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JOHN WEBSTER.

[IN the case of nearly every one of the dramatists already noticed, we have had to lament the scantiness of biographical materials; but in no instance is this scantiness more lamentable than in the case of the 'noble-minded' John Webster. Regarding this author, nearly all that is known for certain is, that he was contemporary with most of the dramatists already mentioned, and that he wrote certain dramas of a high order, some of which are still extant. On the title-page of one of his works he is styled 'merchant-tailor,' and in the dedication to the same work he describes himself as 'one born free of the Merchant-Tailors' Company.' Gildon, who wrote about 1698, asserts that Webster was clerk of the parish of St. Andrew's, Holborn; but Dyce, after careful search of the registers and other documents relating to that church, could not find the dramatist's name mentioned. The same industrious editor found the names of three John Websters who had been made free of Merchant-Tailors' Company between 1571 and 1617, but none of these can be identified with the dramatist. It has also been conjectured that, like many of his contemporaries, he was an actor as well as a writer of plays. This exhausts nearly all that is known or has been conjectured concerning this shadowy but highly-gifted dramatist, except the allusions made to him in Henslowe's diary, the first of which occurrs in 1601 in connection with a play entitled The Guise; but whether this was a work of Webster's own, or an old play which he had 'doctored' for the stage, it is now impossible to say. To be as definite as we dare, we may state that Professor Masson gives the dates of Webster's life and death approximately as 1570-1640.

Webster wrote a number of dramas in conjunction with some of his contemporaries. In 1607 were printed The Famous History of Sir Thomas Wyatt, Westward Hoe, and Northward Hoe, the joint productions of Webster and Decker. The extant dramas undoubtedly Webster's own are The White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona (printed 1612); The Duchess of Malfi (published 1623, but first produced about 1616); The Devil's Law Case (1623); Appius and Virginia (first printed in 1654). All who have written on the subject agree in placing Webster in the very highest rank of the second-rate dramatists, i.e. of all those inferior to Shakespeare. His two tragedies, The White Devil and The Duchess of Malfi, are by far his best; and, according to Hazlitt, ‘upon the whole, perhaps, come the nearest to Shakespeare of anything we have upon record.' Webster's genius was of a weird, gloomy, morbid cast, like Marlowe's raised to a higher power; his works are full of rich but 'terrible graces.' Comparing Webster with Decker, Hazlitt says: Webster gives more scope to the various combinations and changeable aspects [of the simple uncompounded elements of nature and passion], brings them into dramatic play by contrast and comparisons, flings them into a state of confusion by a kindled fancy, makes them describe a wider arc of oscillation from the impulse of unbridled passion, and carries both terror and pity to a more painful and sometimes unwarrantable excess.' Webster delights 'to suggest horrible imaginings,' and to adorn his sentiments with some image of tender and awful beauty.' We have selected as a specimen of Webster's dramas, The Duchess of Malfi, in speaking of which Charles Lamb says, the duchess has lived among horrors till she has become "native and endowed into that element." She speaks the dialect of despair; her tongue has a snatch of Tartarus and the souls of hell. To move a horror skilfully, to touch a soul to the quick, to lay upon fear as much as it can bear; to wean and weary a life till it is ready to drop, and then step in with mortal instruments to take its last forfeits; this only a Webster can do.']

THE TRAGEDY OF THE DUCHESS OF MALFI.

AS IT WAS PRESENTED PRIVATELY AT THE BLACK FRIARS, AND PUBLICLY
AT THE GLOBE, BY THE KING'S MAJESTY'S SERVANTS.

The perfect and exact copy, with diverse things printed that the length of the play
would not bear in the presentment.

WRITTEN BY JOHN WEBSTER.

London. 1623.

TO THE

RIGHT HONOURABLE GEORGE HARDING,

BARON BERKELEY, OF BERKELEY CASTLE, AND KNIGHT OF THE ORDER OF THE BATH
TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE CHARLES.

MY NOBLE LORD,-That I may present my ex-
cuse why, being a stranger to your lordship, I
offer this poem to your patronage, I plead this
warrant:-men who never saw the sea, yet desire
to behold that regiment of waters, choose some
eminent river to guide them thither, and make
that, as it were, their conduct or postilion: by
the like ingenious means has your fame arrived
at my knowledge, receiving it from some of
worth, who, both in contemplation and practice,
owe to your honour their clearest service. I do
not altogether look up at your title; the ancientest
nobility being but a relic of time past, and the
truest honour indeed being for a man to confer
honour on himself, which your learning strives
to propagate, and shall make you arrive at the
dignity of a great example. I am confident this
work is not unworthy your honour's perusal;
for by such poems as this poets have kissed the
hands of great princes, and drawn their gentle

eyes to look down upon their sheets of paper, when the poets themselves were bound up in their winding-sheets. The like courtesy from your lordship shall make you live in your grave, and laurel spring out of it, when the ignorant scorners of the Muses, that like worms in libraries seem to live only to destroy learning, shall wither neglected and forgotten. This work and myself I humbly present to your approved censure,' it being the utmost of my wishes to have your honourable self my weighty and perspicuous comment; which grace so done me shall ever be acknowledged

By your lordship's

in all duty and observance, JOHN WEBSTER.

1 censure-judgment, criticism; from Lat. censeo, to think, judge.

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JOHN WEBSTER.

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[IN the case of nearly every one of the dramatists already noticed, we have had to lament the scantiness of biographical materials; but in no instance is this scantiness more lamentable than in the case of the 'noble-minded' John Webster. Regarding this author, nearly all that is known for certain is, that he was contemporary with most of the dramatists already mentioned, and that he wrote certain dramas of a high order, some of which are stü. extant. On the title-page of one of his works he is styled 'merchant-tailor,' and in the dedication to the same work he describes himself as one born free of the Merchant-Tailors Company.' Gildon, who wrote about 1698, asserts that Webster was clerk of the parish o St. Andrew's, Holborn; but Dyce, after careful search of the registers and other documents relating to that church, could not find the dramatist's name mentioned. The same industrious editor found the names of three John Websters who had been made free of Merchant-Tailors' Company between 1571 and 1617, but none of these can be identifed with the dramatist. It has also been conjectured that, like many of his contemporaries, he was an actor as well as a writer of plays. This exhausts nearly all that is known or has been conjectured concerning this shadowy but highly-gifted dramatist, except the allusions made to him in Henslowe's diary, the first of which occurrs in 1601 in connection with a play entitled The Guise; but whether this was a work of Webster's own, or an old play which he had 'doctored' for the stage, it is now impossible to say. To be as definite as we dare, we may state that Professor Masson gives the dates of Webster's life and death approximately as 1570-1640.

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Webster wrote a number of dramas in conjunction with some of his contemporaries. 1607 were printed The Famous History of Sir Thomas Wyatt, Westward Hoe, and North ward Hoe, the joint productions of Webster and Decker. The extant dramas undoubtedly Webster's own are The White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona (printed 1612); The Duchess of Malfi (published 1623, but first produced about 1616); The Devil's Law Case (1623); Appius and Virginia (first printed in 1654). All who have written on the subject agree in placing Webster in the very highest rank of the second-rate dramatists, i.e. of all those inferior to Shakespeare. His two tragedies, The White Devil and The Duchess of Malf, are by far his best; and, according to Hazlitt, upon the whole, perhaps, come the nearest to Shakespeare of anything we have upon record.' Webster's genius was of a weird, gloomy, morbid cast, like Marlowe's raised to a higher power; his works are full of rich but 'terrible graces.' Comparing Webster with Decker, Hazlitt says: Webster gives more scope to the various combinations and changeable aspects [of the simple uncompounded elements of nature and passion], brings them into dramatic play by contrast and comparisons, flings them into a state of confusion by a kindled fancy, makes them describe a wider aro of oscillation from the impulse of unbridled passion, and carries be painful and sometimes unwarrantable excess.' Webster delic ings,' and to adorn his sentiments with some image of to selected as a specimen of Webster's dramas, The Duc Charles Lamb says, the duchess has lived among h endowed into that element." She speaks the diale Tartarus and the souls of hell. To move a horro lay upon fear as much as it can bear; to wean then step in with mortal instruments to take i

and pity to a more -t horrible imaginbeauty.' We have ! speaking of which become "native and ngue has a snatch of:a soul to the quick mata za wandy to dro»

AS IT WAS FRESENIZED FR

AT THE ELE ITE

The perfect and coac

RIGHT E

BARON BERKELEY. IF KELELET CATE

MY NOBLE LORD,-This I my przem cuse why, being a stranger to your offer this poem to your patri-pe warrant:-men who never saw the to behold that regiment was sue is eminent river to guide them the st that, as it were, their conduct

the like ingenious means has your inte at my knowledge, receiving i in worth, who, both in contemplation and practice owe to your honour their cleats ETIL not altogether look up at your te, the morn nobility being but a relic of time past and fur truest honour indeed being for a mat is susir honour on himself, which your learning arve to propagate, and shall make you arrive at for dignity of a great example. I am confident Un work is not unworthy your honours prasa for by such poems as this poets have kad t hands of great princes, and drawn their gate

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ach;

come.

gallery,

End DELIO.

de Bosola,

is: pray, let me

f him

s him.

[Exit Attendant.

ng. Good Lord Silvio,

our noble friends

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ACT I.-SCENE I.

Enter ANTONIO and DELIO.

Del. You are welcome to your country, dear
Antonio;

You have been long in France, and you return
A very formal Frenchman in your habit:
How do you like the French court?

Ant. I admire it:

In seeking to reduce both state and people
To a fix'd order, their judicious king
Begins at home; quits first his royal palace
Of flattering sycophants, of dissolute
And infamous persons,-which he sweetly terms
His master's masterpiece, the work of heaven:
Considering duly that a prince's court

Is like a common fountain, whence should flow
Pure silver drops in general, but if't chance
Some curs'd example poison'd near the head,
Death and diseases through the whole land
spread.

And what is't makes this blessèd government
But a most provident council, who dare freely
Inform him the corruption of the times?
Though some o' the court hold it presumption
To instruct princes what they ought to do,
It is a noble duty to inform them

What they ought to foresee.-Here comes Bosola,
The only court-gall; yet I observe his railing
Is not for simple love of piety:

Indeed, he rails at those things which he wants;
Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud,
Bloody, or envious, as any man,

If he had means to be so.-Here's the cardinal.

Enter CARDINAL and BoSOLA.

Bos. I do haunt you still.

Card. So.

Bos. I have done you better service than to be slighted thus. Miserable age, where only the reward of doing well is the doing of it!

Card. You enforce your merit too much.

Bos. I fell into the galleys in your service; where, for two years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt, with a knot on the shoulder, after the fashion of a Roman mantle. Slighted thus! I will thrive some way: blackbirds fatten best in hard weather; why not I in these dogdays?

Card. Would you could become honest!

Bos. With all your divinity do but direct me the way to it. I have known many travel far for it, and yet return as arrant knaves as they went forth, because they carried themselves always along with them. [Exit Cardinal.] Are you gone? Some fellows, they say, are possessed with the devil, but this great fellow were able to possess the greatest devil, and make him

worse.

Ant. He hath denied thee some suit?

and dogs when they have done us service;1 ba for a soldier that hazards his limbs in a batti nothing but a kind of geometry is his last supportation.

Del. Geometry!

Bos. Ay, to hang in a fair pair of slings, tak his latter swing in the world upon an honourab pair of crutches, from hospital to hospital. Far ye well, sir: and yet do not you scorn us; ir. places in the court are but like beds in the hospital, where this man's head lies at this man's foot, and so lower and lower. [Erit

Del. I knew this fellow seven years in the galleys

For a notorious murder; and 'twas thought
The cardinal suborn'd it: he was releas'd
By the French general, Gaston de Foix,
When he recover'd Naples.

Ant. "Tis great pity

He should be thus neglected. I have heard
He's very valiant. This foul melancholy
Will poison all his goodness; for, I'll tell you,
If too immoderate sleep be truly said
To be an inward rust unto the soul,
It then doth follow want of action
Breeds all black malcontents; and their clos
rearing,

Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing.

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Bos. He and his brother are like plum-trees that grow crooked over standing-pools; they are rich and o'erladen with fruit, but none but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed on them. Could I be one of their flattering panders, I would hang on their ears like a horseleech, till I were full, and then drop off. I pray, leave me. Who would rely upon these miserable dependencies, in expectation to be advanced to-morrow? what creature ever fed worse than hoping Tantalus? nor ever died any man more fearfully than he that hoped for a pardon. There are rewards for hawks

1 quits-clears.

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