myself, yet have I worn a gown in the university; but this I dare presume, that if any Mæcenas bind me to him, by his bounty, or extend some sound liberality to me worth the speaking of, I will do him as much honour as any poet of my beardless years shall in England. Not that I am so confident what I can do, but that I attribute so much to my thankful mind above others, which would enable me, I am persuaded, to work miracles. On the contrary side, if I be evil entreated, or sent away with a flea in mine ear, let him look that I'll rail on him soundly, not for an hour or a day while the injury is fresh in my memory, but in some elaborate polished poem, which I will leave to the world when I am dead, to be a living image to all ages of his beggarly parsimony and ignorant illiberality: and let him 'not, whatsoever he be, treasure the weight of my words by this book, where I write quicquid in buccam veniret, as fast as my hand can trot; but I have terms, if I be vexed, laid in steep in aquafortis and gunpowder, that shall rattle through the skies, and make an earthquake in a peasant's ears.' The works of this formidable satirist are numerous-as, 'Return of the Renowned Cavaliero Pasquil of England' (1589); Strange Newes of the Intercepting Certaine Letters' (1592)-another fling at Harvey; 'Martin's Month's Mind' (1589); Pasquil's Apology' (1590); The Terrors of the Night, or a Discourse of Apparitions' (1594); &c. The least valuable of his productions are his attempts at the drama, but the stage offered attractions at that period which were irresistible to a needy author. ROBERT GREENE. ROBERT GREENE, a more distinguished dramatist, is believed to have been born at Norwich, about the year 1560. He was a graduate of St. John's College, Cambridge, 1578, but took his degree of M.A. at Clare Hall in 1583. In his work, The Repentance of Robert Greene' (1592), the unfortunate dramatist confesses his early iniquities. Being at the university of Cambridge,' he says, 'I light among wags as lewd as myself, with whom I consumed the flower of my youth, who drew me to travel into Italy and Spain, in which places I saw and practised such villainy as is abominable to declare. Thus by their counsel I sought to furnish myself with coin, which I procured by cunning sleights from my father and my friends, and my mother pampered me so long, and secretly helped me to the oil of angels; so that being then conversant with notable braggarts, booncompanions, and ordinary spendthrifts, that practised sundry superficial studies, I became as a scion grafted into the same stock, whereby I did absolutely participate of their nature and qualities. At my return into England, I ruffled out in my silks, in the habit of Malcontent, and seemed so discontent that no place would please me to abide in, nor no vocation cause me to stay myself in; but after I had by degrees proceeded master of arts (1583), I left the university, and away to London, where-after I had continued some short time, and driven myself out of credit with sundry of my friends-I became an author of plays and a penner of love-pamphlets, so that I soou grew famous in that quality, that who, for that trade, known so ordinary about London as Robin Greene? Young yet in years, though old in wickedness, I began to resolve that there was nothing bad that was profitable; whereupon I grew so rooted in all mischief, that I had as great a delight in wickedness as sundry have in godliness, and as much felicity I took in villainy as others had in honesty.' This account is amply borne out by contemporary testimony, especially by that of Gabriel Harvey, who has painted Greene in the darkest colours. In the midst of his dissipation, however, Greene lost none of his facility for literary composition. His first performance, 'Mamillia,' appeared in 1583; and before his death on the 3d of September 1592, he had produced above forty plays, poems, and tales. His works were highly popular, and were eagerly bought up by all classes. The most creditable of his prose works are short tales and romances, interspersed with poetry-as 'Pandosto, the Triumph of Time, or the History of Dorastus and Faunia' (1589); the History of Arbasto, King of Denmark;' 'A Pair of Turtle Doves, or the Tragical History of Bellora and Fidelio;' 'Menaphon,' &c. Others relate to his own history and adventures-as Greene's Never too Late, or a Power of Experience;' Greene's Mourning Garment,' 'Greene's Farewell to Folly,' The Repentence of Robert Greene,' &c. A third class of his performances disclosed the writer's peculiar knowledge of all town vices and villainies- -as A Notable Discovery of Cozenage,' 'Coney-catching,'The Black Book's Messenger, &c. The plays of Greene are Orlando Furioso,' a tragedy; · Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay;' Alphonsus, King of Arragon; James IV.;' George-a-Green, the Pinner of Wakefield; and a mystery play,' written in conjunction with Lodge, called ‘A Looking-glass for London and England.' Amidst a good deal of bombast and extravagance, there is genuine poetry in these plays. Some of the verses scattered through the tales are also remarkable for sweetness of expression and ornate diction. In his 'Pandosto,' from which Skakspeare took the plot of his Winter's Tale,' are the following lines: Ah, were she pitiful as she is fair, Or but as mild as she is seeming so, Then were my hopes greater than my despair- That seems to melt e'en with the mildest touch, The blank verse of Greene approaches next to that of Marlowe, though less energetic. His imagination was lively and discursive, fond of legendary lore, and filled with classical images and illustrations. In his ' Orlando,' he thus apostrophises the evening star: Fair queen of love, thou mistress of delight, Thou gladsome lamp that wait'st on Phoebe's train, Tried she these lawns ?-kind Flora boast thy pride: Sweet crystal springs, Wash ye with roses when she longs to drink. Ah thought, my heaven! Ah heaven, that knows my thought! Passages like this prove that Greene succeeds well, as Hallam remarks, in that florid and gay style, a little redundant in images, which Shakspeare frequently gives to his princes and courtiers, and which renders some unimpassioned scenes in the historic plays effective and brilliant.' Professor Tieck gives him the high praise of possessing a happy talent, a clear spirit, and a lively imagination.' His comedies have a good deal of boisterous merriment and farcical humour. George-a-Green is a shrewd Yorkshireman, who meets with the kings of Scotland and England, Robin Hood, Maid Marian, &c., and who, after various tricks, receives the pardon of King Edward: George-a-Green, give me thy hand: there is And now I see that fame speaks nought but truth. The following is a specimen of the simple humour and practical jokes in the play; it is in a scene between George and his servant: JENKIN. This fellow comes to me, And takes me by the bosom: You slave,' He takes no cold in his feet.' No, marry, shall he, sir,' quoth I; I took my cloak, spread it all along, And set his horse on the midst of it. GEORGE. Thon clown, didst thou set his horse upon thy cloak?' Madge and he were no sooner gone down into the ditch, But I plucked out my knife, cut four holes in my cloak, 'Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay' is Greene's best comedy. Histriars are conjurers, and the piece concludes with one of their pupils being carried off to hell on the back of one of Friar Bacon's devils. Mr. Collier thinks this was one of the latest instances of the devil being brought upon the stage in propria persona. The play was acted in 1591, but may have been produced a year or two earlier. In some hour of repentance, when death was nigh at hand, Greene wrote a tract, called 'A Groat's Worth of Wit, bought with a Million of Repentance,' in which he deplores his fate more feelingly than Nash, and also gives ghostly advice to his acquaintances that spend their wit in making plays. The first he styles thou famous gracer of tragedians,' and he accuses him of atheism: 'why should thy excellent wit, His gift, be so blinded, that thou shouldst give no glory to the giver? The allusion here is clearly to Marlowe, whom all his contemporaries charge with atheism. The second dramatist is addressed as Young Juvenal, that biting satirist that lastly with me together writ a comedy: sweet boy, might I advise thee, be advised, and get not many enemies by bitter words; inveigh against vain men, for thou canst do it no man better, no man so well.' Lodge is supposed to be the party here addressed. Finally, Greene counsels another dramatist, no less deserving than the other two,' and who was like himself' driven to extreme shifts,' not to depend on so mean a stay as the stage. Peele is evidently this third party. Greene then glances atShakspeare: For there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that, with his tiger's heart wrapt in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes Fac-totum, is, in his own conceit, the only Shake-scene in a country.' The punning allusion to Shakspeare is palpable: the expressions, tiger's heart,' &c. are a parody on the line in 'Henry VI.' part third O tiger's heart, wrapt in a woman's hide! The Winter's Tale' is believed to be one of Shakspeare's late dramas, not written till long after Greene's death; consequently, if this be correct, the unhappy man could not allude to the plagiarism of the plot from his tale of Pandosto.' Some forgotten play of Greene and his friend may have been alluded to; perhaps the old dramas on which Shakspeare constructed his 'Henry VI.' for in one of these the line O tiger's heart,' &c. also occurs. These old plays, however, seem above the pitch of Greene in tragedy. Shakspeare was certainly indebted to Marlowe, one of the dramatists thus addressed by Greene. The Groat's Worth of Wit' was published after Greene's death by a brother-dramatist, Henry Chettle, who, in the preface to a subsequent work, apologised indirectly for the allusion to Shakspeare. 'I am as sorry,' he says, 'as if the original fault had been my fault, because myself have seen his demeanour no less civil than he excel lent in the quality he professes. Besides, divers of worship have re E. L. v. 1-10 ་ ported his uprightness of dealing, which argues his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, that approves his art.' This is a valuable statement full justice is done to Shakspeare's moral worth and civil deportment, and to his respectability as an actor and author. Chettle's apology or explanation was made in 1593. The conclusion of Greene's Groat's Worth of Wit' contains more pathos than all his plays; it is a harrowing picture of genius debased by vice, and sorrowing in repentance: But now return I again to you three [Marlowe, Lodge, and Peele], knowing my misery is to you no news: and let me heartily entreat you to be warned by my harms. Delight not, as I have done, in irreligious oaths, despise drunkenness, fly lust, abhor nose epicures whose loose life hath made religion loathsome to your ears; and when they soothe you with terms of mastership, remember Robert Greene, whom they have often flattered-perishes for want of comfort. Remember, gentlemen, your lives are like so many light-tapers that are with care delivered to all of you to maintain; these, with wind-puffed wrath, may be extinguished, with drunkenness put out, with negligence let fail. The fire of my light is now at the last snuff. My hand is tired, and I forced to leave where I would begin; desirous that you should live, though himself be dying.-ROBERT GREENE. His death was wretched in the extreme. Having, at a supper where Nash was a guest, indulged to excess in pickled herrings and Rhenish wine, he contracted a mortal illness, under which he continued for a month, supported by a poor charitable cordwainer; and he was buried the day after his death in the New Churchyard near Bedlam, the cost of his funeral being 6s. 4d. Harvey says Green's corpse was decked by the cordwainer's wife with a garland of bays, pursuant to his last request!' Content-A Sonnet. Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content: Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent: The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown. Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss. The homely house that harbours quiet rest, The cottage that affords no pride nor care, The mean, that 'grees with country music best, The sweet consort of mirth's and music's fare. A mind content both crown and kingdom is. Sephestia's Song to her Child, after escaping from Shipwreck. |