia, I. iv (Wks., I, 25): "Lastly, whether your time call you to live or die, doo both like a prince." Webster employs the passage also in D. M. III. ii. 78-79, D. L. II. i. 321-322. For a very similar speech in D. L. I. ii. 259-260, Webster's indebtedness lies elsewhere in Sidney. (F. L. L.) 24-25.

. . . even then, like the Sunne neare his Set, hee shewes unto the world his clearest countenance.

Probably from Arcadia, I. xvii (Wks., I, 107): ". . . the Sunne (like a noble harte) began to shew his greatest countenaunce in his lowest estate. . . ."

An 7-8.

Intruder

into

favour

. . . (for shrowding dishonestie under a faire pretext) hee seemes to preserve mud in Ch[r]ystall.

In Arcadia, II. x (Wks., I, 210) the Paphlagonian king feels his good son should not endanger himself caring for his worthless father, "as if he would cary mudde in a chest of christall." 10-12.

. . . like an Estridge, or Birde of Paradise, his feathers are more worth then his body.

Cf. Guazzo, III (II, 37), of overdressed women: "it may rightly be sayd of these costly clad carkases, that the feathers are more worth then the byrde." 12-13.

If ever hee doe good deed (which is very seldome) his owne mouth is the Chronicle of it.

See on W. D. V. i. 100-101. 20-21.

Debts hee owes none, but shrewd turnes, and those he paies ere hee be sued.

Cf. D. M. I. i. 185-186, perhaps from Chapman. 22-25.

Hee is [Montaigne's] Monkie, that climbing a tree, and skipping from bough to bough, gives you backe his face; but comne once to the top, hee holdes his nose up into the winde, and shewes you his taile.

From Montaigne, II. xvii, p. 375: "And remembring the saying of Lord Oliver whilome-Chaunceler of France, who said, that French-men might be compared to Monkies, who climbing up a 283

Commentary tree, never cease skipping from bough to bough, till they come to the highest, where being come thence they shew their taile." (F.L.L.) 25-26.

. . . yet all this gay glitter shewes on him, as if the Sunne shone in a puddle.

Cf. Arcadia, II. ii (Wks., I, 154), of "looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela; as if I saw my Sunne shine in a puddled water." 26-27.

. . . he is a small wine that will not last.

According to Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. Qq3, the king thought pretenders to learning "are like vnto small wines which will not keepe." 27-28.

. . . when hee is falling, hee goes of himselfe faster than misery can drive him.

See on D. M. V. v. 56-58, from Arcadia. A fayre 21-23.

and

happy

(F. L. L.)

Milke-mayd

Shee doth all things with so sweet a grace, it seemes ignorance will not suffer her to doe ill, being her minde is to do well.

From Arcadia, I. xvii (Wks., I, 106): "doing all things with so pretie grace, that it seemed ignorance could not make him do amisse, because he had a hart to do well." T h e last part of this passage Webster uses very differently in D. M. V. ii. 183-184. (F. L. L.) An 3-4.

Improvident

young

Gallant

Hee hath more places to send money too, then the Divell hath to send his Spirits.

From Nashe, The Unfortunate Traveller (Wks., II, 258): "He that is a knight arrant . . . hath more places to send mony to than the deuil hath to send his spirits to." Webster or Dekker had already used this passage for Westward Ho I. ii. 7-9. (F. L. L.) 7-8.

If all men were of his minde, all honestie would bee out of fashion.

Cf. D. M. I. i. 171-172, perhaps from Hall. 284

Characters 15-17.

H e is travelled, but to little purpose; only went over for a squirt, and came backe againe; yet never the more mended in his conditions, cause he carried himselfe along with him.

See on D. M. I. i. 43-45, from Montaigne. A Distaster 3-4.

of the

(F. L. L.) Time

His malice suckes up the greatest part of his own venome, and therewith impoisoneth himselfe.

From Montaigne, III. ii, p. 484: "Malice sucks up the greatest part of her owne venome, and, therewith impoysoneth her selfe." (F. L. L.) Based on Seneca, Epist. 81. 22: "malitia ipsa maximam partem veneni sui bibit." A Divellish 6-7.

Usurer

H e puts his money to the unnaturall A c t of generation; and his Scrivener is the supervisor Bawd to't.

James Howell, probably with no awareness of the present passage, offers an almost verbatim version in his 1659 collection of proverbs, p. 18: "An Usurer is one that putteth his money to the unnaturall Act of Generation, and the Scrivener is his Bawd." Tilley, U 28, begins with Howell. 38-39.

. . . and it were possible, hee would make himselfe his owne Executor.

Cf. Brathwaite, Prodigals Teares (1614), p. 98, of the miser: "When he dies, he makes himselfe his own executor, and the Diuel, who was his purueiour liuing, he maketh his superuisor dying." A Reverend

Judge

1-3.

Is one that desires to have his greatnesse onely measured by his goodnesse. His care is to appeare such to the people, as he would have them be; and to bee himselfe such as he appeares.

From Arcadia, II. vi ( W k s I , 185 f.), of Evarchus, who serves as judge in Bk. V: "A Prince, that indeed especially measured his greatnesse by his goodnesse: . . . his first & principall care being to appeare unto his people, such as he would have them be, & to be such as he appeared." 285

Commentary 8-i*.

He wishes fewer Lawes, so they were better observ'd: and for those are Mulctuary, he understands their institution not to bee like briers or springes, to catch everything they lay hold of; but like Seamarkes (on our dangerous Goodwin) to avoid the shipwracke of ignorant passengers.

From Arcadia, V ( i W k s I I , 193), on "what it is to be a judge": "lawes are not made like limetwigges, or nets, to catch every thing that toucheth them, but rather like sea markes to avoide the shipwracke of ignoraunt passingers. . . ." An 7-8.

or dinar

ie

Widdow

. . . with one at last shee shootes out another, as Boies do Pellets in Elderne Gunnes.

Cf. Marston, The Malcontent IV. ii. 11-13: "he would discharge us as boys do eldern guns, one pellet to strike out another." (F.L.L.) 13.

Fama est mendax.

For the equivalent English proverb, see Tilley, F 44. A French is.

Cooke

. . . the smalnesse of the Kitchin, makes the house the bigger.

See on D. L. II. i. 79-81. A 1-2.

Sexton

Of all Proverbs, he cannot endure to heare that which saies, We ought to live by the quick, not by the dead.

Cf. Tilley, Q 12. Thus Heywood, If you know not me (1605; Wks., I, 243): Clown. I, but do you not know the old prouerb? We must liue by the quicke, and not by the dead. 10-11.

Like a nation cald the Cusani, hee weepes when any are borne, and laughes when they die.

According to Lucas, "Cusani" is "a curious perversion of the name of the Trausi, in Thrace, to whom Herodotus attributes 286

Characters this custom (v. 4). There is no nation called Cusani." He tentatively attributes the error to a misreading of Elizabethan handwriting. But the corruption, if any, is of a much simpler sort, perhaps Librarie the mere omission of a letter. Cf. Camerarius, Living (1621), p. 40; after mentioning the Trausians of Herodotus and the Getes of Pomponius Mela, he adds: "The same is also attributed to another sort of people called Causians, Who bewaile the children new-borne, and laugh ouer the dead, holding them for happy." Similarly, my 1726 edition of Valerius Maximus notes on II. vi. 12: "Idem de Causianis scripsit Nicolaus apud Stobaeum . . . [etc.]." But I have not discovered Webster's immediate source. A 4-5.

Franklin

. . . with his owne eye, doth both fatten his flocke, and set forward all manner of husbandry.

Cf. Tilley, M 734 ("The Master's footsteps fatten the soil"); M 733 ("The Master's eye makes the horse fat"). A similar discussion appears in Guazzo, III (II, 108), but with little verbal similarity: ". . . it is impossible the Servauntes shoulde bee diligent if the mayster be negligent. And therefore it is sayde, That the eye of the mayster fatteth the Horse: Touching whiche purpose, a Philosopher beeing askte whiche was the waye to make Lande bring good store of Come: aunswered, For the mayster to walke often aboute it. . . ." 22-25.

Rocke Monday, and the Wake in Summer, shrovings, the wakefull ketches on Christmas Eve, the Hoky, or seed Cake, these he yearely keepes: yet holdes them no reliques of Popery.

As Rimbault long ago noted, there seems to be some connection here with Warner's A Continuance of Albions England (1606), XVI. ciii, p. 407: I'le duly keepe for thy delight Rock-Monday, and the Wake, Haue Shrouings, Christmas-gambols, with the Hokie & Seed-cake. 287

Commentary A Purveiour 16.

of

Tobacco

Every man for himselfe, and the Divell for them all.

Cf. Tilley, M 114; Barckley, Felicitie of Man (1603), p. 547: "That was neuer more commonly in vse which Latimer spake in his sermon to reprehende the want of loue, and charitie: Ye haue a common saying (sayd he) euery man for himselfe, and God for vs all; but yee might more truely say, euery man for himselfe, and the Deuill for vs all; one for another, and God for vs all."

288

T H E DEVIL'S

Title

LAW-CASE

page

Non quam diu, sed quam

bene.

Seneca, Epist. 77. 20: "Quomodo fabula, sic vita non quam diu, sed quam bene acta sit, refert." (F. L. L.) T h e portion quoted by Webster was a common tag, but without joint application to stage plays as well as life. Dedication 8-9.

. . .

the greatest of the Caesars, have cheerefully entertain'd

lesse Poems then this.

Cf. the dedication to D. M., lines 13-15. Warner's Continuance of Albions England (1606), a work with several parallels to Webster, similarly begins its dedication to Coke: "Great Caesars haue lesse Poems grac't." Bogard thinks Webster's entire dedication "might well be a paraphrase" of Chapman's for The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois; there are no verbal similarities. To 1-8.

the

Juditious

Reader

I Hold it, in these kind of Poems with that of Horace; Sapientia prima, stultitia caruisse; to bee free from those vices, which proceed from ignorance; of which I take it, this Play will ingeniously acquit it selfe. I doe chiefly therefore expose it to the Judicious: Locus est, [et] pluribus Umbris, others have leave to sit downe, and reade it, who come unbidden. But to these, should a man present them with the most excellent Musicke, it would delight them no more, then Auriculas Citherae collecta sorde dolentes.

Commentary Sapientia . . . caruisse. Horace, Epist. i. 1. 41-42. Locus . . . Umbris. Horace, Epist. i. 5. 28. Auriculas . . . dolentes. Horace, Epist. i. 2. 53. 17-18.

(F. L. L.) (F. L. L.) (F. L. L.)

For the rest, Non ego Ventosae Plebis Suffragia venor.

Horace, Epist. i. 19. 37. Dekker uses this tag in The Magnificent Entertainment (1604), but with an initial "Nunc" rather than "Non."

I.

23.

i.

How, well? for a man to be melted to snowwater. . . .

See on M. C., lines 109-110; also Richard IIIV. 40-41.

i. 260-262.

What tell you me of Gentrie?—'tis nought else But a superstitious relique of time past.

From Overbury's " A Wife" (1614), xx. 3: "Gentry is but a relique of Time past." Used again in D. M., Dedication, line 10. (F. L. L.) 42-43.

And sift it to the true worth, it is nothing But ancient riches.

Webster might have found this reflection in Guazzo, II (I, 177): " . . . a. famous writer [Aristotle, Politics, IV. viii], speaking of the nobilitie of the world, maketh it nothing else than auncient richesse. . . ." So too in Segar, Breton, etc. But Webster's source is clearly Burghley's Certaine Precepts (1617), p. 8: ". . . that Gentleman that selles an Acre of Land, looseth an ounce of c[r]edite: for Gentilitie is nothing but ancient Riches: So that if the Foundation doe sinke, the Building must needes consequently fall." 63-66.

Yet I have heard Of divers, that in passing of the Alpes, Have but exchang'd their vertues at deare rate For other vices. 290

The Devil's Law-Case

[!•*]

As Lucas observes, this English viewpoint takes a strange turn when spoken by an Italian. Contarino is echoing Burghley's Certaine Precepts, p. 9 (misquoted by Lucas so that the verbal parallel is obscured): "Suffer not your Sonnes to passe the Alpes: for they shall exchange for theyr forraine trauell (vnlesse they goe better fortified) but others vices for thyr owne vertues, Pride, Blasphemy, and Atheisme, for Humility, Reuerence, and Religion. . . ." Webster's "other" should almost certainly read "others." 68-69.

T h e chiefest action for a man of great spirit, Is never to be out of action.

From de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1019, of Henry IV: "The cheefe action is neuer to bee without action." 70-72.

T h e soule was never put into the body, Which has so many rare and curious pieces Of Mathematicall motion, to stand still.

Cf. Arcadia, I. ix (Wks., I, 58): ". . . in the praise of honourable action, . . . the gods would not have delivered a soule into the body, which hath armes & legges, only instruments of doing, but that it wer intended the mind should imploy them." (F. L. L.) T h e passage is quoted in both Palladis Tamia and Politeuphuia. But Dekker's long discussion in The Seven Deadly Sinnes of London (1606; Wks., II, 48 f.) implies some supplementary source: "Man (doubtlesse) was not created to bee an idle fellow . . . : he was not set in this Vniversall Orchard to stand still as a Tree. . . . And to haue him remember this, he carries certaine Watches with Larums about him, that are euer striking: for all the Enginous Wheeles of the Soule are continually going. . . . euerie member of his body (if it could speake) would chide him if they were put to no vse . . . : at the end of the armes, are two beautifull Mathematicall Instruments, with fiue seuerall motions in each of them, and thirtie other mouing Engines, by which they stirre both." And so on. 73.

Vertue is ever sowing of her seedes.

Cf. Montreux, Honours Academie, sig. Bb3T: "Vertue soweth her seeds, in trauaile, and trouble. . . ." 291

Commentary 92-94.

. . . I thought it a lesse fault in Friendship, T o ingage my selfe thus farre without your knowledge, Then to doe it against your will.

From Arcadia, I. xiii (Wks., I, 86): "This made me determine with my self, (thinking it a lesse fault in friendship to do a thing without your knowledge, then against your wil) to take this secret course." Webster uses the preceding sentence in V. i. 10-11. (F.L.L.) 103-105.

. . . this is a way, Not onely to make a friendship, but confirme it For our posterities.

From Arcadia, II. vi {Wks., I, 187): "Her [his sister] he had given in mariage to Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to make a frendship, as to confirm the frendship betwixt their posteritie. . . ." 145-146.

It [fame] could never have got A sweeter ayre to fly in, then your breath.

Like M. C., line 222, from Arcadia, II. vi (Wks., I, 183184): "his fame could by no meanes get so sweete & noble an (F. L. L.) aire to flie in, as in your breath. . . ." 147-151.

You have bin strange a long time, you are weary Of our unseasonable time of feeding: Indeed th'Exchange Bell makes us dine so late; I thinke the Ladies of the Court from us Learne to lye so long a-bed.

A commonplace topic among the satirists, as Lucas indicates, but I have seen nothing resembling a source. 199-200.

For mans Experience has still been held Womans best eyesight.

From Arcadia, III. v (Wks., I, 380): "For beleve me, neece, beleve me, mans experience is womans best eie-sight." T h e widow Cecropia is recommending marriage. (F. L. L.)

292

The Devil's Law-Case

[Lii] /

I.

130-131.

ii.

— a t least some appearance of crying, As an Aprill showre i'th Sunshine.

Basically, a common image. Cf. Tilley, L 92a, " T o Laugh and cry at once (like rain in sunshine)"; Muir's note on King Lear IV. iii. 18-20 (Arden ed.); or Hall's Epistles, II. iv (ed. 1617, p. 352), of repentance: "let your teares bee as the raine in a sunne-shine; comfortable and hopefull." 142-143.

At the Consecration of Prelates, they use ever Twice to say nay, and take it.

Cf. Tilley, M 34 ("Maids say nay and take it"), from 1534. For the comparison with prelates, Webster may be indebted to More's Richard the Thirde (Wksed. 1557, p. 66): "And menne must sommetime for the manner sake not bee a knowen what they knowe. For at the consecracion of a bishop, euery man woteth well by the paying for his bulles, y l he purposeth to be one, & though he paye for nothing elles. And yet must he bee twise asked whyther he wil be bishop or no, and he muste twyse say naye, and at the third tyme take it as compelled ther unto by his owne wyll." 144-146.

JOLEN, Oh Brother! [He seizes her hand and lays it in Ercole's.] RO. Keep your possession, you have the dore bith'ring, That's Livery and Seasin in England.

Lucas explains the law and cites Marston for a slightly similar metaphorical reference to it. Cf. also Barrey, Ram-Alley (1611), sig. G4 t ; a lawyer is speaking: Short tale to make I fingered haue your daughter: I haue tane liuery and seazon of the wench. 293

Commentary 188-igo.

I hate my selfe for being thus enforst, You may soone judge then what I thinke of you Which are the cause of it.

From Arcadia, I. i ( W k s I , 355): "Assure thy selfe, I hate my selfe for being so deceived; judge then what I doo thee, for deceiving me." (F. L . L.) 193-209.

Looke as you love your life, you have an eye Upon your Mistresse; I doe henceforth barre her All Visitants: I do heare there are Bawds abroad, That bring Cut-works, & Man-toons, & convey Letters To such young Gentlewomen. Nor Dewes-ace the waferwoman, that prigs abroad With Muskmeloons, and Malakatoones; Nor the woman with Maribone puddings. I have heard Strange jugling tricks have been conveyed to a woman In a pudding.

Cf. Jonson, The Divell is an Asse II. i. 1 6 0 - 1 6 7 : Be you sure, now, Yo'haue all your eyes about you; and let in No lace-woman; nor bawd, that brings French-masques, And cut-works. See you? Nor old croanes, with wafers, T o conuey letters. Nor no youths, disguis'd Like country-wiues, with creame, and marrow-puddings. Much knauery may be vented in a pudding. Much bawdy intelligence: They'are shrewd ciphers. Jonson's play, acted in 1 6 1 6 but not printed until 1 6 3 1 , seems to be the source for several passages in D. L. (F. L . L.) 814-217.

There is no warier Keeper of a Parke, To prevent Stalkers, or your Night-walkers, Then such a man, as in his youth has been A most notorious Deare-stealer.

Cf. Chaucer's Physician's for A. V.), lines 8 3 - 8 5 :

Tale (which Webster may have read 294

The Devil's Law-Case A theef of venysoun, that hath forlaft His likerousnesse and al his olde craft, Kan kepe a forest best of any man.

[ I. ii]

[F. L. L.]

I have seen no other expression of the idea prior to Webster. Yet direct indebtedness to Chaucer seems improbable. Tilley, D 191, cites in addition to Webster the verbally similar but later Fuller, Church Hist. IX. iii: "the greatest deer-stealers make the best park-keepers." 288-223.

—thou knowest, wit and a woman Are two very fraile things—

Probably from "Overbury," Characters, "Newes from Court" (1614 ): "wit and a woman are two fraile thinges." (F. L. L.) 859-260.

There is a time left for me to dye nobly, When I cannot live so.

From Arcadia, III, xxvii ( W k s I , 508): "for then would be the time to die nobly, when you can not live nobly." (F. L. L.) Cf. Seneca, Epist. 17. 5: "si quid te vetat bene vivere, bene mori non vetat." 264-265.

lie make his bravery fitter for a grave, Then for a wedding.

From Jonson's Sejanus I. 568-570: . . . my sword Shall make thy brau'rie fitter for a graue, Then for a triumph. 278.

Oh sweet-breath'd monkey—how they grow together!

Cf. A. Q. L. II. i. 55. In the Arcadia's first eclogues (Wks., I, 135), the animals create man by contributing their own merits or faults; the monkey donates "sweet breath." (F. L. L.) As for the monkey's reputation for lechery, one need only remember Othello's "Goats and monkeys." 287-289.

He that vowes friendship to a man, and prooves A traytor, deserves rather to be hang'd. Then he that counterfets money. 295

Commentary Perhaps suggested by Guazzo, I (I, 87), of flatterers: "the Philosopher counteth him worse then a forger of monie, for that there can be no friendship, where there is counterfeiting." «93-895.

T h e intermission from a fit of an ague Is grievous: for indeed it doth prepare us, T o entertaine torment next morning.

See on D. M. V. iv. 78-79; cf. Arcadia, II. xx (Wks., I, 282): . . our restraints were more, or lesse, according as the ague of her passion was either in the fit, or intermission." 313-315.

L e t those that would oppose this union, Grow nere so subtill, and intangle themselves In their owne worke like Spiders.

See on W. D. I. ii. 186-187 (from Montaigne), where the selfentangler is, more appropriately, the silkworm.

II.

79-81.

i.

For the smalnesse of a Kitchin, without question, Makes many Noblemen in France and Spaine, Build the rest of the house the bigger.

Cf. Char., "French Cooke," lines 11-12 (Tilley's earliest example for K 111, " A little Kitchin makes a large house"). T h e idea is common, though I have seen no probable source for Webster. Cf. Guazzo, II (I, 188): "And I remember I have heard tel how a king of Fraunce going to see the lodgings and roomes of a faire house belonging to the steward of his houshold, said, That the kitchin was a great deale too little, in respect of the greatnesse of the house, but the steward answered him, that, that small kitchin had made the house so great" (M. L. A.); Rowlands, Doctor Merrie-man (1609; Wks., II, 11): Of purpose I contriu'd the Kitchin small, To haue my House the bigger therewithal!. 296

The

Devil's

Law-Case

[II. i ]

For Crispiano's condemnation of smokeless houses see the many examples in Davenport's long note on Hall, Virgidemiarum,

V. ii.

67®. 144-145.

When did you ever heafe, that a Cockesparrow Had the French poxe?

Probably from "Overbury," Characters, "Newes from the very Country" (signed I. D., and usually attributed to Donne): " T h a t intemperance is not so vnwholsome heere, for none euer saw Sparrow sick of the pox." 153-155.

(F. L . L.)

—you are a meere sticke of Sugar Candy, a man may looke quite thorow you. (F.L.L.

Cf. D . Ai. III. i. 5 1 - 5 2 . 164-167.

Those lands that were the Clyents, are now become T h e Lawyers; and those tenements that were T h e Countrey Gentlemans, are now growen T o be his Taylors.

From Jonson, The Divell

is an Asse ll. iv. 33-37:

. . . the faire lands, That were the Clyents, are the Lawyers, now: And those rich Mannors, there, of good man Taylors, Had once more wood vpon 'hem, then the yard, By which they were measur'd out for the last purchase. [F.L.L.] 178-191.

A R I O . . . . This comes of your numerous Wardrobe. R O M . I, and wearing Cut-worke, a pounde a Purle. A R I O . Your daintie embroydered stockings, with overblowne Roses, to hide your gowtie anckles. R O . And wearing more taffaty for a garter, then would serve the Gaily dung-boat for streamers. A R I . Your switching up at the horse-race, with the Illustrissimi. R O M . And studying a pusling Arithmatick at the cock-pit. A R I . Shaking your elbow at the Taule-boord. R O M . And resorting to your whore in hir'd velvet, with a spangled copper fringe at her netherlands. A R I . Whereas if you had staid at Padua, and fed upon Cowtrotters, and fresh beefe to Supper. . .

Cf. Jonson, The Divell is an Asse I. i. 126-130: 297

Commentary Tissue gownes, Garters and roses, fourescore pound a paire, Embroydred stockings, cut-worke smocks, and shirts, More certaine marks of lechery, now, and pride, Then ere they were of true nobilityl Also III. iii. 22-30: This comes of wearing Scarlet, gold lace, and cut-works! your fine gartring! With your blowne roses, Cousinl and your eating Phesant, and Godwit, here in London! haunting The Globes, and Mermaides! wedging in with Lords, Still at the table I and affecting lechery, In veluet! where could you ha' contented your selfe With cheese, salt-butter, and a pickled hering, I'the Low-countries; there worne cloth, and fustian! Jonson's content explains Ariosto's sudden mention of food in lines 190-191. 197-199.

You have certaine rich citie Chuffes, that when they have no acres of their owne, they will goe and plow up fooles, and turne them into excellent meadow.

Again, The Divell is an Asse III. iv. 45-48, Meere-craft speaking: . . . wee poore Gentlemen, that want acres, Must for our needs, turne fooles vp, and plough Ladies Sometimes, to try what glebe they are: and this Is no vnfruitefull piece. 204-206.

—they cannot endure to finde a man like a payre of Tarriers, they would undoe him in a trice.

Lucas thinks this is a reference to dogs and ingeniously explains the image. But, as Miss Bartlett notes on Chapman's Eugenia, line 260: " 'Tarriers' was another word for 'tiring-irons,' see N. E. D., 1601. ' T h e very frame . . . resembleth fitlie a paire of tarriours, or tyring yrons.' These tarriers were a mechanical puzzle: a number of rings fastened on to a wire loop and attached to a thin piece of metal. T h e puzzle was to take all the rings thus fettered off the loop." T h u s Gainsford's Rich Cabinet (1616), sig. M i T , says "Lawes are like a paire of tarriers. . . ." Cf. Char., "Petifogger," lines 4-5. 298

The Devil's Law-Case 811-siz.

QII. i ]

T a k e heed of them, thyle rent thee like Tenter-hookes.

A fairly common image, as Lucas notes, but Webster may be drawing on "Overbury," Characters, "Golden Asse": ". . . knaues rent him like tenter-hookes." 240-242.

Sir, my love to you has proclaim'd you one, Whose word was still led by a noble thought, A n d that thought followed by as faire a deed.

From Arcadia, I. v (Wks., I, 31), of Argalus: "his worde ever ledde by his thought, and followed by his deede." 251. 253-255.

"sacred innocence." See on D. M. IV. ii. 383. To

draw the picture of unkindnesse truely.

Is to expresse two that have dearly loved, A n d falne at variance.

Perhaps from Arcadia, I. xii {Wks., I, 83), but the verbal parallel is slight and the sense only remotely similar: ". . . for griefe being not able to say any thing, they rested, with their eyes placed one upon another, in such sort, as might well paint out the true passion of unkindnes to be never aright, but betwixt them that most dearely love." (F. L. L.) 258-260.

Compare her beauty, and my youth together. A n d you will find the faire effects of

love

N o myracle at all.

Much closer to its source than is the parallel passage in D. M. V. ii. 174-175; from Arcadia, V {Wks., II, 186): "Let her beawtie be compared to my yeares, and such effectes will be found no miracles." (F. L. L.) 321-323.

So whether our time calls us to live or dye, Let us doe both like noble Gentlemen, A n d true Italians.

Webster's third use of a sentence in Arcadia, I. iv; see on D. M. III. ii. 78-79. (F. L. L.) 344-345.

. . . the greatest Rivers i'th world Are lost in the Sea, and so am I.

Ultimately from Ecclesiastes i. 7, but almost surely through some intermediate work. Cf. Tilley, R 140, "All Rivers run into the sea." 299

Commentary 35«.

One mischiefe never comes alone.

As Montreux says in one of Webster's sources {Honours Academie, sig. Rr3), "It is an old saide Sawe; One mischiefe neuer commeth alone, but that it hath an other attending vppon it." So too in another source, de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 264: "One mischiefe comes neuer alone." Cf. Tilley, M 1012, M 1004; also below, III. iii. 233-235.

II.

33-35-

ii

CON. . . . Begge your life. ERC. Oh most foolishly demaunded, T o bid me beg that which thou canst not give.

For a slight similarity cf. the duel recounted in de SerresMatthieu, General Inventorie, p. 858: "He willed him to aske his life of him: but he was not in case to humble himselfe to that demand, neither was it in Crequeys power to giue it him: for his wounds were mortall. . . ."

II.

115-116.

iii

You that dwell neere these graves and vaults, Which oft doe hide Physicions faults.

Cf. de Serres-Matthieu, General Inventorie, p. 1030: " T h e profession of Phisitions hath this Priuilege; that the Sunne sees their practice, and the Earth hides their faults." But the idea, at least as old as Plutarch, appears everywhere. O. E. P., p. 4980, 300

The Devil's Law-Case

[Il.iii]

begins with 1547; Tilley, D 424, with 1597. Cf. Montaigne, II. xxxvii, p. 440. 127-128.

. . . yeeld no more light, Then rotten trees, which shine i'th night.

Cf. Hall's Characters, "Hypocrite" (ed. 1617, p. 218): "In briefe, he is . . . a rotten sticke in a darke night." (F. L. L.) 129.

Oh looke the last Act be the best i'th Play.

Cf. Erasmus, "Diversoria," Colloquies (Wks., ed. 1703, I, 717): BE. [of cooks] . . . Curant autem, ut extremus actus sit optimus. GU. Et hoc est boni Poetae. Webster probably reflects a proverb, though I have seen no instance of it. T h e metaphorical application of "last act" to dying is discussed in Erasmus' Adagia, citing Cicero, De Senectute 23. 85, etc. (under "Supremum fabulae actum addere"; II, 83C). 141-146.

What care I then, tho my last sleepe, Be in the Desart, or in the deepe, No Lampe, nor Taper, day and night, T o give my Charnell chargeable light? I have there like quantitie of ground, And at the last day I shall be found.

Webster might have found the suggestion for these lines in countless places. Cf., for example, Seneca, Epist. 92. 34-35 (trans. Lodge, ed. 1620, p. 388): "But as we neglect the haires that be shauen from the beard; so that diuine soule being to depart out of the bodie, supposeth that it concerneth her in no sort what shall become of hir case or couer, (whether the fire burne it vp, or the beasts pluck it asunder, or the earth couer it) no more than the secondines pertaine to an infant new borne. As much is it to her whether it be cast for a prey to the birds, or deuoured in the Sea by Dogge-fishes. What is this to her?" Or Guevara, Diall of Princes, III. xxxiii, sig. P i : "I wyll sweare, that at this daye all the deade do sweare, that they care lytell, if their bodyes be buried in the depe Seas, or in the golden tombes, or that the cruell beastes haue eaten them, or that they remayne in the fieldes withoute a graue: so that their soules maye be amonge the celestiall companies." Strictly speaking, of course, Romelio would not have 301

Commentary "like quantitie of ground" in "the deepe;" he has shifted the argument to that of W. D. V. iv. 103-104. 154-155.

He that is without feare, is without hope, And sins from presumption.

Varied below in III. iii. 302-303; cf. also D. M. IV. ii. 391-392 (from Arcadia). Like O. E. P., p. 304a, Tilley's G 317 ("He that hopes not for Good fears not evil") gives no instance before 1640. Yet it appears everywhere. Cf., for example, Sir Thomas Wyatt IV. iv. 41, Sejanus IV. i. 7, Faerie Queene I. v. 43. 3, or Misfortunes of Arthur I. iv. 9. On the latter Cunliffe notes Medea, 163: "qui nil potest sperare, desperet nihil," while Briggs cites Aristotle, Rhet., II. v, i383a4~5. I have seen no version linking hopelessness with the sin of presumption.

II.

30-38.

iv

There does belong a noble Priviledge T o all his Family, ever since his father Bore from the worthy Emperour Charles the fift An answere to the French Kings challenge, at such • time T h e two noble Princes were ingag'd to fight, Upon a frontier arme o'th sea in a flat-bottom'd Boat— T h a t if any of his Family should chance T o kill a man i'th Field, in a noble cause, He should have his Pardon.

I have found nothing resembling a source for this passage. How much may be Webster's invention, or his garbling of history, is hard to tell. See Lucas. 45-47«

These are crimes That either must make worke for speedy repentance, Or for the Devill. 302

The Devil's Law-Case

[II. iv]

From "Overbury," Characters (1614), "Newes o£ my morning worke": "That sinne makes worke for repentance, or the Deuill." (F. L. L.)

III.

18-14.

i

W h y they use their Lords, as if they were their Wards; A n d as your Dutchwomen in the Low Countries, T a k e all and pay all.

As in W. D. III. ii. 6-8, Webster attaches "Dutchwomen" to a common proverb, but this time he does so more plausibly. For the proverbial "Take all and pay all," regularly applied to domineering wives, see Lucas and Tilley, A 203. For the reputation o£ Dutch wives, cf. Fynes Moryson (1617) as quoted in Lucas.

III.

ii.

1-16.

Here, and in much of Romelio's action elsewhere, Lucas sees the influence of The Jew of Malta; see his introduction (II, 217-218) and his note on the present passage. 47-48.

I can kill my go. a month And worke but i'th forenoones.

Cf. Volpone II. ii. 59-62, of physicians: "These . . . rogues . . . are able, very well, to kill their twentie a weeke, and play." 65-67.

A n d then weele pull the pillow from his head, A n d let him eene goe whither the Religion sends him T h a t he died in.

303

Commentary Cf. Volpone II. vi. 85-88, where the situation is comparable: Whyl 'tis directly taking a possession! And, in his next fit, we may let him goe. 'Tis but to pull the pillow, from his head, And he is thratled.

[F. L. L.]

Cf. Timon of Athens IV. iii. 32; also Donne, Biathanatos (Fac. Text Soc., p. 136), vs. Sansovino: "Of this, I say, that Author had thus much ground, that ordinarily . . . women which are desperate of sicke persons recovery, use to take the pillow from under them, and so give them leave to dye sooner. . . . Yet wee see, this . . . withdrawing the pillowes, is ordinarily done, and esteemed a pious office." i6g.

Is the wind in that doore still?

Proverbial, as Lucas observes; cf. Tilley, W 419, beginning with Malory. "Is that the way the wind blows?" is the more modern equivalent. Unlike Lucas, I think Webster probably intended a somewhat macabre effect, or at least a witty one, by his use of the old proverb; surely "wind" puns on the breathing of the revived Contarino. 163-165.

Ha! come hither, note a strange accident: His Steele has lighted in the former wound, A n d made free passage for the congealed blood.

According to the ancients, usually with reference to Jason of Pherae, the dagger of a would-be assassin saved the tyrant's life by piercing an abscess. T h e story, told or referred to in Pliny, Cicero, Seneca, Valerius Maximus, Plutarch, etc., is mentioned by innumerable Elizabethan authors. But Webster probably drew upon a more contemporary history, as found in one of his sources for D. M.; cf. Goulart's Admirable and Memorable Histories, trans. Grimeston, p. 289—"An extraordinarie Cure": A Certaine Italian hauing had a quarrell with another, fell so grieuously sicke, as they did not hope for life of him. His enemie hearing thereof, came to his lodging, and inquires of his servant, where his master was. The servant answered him, hee is at the point of death, and will not escape this day. The other grumbling to himselfe, replied, he shall die by my handes: whereupon he enters into the sicke mans chamber, giues him certaine stabbes with his dagger, and then flies. 304

The Devil's Law-Case

[III.ii]

T h e y binde vp this poore sicke mans wounds, who by the meanes of so great a losse of blood, recouered his health. So hee recouered his health and life, by his meanes who sought his death. R . Solenander,

lib. 5 of his Counsels. 15. Cons. p. sect. 173-174.

[F. L. L.]

Why this is like one I have heard of in England, Was cured a'th Gowt, by being rackt i'th Tower.

A topical allusion current about 1603, but perhaps suggested to Webster by Volpone IV. vi. 32-33: I haue heard, T h e racke hath cur'd the gout. . . .

Cf. also Marston's Malcontent III. i. 80-82: " A l l your empirics could never do the like cure upon the gout the rack did in England . . ." (F. L . L.); and a poem once attributed to Donne, " T o S r Tho. R o e 1603," lines 25-26: Yet as the Rack the Gout Cures, so hath this worse griefe that quite put out. [ed. Grierson, App. B, I, 4 1 6 - 4 1 7 ]

III.

7.

iii.

Is not the shortest fever the best?

See on M. C., line 1 3 1 . 164-165.

Oh, if there be another world i'th Moone, As some fantasticks dreame. . . .

Cf. D. M. II. iv. 24-27 (perhaps suggested by Donne). Under the influence of contemporary science, references to "another world i'th Moone" were popular at the time. For Jonson's News from the New World Discovered in the Moon (1620), Herford and Simpson cite Kepler (1610). For Drummond's Cypresse Grove, lines 352-354 ("Some affirme there is another World of men and sensitiue Creatures, with Cities and Palaces in the Moone"), Kast35

Commentary ner cites Montaigne, II. xii, which in turn refers to Plato and Plutarch. 183-186.

J O L . But doe you not thinke I shall have a horrible strong breath now? R O M . Why? J O L . Oh, with keeping your counsel, tis so terrible foule.

Cf. Guazzo, I (I, 71): . . we should imitate the Greeke, who as one told him his mouthe stunke, answered, that the cause of it was the many secrets which he suffred to mould and vinew within it." (M. L . A.) T o l d of Euripides, the apophthegm appears in the collections of Erasmus and Manutius; it occurs fairly frequently in English works, but I have seen none with a close verbal parallel to Webster. 207.

lie get one shall be as tractable [to]'t as Stockfish.

Cf. Tilley, S 867 ( " T o beat one like a Stockfish"). 233-235.

. . .

mischiefes

Are like the Visits of Franciscan Fryers, T h e y never come to pray upon us single.

See on II. i. 352. But Webster's variation on the old proverb was itself proverbial, though I have seen no example in English. " U n male & un Frate, rare volte soli" appears in Florio's Giardino di Recreatione (1591), p. [215], and twice in Howell's 1659 collection of Italian proverbs (pp. 1, 5). 245-246.

You have given him the wound you speake of Quite thorow your mothers heart.

Based on Arcadia, III. ii ( W k s I , 361), where Pamela laments the absence of love-wounded Musidorus, "having given the wound to him through her owne harte." Cf. C. C. IV. ii. 34. (F. L. L.) 254-255.

Doves never couple without A kind of murmur.

Cf. Jonson, Catiline II. 324-326: Come, you will laugh, now, at my easinesse! But, 'tis no miracle: Doues, they say, will bill, After their pecking, and their murmuring. 306

The Devil's Law-Case

[Ill.iii]

Herford and Simpson cite Ovid, Artis Amatoriae, ii. 465-466: Quae modo pugnarunt, iungunt sua rostra columbae, Quarum blanditias verbaque murmur habet. 269-271.

There is no plague i'th world can be compared T o impossible desire, for they are plagued In the desire it selfe.

From Arcadia, II. iv ( W k s I , 174), where Philoclea, distressed by the "plague" of a strange love, wishes Zelmane were a man: ". . . it is the impossibilitie that dooth torment me: for, unlawfull desires are punished after the effect of enjoying; but unpossible desires are punished in the desire it selfe. [It is] . . . of all despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from impossibilitie." 279.

. . .

we love our youngest children best.

Cf. the proverb in Delamothe, Treasure of the French Tongue (ed. 1615, pp. 26-27): "The children borne the last, be often loued the best. / Les enfans derniers nez sont tousiours pi 9 [sic] aymez." 302-303.

Let me in this life feare no kinde of ill, T h a t have no good to hope for.

Perhaps from Sejanus IV. i. 7, where Agrippina says "Let me not fear, that cannot hope"; or from Machiavelli's Florentine Historie (Tudor Trans., p. 86), which says it is "no part of judgement to drive men into desperation: for whosoever hopeth of no good, feareth no evill." But see on II. iii. 154, above. 303-308.

. . .

let me dye

In the distraction of that worthy Princesse, W h o loathed food, and sleepe, and ceremony, For thought of loosing that brave Gentleman, She would faine have saved, had not a false convayance Exprest him stubborne-hearted.

De Serres-Matthieu might account for a part of Leonora's speech, but not for the essential legend of the "false convayance" and its consequences. See Lucas* long note on this allusion to Elizabeth and Essex. 397-404.

LEO. . . .

I have a weightie secret to impart.

But I would have thee first confirme to mee,

307

Commentary How I may trust, that thou canst keepe my counsell, Beyond death. W I N . Why Mistris, tis your onely way, T o enjoyne me first that I reveale to you T h e worst act I ere did in all my life: So one secret shall bind another.

Perhaps suggested by Alexander, Julius Caesar IV. i, lines 17251728: I thought no creature shuld my purpose know But he whose intrest promisde mutuall cares, Of those to whom one would his secrets show, No greater pledge of trust than to know theirs. 425.

I have given thee good words, but no deeds—

Cf. Matthieu, Henry the fourth, sig. K4: ". . . he said, I haue euer giuen him good word.es, but no deeds. Hee is old, and hath still done me good seruice."

IV.

ii.

For Leonora's attempt to disown her son by proclaiming him a bastard Lucas cites several analogues (II, 218-220). T o these may be added one more, from a work Webster seems to have used elsewhere. Cf. Warner's Continuance of Albions England (1606), X V I . cv (pp. 410-4x2), "Of Nest, Lady of Brecknock, her dishonourable Reuenge against her owne Sonne." After her husband's death, Nest is "too licentious" with one of those around her. Her enraged son fights the paramour, and thus in turn enrages his mother. She broods: Some, and of Sort, haue been that haue (their wickednes the more) Euen whilst they liu'd in wedlock plaid hand-ouer-head the whore. Such neuer I: yet must belie my selfe for such, else how Should I reuenge me of the Boy that hath abusde me now? 308

The Devil's Law-Case

[IV. ii]

Audacious Boy, that durst diuulge the amours of thy Mother, That impudencie, know thou, shall from me beget another, And to a Sister shall transferre a Births-right from a Brother. Having thus resolved, She, winged thus by Nemesis, soone speeding to the King, Reueales her owne dishonour, so his liuelihood to wring From her own Sonne, and weepingly this Cuckoe-Song did sing. The Victor of Brechina to your Scepter Newmarch dead, My noble Husband (ah, would I had died in his stead, She said, as seeming soothly said, her teares did second so) Did I abuse, and for the Crime this Pennance vnder-goe, Besides my Conscience-scruple, that my selfe my selfe defame Before your Highnes, for it now too much imports the same. Mahel my Sonne (ah, would he were not scandalously such, But for he is, it is it that so deeply doth me touch) I bore in Bastardie, and for I therein did amis, I hold me iustly plagued that my Plague a Bastard is. I have a vertuous Daughter by my valerous Husband, She Inherit should his State: Vouchsafe, my Leage, it so may be. Upon her swearing an oath, the son is disinherited, "landstripped." T h e mother dies in obloquy. T h e daughter, newly enriched, marries the Earl of Hereford. T h u s end the interminable fourteeners—which may nevertheless have suggested to Webster his own plot. Camden recounts the same story, much condensed, in his section on Brechnock-shire {Britain, trans. Holland, pp. 628-629): ". . . Nesta the daughter of Gruffin . . . being a woman of a shamlesse and revengefull spirit, both bereft her selfe of her owne good name, and also defeated her sonne of his inheritance. For, when Mahel the said Bernards onely sonne, did shake u p in some hard and sharp termes a young Gentleman, with whom she used more familiarly than was beseeming: she, as the Poet saith, iram atque ánimos a crimine fumens, growing angry and stomackfull upon this imputation, took her corporall oath before King Henry the Second, and protested that her sonne Mahel was begotten in adultery, and not by Bernard her husband: whereupon Mahel being disinherited, Sibyl his sister entred upon that faire inheritance, and with the samé enriched her husband Miles, Earle of Hereford." 3°9

Commentary 51.

. . . like an after-game at Irish.

Lucas cites Beaumont and Fletcher, The Scornful Lady V. i (WksI, 298), where the lady regrets her hasty marriage and wishes she had been "longer bearing, than ever after-game at Irish was." Lucas infers that such "after-games" were tediously long. Yet the simile was usually employed in the opposite sense (and may be so employed in the above quotation). Cf., for example, Cornwallis, Essayes, "Of Flattery" (ed. Allen, p. 227): "The vulgar, that . . . know no more how to examine then to loue constantly, are like an after game at Irish, that is wonne and lost diuers times in an instant"; or Barnabe Rich, A True and a Kinde Excuse (1612), sig. A3: "friends in this age are but like to an after game at Irishe that is both wone 8c lost with a cast. . . 82. "runnes in a blood." Cf. Tilley, B 464. 86. "for love nor money." Cf. Tilley, L 484. 103-104.

Very fine words I assure you, if they were T o any purpose.

Cf. North's Plutarch, "Lycurgus" (ed. 1612, p. 54): "As king Leónidas said one day, to one that discoursed with him many good things, but out of season: Friend, thou speakest many good words, but to litle purpose." 119-121.

For those false beames of his supposed honour, As voyd of true heat, as are all painted fires, Or Glow-wormes in the darke, suite him all basely.

See on W. D. V. i. 38-39. Cf. Pericles II. iii. 43-44: . . . his son's like a glow-worm in the night, T h e which hath fire in darkness, none in light. 129-135.

. . . he has rankt himselfe With the Nobilitie, shamefully usurpt Their place, and in a kind of sawcy pride, Which like to Mushromes, ever grow most ranke, When they do spring from dung-hills, sought to oresway The [Fteschi], the Grimaldi, Dori[d\, [Q: Fliski, Dori] And all the ancient pillars of our State.

Webster has casually shifted to Naples the Genoese civil disorders of the late sixteenth century. His source was probably 310

The Devil's

Law-Case

some such account as that in Bodin's Six Bookes of a weale, trans. Knolles (1606), pp. 7 1 2 - 7 1 3 :

[IV. ii] Common-

The sedition [in Genoa] happened for the qualitie of their nobilitie: for after that Andrew Doria had setled the state (as I haue said) 8c excluded the Plebeians from being Dukes of Genes, the gentlemen of the antient houses (which were but foure, the Dorias, the Spinolas, the Grimoaldes, and the Fiesques) caused their genealogies to be drawne and registred in publicke acts, diuiding themselues by this meanes from the Plebeians that were newly ennobled; who disdaining thereat, and finding themselues the greater number and the stronger, they haue chased away the antient houses, and if they be not soone reconciled, the people in the end will expell them all. Bodin's preceding paragraph refers to "John Flisco" being chosen Duke of Genoa in mid-century. Perhaps a similar juxtaposition in Webster's source accounts for his having "Fliski" rather than "Fieschi." For the "mushroom" image, see on W. D. III. iii. 43-45. 137-138.

. . . this Cuckow hatcht ith nest Of a Hedge-sparrow.

A very common image. Cf., for example, 1 Henry

IV V. i.

59-66, or King Lear I. iv. 235-236. 145-147.

He has no name, and for's aspect he seemes A Gyant in a May-game, that within Is nothing but a Porter.

Lucas quotes Puttenham, who compares such pageantry giants with pretentious prose styles. Barnabe Rich's simile is more like Webster's; cf. Opinion Diefied [sic] (1613), sigs. C4 f., of bold fools who "may be well resembled to the Giants that are accustomed at London once a yeare, to march before the Lord Mayors Pageantes, that outwardly do make semblance to be men of great might and valiance, but inwardly are nothing else but Lathes, towe and ragges." g 10-211.

N o man alive more welcome to the husband Then he that makes him Cuckold.

For C 888 ("Cuckolds are kind to those who make them so"), Tilley gives no clear instance before 1696. But the idea was probably proverbial in Webster's day. Cf. William Goddard, A 3i

1

Commentary Satirycall Dialogue (1616?), sig. A4T, in Diogynes' catalogue of "ordynarie thinges": To see, a plaine kind man loue none soe much As he which giues his pate the cuckolds tutch[.] 276-877.

Obedience of creatures to the Law of Nature Is the stay of the whole world.

Cf. Hooker's conclusion to the most famous passage in his Ecclesiastical Polity, Bk. I (Everyman ed., p. 157): "See we not plainly that obedience of creatures unto the law of nature is the stay of the whole world?" (Noted independently by Daniel I. Larkin, "Hooker and Webster," N. Q., n.s., V [Oct., 1958], 437.) T h e verbal similarity is striking, however commonplace the general idea, but Webster elsewhere betrays no familiarity with Hooker. His indebtedness was probably at second hand. 278-280.

For though our Civill Law makes difference Tween the base, and the ligitimate; compassionate Nature Makes them equall, nay, shee many times preferres them.

See on D. M. IV. i. 42-44, especially the quoted passage from Guevara. 352-356.

I doe beseech the Court, and the whole world, They will not thinke the baselyer of me, For the vice of a mother: for that womans sinne, T o which you all dare sweare when it was done, I would not give my consent.

Lucas, offering an interpretation he admits is "not very satisfactory," wholly misses Romelio's point. Webster may be indebted to the analogous wit in Machiavelli, Florentine Historie (Tudor Trans., p. 296); when called a bastard, the Earl Francesco answered that "he knew not in what sort Sforza his father, had used his mother Maddonna Lucia, because he was not there present. So as of that which was done by them he could receive neither blame nor commendation." 386. "bagge and baggage." A stock phrase, with a stock pun on "baggage." Lucas cites Middleton and the Overburian characters; see also As You Like It III. ii. 170. 31 2

The Devil's Law-Case 412-413.

[IV. ii]

Here's a Latin spoone, and a long one, to feed with the Devill.

A l l but the pun on "latten" was proverbial in Chaucer's day and extremely common in Webster's; cf. Tilley, S 771 ("He must have a long Spoon that will eat with the devil"). For the pun, Lucas cites one of two instances in Nares. 499-501.

This Law businesse Will leave me so small leasure to serve God, I shall serve the King the worse.

Remotely akin to Wolsey's famous reflection in Cavendish, Holinshed, and Henry VIII III. ii. 455-457: Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. 537.

[F. L. L.]

You'l be made daunce lachrimae.

Cf. F. M. I. IV. ii. 233-234. Strictly speaking, "to dance lacrimae" was not the common phrase Lucas suggests, though "to sing lacrimae" was (at least by the 'twenties). I have seen no instance of "dance" except that in the present passage. Cf. Tilley, L 15. 672-673.

Mountaines are deformed heaps, sweld up aloft; Vales wholsomer, though lower, and trod on oft.

Condensed from Alexander, Alexandraean 3362-3365:

Tragedy V. iii, lines

Thus though the mountaines make a mighty show, They are but barren heapes borne vp aloft, Where plaines are pleasant still, though they lye lowe, And are most fertile too, though troad on oft.

V.

10-n.

i.

There's nought more terrible to a guiltie heart, [Then] the eye of a respected friend.

3»3

3.5

Commentary From Arcadia, I. xiii ( W k s I , 86): ". . . there is nothing more terrible to a guilty hart, then the eie of a respected friend." (F.L.L.)

V.

38-39.

iv.

J U L . . . . anger will make me very dry. PROS. You mistake sir, tis sorrow that is very dry.

With reference to the doctrine of humors, as Lucas notes. Tilley, S 656 ("Sorrow is dry"), offers several examples relating the proverb to a desire for drink. 77-79.

Withall, let me continue A n honest man, which I am very certaine, A coward can never be.

Cf. Char., "Commander," lines 7-8. As Lucas observes, the idea was a commonplace, though as usual Webster probably drew upon some direct source. Lucas quotes Sir John Davies, "In Sillam"; other early references may be found in Cornwallis, Essayes, "Of Estimation and Reputation" (ed. Allen, p. 99); in Marston's What You Will V. i. 248-249; and in Mynshul's Essayes and Characters (1618), p. 36: "It is a Maxime in the Schoole of valour, that no Coward can bee an honest man. . . ." 146.

. . . weave but nets to catch the wind.

This ancient symbol of futility appears in many of Webster's sources (e.g., Sidney, Guazzo, Montaigne); cf. Tilley, W 416 ("He catches the Wind in a net"). I have seen no instance with Webster's "weave." 821-822.

While they aspire to doe themselves most right, T h e devil that rules ith ayre, hangs in their light.

See on D. M. II. i. 98. 3i4

The Devil's Law-Case

V.

66-67.

[ V. v ]

v.

Rareness and difficultie give estimation T o all things are i'th world.

From Montaigne, II. xv, p. 357: "Rarenes and difficultie giveih esteeme unto things." (F. L. L.)

3»5

INDEX

Except for two modern collections of proverbs (O. E. P. and Tilley), this index is limited to works of the seventeenth century and earlier. It is an index primarily to passages annotated in the commentary, but it does also indicate those pages in the introduction where significant comment on the respective author or work appears. Translators are not indexed, although, as the notes show, they are commonly Webster's direct sources, and sometimes for matter not discoverable in the original author. In order to save space, references are in Arabic numerals and specify only the beginning line for each note. Direct sources are indicated by italics, as are the most striking clues to sources not yet discovered. Italicized references to the classics belong, I believe, to this latter category; Webster's indebtedness to the classics seems to have been consistently at second hand. Adams, T h o m a s (ed. Angus), ig, 36-37, 50. WD, title; T o the Reader, 45; 3.2.186, s u ; 4.2.224. DM, title; 1.1.50, 353. 555! 3**83, 371; 3.345; 3-5-33: 5-*-337. 372 Aesop. WD 2.1.330; 4.1.19 Alciat, Andrea. DM 4.1.79 Alexander, Sir W i l l i a m (lineation from ed. Kastner and Charlton; text from

1607 ed. of Monarchiche 16, 20, 30-31,

Tragedies).

36, 38-39,

41,

45.

Croesus: WD 5.6.137, 181, 259. DM 3.2.369; 4.1.12; 4.2.9; 5.2.382; 5.5.127. M C 284, 328

Darius: WD 5.6.258 Alexandraean Tragedy: 154; 5.1.38; 5.6250, 261.

WD 4.3.106,

5.3.204; 54.103, DM 1.1.26, 175,

116; 214,

286; 3.1.62; 3449; 3.5.61, J12; 4.2.141, 230, 373; 5.1.23; 5.2.121; 5.3.70. MC 22, 278. DL 4.2.672

Julius Caesar: WD 2.2.55; 5-6-II7> 373• DM 3.243; 3-3-397

3.5.126.

MC

29.

DL

Allot, Robert. England* Parnassus (ed. Crawford): 7, 50. WD 1.2.194; 4.144; 4.3.102. DM 4.2.181; 5.54. Wits Theater: DM 1.1.144; 5.5.5. MC 284 Anton, Robert. DM 5.5.92

Ariosto, Ludovico. Orlando Furioso: 37, 45. WD, title; 3.3.2. Ariosto's Satyres: 44, 57. DM 1.1.347; 2-'-37i 4-2-'5> 125 Aristode. DM 2.544. DL 1.1.42; 2.3.154 Ascham, Roger. 49. DM 1.1.50 Augustine, Saint. WD 3.2.66 Avity, P . d \ WD 3.2.186; 4.1.141

Index Ba., Ro. DM 5.5.123 Bacon, Francis (ed. Spedding, Ellis, and Heath; i860). 37, 49, 51. WD 3.8.173; 5.1.116; 5.6.127. DM 2.2.13; 34-28}; 5.2.79, 219. MC 76 Bandello, Matteo. 49. DM 1.1.61 Barckley, Sir Richard. 49. WD 1.2.307. Char., "Tobacco," 16 Barlow, William. DM 1.1.211 Barrey, David. DL 1.2.145 Bartholomaeus, Anglicus. WD 3.2.66 Beard, Thomas. 50 "Beaumont and Fletcher" (ed. Glover and Waller). 29, 46, 47, 55. WD 1.2.127, 144, 238; 2.1.112, 298; 3.2.81, 210, 331; 4.1.10; 4.243, 189; 4.3X9, 152; 5.1.154. DM 2.546; 4.2.125, 237, 381; 5.5.92. DL 4.2.51 Bible. 33-34, 42. WD 3.2.112; 3.3.11; 44.122; 5.6.302. DM 2.1.98; 2.5.44; 3-345: 3-5-8»; 4.1.69; 44.27, 124, 279, 349, 382; 5.1.11. DL 2.1.344 Bignon, Jerome. 28. WD 4.3.1, 19, 40, 41, 62 Bishop, John. WD 2.1.289 Boaistuau, Pierre. 50. WD 5.3. DM 1.1.126 Boccaccio, Giovanni. 49. WD 5.4.118 Bodenham, John. 7, 50. WD 2.2.36 Bodin, Jean. 18, 49. WD 1.1.2. DM 3.5.37. MC 102. DL 4.2.129 Brathwaite, Richard. 50. WD 1.2.77, >33» 170; 3.2.186; 5.6.249. Char., "Usurer," 39 Breton, Nicholas. 50. DM 2.1.161; 2.5.5. Char., "Coward," 10. DL 1.142 Bright, Timothy. WD 1.2.223; 5-3-9* Burghley. See Cecil, William Burton, Robert. DM 3.1.68; 5.5.1 Calvin, Jean. DM 4.2.27 Camden, William. Remaines: 18-19, 36« 50. WD 2.1.321; 54.35,105. DM 3.1.74; 3.544. MC, title; impresa. Britain: WD 4.1.75; 4.2.96. DM 3.1.68. DL 4.2 Camerarius, Philipp. Char., "Sexton," 10 Capitolinus, Julius. 32. DM 5.5.5 Cardan, Jerome. 50. WD 5.3. DM 5.2.89; 5.3.5. MC 124 Carleton, Sir Dudley. WD 2.1.265 3

Cartari, Vincenzo. DM 3.2.27 Cary, Lady Elizabeth. WD 5.6.34 Castiglione, Baldassare. 49. WD 1.2.150 Cawdrey, Robert. 7, 50. WD 3.3.11 Cecil, William. 40, 49, 59, 60. Char., "Commander," 17. DL 1.142, 63 Cervantes, Miguel de. 44, 58. DM 5.5.95 Chamber, John. DM, title; 1.1.251 Chapman, George. 44, 53-55. Poems (ed. Bartlett): WD 2.1.112. DM 1.1.185; 2-5-5°; 3-3-75; 4-1-73. « 2 ; 5.2.330. MC, ded., 1. Char., "Intruder," 20. DL 2.1.205. Plays (ed. Parrott): WD, To the Reader, 13; 1.2.342; 3.2.198, 285; 3.344; 4.1.1; 4.2.20, 134; 4.3.152; 5.2.25; 5.3.104; 5.6.181. DM 1.1.159, 257; 2.5.63; 3.1.105; 3.2.371; 4.1.122; 4.2.347, 383; 5.2.237, 283; 5.3.60. DL, ded., 6 Charron, Pierre. 35, 49. WD 1.2.186, 307. DM 1.1449; 4.1.170; 4.2.29 Chaucer, Geoffrey. WD 4.1.139. DM 1.1449; 4.2.26. DL 1.2.214; 4.2412 Cicero. 36. WD 3.3.24; 5.3.189. DM 1.1.33, 144; 5.3.10. MC 124. DL 2.3.129; 3.2.163 Clowes, William. WD 1.2.26 Coignet, Matthieu. 49. MC 76, 102 Coke, Sir Edward. 62-63. WD 3.2.292. DM 3.345; 4.140; 5.5.53 Comines, Philippe de. 19, 49. DM 3.5.37 Cornwallis, Sir William. WD 4.2.189, 205. Char., "Commander," 7. DL 4.2.51; 54.78 Corrozet, Gilles. 50. WD 4.240. Char., "Commander," 3 Coryat, Thomas. WD 54.118 Cotgrave, John. 15-16 Cotgrave, Randle. DM 3.2.249; 3.3.75; 3.5.169; 5.8.155 Crewe, Thomas. 49. WD 4.2.200 Crosse, Henry. 49. WD, To the Reader, 26; 2.1.140; 3.3.24; 4.2.130. DM 1.1.50; 2.1.81; 3.2.283; 54.76 Cufie, Henry. 50. WD 1 . 1 4 Dallington, Sir Robert. 20, 37, 50. DM 3-3-6» Daniel, Samuel. 45, 4g. WD 5.6.181. MC 78

8

Index Davies, John, of Hereford. WD 3.3.19. DM 4.1.170 Davies, Sir John. Char., "Commander," 7. DL 54.78 Day, John. WD 4.2.57; 5.1.9a. DM 3.1.59 Dekker, Thomas. 19, 37, 48, 50, 55. Prose (ed. Grosart): WD, To the Reader, 45; 2.1.298; 3.2.99, 198; 4.2.20, 57; 5.1.100; 5.3.105, 178; 5.6.127. DM, title; 3.2.214; 4.2.81, 1 1 1 . DL 1.1.70. Plays (ed. Bowers, vols. I-III; otherwise Pearson Reprints): WD, To the Reader, 3, 13; 1.144; 1-2-45> 87, 88; 2.1.50; 3.1.56; 3.2.84, 1 1 2 ; 4.1.136, 143; 4.2.20, 141; 5.1.92; 5.4.78; 5.6.142. DM 1.1.353; 2.5.61; 3.2.118, 214; 4J.73; 4.2.32. DL, To the Reader, 17 Delamothe, G. 48. DM 4.2.274; 53.155. DL 3.3.279 Dent, Arthur. DM 5.2.372 Des Portes, Philippe. DM 4.2.364 Dick of Devonshire. DM 3.1.105 Dio Cassius. DM 3.2.81 Dodoens, Rembert. WD 1.2.223 Donne, John. 15. Ignatius his Conciane: 18, 36, 5 1 . DM 1J47; 24.24; 3.1.36; 3.548. DL 3.3.164. Anatomy of the World (1612): 36, 37, 44. DM 1.1.206; 2 4 S 2 : 3-2-118; 5.5.75, 97, 121; 4.2.42, 124, 241; 5.2.7/2. MC 48, 124, 241. Other works: WD 5.1.70. DL 2.1.144; 3.2.65, 173 Downame, John. DM 4.2.349; 5.4.25, 76, 78 Drayton, Michael (ed. Hebel). 45. WD 1.2.173; 5.3.32, 92. DM 1 . 1 . 1 1 8 Drummond, William. WD 1.2.150. DM 5.4.76. MC 109, 152. DL 3.3.164 Du Bartas, Guillaume. 44, 45. WD 1.1.22; 4.1.22, 44. DM 3.5.89. MC 279 Du Vair, Guillaume. 49. DM 4.2.29 Edmondes, Sir Clement. DM 4.2.29 Elyot, Sir Thomas. 37, 49. DM 1.1.6, 456 Erasmus, Desiderius. 40, 54. Adagia: WD 3.2.169; 3.3.24; 4.3.88; 5.3.189. DM, ded., 3; 4.1.170; 5.2.32. MC 284. Char., "Commander," 17. DL 2.3.129. Colloquia: 44. WD 4.2.40; 5.1.89; 5.3.135; 54.118. DM 4.2.118. DL 2.3.129.

Apophthegmata: 44. WD, T o the Reader, 28. DM 1.1.50; 5.2.79. MC 76. Char., "Commander," 3. DL 3.3.183. Other works: WD 5.1.116. DM 1.1.6; 2-5-52 Estienne, Henri. DM MC 102

1.1.256;

3.2.247.

Feme, Sir John. MC, impresa Field, Nathan (ed. Peery). WD 1.2.87. DM 1.1.180 Fletcher, Giles. WD 4.2.57 Florio, John. WD 3.1.25; 5.3.66. DL 3.3.232. See also Letter lately written from Rome, A Foxe, John. 48. WD 2.1.265; 3.2.173 Fuller, Thomas. DL 1.2.214 Gainsford, Thomas. 49, 50. WD 4.1.141. DM 2.5.63. DL 2.1.205 Gammer Gurton's Needle. WD 5.1.174 Gascoigne, George. WD 5.6.249, 253 Gentillet, Innocent. 49. DM 5.2.267 Gesner, Conrad. WD 4.2.224 Giovio, Paolo. WD 3.2.186. DM 1.1.555 Goddard, William. DL 4.2.210 Gosson, Stephen. WD 5.2.18 Goulart, Simon. 4, 47, 50. WD 1.2.149. DM 5.2.7, 89. DL 3.2.163 Granger, Thomas. DM, ded., 3 Greene, Robert (ed. Grosart). 8, 49. WD 1.2.194; 2.1.142; 54-35- D M 24.52; 3-5-65 Gregory I, Saint. DM 5.5.1 Grimaldus Goslicius, Laurentius. DM 1.1.144 Guazzo, Stefano. 16, 20, 36, 41, 47, 49. WD 1.1.55; 2.1.105; 4.1.76; 5.1.101, 105, 116, 163, 167, 170, 184, 195, 198, 208; 5.3.50, 66; 544, 11; 5.6.265. DM 1.1.144, Z9I"> 3.2.160; 4.1.133. MC 279. Char., "Intruder," 10; "Franklin," 4. DL 1 . 1 4 2 ; 1.2x87; 2.1.79; 3.3.183; 5.4.146 Guevara, Antonio de. 21-22, 36-37, 41, 47, 49, 61-62. WD 1.1.2, 29, 45; 1.2.279, 328; 3.2.154, 294; 4.1.10; 4.2.149, too; 5.6.189. DM 1.1.98, 105; 2.1.71; 4.1.39, 42; 4.2.329. DL 2.3.141. See appendix for A.V.

19

Index Guicciardini, Francesco. 49, 51 Guicciardini, Ludovico. WD 3.1.63 Hacket, John. WD 5.2.67 Hall, Joseph. 17, 19, 37, 51. Characters: 36, 50. WD, T o the Reader, 8; 5.1.9s; 5.2.67. DM 1.1.30, 165, 171, 188, 479, 483, 303, 517; 2.5.50; 3.5.33; 4.1.39. MC 4. Char., "Gallant," 7. DL 2.3.128 Epistles: ig, 36, 37, 50. DM 1.1.39, 2 57> 504; 3-5-65, 145; 4-2.278: 5-*-337: 54.78. DL 1.2.130 Other works: WD 3.2.186; 5.1.174; 5.3.189; 5.4.103. DM 1.1.50; 3.3.45. DL 2.1.79 Harington, Sir John. WD 2.1.301. See Ariosto Harvey, Gabriel. WD 2.1.96. DM 1.1.517 Hawes, Edward. WD 4.1.141 Heale, William. DM 1.1.549 Herodotus. WD 4.2.224. DM 4.1.51. Char., "Sexton," 10 Herrick, Robert. MC 85 Hesiod. MC 124 Heydon, Sir Christopher. DM 1.1.251 Heywood, Thomas (Pearson Reprints). 55. WD 2.1.73, » a . 298; 5.6.18. DM 4.2.347. Char., "Sexton," 2 Hieron, Samuel. WD 3.2.112 Higden, Ranulphus. 49. WD 3.2.178. DM 3.1.68 Holinshed, Raphael. 48-49. WD 1.2.29; 2.1.298; 4.2.96. DL 4.2.499 Homer. WD 2.1.112; 4.2.65; 5.6.127 Hooker, Richard. 37. DL 4.2.276 Horace. 43. WD, T o the Reader, 20, 24; 1.2.153. DM, title; 5.2.283. DL, T o the Reader, 1, 5, 8, 17 Howell, James. Char., "Usurer," 6. DL 3-3-232 Hughes, Thomas. DM 4.2.188. DL 2.3.154 Hume, Tobias. DM 4.2.188 Hurault, Jaques. 49. DM 3.5.116. MC 76, 102 Innocent III. 50. WD 5.6.253 Jackson, Thomas. WD, T o the Reader, 8 Jewel, John. WD 3.2.276

3

Jewel, William. MC 102 Johnson, Richard. WD 54.89. DM 1-1-549 Jonson, Benjamin (ed. Herford and Simpson). 24, 28, 29, 46, 51, 52, 5354. Sejanus: 46, 53. WD, T o the Reader, 13; 1.1.11; 3.2333, 237, 280, 292; 3.3.103; 4-2-53: 5-i-i; 5-3-184; 5.4.62. DM 1.1.257; 3-5 II3> 4.2.270; 5.1.81. DL 1.2.264; 2.3.154; 3.3.302 Masque of Queenes: 53, 57. WD 1.2.226; 3.2.13p. DM 3.2.294; 4.1.73. MC 23 Devil is an Ass: 46, 58-59. DL 12.193; 2.1.164, J78> I97 Other works: WD, T o the Reader, 8, 28; 1.1.4; 1-2-99. 15°. 155. l 8 6 - 342; 2.1.291; 3.1.76; 3.344; 4.2.130; 5.1.73; 5.3.104, 118, 178, 208; 5.4.26; 5.6.231. DM 1.1483; 3.2.283; 4.2.192, 345. DL 3.247, 63, 173 Josephus, Flavius. WD 3.2.66; 5.6.34 King, Henry. DM 4.2.79 Lampridius. DM 4.2.221 La Noue, Odet de. DM 4.2.29 La Primaudaye, Pierre de. 49, 51 Lavater, Ludwig. 32-33. WD 5.4.131. DM 3.1.68; 5.5.5; 5.5.5 Le Loyer, Pierre. WD 3.2.150 Lemnius, Levinus. WD 5.3.199 Le Roy, Pierre. DM 54.25 Letter written lately from Rome, A. WD 4-3-1 Ling, Nicholas. 50, 61. WD 3.2.233. DM 1.1.256, 355; 4.2.384; 5.2.31. DL 1.1.70 Lipsius, Justus. 49. WD 3.2.150; 5.6.189. DM 1.1.50; 5.2.267 Livy. MC 102. Char., "Commander," 22 Lloyd, Lodowick. 33, 49, 50. WD, T o the Reader, 28; 3.6.184. DM 5.5.5. MC 76 Lodge, Thomas (Hunterian Club ed.). 49. WD 1.1.8; 2.1.80, 358; 4.2.8g, 130; 5.6.239. See Seneca Lucian. WD 5.6.108. DM 3.2.283 Lucretius. MC 120 Luis de Granada. 50. WD 1.2.150; 5.1.170. DM 5.5.1 Lupton, Thomas. WD 5.4.89 O

Index Luther, Martin. WD, title Lycosthenes, Conrad. WD, T o the Reader, 28. DM 5.2.79 Lyly, John (ed. Bond). 35, 49. WD 1 . 2 4 5 , M 6 » 2 3 ° : 2.1.142; 5-3-92; 5.6.224. DM

1.1.79; 2.1.91; 2.5.52; 3.5.65

Machiavelli, Niccolò. 4.1.9; 5.5.3;

WD

3.2.266;

14. DL

3.3.302;

48.

5.6.189. MG

4-2-352 Mandeville, Sir John. WD 3.2.66 Manutius, Paulus (editions of Erasmus' Adagia and Apophthegmata). WD, T o the Reader, 28; 3.3.24. DM 1.1.50; 5.2.79. MC 76. Char., "Commander," 3, 17. DL

3.3.183

Maplet, John. WD

1.2.223; 4-2.224.

DM

2.2.13

Marcellinus, Ammianus. WD 4.2.224 Markham, Gervase. 49. WD 5.6.34 Marlowe, Christopher. WD 3.3.44. DL 3.2.116

Marston, John (ed. Bullen). 35, 4 1 - 4 2 , 53, 55. 60, 62. WD, T o the Reader, 13,

26;

1.2.1,

2.1.298;

19,

2.2.36;

22,

26,

3.1.27,

144,

41;

173;

3.2.193;

3.3.72; 4.1.143; 4-2-53. 189; 4-3-89; 5-1-92; 5 - 3 1 0 5 ' »99? 5-6-170, 181. DM 2.1.67,

»59! 2.2.21; 3.1.82; 3.2.74; 4.1.79;

4.2.21,

125,

225;

5.2.261,

283;

5.3.10;

MC 40. Char., "Commander," "ordinarie Widdow," 7. DL 1.2.145;

Henry

the fourth:

42,

47,

48,

344; 3.3.50; 140,

144,

152,

1.1.61, 126; 3.2.283;

1.1.59;

41, 47, 48, 54, 61. WD 1.1.8, 11, 24, 55;

14.137,

3.2.147,

171;

5-3-56!

5-4-4':

3.5.37; 4JJ9,

153,

161,

3.3.24;

188;

5-6-80. DM 42; 42.29,

2.1.76;

4.2.65,

189;

3.2.273;

221;

5.3.60;

MC 58, 83. Char., "Commander," 17, 34, 37; "Housekeeper," 12, 19. DL IJ.68; 2.1.352; 54.94.

24.33;

2.3.II5;

3.3.303

3

203,

205,

1.2.195

Middleton, Thomas (ed. Bullen). 55, 60. WD

1.2.136;

2.1.298;

5.4.78;

5.6.170.

5.2.79.

DL

3.1.76;

DM

1.1.112;

5.1.89; 3.1.105;

4.2.386

Milles, Thomas. 50. DM 3.5.108 Montaigne, Michel de. 3, 7, 16, 19, 25, 29. 3 6 ' 39- 41-48» 47» 48» 51» 55. 6oWD, T o the Reader, 3; 14.19, 20> 22 • 41, 91, 108, 150, 186, 3.2.142; 4.2.92,103, 5.1.23;

5.3.21;

77,

43> 59> 260, 567;

3.2.74,

362;

4.2.118, 215,

5.3.10,

3.3.50; 18,

2.1.27,

88; DM

197. Si,

82,

2.2.21, 80; 3.1.67;

4.1.120; 81;

188; 2 . 1 . 1 1 9 , 278;

193, 224; 4.3.85,

5.6.69,

62;

3445;

3.5.81;

2 2 1 , 225;

5.1.51,

MC

5.5.94.

120.

Char., "Intruder," 22; "Gallant," 15; "Distaster," 3. DL 1.2.314; 2.3.115; 3.3.164; 5 4 . 1 4 6 ;

3.1.105

41, 131,

3.5.8

83, 92, 102, 103, 159;

DM

19, 109,

Melton, Sir John. 49. DM, title Meres, Francis. 50. WD 1.2.170; 5 . 1 . 1 1 6 , 170. DM 5.5.1. DL 1.1.70. See Luis de Granada Merry Dexril of Edmonton, The. WD

7;

Matthieu, Pierre. 16, 39, 51. General Inventorie: 1 0 - 1 1 , 17, 19, 22, 36, 40,

197,

36, 278,

245, 249, 283. Char., "Commander," 8, 12; "House-keeper," 5, 13; "Intruder," 26. DL 3.3425 Other works: WD 1.2.186; 3.3.11. DM 2.2.19; 2.5.33, 44; 3-5-37Char., "Commander," 2, 3 Maxwell, James. 49. WD 1.2.307. MC 102 Melbancke, Brian. 4g. WD 4.2.200. DM

1-1-33,

3.2.173; 5.4.78

10,

80, 83, 90,

5445.

Martial. WD, T o the Reader, 3, 11, 14, 45; Epilogue, 3. MC, ded., 21 Mason, John. WD 1.2.144; 5.3.92 Massinger, Philip. 46, 55. WD 5.6.34.

3.2.145,

MC

3.5.17.

53> 56> 74, 76, 132,

10, 22, 2 3 - 2 4 , DM

59.

5.5.66

Montreux, Nicolas de. 36, 41, 47, 49, 51, 57.

WD

2.1.248; 3.2.113, 211;

4.2.178,

181;

164, 184. DM

More,

Sir

3.2.145;

5.3.191; 3.2.57. DL

Thomas.

DM

3.5.71;

Mornay, Philip de. DM

4.2489.

WD

5.6.146,

1.1.73;

10-11,

50.

3.3J28;

54.21;

DL

2.1.38;

5.5.78

Moryson, Fynes. DL 3.1.12 Munday, Anthony. 43, 49, 50 Mynshul, Geffray. DL 5 4 . 7 8 1

2.1.352

48.

WD 1.2.142 3.141.

Index Nashe, Thomas. Unfortunate Traveller: 19, 36, 49, 51. WD 1.1.11; 1.2.108, 149; 2.1.289, 321, 336; 5.3.99, 248. DM 2.2.37; 4-2-279• MC, impresa. Char., "Gallant," 3. Other works: WD 2.1.298; 3.2.198; 5.1.116; 5.6.178. DM 5-5-92 Noot, Jan van der. WD 3.2.66 Overbury, Sir Thomas (et al.). 22, 37, 59. DM, ded., 10; 1.1.380; 4.140; 5.2.244. DL 1.1.40; j.2.222; 2.1.144, 21»; 2445; 4.2.386 Ovid. 20. WD 2.1.321; 3.2.208. DM 3.2.31. MC, impresa. DL 3.3.254 Owen, David. DM 3.3.45 Oxford Dictionary of English Proverbs (O. E. P.; cited only when significantly supplementary to Tilley). WD 2.1.105; 4.1.139; 4.2.84; 5.1.89, 163, 167, 211; 5-3-95. 271; 54-i°5- DM 1.1.50, 256; 2.3.92; 4.2.135; 5.1.38. DL 2.3.115, 154 P., H. DM 2.2.13 Painter, William. 4, 49. WD 2.1.38. DM 1.1.17, 72, 98, jo;, 507; 2.5.90; 3¿2.10, 362; 3.5.11; 4.2.259 Paradise of Dainty Devices, The. WD 5.1.167 Parrot, Henry. WD 3.2.208. DM 3.2.254 Parsons, Robert. 49, 50. DM 5.2.32; 5.4.76 Patricius, Franciscus. 6-7, 49 Percy Anecdotes. WD 3.2.178 Perkins, William. 33. DM 4.2.27; 5.2.372. MC 102 Petrarch, Francesco. 50. DM 4.1.69; 54-63 Petrus, Luccensis. 50. WD 5.6.249 Pettie, George. 49. DM 2.2.19 Pindar. MC 58 Plato. WD 5.3.36. DL 3.3.164 Plautus. DM, ded., 3; 54.63 Playfere, Thomas. WD 1.2.170 Pliny the Elder. WD 1.1.2; 1.2.223; 4.2.224; 5.3.92; 5.4.62. DM 1.1.118, 555; 3.5.108; 5.2.219. MC 129. DL 3.2.163 Plutarch. 36, 43, 61. WD 1.2.223, 336; 3-2-233; 3-3- 11 : 4-3-88: 5-1-149- D M 1.1.6; 3.2.275; 3.5.116; 5.1.51; 5^.79. MC 124, 284. DL 2.3.115; 3.2.163; 3.3.164; 4.2.103

3

Price, Daniel. DM 3.345 Publilius Syrus. DM 4.1.170; 5.5.123 Purchas, Samuel. DM 5.2.372 Puritan Widdow, The. WD 4.2.20 Puttenham, George. DL 4.2.145 Rabelais, François. WD 5.6.108 Raleigh, Sir Walter. WD 3.2.93, 292. DM 4.1.40 Remedies against discontentment. WD 1.2.307 Returne from Pernassus, The (ed. Leishman). WD, To the Reader, 26; 4.1.143 Reynolds, John. DM 4.2.332 Rhodiginus, Caelius. MC 76 Rich, Barnabe. 49, 50. MC 102. DL 4.2.51, 145 Romei, Annibale. 49. MC 102 Rowlands, Samuel (Hunterian Club ed.). 50. WD 4.2.89. DM 1.1.347. DL 2.1.79 Rowley, William. WD, title Sandys, Sir Edwin. WD 5.3.123 Scot, Reginald. WD 1.2.99. D M 5-3-5 Scot, Thomas. WD 5.3.199 Segar, Sir William. 28. WD 4.3.5. MC 102. DL 1.142 Selimus. WD 3.2.150 Seneca, L. Annaeus. 36, 43. WD 1.1.55; 1.2.200; 2.1.278, 315; 3.3.1, 1 1 ; 5.1.116, 163; 5.4.76; 5.6.80. DM 1.1.33, 43. «45. 257, 260; 2.1.102; 3.2.312; 4.1.133; 4.2.29, 118, 225; 5.1.81; 5.2.267; 54.45; 5.5.94. Char., "Distaster," 3. DL, title; 1.2.259; 2.3.141, 154; 3.2.163 Serres, Jean de. 20, 41. Char., "Commander," 3. See Matthieu, General Inventorie Shakespeare, William (ed. Kittredge). The commentary index includes only references to possible direct indebtedness, with the strongest instances italicized. Several are single passages from plays without further parallels. 3, 1 1 , 19, 27, 29, 33, 46, 52-53, 56. WD, To the Reader, 21; 2.1&0, 124, 187, 320; 3.1.69; 3.2.14, 150, 193, 295; 4.1.10, 136; 44.106, 133; 5.1.70, 89, 101; 5.2.32, 38, 47', 5-3-72. 88, 90, 93, 812; 54.60, 6s, 71, 83, 89, 106. DM 1.1.159; 8.3.6; 2

Index 3.2.100, 254; 3.5.71, 108, 153; 4.2.26, 228, 239, 349, 352; 5-2-31, 52; 5.5.64, 116. MC 319. DL 4.2.499 Sharpham, Edward. WD 2.1.122; 3.1.25; 4.2.205; 5.6.263 Shephard, Samuel (?). WD 5.4.80 Sidney, Sir Philip (ed. Feuillerat). 5, 8, 12-16, 36, 39, 41, 45, 47, 48, 49, 51-52, 60. WD 1.2.108, 342; 3.2.142; 4.1.1; 5.1.18, 23; 5.4.116; 5.6.181, 263. DM 1 1 -355. 533. 555; B-2-69> 78> Si, 90, 98, 29}, 300, 305, 3/2; 3.5.26, 81, 84, 90, 93, 130; 4.14, 6, 8, 14, 51, 92, 99, 108, 133; 4.2.21, 33, 37, 355, 391; 54.31, 79, 136, 174, 177, 180, 183, 186, 187, 204, 228, 233, 252, 285, 314, 328, 365, 379; 54.31, 63; 5.5.9, 56, 123, 125, 143. MC 33, 222. Char., "Commander," 27; "Coward," 19; "House-keeper," 16, 22, 24; "Intruder," 8, 25, 27; "Milkemayd," 21; "Judge," /, 9. DL 1.1.70, 92, 103, 146, 199; 1.2.188, 259, 278; 293; 2.1.241, 253, 258, 321; 2.3.154; 3.3.245, 269; 5.1.10; 5.4.146 Smith, Henry. DM 4.2.239 Smith, Sir Thomas. DM, tide Sophocles. DM 3.5.81 Spencer, John. DM 3.2.145 Spenser, Edmund. 37, 45. DM 4.2.181. DL 2.3.154 Stanyhurst, Richard. See Holinshed Stapleton, Thomas. WD 5.4.105 Stow, John. WD 3.2.145 Suetonius. WD 5.4.62. DM 3.2.249; 3.5.108. MC 140

Tailor, Robert. WD 5.1.70 Tasso, Torquato. 37, 45. DM 1.1.118; 3.2.216. MC 85 Taverner, Richard. See Erasmus, Publilius Syrus Theophrastus. MC 124 Tilley, M. P. (A Dictionary of the Proverbs in England in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries): 17, 49. WD 1.1.8, 29, 32, 45; 1.2.4, 88, 155, 173; 2.1.37, 50, 72, 96, 105, 128, 142, 278, 315; 3.1.11, 25; 3.2.6, 113, 154, 169, 208, 233, 294; 3.3.44; 4-1-6, 76. 136. 139; 4.2.83, 84, 178, 195; 4.3.88; 5.1.89, 92, IOI, 149, 163, 167, 184, 2 1 1 , 221; 5.2.67;

5-3-30.95,178,189,191,248,271; 5.4.14, 76,105; 5.6.239, 247, 256, 263, 265, 302. DM 1.1.50, 61, 180, 256, 317, 366, 390, 519. 53«. 549; 2-1-91. 98; 2.2.87; s-3-5*.2.5.52; 3.2.26, 214, 249; 3.3.63; 3.5.34, 71, 89, 169; 4.1.23, 39, 92; 4.2.26, 1 1 1 , 135, 225, 274; 5.1.38; 5.2.32, 46, 155, 183, 219, 261; 5.4.92; 5.5.92. MC 40, 131, 284, 328. Char., "Commander," 17; "Usurer," 6; "ordinarie Widdow," 13; "Sexton," 2; "Franklin," 4; "Tobacco," 16. DL 1.2.130, 142, 214; 2.1.79, 344, 352; 2.3.115, 154; 3.1.12; 3.2.162; 3.3.207; 4.2.82, 86, 210, 412, 537; 54.38, 146 Topsell, Edward. WD 1.2.188; 4.2.224 Tourneur, Cyril (ed. Nicoll). 55. WD, title; 3.2.224, 285; 5.3.150, 199; 5.6.170 Tuke, Thomas. 50. DM 3.3.45 Turberville, George. WD 2.1.50; 4.2.84 Turner, William. WD 1.2.223 Valerius Maximus. WD, T o the Reader, 28. MC 102. Char., "Sexton," 10. DL 3.2.163 Vaughan, William. WD 1.1.2. MC 102 Velleius Paterculus. DM 5.4.94 Viret, Pierre. WD, title Virgil. WD, title; 1.2.150, 223; 2.1.265; 4.1.143. DM 4.1.79. MC, title Walkington, Thomas. 8-9 Warner, William. 44, 49. WD 4.2.205. DM 5.2.199. Char., "Franklin," 22. DL, ded., 6; 4.2 Warning for Faire Women, A. WD 5.3.30; 5.4.80 Watson, William. DM 3.3.45 Whetstone, George. 4, 20, 36, 42, 49. WD 3.2.305. DM x.1.57, 328, 449; 3.2.31; 4.1.92; 5.2.219; 5.5.75 Whitney, Geffrey. DM 3.1.105; 4.1.79 Willoby, Henry. WD 2.1.321; 3.2.208 Wilson, Thomas. WD 1.1.32 Wither, George. DM 2.2.80 Wright, Leonard. DM 4.2.239. Char., "Commander," 32 Xenophon. WD 1.2.188; 5.6.189 Yver, Jacques. 1 1 . WD 3.2.154

3 3