Part 55

Most of the playwrights in Henslowe's pay lived in hand-to-mouth style; but in art of cozening groats from the manager who in turn squeezed angels from the dramatist, none excelled 'Harey' Chettle. It is instructive to note that, from the period of close intimacy with Chettle, Porter sinks ever deeper in Henslowe's debt. On January 17, 1599, he had borrowed a pound of Henslowe. He was then, still, in the heyday of his success; but only six weeks later, February 28, we find Henslowe, under cover of a further beggarly advance, acquiring a lien on all his productivity. A few days after that the two 'Hareys,' doubtless with a hope of release from the moneylender's grip, are sweating out _The Spencers_ for him; and Chettle, with or without Porter's knowledge, is borrowing another half-sovereign in earnest of its completion. When, on March 22, the joint production is finished, the dramatists are paid less for it than _The Second Part of the Two Angry Women_ had brought to Porter alone; and before it is acted Porter has given his note of hand to Henslowe for another pound; and so proceeds the declension of 'Harey' Porter. Between December 16, 1596, and June 26, 1598, he had been Henslowe's 'Mr. Porter'; as soon as he begins to borrow, January 17, 1599, he is 'Harey' with a rare reversion to the ancient style; after April 7 there is no reversion. The loans, too, which at first were of a dignified amount, suddenly fall to 2_s._ 6_d._ Familiarity has bred as usual; and, by April 16, 'Harey,' who at this time owes the manager 25_s._, is compelled in consideration of 1_s._ to clear his debt on the morrow or forfeit £10. Next day Shylock has him, but for some reason continues to dribble out the sixpences until May 26. Then 'Harey' signs the last I. O. U. of which we have record, and drops out of history and Henslowe with as little warning as he had entered.

=Date of the Extant Play.=--Porter wrote two plays and engaged to write a third on the _Women of Abington_. Of a First Part of the _Two Angry Women_, there is no record in Henslowe, at least under that name. But of the Second Part the entries of December 22, 1598, and February 12, 1599, make explicit mention; and an intervening note of January 31, 1599, which records an outlay for the play without specification of the part is by date and position evidently a reference to this same Second Part. According to the entries of February 12, the sum of £2 was on that day expended in a concluding purchase of properties for the performance, and an equal amount was given to Porter in final payment for the "boocke" entitled _the 2 pte. of the angry wemen of abington_. So closes all record of that second part. The payment of £2, two weeks later, February 28, is the usual advance "in earneste of" a "boocke" not yet finished; but the title of it was _the ij mery women of abenton_, and it was undoubtedly intended to be a continuation of the general theme. There is, however, no record of final payment (of £4 or £5) as in other cases, and no proof that the play was completed. I have no doubt that the play of which the text is here given, _The Pleasant History of the Two Angry Women of Abington_, is the unrecorded First Part, above mentioned. Our drama was twice printed in 1599 "as it was lately playde by ... the ... Admirall his servants," and it had, in all probability, been in the possession of the company for some time before publication; whereas the Second Part was only first acted in that year, and would not, with the consent of the company, have been turned over to printers. For it was to the player's interest to restrict his dramatic stock-in-trade, while it was novel, to the play-house. That the non-extant play of December 22, 1598-February 12, 1599, which is explicitly called the Second Part, was preceded by _The Pleasant History_ is, moreover, confirmed by the title-page of _The Pleasant History_, which is unconscious of predecessor and sequel alike. By how long a period, then, did our play precede the missing Second Part? The words "as it was lately playde" on the title-pages of both editions may or may not be advertisement. But there is, at any rate, no likelihood that the first performance antedated May 14, 1594, when the Admiral's men began their long engagement with Henslowe; nor that it fell between that date and December 16, 1596, for it does not appear (nor any name that suggests it) in Henslowe's consecutive list of plays performed by the Admiral's men during that period. And since Henslowe observed his method of entry by days and plays until November 5, 1597, the _Pleasant History_ would have been specified in that part of the diary[1609] if the first payment to Porter, December 16, 1596, or the loan of the succeeding March 7, had been for a play bearing that name. Since there is no mention of a _Pleasant History of the Two Angry Women of Abington_ before the close of Henslowe's daily register, nor of a _First Part of the Two Angry Women_ between that date and December 22, 1598, when negotiations are in progress for a Second Part, it would seem that, whether our play came into existence before or after November 5, 1597, it must have first passed under some other name.

In the former alternative not even the wildest conjecture can identify it with any title recorded by Henslowe before March 7, 1597, except _Woman Hard to Please_, and that is more suitable to the subject of Heywood's _Challenge for Beauty_ than of our _Pleasant History_. It is not until two months after the loan of March 7--four pounds to Porter--that one comes upon the first performance of the only play of that period that can at all correspond with the _Pleasant History._ This is the successful but as yet unidentified _Comodey of Umers_, for the writing of which Henslowe records no payment, although he marks it "new" and makes entries which show that it was acted no less than twelve times at his "howsse" between May 11 and October 11 of that year, and that it supplanted _Alexander_ and _That Will Be_ in the favour of the public. It has been held, to be sure, that this anonymous _Comodey_ was _Every Man in his Humour_; but that is impossible, for Ben Jonson himself states that _Every Man_ was brought out during the next year, 1598, and not by the Admiral's, but by the Lord Chamberlain's servants,[1610] while Henslowe includes _The (Comodey of) Umers_ even the year after it had been acted by the Admiral's company in his "Note of all such bookes as belong to the Stocke [of that same company], and such as I have bought since the 3d of Marche, 1598."[1611] Mr. Fleay thinks that the _Comodey_ was Chapman's _Humerous Dayes Mirth_, and Dr. Ward inclines to accept the conjecture; but I think that Mr. Fleay's plea in favour of Chapman's play will apply as well to Porter's _Pleasant History_, the subtitle of which advertises "the humorous mirth of Dick Coomes and Nicholas Proverbes," while the scenes develop "humours," which are much more natural than those of Chapman's play, and fall but little short, indeed, of the quality that characterizes B. J.'s _Every Man in his Humour_. As far as plot goes I cannot for a moment believe that the ineptitudes of the _Humerous Dayes Mirth_ can have commanded the popularity which was achieved by the _Comodey of Umers_.

If, however, according to the latter alternative, the _Pleasant History_ came into existence between November 5, 1597, and December 22, 1598, the attempt to identify it with the _Comodey of Umers_ falls to the ground. But another possibility at once presents itself: for the only mention by Henslowe of a play produced in the interim by Porter alone is of "a boocke called _Love Prevented_."[1612] For this a payment of £4 is made on May 30, 1598; and until _Love Prevented_ turns up, and turns out to be other than our play, it will be open to conjecture whether under this title we have not the earliest record of the _Pleasant History of the Two Angry Women_. For not only is this the sole title assigned to Porter alone during the period under consideration, it is also a title fairly descriptive of the central movement of the _Pleasant History_.[1613] The date of payment, moreover, would accord with the assertion of recent performance which appears upon the title-page of our play as printed; it would also allow for a reasonable lapse of time before the publication, which was not by license and was probably of a printed copy. If this conjecture be correct, the date of our play is May 30, 1598; and we have an explanation, in part, of Henslowe's increased receipts during the month following. If, on the other hand, our play be the _Comodey of Umers_, the date of its first presentation is May 11, 1597. Whether these identifications be correct or not, the play may be dated between December 16, 1596, and December 22, 1598, and it was probably known to Meres when during the latter year he included Porter among the writers of comedy.[1614]

=Dramatic Qualities: Construction.=--Of the plot we may cry with Goursey, "Here's adoe about a thing of nothing." Not this, but occasional situations and the subconscious qualities of humour and verisimilitude lend distinction to the play. The _Pleasant History_ has atmosphere and therefore entity. It is a creation. Its characters stand out. Porter knew their ways and words before he knew their history. He had met them out Cumnor way or Hinksey, by Bagley, Abington, and Milton on many a cross-country stroll. What basis there was for Mrs. Barnes's jealousy, whether Master Barnes had too often gone to Milton "a-hunting or such ordinary sports," and, once too often, "chatted with" Mrs. Goursey "all day till night," we are not explicitly informed. Nor is the dramatist. That Mrs. Goursey has given no cause for offence goes without saying. But there is trouble in the air. The wives are angered: after a dissension sufficiently prolonged to afford us an insight into them and their surroundings, their wrath shall be appeased. How, we know not; nor does the dramatist, but it seems to him natural, if not novel, that the son and daughter of these foes should with their marriage "bury their parents' strife." That end he pursues, carrying all with him except those whom he most would carry. When the hour is nigh and we are expectant, and the star-crossed lovers have made for Carfax to be wed, they lose each other and everybody else in a midsummer night's "cunny greene," where, whence, and whither, darkling, the dramatic persons play blindman's buff with the plot till, frustrate of discovery, they despair. Then in steps Sir Raph Smith, _ex tenebris et machina_, to find the heroine, and prophesy solution and "the lanthorne of the day" and lend our hopes a fillip, but straight to lose us worse than ever in the devious night. Beholders and beheld all now despair. And Porter might still be spasmodically rounding his rabbits into the "cunny greene" and out again, had not the quarrelsome wives happened each on other, and on them in turn their husbands happened, who simulating mortal combat succeed at last in terrifying their women into peace. Only after the characters most concerned have thus by chance taken the solution into their own hands and effected the reconciliation, does the peacemaker intended by the dramatist drop in with the lost sweetheart on his arm; and the union of the young lovers, which had been designed to promote the union of their mothers, proceeds on its own merits, superfluous, like the second tail on the proverbial toad. The plot, therefore, is not the "thing." Not only does it pursue half a dozen possibilities, each of which it drops halfway; it starts another half-dozen, which it never pursues. But the auditor, unforewarned, pricks to each wild-goose chase in turn. The complication of the angry women and the subplot of the lovers, with its pretence of a solution, move rapidly through the first, third, sixth, and eighth scenes; but in the second and fourth the farcical element retards the pace; in the seventh a new and futile start is made, and in the ninth the _platt_ itself slides into a kind of _commedia all' improviso_. From this it is rescued at the beginning of Scene xii. by Master Barnes's "pollicie." But although his "drift device" is of the utmost importance to the audience, I have my doubts whether any hearer has caught the hint, and I am sure that to most readers the sham combat between the husbands in Scene xiv. comes as something impromptu and secondary. Consequently a luxury of anticipation has been forfeited. The "pollicie" is in itself a capital ruse for curing shrewishness, and it has been frequently used of later years, as, for instance, in Gillette's _Because She Loved Him So_; but in 1597 it had the additional charm of novelty, and deserved a better handling. The situation in Scene vi., where Mrs. Goursey snatches and restores her husband's letter, is, conversely, well prepared, but lacks all consequent. The marksman draws his bow to the top of its bent, then gradually relaxes the tension--because he has forgot his arrow. But, though Porter is guilty of imperfect devices, few English comedies before his time can boast of scenes more realistic and humorous than the game at tables, the burlesque wooing of Mall at her window, and the comic irony of the climax between the disputatious mothers under whose beaks the debated chickens are eloping. In fact, with all crudities, the plot develops an interesting individuality, for which the author does not seem to be at all responsible; none the less interesting if "a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet."

=Portrayal of Character.=--When we turn to the "persons" and their "humours" we realize the architectonics of the play. There is something at once natural and masterly in the ease with which Porter introduces the condition of "neighbour amitie," wherewith the masters delude themselves, while their spouses blow upon the coals of hatred: the hostess, teeming with innuendo,--"malice embowelled in her tongue,"--the lady of Milton read in Æsop's fables, quick to conjecture, and "every day as good as Barnes's wife," whether to divert a moral or direct a curse. And as the women promise they develop: Mrs. Barnes, a "jealous, slandering, spiteful queane"; Mrs. Goursey, subtler and fairer spoken, but incapable of backgammon "if slanders by doe talke,"--patently obedient, but impatient of rebuke, soothing her husband with soft words, but, inward, fuming at his "Peace, be quiet, wife"; easily his better, bidding him "grow to the housetop with your anger, Sir," and then humouring his pleasure, not because of his "incensement," but his "health." The opprobrious epithets of Barnes's wife Mistress Goursey returns into her teeth; damns her as "mankind"; takes up the quarrel last and is last to lay it down. In fact, as Mistress Goursey is the more independent of the twain, she is also historically the more original. Mrs. Barnes, on the other hand, is an amalgam of stock shrews, gossips, and jealous wives: a descendant of Tom Tyler's more strenuous half, a kinswoman of Dame Chat, a Kitely in petticoats, the remote grandmother of Colman's Mrs. Oakly.

Barnes and Goursey are henpecked husbands of the remordent variety. Barnes, the more experienced in domestic infelicity, is correspondingly the more given to moral tags and pregnant sentences. He sometimes rises almost to poetry, as when he tells his wife:--

"Rough, wrathful words Are bastards got by rashness in the thoughts;"

from bathos he is just saved by a sense of the incongruous: "O doe not" begs he of the virago whom he styles "sweete,"

"O, doe not set the organ of thy voice On such a grunting tone of discontent! Doe not deforme the beautie of thy tongue With such mishapen answeres."

It is appropriate that upon him who has given rise to the brief unpleasantness by inviting guests without his wife's consent, should rest the _onus_ of devising the effective "pollicie" of reconciliation.

From him Goursey is well differenced. Possessed of a finer wife and a quicker temper, when the former, contrary to expectation, crosses the latter he well-nigh falls into an apoplexy. Oaths he abhors, but in the access of his rage swears horribly and apologizes to the Almighty between breaths.

That the morals of the sons reproduce those of the sires in their salad days, I reluctantly suspect. It is the recital of young Frank's licentiousness that convinces young Philip that here is just the husband for Sister Mall. And--considering that Mall is frankly and squarely what her mother calls her, a "lustie guts" and "vile girl," in fact her mother's daughter, fit to "floute the devill and make blush the boldest face of man that ere man saw" a swearing wench whose only claim to morals is unmorality--Philip's judgment is correct. There is, in my opinion, no coarser-minded girl in Elizabethan comedy; and at the same time there obtains no dramatic portrayal of the animal more observantly conceived or more faithfully executed. That she is, as Mr. Ellis says, less sophisticated than Congreve's Prue, is not exactly to her credit. Nor need I make her out "a wholesome, robust English girl ... with a brave openness, loving and sincere," in order to justify my appreciation of Porter's skill in creating her. She is, indeed, robust and Elizabethan, seventeen and upward; but within she is a mate for Caliban; no relation to Prue,--rather a link between Wapull's Wilful Wanton and Vanbrugh's Hoyden. It is hardly necessary to point out the literary and dramatic affinities of Sir Raph and his wife: the buck-hunting squire and the lady tender-hearted and "pitous."

The foregoing are characters of broad outline; but each has, as well, his quirk of conduct, manners, or of style. The jealous wife with her "stopt compares"; "Mistresse Would-Have," who has "let restrainèd fancy lose," and sworn to lead no apes in hell; her brother, a poet at second-hand, and "sick discourser" of his sister's wit; Nan Lawson's lover of "quick invention" and "pleasure-aiming mind,"--these and others of the major movement are as palpably in their "humours" as Mrs. Otter, Doll Common, Master Stephen, or Kitely, or Truewit. And when we turn to the secondary group we find the "humours" not only advertised upon the title-page but specified in the text. Dick Coomes is "humord bluntly" to brag and swear and drink and quarrel and talk bawdy. "I see, by this dearth of good swords, that dearth of sword-and-buckler fight begins to grow out; I am sorry for it," complains this swashbuckler serving-man. With "Sbloud!" he comes upon the stage, and there's little left of God unhallowed when Coomes subsides beneath his buckler in the dark. "Why, what a swearing keeps this drunken asse," exclaims Francis. "Peace, do not marre his _humour_," Phil replies. "Away, bawdie man," cries Hodge, and even the Boy must say, "Here him no more, maister; he doth bedawbe ye with his durty speche." He has a "merrie _humour_," too, this Coomes, of punning, and has brought "the apparell of his wit ... into fashion of an honor." A Thraso of the servants' hall, he'll outswear any 'Pharaoh's foot' of a tailor's shop. He can dispute precedence with Ancient Pistol as "the foul-mouthedst rogue in England"; and when he's in his "quarreling _humour_," not Pistol, nor Bobadil, nor the 'humorous' Nim could swagger to Dawson's close or out of a horse-pond with a more humorous grace. It is to be noted that, in his first lines, Coomes animadverts upon "the humour of those young springals," his masters, who "will spend all their fathers' good at gaming"; also that Philip's servingman has his humour both of manners and of style: "a spruce slave," cross-gartered like Malvolio, "a nosegay bound with laces in his hat," "all proverbes in his speech ... because he would speak truth," a dramatic Camden or Ray, who quotes Latin withal, and is as marked in his "humour" as Coomes and Franke's Boy, and Mall and Mrs. Barnes in theirs.

=Place in the History of Comedy.=--It would, therefore, be of no small importance to determine whether this _Pleasant History_ is Henslowe's _Comodey of Umers_ of May 11, 1597; for if it be, this play of characteristics precedes _Every Man in his Humour_, and disputes the "place peculiar to itself in our dramatic literature" which most critics have assigned to that masterpiece of Ben Jonson. But even if it be not the play of May 11, 1597, our drama was certainly written before December 22, 1598, probably by May 30 of that year; and consequently to Porter, as an influential associate of Chapman and Jonson, must be given something of the credit of blazing the path toward the comedy of characteristic. The fun of the play has at once a Chaucerian shrewdness and a something of the careless guffaw of W. Wager. Its realism throws back to _Mak_, and _Johan_, _Tom Tyler_ and _Gammer Gurton_. As a comedy of unadulterated native flavour, breathing rural life and manners and the modern spirit, constructed with knowledge of the stage, and without affectation or constraint, it has no foregoing analogue except perhaps _The Pinner of Wakefield_. No play preceding or contemporary yields an easier conversational prose, not even the _Merry Wives_.

We must not close this study without remarking certain resemblances to Shakespeare. In the matter of situations and language traces of the _Romeo and Juliet_ of 1592, and the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_ of 1594-1595, appear. The fanciful reader might, indeed, suspect something like a good-natured burlesque of the balcony scene in the conversation between Frank and Mall "at her window"; perhaps even of the _motif_ of Shakespeare's tragedy, in the loves of the children of the inimical wives of Abington: "How, sir? your wife!" says Mrs. Barnes to Francis:--

"Wouldst thou my daughter have? Ile rather have her married to her grave."

Even so had spoken Lady Capulet. And Romeo seems to be muttering in his sleep through Philip's soliloquy:--

"The skie ... Is in three houres become an Ethiope ... She will not have one of those pearlèd starres To blab her sable metamorphosis."

If anything further were needed to illustrate Philip's taste in plays, it would be furnished by the hazy reminiscence of "the imperial votaress" and "the nun, for aye ... in shady cloister mewed." Indeed, if Porter did not have in mind the quadrilateral wanderings of the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_ when Frank and Mall missed the way to Carfax, I am much surprised. That Dick Coomes, when he stood between his mistress and the angel to be tempted, was not thinking of Gobbo, is, of course, possible, but it is not possible that Dick Coomes's creator was not familiar with the _Merchant of Venice_. There is also, as I have already implied, a quality in Dick's sword-and-buckler voice that rings contemporaneous with the _Henry IV., Pts. I. and II._ To trace a connection between the well-known lines of _Hamlet_ in 1602 and Porter's

"How loathsome is this beast man's shape to me This mould of reason so unreasonable"

(1597-98), would, I fear, be fanciful. The resemblance, faint as it is, may be due to mere coincidence or to derivation from a common source.