handout 2. early comedies and tragedies. kyd and marlowe

8/6/2019 Handout 2. Early Comedies and Tragedies. Kyd and Marlowe

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Nicholas Udall

Ralph Roister Doister

The PrologueWhat Creature is in health, eyther yong or olde,But som mirth with modestie wil be glad to useAs we in thys Enterlude shall now unfolde,Wherin all scurilitie we utterly refuse, rejectAvoiding such mirth wherin is abuse:Knowing nothing more comendable for a mans recreationThan Mirth which is used in an honest fashion:For Myrth prolongeth lyfe, and causeth health.Mirth recreates our spirites and voydeth pensivenesse, casts outMirth increaseth amitie, not hindring our wealth, friendshipMirth is to be used both of more and lesse, great and lesser personagesBeing mixed with vertue in decent comlynesse.As we trust no good nature can gainsay the same:Which mirth we intende to use, avoidyng all blame.The wyse Poets long time heretofore,Under merrie Comedies secretes did declare,

Wherein was contained very vertuous lore,With mysteries and forewarnings very rare.Suche to write neither Plautus nor Terence dyd spare,Whiche among the learned at this day beares the bell: takes the prizeThese with such other therein dyd excell.Our Comedie or Enterlude which we intende to playIs named Royster Doyster indeede,Which against the vayne glorious doth invey,Whose humour the roystingsort continually doth feede. blustering, riotousThus by your pacience we intende to proceedeIn this our Enterlude by Gods leave and grace,And here I take my leave for a certaine space.

Gorboduc

Act III, Scene 1.

Gorboduc, Eubulus, Arostus, Philander, Nuntius.

Nuntius: O King the greatest grief that ever Princedid hear

That ever woeful Messenger did tell,160 That ever wretched land hath seen before

I bring to you. Porrex your younger sonWith sudden force, invaded hath the landThat you to Ferrex did allot to rule:And with his own most bloody hand he hath

165 His brother slain, and doth possess his Realm.Gorboduc: O Heavens send down the flames ofyour revenge,

Destroy I say with flash of wreakful fireThe Traitor son, and then the wretched sireBut let us go, that yet perhaps I may

170 Die with revenge, and pease the hateful godsChorus: The lust of the kingdoms knows no sacredfaith

No rule of Reason, no regard of right

No kindly love, no fear of heavens wrath:But with contempt of Gods, and mans despite175 Through bloody slaughter doth prepare theways

To fatal Scepter and accursed reignThe son so loathes the fathers lingering daysNe dreads his hand in Brothers blood to stainO wretched Prince, ne dost thou yet record

180 The yet fresh Murders done within the LandsOf thy forefathers, when the cruel swordBereft Morgan his life with cousins hands?Thus fatal plagues pursue the guilty raceWhose murderous hand imbrued with guiltless

blood.185 Asks vengeance before the heavens face,

With endless mischiefs on the cursed broodThe wicked child this brings to woeful SireThe mournful plight to waft his weary life:Thus do the cruel flames of Civil fire

190 Destroys the parted reign with hateful strifeAnd hence doth spring the well from which

doth flow:

The dead black streams of mournings, plaintsand woe.


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Thomas Kyd (1558-1594)

The Spanish Tragedy

Act III, Scene 12A: Hieronimos garden

[Enter Jaques and Pedro.]

JAQUES: I wonder, Pedro, why our master thusAt midnight sends us with our torches light,

When man and bird and beast are all at rest,Save those that watch for rape and bloody murder.PEDRO: Oh Jaques, know thou that our masters mindIs much distraught since his Horatio died,And -- now his aged years should sleep in rest,His heart in quiet -- like a desperate man,Grows lunatic and childish for his son.Sometimes, as he doth at his table sit, ... [III.12.10A]He speaks as if Horatio stood by him:Then starting in a rage, falls on the earth,Cries out Horatio, where is my Horatio?So that with extreme grief and cutting sorrow,There is not left in him one inch of man.

See where he comes. [Enter Hieronimo.]HIERONIMO: I pry through every crevice of each wall,Look on each tree and search through every brake,Beat at the bushes, stamp our grandam earth,Dive in the water and stare up to heaven: ... [III.12.20A]Yet cannot I behold my son Horatio. --How now, whos there? Spirits, spirits?PEDRO: We are your servants that attend you, sir.HIERONIMO: What make you with your torches in the dark?PEDRO; You bid us light them, and attend you here.HIERONIMO: No, no, you are deceived -- not I -- you aredeceived.Was I so mad to bid you light your torches now?

Light me your torches at the mid of noon,Whenas the sun-god rides in all his glory:Light me your torches then.PEDRO: ~~~ Then we burn daylight. ... [III.12.30A]HIERONIMO: Let it be burnt; night is a murderous slutThat would not have her treasons to be seen;And yonder pale-faced Hecate there, the Moon,Doth give consent to that is done in darkness;And all those Stars that gaze upon her faceAre aeglets on her sleeve, pins on her train;And those that should be powerful and divineDo sleep in darkness, when they most should shine.PEDRO: Provoke them not, fair sir, with tempting words:The heavens are gracious, and your miseries ... [III.12.40A]And sorrow makes you speak, you know not what.HIERONIMO: Villain, thou liest, and thou dost noughtBut tell me I am mad: Thou liest, I am not mad!I know thee to be Pedro, and he Jaques.Ill prove it to thee; and were I mad, how could I?Where was she that same night when my HoratioWas murdered? She should have shone: Search thou the book.Had the moon shone in my boys face there was a kind of grace,That I know -- nay, I do know -- had the murderer seen him,His weapon would have falln and cut the earth, ...[III.12.50A]

Had he been framed of naught but blood and death.Alack, when mischief doth it knows not what,What shall we say to mischief? [Enter Isabella.]ISABELLA: Dear Hieronimo, come in a-doors;Oh, seek not means so to increase thy sorrow.

HIERONIMO: Chitesc prin toate borile din ziduri,M uit prin toi copacii, rscolescMrciniurile, bat n tufe,Buesc btrna glie cu piciorul,M-afund n ap sau msor tria.Dar nu-l gsesc pe fiul meu Horaio.Hei, cine e pe-acolo? Duhuri? Duhuri?PEDRO: Noi suntem slujitorii ti, stpne.HIERONIMO: De ce-ai ieit cu faclele n bezn?PEDRO: Aa ne-ai poruncit chiar tu, stpne.HIERONIMO: Nu, nu, v nelai! Nu eu, nu eu;V nelai! Doar nu eram nebunS poruncesc fclii n miez de noapte!Aprindei-le n amiaza mareCnd zeul-soare strlucete-n slvi,Atunci le-aprindei.PEDRO: Am aprinde-amiaza.HIERONIMO: S ard; noaptea-i trf uciga,Nu vrea s-i dea trdrile-n vileag:i-aceast palid Hecat, luna,Ea e codoaa faptelor din bezne;Iar stelele care-i contempl chipulSunt fluturi pe-ai ei mneci, i hurmuzuriPe trene ei; vai, cei ce s-ar cdeaS fie-atotputernici i cereti,S dea lumin, iat, dorm n bezn.PEDRO: Stpne bun, nu le strni mnia:Milos e cerul; marea ta durereTe face s-ndrugi vorbe frr ir.HIERONIMO: Mini, ticloase! Asta tii s faci:mi spui c sunt nebun: mini, nu-s nebun!tiu c eti Pedro, i c el e Jacques.Voi dovedi ce spun; de-a fi nebun,Cum a putea? Ea unde-a fost n noapteaCnd l-au ucis pe fiul meu cel drag?De ce n-a luminat? Citete-n carte.O, de-ar fi fost lumin-n noaptea-aceea...

Biatul meu avea pe chip un farmec,I-l tiu. O, de-l vedea i ucigaul S nu fi fost tlharul plmditDect din cheag de snge i din crim i tot ar fi scpat cuitul jos.


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HIERONIMO: Indeed, Isabella, we do nothing here;I do not cry: ask Pedro, and ask Jaques;Not I, indeed; we are very merry, very merry.ISABELLA: How? Be merry here, be merry here?Is not this the place, and this the very tree, ... [III.12.60A]Where my Horatio died, where he was murdered?HIERONIMO: Was -- do not say what: let her weep it out.This was the tree; I set it of a kernel:And when our hot Spain could not let it grow,But that the infant and the human sapBegan to wither, duly twice a morningWould I be sprinkling it with fountain-water.At last it grew, and grew, and bore, and bore,Til at lengthIt grew a gallows, and did bear our sonne, ... [III.12.70A]It bore thy fruit and mine: oh wicked, wicked plant.

Alei, cnd rul nu mai tie seama,Ce s-i mai spunem rului? (Intr ISABELLA.)ISABELLA: Vin, Hieronimo, dragul meu, n cas;Nu mai cta s-i nteeti durerea.HIERONIMO: Dar n-am fcut nimica, Isabella;Nu plng, ntreab-i: Pedro, Jacques, aa-i?Zu nu; ba suntem veseli, foarte veseli.ISABELLA: Cum? Veseli, suntei veseli chiar aici,Chiar lng pomul unde s-a sfrit,Unde-a murit ucis Horaio-al meu?HIERONIMO: Era ... nu-i spunei ce: s plng-n voie.Acesta-i pomul, eu l-am semnat,Eu i-am sdit smna n pmnt,i cnd nfiebntata noastr SpanieNu l-a lsat s creasc, vetejindi tnrul vlstar i seva lui,De dou ori n fiecare zil rcoream cu ap din fntn.i s-a-nlat voinic i a rodit,i-ntr-un trziuSpnzurtoare s-a fcut, purtndu-lPe fiul nostru, rodul tu i-al meu...O, pom pctoit, pctoit!

Christopher Marlowe (1564-1593)

The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus (1616)

Act 5

[The clock strikes eleven.]FAUSTUS

O, Faustus,Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,And then thou must be damned perpetually.

Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven,That time may cease, and midnight never come.Fair natures eye, rise, rise again and makePerpetual day. Or let this hour be but a year,A month, a week, a natural day,That Faustus may repent, and save his soul.O lente, lente currite, noctis equi!

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike.The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.O, Ill leap up to heaven; who pulls me down?One drop of blood will save me.Rend not my heart, for naming of my Christ.Yet will I call on him. O spare me, Lucifer.

Where is it now? Tis gone.And see a threatening arm, an angry brow.Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me,And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven.No? Then will I headlong run into the earth.Gape, earth! O no, it will not harbour me.You stars that reigned at my nativity,Whose influence hath allotted death and hell,Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist,Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud,That when you vomit forth into the air,My limbs may issue from your smokey mouths,But let my soul mount, and ascend to heaven.[The watch strikes.]O, half the hour is past! Twill all be past anon.O, if my soul must suffer for my sin,Impose some end to my incessant pain.Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years,

[Orologiul bate ora unsprezece.]FAUSTUS:Ah, Faust,Un ceas i mai rmne de trit;Apoi te-ateapt venica osnd!

Oprii-v, lumintori cereti,Ca vremea s stea-n loc i miezul nopiiS nu mai bat; ochi frumos al firii,Rsari din nou i-nvenicete ziua;De nu, pref-te, ceasule, -ntr-un an,O lun, apte zile, ntr-o zi,Ca Faust s se pot poci!O lente, lente currite, noctis equi!

Dar stelele se mic, vremea fuge,Va bate ceasul, dracii vor venii Faust i va cpta osnda!S m avnt spre Cel-nalt! Ah, cineE cel care m trage-n jos? Privii!

De sngele lui Crist e plin bolta...Un singur strop m-ar izbvi... Isuse!Nu m zdrobi, puternic Lucifer,Din pricina chemrii ce i-o fac!Eu am s-l strig mereu... Fii milostiv!Unde-i acum? S-a dus! Ah, iat Domnuli-ntinde braul i tcut se-ncrunt!V prvlii asupr-mi, muni i dealuri,i de urgia lui m tinuii!Nu vrei?M-nghit-atunci genunea fr fund!Pmntule, te casc! Nu m vrea...Voi, stele ce sclipeai atunci cnd m-am nscuti mi-ai ursit pieirea i gheena,M soarbei ca pe-o cea i m ducein pntecele norilor scmoi,Ca-n clipa cnd m vei zvrli-ndrt,Prin gura lor de fum s-mi ias trupul,
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A hundred thousand, and at last be saved.No end is limited to damned souls.Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?Or why is this immortal that thou hast?Oh Pitagoras metempsychosis were that true,This soul should fly from me, and I be changedInto some brutish beast.All beasts are happy, for when they die,Their souls are soon dissolved in elements,But mine must live still to be plagued in hell.Cursed be the parents that engendered me;No, Faustus, curse thyself. Curse LuciferThat hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven.[The clock strikes twelve]It strikes, it strikes! Now body turn to air,Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell.O soul be changed into small water drops,And fall into the ocean neer be found.[Thunder, and enter the devils.]O mercy, heaven! Look not so fierce on me;Adders and serpents let me breathe awhile.Ugly hell, gape not; come not Lucifer!Ill burn my books! Oh, Mephistophilis! [Exeunt.]

Iar sufletul s urce ctre cer![Orologiul bate.]Din ceas a mai rmas doar jumtate!O, Doamne!De nu vrei s m crui, atunci mcarSfrit durerii mele hotrten numele lui Crist, al crui sngeA curs i pentru mine, s triescO mie, zeci de mii de ani n iadi-apoi s-mi aflu tihna. ns, vai,Cei pctoi sunt osndii pe veci...De ce nu-s o fptur fr suflet?Sau pentru ce-i nemuritor acesta?Pitagoreica metempsihozDe-ar fi adevrat, duhul meui-ar cuta sla n dobitoace!Ah! Ct le ferices!Suflarea lor,Cnd pier, o-nghit stihiile; al meuTriete-n veci ca s-l munceasc iadul.Prinii mei s fie blestemai!Ba nu, tu nsui, Faust, i satanaCe de cerescul har te-a vduvit![Orologiul bate miezul nopii.]E miezul nopii! Trup, pref-te-n aer,Altminteri mergi cu Lucifer n iad![Tunete i fulgere.]Pref-te suflete, n stropi mrunii-n mri te spulber: s-i piar urma![Intr diavolii.]Nu m privi att de aspru, Doamne!Nprci i erpi, lsai-m s suflu!Iad hd, nu te csca! Stai, Lucifer!Sunt gata s-mi ard crile! Mefisto![Ies diavolii cu Faust.]

handout 2. early comedies and tragedies. kyd and marlowe

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