CHAPTER VII

THEATRICAL ALLUSIONS

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

PARTS.

Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts. _Epilogue, line 5._

This word bears quite a respectable age of antiquity in its theatrical sense, being so used in the year 1495 in a note to the Coventry Mysteries. “Payd for copying of the 11 Knights partes and demons.” The meaning refers to the character assigned or sustained by an actor in a dramatic performance; also the words assigned to or spoken by an actor in such a character. It also refers to a printed copy of these words:

PLAY.

The King’s a beggar, now the play is done. _Epilogue, line 1._

TRAGEDIANS.

What say you to his expertness in war? Faith, sir, had led the drum before the English tragedians. IV, 3, 299.

Although the sentence is self explanatory, its meaning puzzled me. The contemporary drama has no reference to this somewhat primitive method of advertising. I wrote the following paragraph to _Notes and Queries_, and received the two replies which are here printed.

FROM _Notes and Queries_.

Shakespereana. All’s Well that Ends Well.

In the “Arden Shakespeare,” which is the only separate edition of this play that has a full commentary, the important passage, “Has led the drum before the English tragedians,” is left unnoticed. I am prepared to wager that not one in a hundred readers of Shakespeare would be able to interpret it. I am not quite certain of its interpretation, and therefore I ask your readers to interpret it. I believe it has reference to the actors who marched through the City accompanied by a drum to call attention to the play they were about to act.

(Sgnd.) MAURICE JONAS.

REPLIES.

Shakespereana. All’s Well that Ends Well. 10 S. XI. 30.

In reply to the query as to the meaning of the passage, “Has led the drum before the English tragedians,” I offer the following quotation from the _European Magazine_ for June, 1788. It refers to the early history of the drama in Birmingham. In about 1740 a theatre was erected in Moor Street, which rather gave a spring to the amusement. In the daytime the comedian beat up for volunteers for the night, delivered his bills of fare and roared out an encomium on the excellence of the entertainment. “In 1751 a company arrived which announced themselves ‘His Majesty’s Servants from the Theatres Royal in London,’ and hoped the public would excuse the ceremony of the drum as beneath the dignity of a London company.” The novelty had a surprising effect, the performers had merit, and the house was continually crowded. It is evident, therefore, that the custom was prevalent long after Shakespeare’s death. I may add that there is a well-known portrait of Tarlton, the actor, which represents him with a big or small drum.

(Sgnd.) HOWARD S. PEARSON.

ANOTHER REPLY.

Parolle’s ridicule of Capt. Dumain’s soldiership by saying that “He led the drum before the English tragedians,” IV, III, 298, may be compared to Iago’s “That never set a squadron in the field” (Oth. I 1). And in both of those plays, in the scenes just referred to, the “bookish theoric” of war is satirized. Parolle’s comparison of Dumain, with the drummer that preceded a company of strolling players, was probably due to his knowledge of the importance of the soldier that carried the drum with his smatter of languages, and what appeared a ridiculous imitation of the military costume.

The military disliked the players marching to the beats of a drum, and sometimes, when the players entered a town where soldiers were quartered, a fight ensued, often ending in a riot. This explanation may support the point to Parolle’s remark. In III, 41, Parolle’s vexation at the loss of his drum is not clear from the text, so it is necessary to add that the colours were attached to the instrument in those times.

(Sgnd.) TOM JONES.

Does Tom Jones, in his reply, convey the idea that an English soldier marched in front of the actors? This is quite a conjectural assumption, not a scrap of evidence existing that such was the custom. Since writing my note I came across an allusion bearing on the subject. This appears in a letter written by Lord Hunsdon to the Lord Mayor in 1594, stating that “where my now company of players have been accustomed for the better exercise of their quality and for the service of her Majesty if need so require, to play this winter time within the City at the Cross Keys, in Gracious Street, those are to require and pray your Lordship to permit and suffer them so to do, the which I pray you the rather to do for that they have undertaken for me that where heretofore they began not their plays till towards four o’clock, they will now begin at two and have done between four and five, and will not use any drums or trumpets at all for the calling of the people together, and shall be contributors to the poor of the parish where they play according their habilities. Halliwell’s Illustrations, p. 31, of Remembrancia, p. 353, as quoted in Greg’s edition of _Henslowe’s Diary_.”

In this interesting and important extract nothing is said respecting the actors marching through the City with a drummer at their head. It is a well-known fact that three blasts of a trumpet announced that the play was about to commence. I feel sure something more is known about this practice, although it does not appear in the usual channels of information in reference to this period. At a much later date this custom seems to have prevailed when the actors visited the provinces, but whether it was customary or only occasional cannot be stated with any degree of certainty. Unfortunately, so many questions of Shakesperean interest must be unanswered in a similarly unsatisfactory manner.

Another question of interest arises from this extract. How comes it that the company formerly commenced their plays between four and five even in winter time? The players either acted at a regular theatre or in an inn-yard, and at both places acting took place in the open air. The only solution possible is that the actors rented a large room of one of the inns or taverns and there acted by candlelight, otherwise beginning at such a late hour cannot be accounted for.

AS YOU LIKE IT

STAGE, PLAYERS, EXITS, ENTRANCES, PLAYS, PARTS, ACTS, SCENE.

All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.

Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history. II, 7, 139.

ENTRANCES.

Entrances is not used as a stage direction. It is employed here in a special sense of an actor making his appearance on the stage. Exit denotes the departure of an actor from the stage, and is freely used in all the printed editions of Shakespeare’s works and in all other dramatic literature. The plural exeunt is also used in the same sense. Although exit is written and spoken in its Latin form, the word is thoroughly naturalised, whilst exeunt is marked in the dictionary as a foreigner. Man and Manet are also stage directions often to be met with in the old quarto editions; they signify that the actor or actors whose name or names follow this direction remain on the stage after the others have left; later dramatists did not use these terms, and now they have become obsolete. As the old quartos were not divided into scenes or acts, these directions generally indicated that the scene or act was concluded. At the end of a few plays the words “exeunt omnes” are to be found.

ACTOR.

“Bring us to this sight, and you shall say I’ll prove a busy actor in their play.” III, V, 62.

PLAY.

And so he plays his part. II, 7, 157.

I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you.

_Epilogue._

I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, that between you and the women the play may please.

_Epilogue._

PROLOGUE.

Shall we clap into ’t roundly, without hawking or spitting or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice.

PLAY.

Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. II, 7, 157.

CLOWN.

The roughish clown, at whom so oft your grace was wont to laugh at. II, 1, 8.

Hollow you clown! Peace, fool; It’s meat and drink for me to see a clown. V, 1, 12.

EPILOGUE. PLAY.

It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush! ’tis true that a good play needs no epilogue, yet to good wine they do use bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate you on the behalf of a good play!

PAGEANT.

Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy, This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. II, 7, 138.

If you will see a pageant truly play’d. III, 5, 55.

The general meaning of this word is simply a kind of dumb-show procession similar to our Lord Mayor’s Show. One of the earliest meanings of pageant referred to the stage, platform or scaffold on which such scenes were acted. It is a point of contention whether the pageant took its name from the structure or _vice versa_. In course of time, speaking parts were introduced, and then the word became to be applied indiscriminately to all kinds of plays, such as Mystery, Miracle, and Morality Plays, which had by the end of the sixteenth century become obsolete and antiquated.

In the York Miracle Cycle the Ordo Paginorum, the order of the pageants, is prefixed to the version of the plays. The Order consisted of different guilds, which took part in the plays represented on Corpus Christi day in the year 1415.

A subjoined quotation from Sir A. W. Ward’s English Dramatists would support the view that the pageant was provided with speaking parts of short duration. “Those pageants, in the generally accepted later and narrower use of the term, which consisted of moving shows devoid of either action or dialogue.” In a pageant given at Westminster Hall, before Henry VIII, an account is extant in which a dialogue is represented as taking place between the ladies and the ambassadors, also the sweet and harmonious saying of the Children. It will be observed that in these passages a germ of dialogue existed which in later years may have assumed such larger proportions as might justify these as being alluded to as plays.

EPILOGUE.

An address or short poem recital before the audience after the conclusion of a play. Rosalind, the heroine of this comedy, delivered the epilogue. Few dramatists in those days furnished either prologues or epilogues when writing their plays, but after the Restoration, when women played the female parts, the custom became universal and was generally spoken by one of the actresses. Nell Gwynne, when she acted, usually recited these lines. In many instances the epilogues are spoken by a person not connected with the play. There exists some doubt whether Shakespeare wrote the prologues and epilogues prefixed to the printed edition of his plays, the general custom permitting another hand adding these verses. Of course the magnificent prologues in “Henry V” are Shakespeare to the core.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA

COMEDIANS. EXTEMPORALLY. REVELS. BOY MY GREATNESS.

The quick comedians Extemporally will stage us, and present Our Alexandrian revels! Antony shall be brought drunken forth and I shall see some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness. In the posture of a wanton.

In this celebrated passage many terms are used in connexion with the theatre. The quick comedians were the lively, quick witted actors who, by their inventive methods, will produce a play according to the rules of the _Commedia del’ arte_, which is meant by “extemporally will stage us.” The meaning of the phrase, some “squeaking Cleopatra will boy my greatness” will be apparent to every one conversant with the theatrical history of Shakespeare’s time. At that period of dramatic history no woman was allowed to appear on the public stage, all female characters being represented by boys or men, which custom lasted until the Restoration. It is generally acknowledged that a Mrs. Hughes was the first woman to act on the public stage, appearing in the character of Desdemona. This innovation was of the utmost importance, and an interesting reference was made to this new custom in a specially written prologue by Thomas Jordan.

“I come unknown to any of the rest To tell the news I saw the lady drest: The woman plays the part to-day; mistake me not, No man in gown or page in petticoat.”

In comparison with former times, the stage must have reaped an enormous benefit by this change.

“Our women are defective and so sized You’d think they were some of the guard disguised, For to speak truth, men act that are between Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen With bone so large and nerve so incompliant, When you call Desdemona enter giant.”

PAGEANT.

Thou has seen these signs; They are black vesper’s pageants. IV, 14, 8.

PLAY. SCENE.

Play one scene of excellent dissembley And let it look like perfect honour. I, 3, 78.

PUPPET.

Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall be shown in Rome, as well as I. V, 2, 208.

STAGED. SHOW.

And be staged to the show against a sworder! III, 13, 30.

SHOW-PLACE.

In the common show-place, where they exercise. III, 6, 12.

CYMBELINE

ACT.

What, makest thou me a dullard in this act? V, 5, 265.

PLAY. PART.

Shall’s have a play of this? Thou scornful page. There lie thy part. Striking her, she falls. V, 5, 228.

“Shall’s” in Elizabethan drama is equivalent to our modern “shall we.” “There lie thy part,” refers to the part the page shall play by lying down.

PART. ACT.

That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me. III, 4, 26.

COMEDY OF ERRORS

JUGGLERS.

They say this town is full of cozenage; As nimble jugglers that deceive the eye. I, 2, 98.

In mediæval times Jugglers were frequently to be met with at the Court, being well received by an admiring audience. Their entertainment consisted of catching knives, tossing balls and feats of balancing. Such diversions even at the present day evoke unstinted applause, especially if practised by a Cinquevalli. The word is derived from the Latin _joculare_, to jest; the early meaning, which is now obsolete, denoted one who entertains or amuses people by shows, songs, buffoonery and tricks. It also bore the meaning of magician, wizard, or sorcerer.

MOUNTEBANK.

A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler. V, 1, 239.

A well known character in Shakespeare’s time. This entertainer performed at street corners, who, from an elevated position, addressed and amused his audience by means of stories, tricks, juggling and all forms of quackery, in which he was generally assisted by a professional clown or fool. Derived from the Italian _Montebanchi_, to mount a bench.

CORIOLANUS

MUMMERS.

If you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers. II, 1, 83.

In the fourteenth century, mummings were the customary entertainments held at the Court on festive occasions. They consisted of men in masquerade, performing in dumb show, with the addition of dancing. The word is derived from mum, an articulate sound made with closed lips. Anyone taking part in these mummings was called a mummer. The meaning of the word in its slang and contemptuous reference to an actor is of quite modern date. These mummings or disguisings--both these terms were used indifferently--continued to be presented until the first quarter of the sixteenth century, at which date they assumed the name of masks, and were of a more elaborate nature than the older form of entertainment, speaking parts being added, which were generally written in verse. This is the only instance in which Shakespeare uses the word.

ACTING. PART.

It is a part that I shall blush in acting. II, 2, 149.

ACTOR.

Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out. V, 3, 40.

SCENE. ACT.

When he might act the woman in the scene, He proved the best man. II, 2, 100.

The gods look down, and this unnatural scene they laugh at. V, 3, 184.

PROMPT.

So then the Volsces stand but as at first;

Ready, when time shall prompt them to make road upon’s again. III, 1, 6.

Come, come, we’ll prompt you. III, 2, 95.

HAMLET

ACT.

When thou see’st that act afoot, Even with the very comment of thy soul Observe mine uncle. III, 2, 83.

You that look pale and tremble at this chance That are but mutes or audience to this act. V, 2, 346.

ACTED.

I heard thee speak a speech once, but it was never acted. II, 2, 455.

ACTOR.

When Roscius was an actor in Rome, The actors are come hither. II, 2, 410.

Then came each actor on his ass. The best actors in the world. II, 2, 416.

HAMLET:

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

POLONIUS:

That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor. III, 2, 106.

ABRIDGEMENT.

For look, where my abridgement comes. II, 2, 439.

ARGUMENT.

There was for a while no money bid for argument. II, 2, 273.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play. III, 2, 149.

Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in it? III, 2, 242.

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

AUDIENCE.

They are but mutes or audience to this act. V, 2, 398.

CHORUS.

You are as good as a chorus, my lord. III, 2, 255.

CUE.

What would he do Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? III, 2, 587.

TRAGEDY. COMEDY. HISTORY. PASTORAL.

POLONIUS:

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral; tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited; Seneca cannot be too heavy, not Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men. II, 2, 415.

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

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

CELLARAGE.

Come on; you hear this fellow in the cellarage. Consent to sweat. I, V, 151.

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

DUMB SHOW.

Capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. III, 2, 14.

HAUTBOYS PLAY. THE DUMB-SHOW ENTERS. III, 2, 145.

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

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

ENACT.

What did you enact? I did enact Julius Cæsar, I was killed in the Capitol. Brutus killed me. III, 2, 107.

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

“Then burst his mighty heart, And in his mantle, muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey’s statue, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.”

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

GROUNDLINGS.

To split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. III, II, 12.

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

“For as we see The playhouse doors When ended is the play, the dance and song, A thousand townsmen, gentlemen and wantons, Porters and serving men, together throng.”

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

HOBBY HORSE.

For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot. III, 2, 144.

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

JIG.

Prithee, say on, he’s for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or else he sleeps. II, 2, 522.

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

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

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

LINES.

But if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. III, 2, 4.

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

“... and that each part Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued Book Those Delphic lines with deep impression took.”

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

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

He mouths a sentence As a cur mouths a bone.

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

PART.

The humourous-man shall end his part in peace. II, 2, 336.

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

PLAY.

He that plays the King shall be welcome. II, 2, 332.

The play I remember pleased not the million. II, 2, 456.

An excellent play well digested in the scenes. II, 2, 46.

We’ll hear a play to-morrow. Dost thou hear me? Old friend, can you play the murder of Gonzago? II, 2, 56.

I have heard that guilty creatures sitting at a play Have, by the very cunning of the scene, Been struck so to the soul, that presently They have proclaimed their malefactions. II, 2, 618.

I’ll have these players Play something like the murder of my father. II, 2, 624.

The play’s the thing Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king. II, 2, 663.

They have already order This night to play before him. III, 1, 21.

After the play Let the queen mother alone entreat him. III, 1, 189.

O, there be players that I have seen play. III, 2, 33.

Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them. III, 2, 43.

Though, in the meantime, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered. III, 2, 47.

There is a play to-night before the king. III, 2, 80.

If I steal ought whilst the play is playing And ’scape detecting, I will pay the theft. III, 2, 93.

They are coming to the play I must be idle. III, 2, 98.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play. III, 2, 150.

You are naught, you are naught, I’ll mark the play. III, 2, 158.

Madam, how like you the play? III, 2, 239.

What do you call the play? The Mouse trap. III, 2, 246.

The play is the image of a murder done in Vienna. III, 2, 265.

Give o’er the play. Give me some light, Away. III, 2, 279.

Ere I could make a prologue to my brains They had begun the play. V, 2, 31.

PLAYED.

My lord, you played once i’ the university, you say. III, 2, 104.

PLAYER.

What lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you. II, 2, 329.

What players are they? Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city. II, 2, 365.

Unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. II, 2, 373.

There are the players. You are welcome to Elsinore. II, 2, 386.

Lest my extent to the players should more appear like entertainment than yours. II, 2, 391.

I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players. II, 2, 406.

Will you see the players well bestowed. II, 2, 547.

Is it not monstrous that this player here But in a fiction in a dream of passion Could force his soul so to his own conceit. II, 2, 577.

I’ll have these players Play something like the murder of my father. II, 2, 623.

It so fell out that certain players We o’er-raught in the way. III, 1, 16.

If you mouth it as many of your players do. I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. III, 2, 3.

O, there be players that I have seen play. III, 3, 32.

Bid the players make haste. III, 2, 54.

Be the players ready. III, 2, 111.

The players cannot keep counsel, they tell all. III, 2, 162.

Will not this--get me a fellowship in a cry of players. III, 2, 289.

PLAYING.

Anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing. III, 2, 23.

If he steal aught whilst the play is playing. III, 2, 93.

PROLOGUE.

And prologue to the omen coming on. I, 1, 123.

Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring. III, 2, 123.

Ere I could make a prologue to my brains They had begun the play. V, 2, 30.

QUALITY.

Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? II, 2, 268.

We’ll have a speech straight, come give us a taste of your quality, come a passionate speech. III, 2, 451.

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

SCENE.

Scene individable or poem unlimited. II, 2, 418.

An excellent play well digested in the scenes. II, 2, 418.

Have by the very cunning of the scene. II, 2, 619.

One scene of it comes near the circumstance Which I have told thee of my father’s death. III, 2, 81.

SHOW.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play. III, 2, 149.

Will he tell us what this show meant. III, 2, 153.

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

STAGE.

These are now the fashion and so berattle the common stages. II, 2, 358.

He would drown the stage with tears. II, 2, 588.

TRAGEDIAN.

Those who were wont to take such delight in the tragedians of the city. II, 2, 324.

TRAGEDY.

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history. II, 2, 416.

For us and for our tragedy. III, 2, 159.

TRAGICAL.

Tragical, historical, tragical comical, historical pastoral. II, 2, 417.

VICE.

A vice of kings. A king of shreds and patches. III, IV, 98.

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

HAMLET.

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

ROSENCRANTZ.

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

HAM.

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

ROS.

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

HAM.

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

ROS.

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

HAM.

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

ROS.

No, indeed they are not.

HAM.

How comes it? Do they grow rusty?

ROS.

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

HAM.

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

ROS.

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

HAM.

Is’t possible?

GUILDENSTERN.

O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

HAM.

Do the boys carry it away?

ROS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

COMMON PLAYERS.

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

HAMLET’S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS. III, 2.

HAM.

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

FIRST PLAYER.

I warrant your honour.

HAM.

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

FIRST PLAY.

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

HAM.

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

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

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

THE MURDER OF GONZAGO.

HAM.

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

FIRST PLAY.

Ay, my lord.

HAM.

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

FIRST PLAY.

Ay, my lord.

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

You could for a need study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines. II, 2, 560.

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

OPH.

What means this, my lord?

HAM.

Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.

OPH.

Belike this show imports the argument of the play?

(_Enter Prologue._)

HAM.

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

OPH.

Will he tell us what this show meant?

HAM.

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

OPH.

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

PRO.

For, us and for our tragedy Here stooping to your clemency, We beg your hearing patiently.

HAM.

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

OPH.

’Tis brief, my lord.

HAM.

As woman’s love.

(_Enter two Players, King and Queen._)

P. KING.

Full thirty times hath Phœbus’ cart gone round Neptune’s salt wash and Tellus’ orbed ground, And thirty dozen moons with borrow’d sheen About the world have times twelve thirties been, Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

P. QUEEN.

So many journeys may the sun and moon Make us again count o’er ere love be done! But, woe is me! you are so sick of late, So far from cheer and from your former state, That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must; For women’s fear and love holds quantity In neither aught, or in extremity. Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know, And as my love is sized, my fear is so; Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear, Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

P. KING.

Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; My operant powers their functions leave to do; And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, Honour’d, beloved; and haply one as king For husband shalt thou ----.

P. QUEEN.

Oh, confound the rest! Such love must needs be treason in my breast; In second husband let me be accurst! None wed the second but who kill’d the first.

HAM (_Aside_).

Wormwood, wormwood!

P. QUEEN.

The instances that second marriage move Are base respects of thrift, but none of love; A second time I kill my husband dead, Then second husband kisses me in bed.

P. KING.

I do believe you think what now you speak, But what we do determine oft we break. Purpose is but the slave to memory, Of violent birth but poor validity; Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree, But fall unshaken when they mellow be. Most necessary ’tis that we forget To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt; What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. The violence of either grief or joy Their own enactures with themselves destroy; Where joy most revels grief doth most lament; Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. This world is not for aye, nor ’tis not strange That even our loves should with our fortunes change For ’tis a question left us yet to prove, Whether love lead fortune or else fortune love. The great man down, you mark his favourite flies; The poor advanced makes friends of enemies; And hitherto doth love on fortune tend; For who not needs shall never lack a friend; And who in want a hollow friend doth try Directly seasons him his enemy. But, orderly to end where I begun, Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown, Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own; So think thou wilt no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

P. QUEEN.

Nor earth to me give food nor heaven light! Sport and repose lock from me day and night! To desperation turn my trust and hope! An anchor’s cheer in prison be my scope! Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy, Meet what I would have well and it destroy! Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

HAM.

If she should break it now!

P. KING.

’Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile; My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile The tedious day with sleep.

P. QUEEN.

Sleep rock thy brain; And never come mischance between us twain!

(_Exit_).

HAM.

Madam, how like you this play?

QUEEN.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

HAM.

O, but she’ll keep her word.

KING.

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

HAM.

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

KING.

What do you call the play?

HAM.

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

(_Enter Player, as Lucianus._)

(_This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king._)

OPH.

You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

HAM.

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

LUC.

Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; Confederate season, else no creature seeing; Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecate’s ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural magic and dire property, On wholesome life usurp immediately.

(_Pours the poison into the Sleeper’s ears._)

HAM.

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

OPH.

The king rises!

HAM.

What, frighted with false fire!

QUEEN.

How fares my lord?

POL.

Give o’er the play.

KING.

Give me some light.--Away!

ALL.

Lights, lights, lights!

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