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"Here's your right ground; wag gently o'er this black :
"Tis a short cast; y' are quickly at the jack.
Rub, rub an inch or two; two crowns to one
On this bowl's side; blow wind, 't is fairly thrown:
The next bowl's worse that comes; come, bowl away:
Mammon, you know the ground, untutor'd play :
Your last was gone, a yard of strength well spar'd
Had touch'd the block; your hand is still too hard.
Brave pastime, readers, to consume that day,
Which, without pastime, flies too swift away!
See how they labour; as if day and night
Were both too short to serve their loose delight:
See how their curved bodies wreath, and screw
Such antic shapes as Proteus never knew:
One raps an oath, another deals a curse;
He never better bowl'd; this never worse:
One rubs his itchless elbow, shrugs and laughs,
The other bends his beetle brows and chafes:
Sometimes they whoop, sometimes their Stygian cries
Send their black Santo's to the blushing skies:
Thus mingling humours in a mad confusion,
They make bad premises, and worse conclusion:
But where's a palm that fortune's hand allows
To bless the victor's honourable brows?
Come, reader, come; I'll light thine eye the way
To view the prize, the while the gamesters play:
Close by the jack, behold, jill Fortune stands
To wave the game: see in her partial hands
The glorious garland's held in open show,

To cheer the lads, and crown the conqu'ror's brow.
The world's the jack; the gamesters that contend,
Are Cupid, Mammon that judicious fiend,

That gives the ground, is Satan: and the bowls
Are sinful thoughts; the prize, a crown for fools.

Who breathes that bowls not? What bold tongue can say

Without a blush, he has not bowl'd to-day?

It is the trade of man, and ev'ry sinner

Has play'd his rubbers: every soul's a winner.

The vulgar proverb's crost, he hardly can

Be a good bowler and an honest man.

Good God! turn thou my Brazil thoughts anew;
New-sole my bowls, and make their bias true.
I'll cease to game, till fairer ground be given;
Nor wish to win, until the mark be Heav'n."

(2) SCENE II.-To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love.] Here, as in other passages where Troilus exhibits a presentiment of his lady's inconstancy, we can trace the influence of the "Troylus and Cryseyde:"

"But natheles, myn owene ladi bright!
Yit were it so that I wist utterly,

That I youre humble servaunt and your knyght
Were in youre herte yset so fermely,

As ye in myn, the whiche thing truly

Me lever were than this worldis tweyne,
Yit schulde I the better endure al my peyne."

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(3) SCENE II.-As false as Cressid.] The protestations of the fickle beauty in the old poem are not less confident; compare the following:

"To that Cryseyde answerid right anoone,

And with a sigh sche seide, 'O herte dere!
The game, ywis, so ferforthe now is gone,
That furste schal Phebus falle from his spere,
And hevene egle be as the douves fere,
And every rock out of his place sterte,
Er Troylus out of Cryseydis herte.'

"

And her declaration subsequently :—
"For thylke day that I for cherisynge,
Or diede of fader, or of other wight,
Or for estat, delit, or for weddynge,

Be fals to yow, my Troylus, my knygthe,
Saturnes doughter Juno, thorugh hyre myghte,
As wood as Athamante do me dwelle
Eternaliche, in Stix, the put of Helle!

"And this, on every god celestial

I swere it yow, and ek on ech goddesse,
On every nymphe, and deyte infernal,
On satiry and fawny more and lesse,
That halve goddes ben of wildernesse;
And Attropos my thred of life to-breste,
If I be fals! Now trowe me if yow leste."

(4) SCENE III.-Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.] This appeal of Calchas to the Greeks recals the corresponding circumstance in Chaucer :

"Then seyd he thus, Lo! lordis myn, I was

A Troyan, as it is knowe, out of drede;
And, if that yow remembre, I am Calcas,
That altherferst yaf comfort to your nede,
And tolde wele how ye sholdyn spede;
For, dredeles, thurgh you, shall, in a stound,
Ben Troy ybrent, and drewyn doun to ground.

"And in what forme, and yn what maner wise
This toun to shent, and al your lust acheve,
Ye have, or this, wele herd me yow devise:
This knowyn ye, my lordis, as I leve;
And, for the Grekys weryn me so leve;
I come my self, in my proper persone,
To teche yow what you was best to done.
"Havyng unto my tresour, ne my rent,
Right no regard in respect of your ese;
Thus al my good I lost, and to yow went,
Wenyng in this, my lordis, yow to plese;
But al my losse ne doth me no dissese,-
I vouchesaaf, al so wisely have 1 joy,
For yow to lese al that I had in Troy,-

"Save of a doghter that I left, alas!
Slepyng at home, whan out of toun I stert.
O sterne, O cruel fadir, that I was!
How myght I in that have so hard an hert?
Alas! that I ne had her broght in her shert!
For sorow of which I wole not lyve to-morow,
But if ye, lordis, wole ruwe on my sorow.
"For by that cause I sawe no tyme or now
Her to delivere, iche holden have my pees;
But now or nevere, if it likith you,

I may her have, for that is douteles:

O, help and grace! among all this pres,
Rewith on this old caytif in distresse,
Thurgh yow seth I am brought in wrecchidnes!

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"Pandare, on morwe whiche that comen was
Unto his nece, gon hir faire to grete,
And seide, Al this night so reyned it, allas!
That al my drede is, that ye, nece swete,
Have litel leyser hade to slepe and mete:
Al night,' quod he, hath rain so do me wake,
That some of us, I trowe, her hedis ake.'

"And nigh he come and seid, How stant it now?
This Mey morwe, nece, how kunne ye fare?'
Cryseide answerde, Never the bet for yow!
Fox that ye ben, God yeve yow hertis care!
God helpe me so, yow causeth al this fare,
Trowe I,' quod sche, for alle youre wordis white;
O, ho so seeth you, knoweth you but alite!""

(2) SCENE IV.-To our own selves bend we our needful talk.] The parting of the lovers, if not more natural, is managed with more pathos and delicacy in the elder poet :

"Cryseyde, when she redy was to ride,

Ful sorwfully she sighte, and seyde, Allas!
But forth she mot for ought that may betide,
And forth she rite ful sorwfully a pas ;
There is non other remedy in this cas.
What wonder is, though that hyre soore smerte,
When she forgothe hire owne swete herte?

"This Troylus, in gise of curteysie,

With hauke on hond, and with an huge route
Of knyghtes, rood, and dide hyre compaynye,
Passynge alle the valeye fer withoute;
And ferther wold han riden, out of doute,
Ful fayne, and wo was hym to gon so soone,
But tourne he moote, and it was eke to done.

"And right with that was Antenor ycome

Oute of the Grekes oste, and every wight
Was of it glad, and seyde he was welcome;
And Troylus, al nere his herte lighte,
He peyned hym with al his fulle myght
Hym to with holde of wepynge at the leeste,
And Antenor he kyste, and made feeste.

"And therwithal he moot his leve take,
And caste his eye upon hire pitously,
And nerre he rode, his cause for to make,
To take hire by the honde al sobrely:
And, Lorde! so she gan wepen tendrely!
And he ful soft and sleighely gan hire seye,
Now hold youre day, and do me not to deye.'

With that his courser turned he about,
With face pale, and unto Dyomede
No worde he spak, ne non of al his route;
Of whiche the sone of Tideus tooke hede,

As he that konthe moore than the crede

In swiche a craft, and by the reyne hire hente, And Troylus to Troye hom warde wente."

(3) SCENE V.-HECTOR and AJAX fight.] In Chapman's Homer, the combat is described with uncommon pomp and spirit:

"This said, in bright armes shone

The good strong Ajax: who, when all his warre attire was on, Marcht like the hugely figur'd Mars, when angry Jupiter,

With strength, on people proud of strength, sends him forth to

inferre

Wreakfull contention; and comes on, with presence full of feare;
So th' Achive rampire, Telamon, did twixt the hoasts appeare:
Smil'd; yet of terrible aspect; on earth with ample pace,
He boldly stalkt, and shooke aloft his dart with deadly grace.
It did the Grecians good to see; but heartquakes shooke the

joynts

Of all the Troians; Hectors selfe felt thoughts, with horrid points,
Tempt his bold bosome; but he now, must make no counterflight;
Nor (with his honour) now refuse, that had provokt the fight.
Ajax came neare; and like a towre his shield his bosome bard;
The right side brasse, and seven oxe hides within it quilted hard:
Old Tychius the best currier, that did in Hyla dwell,

Did frame it for exceeding proofe, and wrought it wondrous well.
With this stood he to Hector close and with this Brave began:
Now Hector thou shalt clearly know, thus meeting man to man,
What other leaders arme our hoast, besides great Thetis sonne:
Who, with his hardie Lions heart, hath armies overunne.
But he lies at our crookt-sternd fleet a Rivall with our king
In height of spirit: yet to Troy, he many knights did bring,
Coequall with Eacides; all able to sustaine

All thy bold challenge can import: begin then, words are vaine.
The Helme-grac't Hector answerd him: Renowned Telamon,
Prince of the souldiers came from Greece; assay not me like one,
Yong and immartiall, with great words, as to an Amazon dame;
I have the habit of all fights; and know the bloudie frame
Of every slaughter: I well know the ready right hand charge;

I know the left, and every sway, of my securefull targe;

I triumph in the crueltie of fixed combat fight,
And manage horse to all designes; I think then with good right,
I may be confident as farre as this thy challenge goes,
Without being taxed with a vaunt, borne out with emptie showes.
But (being a souldier so renownd) I will not worke on thee,
With least advantage of that skill, I know doth strengthen me;
And so with privitie of sleight, winne that for which I strive:
But at thy best (even open strength) if my endevours thrive.
Thus sent he his long Javelin forth; it strooke his foes huge
shield,

Neere to the upper skirt of brasse, which was the eighth it held. Sixe folds th' untamed dart strooke through, and in the seventh tough hide

The point was checkt; then Ajax threw his angry lance did glide

Quite through his bright orbicular targe, his curace, shirt of maile;
And did his manly stomachs mouth with dangerous taint assaile:
But in the bowing of himselfe, black death too short did strike.
Then both to pluck their Javelins forth, encountred Lion-like;
Whose bloudie violence is increast, by that raw food they eate:
Or Bores, whose strength, wilde nourishment, doth make so won-

drous great.

Againe Priamides did wound, in midst, his shield of brasse,
Yet pierc't not through the upper plate, the head reflected was:
But Ajax (following his Lance) smote through his target quite,
And stayd bold Hector rushing in; the Lance held way outright,
And burt his necke; out gusht the bloud; yet Hector ceast not so,
But in his strong hand tooke a Flint (as he did backwards go)
Blacke, sharpe and big, layd in the field: the sevenfold targe it
smit,

Full on the bosse; and round about the brasse did ring with it.
But Ajax a farre greater stone lift up, and (wreathing round
With all his bodie layd to it) he sent it forth to wound,
And gave unmeasur'd force to it; the round stone broke within
His rundled target: his lov'd knees to languish did begin;
And he leand, stretcht out on his shield; but Phoebus raisd him

streight.

Then had they layd on wounds with swords, in use of closer fight;
Unless the Heralds (messengers of Gods and godlike men)
The one of Troy, the other of Greece; had held betwixt them then
Imperiall scepters: when the one (Idæus, grave and wise)
Said to them; Now no more my sonnes: the Soveraigne of the
skies

Doth love you both; both souldiers are, all witnesse with good right:

But now night lays her mace on earth; tis good t'obey the night."

ACT V.

(1) SCENE II.-Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.] Steevens cites several passages from our old writers to show that it was customary for warriors to wear a lady's sleeve for a favour; the sleeve which Cressida bestows on Diomed, however, was that she had received from Troilus at their parting. Malone supposes it to have been such a one as was formerly used at tournaments :-" Also the deepe smocke sleive, which the Irish women use, they say, was old Spanish, and is used yet in Barbary; and yet that should seeme rather to be an old English fashion, for in armory the fashion of the manche, which is given in armes by many, being indeed nothing else but a sleive, is fashioned much like to that sleive."-SPENSER'S View of Ireland, p. 43, edit. 1633.

(2) SCENE II.-Rather think this not Cressid.] The grief of Troylus for his "light o' love" is beautifully told by the elder poet :

"Than spak he thus:-O, lady myn Cryseyde,

Wher is youre feith, and wher is youre beheste?
Wher is youre love, wher is youre trouth?' he seyde,
'Of Diomede have ye now al this feste!
Allas! I wold han trowed at the leste,
That, syn ye hold in trouthe to me stonde,
That ye thus holde han holden me in honde.

"Who shal nowe trowe on any other mo?
Allas! I nevere wolde han wende, or this,
That ye, Cryseide, koude han chaunged so,
Ne but I hadde agilt, and don amys;
So cruel wende I nought youre herte, ywis,
To sle me thus! allas! youre name of trouthe
Is now fordon, and that is al my routhe.

"Was there non other broche yow liste lete
To feffe with youre newe love,' quod he,
But thilke broche that I, with teris wete,

You yaf, as for a remembraunce of me?
None other cause, allas! ne hadde ye,
But for despit; and ek for that ye mente
Al outrely to shewen youre entente.

"Thorwgh which I se, that clene out of youre minde Ye han me caste, and ne kan nor may

For al this world withinne myn herte fynde,
To unloven yow a quarter of a day;
In cursed tyme I borne was, walawey!
That yow, that dothe me al this wo endure,
Yet love I best of any creature.'

(3) SCENE IX.--And hangs his shield behind him.] The circumstance of Hector being overpowered by Achilles and his followers when unarmed, the author is believed to have taken from Lydgate's poem:

"And in this while a grekishe kinge he mette,
Were it of hap or of adventure,

The which in sothe on his cote armure
Embrouded had full many ryche stone,
That gave a lyght, when the sonne shone,
Full bryght and cleare, that joye was to sene,
For Perles white and Emerawdes grene
Full many one were therin sette.-

Of whose arraye when Hector taketh hede,
Towardes him fast gan him drawe.
And fyrst I fynde how he hath hym slawe,
And after that by force of his manheade,
He hente him up afore him on his stede,
And fast gan wyth him for to ryde
From the wardes a lytell out of syde,
At good leyser playnly, if he maye,
To spoyle him of his ryche arraye.-
On horsebacke out whan he him ladde,
Reklesly the storye maketh mynde,
He caste his shelde at his backe behynde,
To welde him selfe at more lyberte.-
So that hys brest disarmed was and bare."

323

CRITICAL OPINIONS ON TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

"THE "Troilus and Cressida' of Shakspeare can scarcely be classed with his dramas of Greek and Roman history; but it forms an intermediate link between the fictitious Greek and Roman histories, which we may call legendary dramas, and the proper ancient histories. There is no one of Shakspeare's plays harder to characterise. The name and the remembrances connected with it prepare us for the representation of attachment no less faithful than fervent on the side of the youth, and of sudden and shameless inconstancy on the part of the lady. And this is, indeed, as the gold thread on which the scenes are strung, though often kept out of sight and out of mind by gems of greater value than itself. But as Shakspeare calls forth nothing from the mausoleum of history, or the catacombs of tradition, without giving or eliciting some permanent and general interest, and brings forward no subject which he does not moralize or intellectualize, so here he has drawn in Cressida the portrait of a vehement passion, that, having its true origin and proper cause in warmth of temperament, fastens on, rather than fixes to, some one object by liking and temporary preference.

'There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.'

"This Shakspeare has contrasted with the profound affection represented in Troilus, and alone worthy the name of love ;-affection, passionate indeed, swoln with the confluence of youthful instincts and youthful fancy, and growing in the radiance of hope newly risen, in short enlarged by the collective sympathies of nature;—but still having a depth of calmer element in a will stronger than desire, more entire than choice, and which gives permanence to its own act by converting it into faith and duty. Hence, with excellent judgment, and with an excellence higher than mere judgment can give, at the close of the play, when Cressida has sunk into infamy below retrieval and beneath hope, the same will, which had been the substance and the basis of his love, while the restless pleasures and passionate longings, like sea-waves, had tossed but on its surface,-this same moral energy is represented as snatching him aloof from all neighbourhood with her dishonour, from all lingering fondness and languishing regrets, whilst it rushes with him into other and nobler duties, and deepens the channel which his heroic brother's death had left empty for its collected flood. Yet another secondary and subordinate purpose Shakspeare has inwoven with his delineation of these two characters,—that of opposing the inferior civilization, but purer morals, of the Trojans, to the refinements, deep policy, but duplicity and sensual corruptions, of the Greeks.

"To all this, however, so little comparative projection is given,-nay, the masterly group of Agamemnon, Nestor, and Ulysses, and, still more in advance, that of Achilles, Ajax, and Thersites, so manifestly occupy the foreground, that the subservience and vassalage of strength and animal courage to intellect and policy seems to be the lesson most often in our poet's view, and which he has taken little pains to connect with the former more interesting moral impersonated in the titular hero and heroine of the drama. But I am half inclined to believe, that Shakspeare's main object, or shall I rather say, his ruling impulse, was to translate the poetic heroes of paganism into the not less rude, but more intellectually vigorous, and more featurely, warriors of Christian chivalry,-and to substantiate the distinct and graceful profiles or outlines of the Homeric epic into the flesh and blood of the romantic drama,-in short, to give a grand history-piece in the robust style of Albert Durer.

"The character of Thersites, in particular, well deserves a more careful examination, as the Caliban of demagogic life ;—the admirable portrait of intellectual power deserted by all grace, all moral principle, all not momentary impulse ;—just wise enough to detect the weak head, and fool enough to provoke the armed fist of his betters ;-one whom malcontent Achilles can inveigle from malcontent Ajax, under the one condition, that he shall be called on to do nothing but abuse and slander, and that he shall be allowed to abuse as much and as purulently as he likes, that is, as he can ;-in short, a mule,—quarrelsome by the original discord of his nature,- -a slave by tenure of his own baseness,-made to bray and be brayed at, to despise and be despicable."-COLERIDGE.

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