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ACT III.

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III. i. 38. Her tears will pierce into a marble heart. Tamburlaine, Part I. 1. ii. (12, b): "Shall want my heart to be with gladness pierced.' Not in Q.

III. iii. 229. my mourning weeds are laid aside. Tamburlaine, Part II. I. i. (43, a): "wear a woful mourning weed." In Q.

ACT IV.

Iv. vi. 75. Make much of him, my lords. Tamburlaine, Part I. 1. ii. (12, b): "Make much of them, gentle Theridamas." In Q.

V. iii. I.

ACT V.

Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course.

Tamburlaine,

Part I. 11. i. (13, a): "Thus far are we toward Theridamas." Not in Q. v. iv. 66. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge. Tamburlaine, Part II. III. i. (54, a): "Our battle then, in martial manner pitched... shall bear The figure of the semi-circled moon.' Marshalling an army into battle array. Not in Q.

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v. iv. 67. the thorny wood (and III. ii. 174). Tamburlaine, Part I. Iv. i. (25, b): “As bristle-pointed as a thorny wood" (pine wood). In

Q.

v. vi. 43. And orphans born. Tamburlaine, Part I. iv. day, the hour, That ever .

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Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast iii. (28, b): “Tamburlaine shall rue the Not in Q.

There are a few Marlovian expressions, very few, in the Quartos not found in the final plays, which occur in Tamburlaine. These occur to my memory:

"The fainting army of that foolish king." Tamburlaine, Part I. 11. iii. (15, b).

"faintheart fugitives." Tamburlaine, Part II. v. i. (67, b).
"that coward faintheart runaway. Tamburlaine, Part II. III. ii.

(56, a).

"thickest throngs." Tamburlaine, Part II. III. ii. (56, a). See Table of Continued Expressions.

"Come let us go and banquet." Tamburlaine, Part II. 1. ii. (45, a). Not a satisfactory example, but nearly of the "Come let's go" of the Quarto. See Table of Continued Expressions.

No doubt there are some of these Quarto parallels overlooked, but probably none of much significance. Let us see what information the above lists yield. I find them full of meaning. But it is interesting to note a few special points amongst these illustrations. For example, is there not a mocking intention at 2 Henry VI. II. i. 162, where whole towns are made to fly ?—a mocking of Marlowe's absurdity of

making "whole cities caper in the air "?-though of course the reference is to the French towns. And when Cade calls his fellow-rebels "fellow-kings" (2 Henry VI. IV. ii. 163), an expression twice in Tamburlaine, has not Shakespeare again “a kindly gird"? And in the reference to the kingdoms of the Turk in 1 Henry VI. IV. vii. 72, does not the expression "Here is a silly-stately style indeed " sum up in a few admirably chosen words his judgment upon Marlovian rhodomontade in Tamburlaine? Sometimes, again, a simile is borrowed, found steeped in nonsense and transformed into a happy figure, as in the "porpentine" in 2 Henry VI. III. i. 363. It is ridiculous to blame a timid lad with hair as soft as down for not having it like the quills of a porcupine, as a ferocious young son of Mars should have. But the use in Shakespeare (wholly transfigured) forms a very vivid and not too extravagant picture.

For I believe Shakespeare helped himself to all these passages from Tamburlaine. As soon as a play was a success, the language seems to have become known by rote and common property amongst the dramatists, stored in the cask of memory, to be turned on tap at will. Not every one, however, had Shakespeare's memory, or his skill in adapting its stores. There is no other way out of the dilemma. These scraps of Marlowe continually occur where it is obvious Marlowe had no hand whatever, and they are often used with a different sense and in a context that is purely Shakespearian.

Possibly these turns of language have led the critics sometimes to attribute the authorship to Marlowe in places. But it is a wholly fallacious reasoning. There was no reproach in such usage. All of them did it. But as no one succeeded as Shakespeare did, it seems more noticeable in him. To Greene, a dramatic failure, this lent a weapon of abuse. In Greene's jaundiced and green-eyed orb of jealousy, these are the feathers Shakespeare beautified himself with, and the plumes he purloined. There were others, but these sufficed for his attack.

In Part I. the parallels tell their own tale. Several of them ("timeless death," "play the orator") were thought so well of that Shakespeare drove them through the whole trilogy, as my Table of Continued Expressions will exhibit. But with few

exceptions they become moribund, or nearly so, they faint, in Shakespeare's later work, after the famous attack in 1592— after Greene's death.

In the second Part an interesting discovery discloses itself. Not a single one of my selected expressions common to Tamburlaine and 2 Henry VI. is found in The First Contention (Q). This is quite parallel to the evidence derived already from Spenser's and Kyd's (Spanish Tragedy) parallels, and points to the early date of The Contention (first part). Not that I believe it to have preceded Marlowe's great play-that puts it out of Shakespeare's reach and period altogether, and I maintain he had a considerable hand in it—but Shakespeare had not learnt or studied that play as he must have done before he finished Henry VI It puts The Contention into its proper place of first in the series and preceding 1 Henry VI. and its own legitimate offspring 2 Henry VI. by some considerable term-one or two years for the former-during which time Shakespeare set to work in earnest at self-improvement in dramatic writing and devoured all he could lay hands upon. Probably his share in The Contention (first part) is the very earliest effort we have by Shakespeare.

The expressions quoted from Part III. are of no special significance, excepting that a few of them are unmistakable echoes. They are more often than not in The True Tragedy (Q), as must needs be the case, these plays (3 Henry VI. and True Tragedy) being more closely identical. The writing of the third Part agreed in point of time with that of its predecessor much more nearly than did 2 Henry VI. with its foundation play, which two are separated by a considerable interval.

I have already given reasons for not going further into Marlowe's parallelisms. There are several in my notes, down to the very end. Even in the last scene of 3 Henry VI. occurs a line ("And made our footstool of security") that closely resembles one in The Massacre at Paris. The passage reads to me like a thought developed into Shakespeare's use, although the dates if anything point the other way. The parallels from Edward II. have been noticed in Introduction to Part II.; and I am not particular as to which way the pendulum of originality swings, but I may quote Dyce. He says: "Mr. Collier, who regards it [Edward II.] (and no doubt, rightly) as

one of our author's latest pieces, has not attempted to fix its date." But that should be 1592 or 1593. See also the passage from the Jew of Malta (Act III.), "These arms . . . shall be thy sepulchre," quoted in 3 Henry VI. II. v. 114.

There is one argument to be adduced here in this connection. When Marlowe saw Shakespeare helping himself to phrases from Tamburlaine, would he not feel fully entitled to cull a few from Shakespeare in return, if they suited him, for his Edward II., on the principle of give and take which was generally adopted? And I think he did, for he has other expressions in Edward II., such as "undaunted spirit," from I Henry VI., undoubtedly earlier. This is a view that favours the lateness of Edward II., and it can be broadened considerably. Some of the well-known Marlovian lines in 2 Henry VI. are in the First Contention, the Q of that play; it is not reasonable to suppose Edward II. can have preceded that Quarto, therefore the assumption would be that Marlowe wrote those parts of The Contention from which he drew expressions in Edward II. But it would be easy to furnish a little collection of 1 Henry VI. expressions in Edward II., which are most likely borrowed in the latter from Shakespeare—Marlowe not having had, I think, anything to do with 1 Henry VI. And for that matter his share in The Contention is doubtful, certainly unimportant.

The whole series of Henry VI. may have been evolved as follows. Greene, Peele and Marlowe selected, or were allotted, the Henry VI. period to dramatise. They divided it roughly (as Cæsar did all Gaul) into three parts. Greene was in command of the wars of France and the death of that brave Talbot, the terror of the French, together with the exploits of Joan the Pucelle and the loss of the towns, and his part would have some such title.

Peele was chief of The First Part of the Contention, and with the others completed it. In doing so he received much help from the rising dramatist, Shakespeare.

Marlowe had charge of The True Tragedy. Shakespeare's success in the assistance he gave Peele, but especially in the completion of 1 Henry VI., acquired for him a yet larger share in this play.

Meanwhile Greene had failed in his share. Either he

found it uncongenial, or his platform was rejected, or his failure in other dramas at this juncture rendered him unacceptable, and he withdrew. Shakespeare having given satisfaction in his aid to The First Contention was entrusted with the sketch in an altogether chaotic and unfinished state, for completion. And his work was so well approved and of such high promise, that it justified the expansion into the full-sized play of I Henry VI. And as a natural sequence, owing to its immediate and triumphant success, the others were handed over to him for expansion into Parts II. and III. All the time he was on friendly terms with the others, except perhaps Greene, getting "wrinkles" and "tips" from his seniors, especially Peele, from time to time if required. Such collaboration would always occur amongst fellow-workers, leaving an impression of unity. Perhaps I may quote the words here of a well-known living actor and playwright as to the methods employed :— "How was it you collaborated with them? I would tell them that such and such a situation was not effective, and must be brought about in a different way. The balancing of the parts was not equal, and there was insufficient comedy, and although I never wrote a word of the play I would occasionally take hold of a certain speech and say that it would not 'speak' well, and would have no effect. I would suggest the addition of words, or say that the speech 'worked in this way' would be effective, that is to say, it would get, what we actors always want, a round of applause."—The Daily Telegraph, 18th March, 1908.

This is "parvis componere magna," but the positions and the practice at the final production of a play must be ever alike.

Enough has been said upon the development of the leading characters, Margaret and Henry, in various connections in my notes and Introduction. But there is one curious point in connection with Gloucester (the earlier Richard, son of York, afterwards King Richard III.) that I have never seen noticed, and for which I have no explanation to offer. For some reason or other Gloucester's characteristic talent, or affectation, or mannerism is that of proverb-making. It is no compliment to the lovers of old said saws. Grafton (Continuation of Hardyng, p. 548) says: "He had a sharpe and preg

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