1. In R. A. Foakes, Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Criticism of Shakespeare (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1989), 50.
2. Edward Dowden, Shakespeare (New York: Appleton, 1878), 55.
3. Sarah Beckwith, Shakespeare and the Grammar of Forgiveness (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2012), 1.
4. A full bibliographical review of scholarship and criticism through the early 2000s is available in Raphael Lyne, Shakespeare’s Late Work (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 156–59. More recent studies that have influenced my work include the following: Russ McDonald, Shakespeare’s Late Style (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Gordon McMullan, Shakespeare and the Idea of Late Writing: Authorship in the Proximity of Death (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007); and Beckwith, Shakespeare and the Grammar of Forgiveness. More specialized accounts that address changes in the Shakespearean mode in the early 1600s include A. R. Braunmuller, “Shakespeare’s Late Style,” in The Oxford Handbook of Shakespeare’s Poetry, ed. Jonathan F. S. Post (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 43–61; and Bart van Es, “Late Shakespeare and the Middle Ages,” in Medieval Shakespeare: Pasts and Presents, ed. Ruth Morse et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 37–51. For the idea of an “archipelagic” English and the broader political and social contexts for Jacobean Shakespeare, see John Kerrigan, Archipelagic English: Literature, History, and Politics, 1603–1707 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). Classic studies of the relationships of drama and the state in the Jacobean period remain Stephen Orgel, The Illusion of Power (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975); and Jonathan Goldberg, James I and the Politics of English Literature (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1981).
5. Bart van Es, “Reviving the Legacy of Indoor Performance,” in Moving Shakespeare Indoors: Performance and Repertoire in the Jacobean Playhouse, ed. Andrew Gurr and Farah Karim-Cooper (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 237.
6. The sense of Shakespeare as returning, late in his career, to early works for revision and recasting stands behind Emrys Jones, Scenic Form in Shakespeare (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971). For the Shakespearean career narrative as one self-conscious of its closure, see McMullan, Shakespeare and the Idea of Late Writing. For the notion that the late plays turn to more elaborate metaphors and rarified locutions, see Simon Palfrey, Late Shakespeare: A New World of Words (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997); and McDonald, Shakespeare’s Late Style.
7. Such a sensibility informs Lyne, Shakespeare’s Late Work. For the challenges to late twentieth-century theatrical performance, see Roger Warren, Staging Shakespeare’s Late Plays (Oxford: Clarendon, 1990).
8. Lucy Munro, “Emotions in Stranglehold,” Times Literary Supplement, January 22, 2016, 18.
9. Lyne, Shakespeare’s Late Work, 42.
10. Ibid., 43.
11. Jonathan Bate, Shakespeare and Ovid (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 267.
12. For a history of critical responses to the “lyric,” see The Lyric Theory Reader, ed. Virginia Jackson and Yopie Prins (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2014). For broader theoretical questions about lyric as a genre in history, see Jonathan Culler, Theory of the Lyric (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015).
13. Helen Vendler, The Art of Shakespeare’s Sonnets (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997), 2.
14. Cymbeline, ed. Roger Warren (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 133.
15. And for the common reader as well. See, most famously, Francis Meres’s 1598 remark that “the sweete wittie soule of Ovid lives in Mellifluous & hony-tongued Shakespeare,” and the discussions in Patrick Cheney, Shakespeare, National Poet-Playwright (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 49–73; Colin Burrow, Shakespeare and Classical Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013); as well as Bate, Shakespeare and Ovid.
16. See Philip Hardie, Ovid’s Poetics of Illusion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
17. Diana Poulton, John Dowland, rev. ed. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982). Additional scholarship may be found in Peter Holman, Dowland Lacrimae (1604) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), and in the articles in the special issue of Early Music 41.2 (2013), devoted to Dowland on the 450th anniversary of his birth. See, too, Christian Kelnberger, Text und Musik bei John Dowland (Passau: Verlag Karl Stutz, 1999), a book based on the author’s University of Munich dissertation and one that goes beyond Poulton in, among other things, identifying the strong Petrarchanism of Dowland’s lyrics and analyzing the forms of notation and instrumentation through which Dowland’s vocal and instrumental compositions would have been disseminated. Kelnberger also includes a complete edition of the lyrics from all four of Dowland’s volumes printed in his lifetime, with textual and critical annotations.
18. Michael Gale, “John Dowland, Celebrity Lute Teacher,” Early Music 41.2 (2013): 205–18, quoted at 213.
19. Ibid.
20. See Robin Headlam Wells, “Dowland, Ficino and Elizabethan Melancholy,” in Elizabethan Mythologies: Studies in Poetry, Drama and Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 189–224.
21. Kirsten Gibson, “‘How hard an enterprise it is’: Authorial Self-Fashioning in John Dowland’s Printed Books,” Early Music History 26 (2007): 43–90.
22. Tiffany Stern, “The Second Blackfriars Playhouse as a Place of Nostalgia,” in Moving Shakespeare Indoors, ed. Gurr and Karim-Cooper, 107.
23. Gibson, “‘How hard,’” 80.
24. These quotations from Dowland’s prefaces, and the material behind my summary, are in Poulton, John Dowland, 289–91. The phrase Cucullus non facit Monachum, while a commonplace, probably owes its early modern English circulation to Erasmus’s Colloquies, and while it appears in writings by Thomas Nashe and Richard Greene, it is best known to Shakespeareans for its appearance in Twelfth Night (1.5.52) and in Measure for Measure (5.1.271).
25. I do not presume to cover all the possible sources for the lyrical, Ovidian, and musical Shakespeare in the late plays. I stress a line of influence and resonance through Golding, Dowland, Chaucer, and the early dramas in the Shakespeare canon. On occasion, I will call attention to the ways in which visions of pastoral, for example, echo the idioms of Spenser, Sidney, and the earlier Elizabethans. But there are features of many other Elizabethan plays (some hovering around Shakespearean contribution) that shape ideas of music, ravishment, historical distance, and pastoral poetics, for example: Sir Clyomon and Sir Clamydes, The Thracian Wonder, Locrine, and Mucedorus. For scholarship exploring some of these relationships, see Jerry H. Bryant, “The Winter’s Tale and the Pastoral Tradition,” SQ 14 (1963): 387–98; L. G. Salingar, “Time and Art in Shakespeare’s Romances,” Renaissance Drama 9 (1966): 3–35; and Ruth Morse, “Shakespeare and the Remains of Britain,” in Medieval Shakespeare: Pasts and Presents, ed. Ruth Morse et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 119–37.
1. Quotations in this and the following paragraph are from the OED, s.v. “lyric (n).” For extended discussions of the form and genre in the period, see Heather Dubrow, The Challenges of Orpheus: Lyric Poetry and Early Modern England (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007), and her earlier distillation, “Lyric Forms,” in Arthur F. Kinney, ed., The Cambridge Companion to English Literature, 1500–1600 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 178–99.
2. Gavin Alexander, “Song in Shakespeare: Rhetoric, Identity, Agency,” in Post, ed., Oxford Handbook of Shakespeare’s Poetry, 247–64, this quotation from 260.
3. George Puttenham, The Arte of English Poesie (London, 1589), facsimile reprinting, ed. Baxter Hathaway (Kent: Kent State University Press, 1970), 246.
4. David Orr, “Flying on the Reflected Sky,” New York Times Book Review, July 20, 2012, BR22.
5. Jonathan Culler, Theory of the Lyric (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015), 37.
6. Seth Lerer, “Medieval English Literature and the Idea of the Anthology,” PMLA 118 (2003): 1251–67.
7. See, too, Jeffrey Todd Knight, Bound to Read: Compilations, Collections, and the Making of Renaissance Literature (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2013).
8. See Raymond Southall, The Courtly Maker (Oxford: Blackwell, 1964); Paul G. Remley, “Mary Shelton and Her Tudor Literary Milieu,” in Peter C. Herman, ed., Rethinking the Henrician Era (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1994), 40–77; Seth Lerer, Courtly Letters in the Age of Henry VIII (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 143–57.
9. E. Hyder Rollins, Tottel’s Miscellany, 2 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1928). Recent scholarship includes the essays in Stephen Hamrick, ed., Tottel’s Songes and Sonettes in Context (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2013); J. Christopher Warner, The Making and Marketing of Tottel’s Miscellany, 1557 (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2013); Matthew Zarnowiecki, Fair Copies: Reproducing the English Lyric from Tottel to Shakespeare (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014).
10. Compare Zarnowiecki’s point that Tottel effectively replaces the historical authors (notably Wyatt and Surrey) with a more general, unnamed “lover” figure: “Tottel employs a new kind of textual reproduction, which pursues both textual conservation and textual mutation” (Fair Copies, 28).
11. Paul Marquis, Richard Tottel’s Songes and Sonettes, The Elizabethan Version (Tempe, AZ: ACMRS, 2007), lxii.
12. Text and discussion in Colin Burrow, ed., The Complete Sonnets and Poems (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002).
13. Ibid., 80.
14. Material in this and the next three paragraphs adapts and revises a few sentences from Seth Lerer, “Hamlet’s Poem to Ophelia and the Theater of the Letter,” ELH 81 (2014): 841–64.
15. Marvin Rosenberg, The Masks of Hamlet (Cranbury: Associated University Presses, 1992), 381.
16. Material in this and the next paragraph adapts and revises a few sentences from Seth Lerer, “Cultivation and Inhumation: Some Thoughts on the Cultural Impact of Tottel’s Miscellany,” in Hamrick, ed., Tottel’s Songes and Sonettes in Context, 147–61.
17. See Ross W. Duffin, Shakespeare’s Songbook (New York: Norton, 2004), 211–14.
18. Bate, Shakespeare and Ovid, 91.
19. Hardie, Ovid’s Poetics of Illusion, 259. See, too, his reading of Ceyx and Alcyone, 272–85.
20. Quoted and discussed in Maria Ruvoldt, The Italian Renaissance Imagery of Inspiration: Metaphors of Sex, Sleep, and Dreams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 177. See the discussions throughout 177–85 for the representations of Morpheus as mask-maker in the period of Michelangelo.
21. Colin Burrow, “‘Full of the Maker’s Guile’: Ovid on Imitating and on the Imitation of Ovid,” in Philip Hardie et al., eds., Ovidian Transformations: Essays on the Metamorphoses and Its Reception (Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society, 1999), 271–87, this quotation from 278.
22. See John Fyler, Chaucer and Ovid (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1979); Deanne Williams, The French Fetish from Chaucer to Shakespeare (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 24–27.
23. Among the many studies, see Muriel Bradbrook, “What Shakespeare Did to Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde,” Shakespeare Quarterly 9 (1958): 311–19; Ann Thompson, Shakespeare’s Chaucer: A Study in Literary Origins (Liverpool: University of Liverpool Press, 1978); E. Talbot Donaldson, The Swan at the Well: Shakespeare Reading Chaucer (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1985); Sherron Knopp, “Poetry as Conjuring Act: The Franklin’s Tale and the Tempest,” Chaucer Review 38 (2004): 337–54; James Simpson and Sarah Beckwith, eds., “Premodern Shakespeare,” special issue of Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 40.1 (2010); Seth Lerer and Deanne Williams, “What Chaucer Did to Shakespeare: Books and Bodkins in Hamlet and the Tempest,” Shakespeare 8 (2012): 398–410. On the impact of Chaucer editions in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, see Tim William Machan, “Speght’s Works and the Invention of Chaucer,” TEXT 8 (1994): 145–70.
24. See the discussion in Raphael Lyne, Ovid’s Changing Worlds: English Metamorphoses, 1567–1632 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 27–79.
25. Ibid., 45.
26. Burrow, “‘Full of the Maker’s Guile,’” 278.
27. All Chaucer quotations are from Larry D. Benson, general ed., The Riverside Chaucer, 3rd ed. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987).
28. The verb “to harp,” meaning to dwell upon in speech or writing, does not appear until the middle of the sixteenth century. The OED (s.v. “harp [v.]),” def. 2, 3a) does not record its full, figurative meaning (that is, without the word “string”) until 1562, from Apol. Private Masse, “The great matter you harp on.” The next quotation is dated 1604, from Hamlet, when Polonius remarks, “Still harping on my daughter.” Based on this lexicography, Golding’s use of the verb here is both strikingly new and purposefully resonant with its mythological contexts.
29. This passage is quoted and discussed in Amanda Eubanks Winkler, O Let Us Howle Some Heavy Note: Music for Witches, the Melancholic, and the Mad for the Seventeenth-Century English Stage (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), 6.
30. Joseph Ortiz, Broken Harmony: Shakespeare and the Politics of Music (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2011), 6–8, from which I quote Peacham’s lines.
31. Embedded, here and throughout my book, is an engagement with music and lyric in Shakespeare that relies on a range of scholarship: Peter Seng, The Vocal Songs in the Plays of Shakespeare (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1967); Wilfrid Mellers, Harmonious Meeting: A Study of the Relationship between English Music, Poetry and Theatre, c. 1600–1900 (London: Dennis Dobson, 1965); Winifred Maynard, Elizabethan Lyric Poetry and Its Music (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986); Robin Headlam Wells, Elizabethan Mythologies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994); David Lindley, Shakespeare and Music (London: Thompson Learning, 2006); Erin Minear, Reverberating Song in Shakespeare and Milton (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011).
32. Kirsten Gibson, “‘How hard an enterprise it is’: Authorial Self-Fashioning in John Dowland’s Printed Books,” Early Music History 26 (2007): 43–89; this from 78, 80.
33. Originally published in Thomas Campion, Poemata (London, 1595). I quote from the edition and (my modernized) translation in Poulton, John Dowland, 46.
34. See Martha Maas and Jane Snyder, Stringed Instruments of Ancient Greece (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1989), 79–112. For the lexicography, see Charlton T. Lewis and Charles Short, A Latin Dictionary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1879), s.v. “chelys.”
35. For the lexicography and references to literary passages behind this and the following paragraph, see Lewis and Short, A Latin Dictionary, s.v. “mulceo” and “permulceo.”
36. Thomas More, Utopia, ed. and trans. Edward Surtz, S.J., and J. H. Hexter, in The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, vol. 5 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1965). These passages can be found in Latin and modern English on 236–37. For Ralph Robinson’s revised 1556 translation, I use the edition of Edward Arber (London: Constable, 1906).
37. Richard Barnfield, Poems In divers humors (London, 1598), reprinted in The Passionate Pilgrim (1599) as the eighth poem in the book. Text and discussion in Burrow, ed., Complete Sonnets and Poems, 348–49.
38. The twentieth item in the First Booke of Songs (London: Peter Short, 1597). Here, and throughout, I quote from Nadal’s slightly modernized editions.
39. See the discussion in Holman, Dowland Lacrimae (1604).
40. Poulton lists over a dozen references and allusions to Lacrimae in the poetry and drama of the first three decades of the seventeenth century (John Dowland, 132–33). Further research is revealing. Dowland references come increasingly to appear in comic moments that set Dowland’s work in the mouths of clowns or rustics, fools, and animals. Perhaps the strangest of these appearances comes in the scene among the kitchen help in the Fletcher-Chapman-Middleton-Jonson play The Bloody Brother, when the Cook boasts of his own stovetop metamorphoses. There, he announces that he will make “pigs speak French at table,” “a dish of calves-feet dance the Canaries,” “a calves head speak an Oracle,” and finally, “Arion, like a Dolphin, playing Lachrymae” (2.ii). Poulton quotes only a small portion from this play (132). The text is usually dated to the end of the first quarter of the sixteenth century; its earliest production was at the Globe in 1633. My text is Rollo, Duke of Normandy: Or, the Bloody Brother (London: R. Holt for Dorman Newman, 1686). Readers of Shakespeare will remember this last phrase from Twelfth Night, where the figure of the ancient poet Arion, emerging from the sea astride a dolphin, evokes the power of the musical imagination. And, in Midsummer Night’s Dream, a mermaid on a dolphin figures forth an image of an almost-Orphic musicality. See Twelfth Night, 1.2.14–15: “Where, like Arion on the dolphin’s back, / I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves.” In Midsummer Night’s Dream, Oberon recalls how he once “heard a mermaid on a dolphin’s back / Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath / That the rude sea grew civil at her song” (2.1.150–52).
41. Steven W. May, “Popularizing Courtly Poetry: Tottel’s Miscellany and Its Progeny,” in Mike Pincombe and Cathy Shrank, eds., The Oxford Handbook of Tudor Literature, 1485–1603 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 432.
42. In Poulton, John Dowland, 275; Third and Last Booke of Songes or Aires . . . (London: P. S. for Thomas Adams, 1603). For the bibliographical and textual issues surrounding the book’s publication, see Poulton, John Dowland, 274–87.
43. See the text, discussion, and reproduction of the original printing in Anthony Rooley, “John Dowland and the Emblem Tradition,” Early Music 41 (2013): 273–80.
44. Poulton, John Dowland, 86–88.
45. In Holman, Dowland Lachrimae (1604), 4.
46. Charlton Hinman, The Printing and Proof-Reading of the First Folio of Shakespeare (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963); Peter W. M. Blayney, The First Folio of Shakespeare (Washington, DC: Folger Library, 1991); Anthony J. West, The Shakespeare First Folio: The History of the Book (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001); Emma Smith, The Making of Shakespeare’s First Folio (Oxford: Bodleian Library, 2016).
47. Here and throughout, I quote from the First Folio’s prefatory material from the facsimile of the copy in Trinity College, Cambridge, in Stephen Orgel and A. R. Braunmuller, eds., The Complete Pelican Shakespeare (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 2002).
48. See the summary of criticism in Kiernan Ryan, ed., Shakespeare: The Last Plays (London: Longman, 1999), 4–12. See, more pointedly, Stephen Orgel’s summary of evidence and scholarship on the placement of The Tempest: “All this reduces the evidentiary value of the play’s place in the Folio to practically nothing” (Orgel, ed., Tempest, 59). In reviewing the place of The Winter’s Tale, Orgel recalls the fact that the preceding play, Twelfth Night, ends on a recto and The Winter’s Tale begins on the following recto. Thus: “it has been deduced that the copy for the play arrived late at the printer’s, after the setting of the section of histories was already in progress. If this is the case, the fact that the play was placed last has as little significance as the fact that the Tempest was placed first” (Orgel, ed., Winter’s Tale, 81).
49. See Andrew Murphy, Shakespeare in Print: A History and Chronology of Shakespeare Publishing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 42–51.
50. Smith, Making, 29–30.
51. See Valerie Wayne, “The First Folio’s Arrangement and Its Finale,” Shakespeare Quarterly 66 (2015): 389–408. Wayne systematically reviews the arguments for and against coherent ordering in the Folio, and she makes the largely bibliographical case that I summarize in this paragraph.
52. Alfred W. Pollard, Shakespeare Folios and Quartos: A Study in the Bibliography of Shakespeare’s Plays, 1594–1685 (London: Methuen, 1909), 123–24; quoted and discussed in Wayne, “First Folio’s Arrangement,” 392–93 and throughout.
53. Leah Marcus, Puzzling Shakespeare: Local Reading and Its Discontents (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988), 109.
54. Henry Peacham, The Compleat Gentleman (London, 1622). I quote from the edition based on the 1634 edition, ed. G. S. Gordon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906), 54.
55. These lines come from the famous song beginning “In darkness let me dwell,” originally published in Robert Dowland, A Musicall Banquet (London: Printed for Thomas Adam, 1610).
56. Bate, Shakespeare and Ovid, 217–18.
57. Smith, Making, 161–64, with the reproduction of Cary’s annotations to the list of actors at plate 31.
58. Smith, Making, 164.
1. See John B. Bender, “The Day of the Tempest,” ELH 47 (1980): 235–58; Stephen Orgel, ed., The Tempest, 1–4; David Lindley, ed., The Tempest (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 2–3.
2. See Douglas Bruster, “Local Tempest: Shakespeare and the Work of the Early Modern Playhouse,” Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 25 (1995): 33–53, reprinted in Patrick M. Murphy, ed., The Tempest: Critical Essays (New York: Routledge, 2001), 257–75; on Blackfriars and the Globe as potential performance sites, see 264. See, too, Andrew Gurr, Playgoing in Shakespeare’s London (Cambridge University Press, 1987), on the larger relationships between the spectatorial and the auditory in the late plays, The Tempest in particular, and its venues: “From 1610 onwards, Shakespeare abandoned the idea of an auditory [sic] in favour of spectators” (93). See, too, the essays collected in Andrew Gurr and Farah Karim-Cooper, eds., Moving Shakespeare Indoors: Performance and Repertoire in the Jacobean Playhouse (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014).
3. In the “Induction” to Bartholomew Fair, Jonson states that there will be no “servant-monster” in the play, and goes on that he is “loth to make Nature afraid in his Plays, like those that beget Tales, Tempests, and such like Drolleries,” a set of references long taken as a criticism of Shakespeare’s play. In the “Prologue” to Every Man in His Humour, as printed in the 1616 Folio of Jonson’s works, he invites the audience to enjoy a play “Where neither Chorus wafts you o’re the seas, / Nor creaking Throne comes down, the boys to please / . . . nor roul’d bullet heard / To say, it Thunders; nor tempestuous Drum / Rumbles, to tell you when the Storm doth come.”
4. Thomas Tomkis, Albumazar, when the character Antonio describes how he had escaped shipwreck: “The heavens, and seas, and earth conspir’d against us; / The tempest tore our helm, and rent our tackles, / Broke the main-mast, while all the sea about us / Stood up in watry mountains to overwhelm us.” Text from Albumazar. A Comedy (London: T. Becket, 1773), 48. The Sea Voyage, in A. R. Waller, ed., Beaumont and Fletcher’s Works, vol. 9 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1909), opens with the Master commenting on the dangerous sea, with the boat reeling “like a Drunkard” (compare The Tempest, when Antonio laments, “We’re merely cheated of our lives by drunkards,” 1.1.48), and then remarks how he sees devils dancing and a dolphin shot from a wave, “hey day, hey day” (anticipating and displacing Caliban’s cries of “High-day! High-day!,” 2.2.181).
5. See John Jowett, “Ralph Crane and the Stage Directions in The Tempest,” Shakespeare Survey 36 (1983): 107–20; Orgel, ed., The Tempest, 56–62; Lindley, ed., The Tempest, 102–4, and his detailed “Textual Analysis” at 237–68.
6. For the critical tradition of The Tempest as a “new world” play, see the foundational essay by Stephen Greenblatt, “Learning to Curse: Aspects of Linguistic Colonialism in the Sixteenth Century,” originally published in Fredi Chiappelli, ed., First Images of America: The Impact of the New World on the Old (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1976), 561–80; and the recent review of scholarship and staging in Lindley, ed., The Tempest, 58–78.
7. Stephen Orgel, The Illusion of Power (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1975), distilled into Orgel, ed., The Tempest, 43–50, especially this maximal statement: “the masque in The Tempest is not a court masque, it is a dramatic allusion to one” (43–44).
8. See Bate, Shakespeare and Ovid, esp. 239–63; Colin Burrow, Shakespeare and Classical Antiquity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 128–32; Lindley, ed., The Tempest, 4–9.
9. Philip Hardie, Ovid’s Poetics of Illusion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 272–82; Burrow, “‘Full of the Maker’s Guile,’” 271–87; Bate, Shakespeare and Ovid, 218n1.
10. David Lindley, Shakespeare and Music (London: Thompson Learning, 2006), 1–9.
11. Ibid., 8.
12. Ibid., 231.
13. See Orgel, ed., The Tempest, 1–56. For the ways in which the “thematic” of music inflects the play’s sense of theatrical representation, see Lindley, Shakespeare and Music, 218–33, with special references to the differences between practical and “speculative” music in Renaissance theory. For a reading of the play as a theatrical engagement with the move from “barbarousness to language,” see Simon Palfrey, Late Shakespeare, a New World of Words (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 138–68. For Prospero’s island as a “theater itself” and the role of music in creating it, see Ortiz, Broken Harmony, 164–79.
14. See Orgel’s note, The Tempest, 205.
15. For a review of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century imaginations of “Shakespearean autobiography” in the figure of Prospero, see Orgel, ed., The Tempest, 10–11. Erich Auerbach, in his Shakespeare chapter in Mimesis, clings to a sense of Prospero as Shakespeare himself, offering a farewell to the stage (for a review and critique, see Seth Lerer, “Auerbach’s Shakespeare,” Philological Quarterly 90 [2011]: 21–44). While the many stage figurations of Prospero have presented him, variously, as a magus, a king, a colonist, and an alchemist (see Orgel, ed., The Tempest, 80–83), Ralph Fiennes played him as actually looking like Shakespeare in his Tempest at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, in 2014. See Sam Jordinson, “A Real Character: Is Prospero Shakespeare?,” The Guardian, April 15, 2014.
16. Lindley hints at such a reading, in Tempest, 110, note to line 6.
17. Burrow, “‘Full of the Maker’s Guile,’” 278.
18. “The Booke of the Duchesse,” in Larry D. Benson, gen. ed., The Riverside Chaucer, 3rd ed. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987). For an influential interpretation of this section of the poem as an exercise in courtly tact—presenting, in allegorical form, an argument for the poem’s dedicatee, John of Gaunt, to accept the death of his wife, Blanche—see A. C. Spearing, Medieval Dream Poetry (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), 53–58. For more on the place of Ovid’s story in Chaucer’s poem, see Kathryn L. Lynch, Chaucer’s Philosophical Visions (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2000), 31–60; and Deanne Williams, “The Dream Visions,” in Seth Lerer, ed., The Yale Companion to Chaucer (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2006), esp. 149–55.
19. “Sweet” and “sweetness” fill Elizabethan writings about music and desire. They become part of the larger vocabulary of ravishment, not just in English but in Latin. Campion’s verses in praise of Dowland repeatedly call his music suave. Dowland’s First Book of Songes of 1597 has lyrics with such opening lines as “Come away, come sweet loue,” “Come againe: sweet loue doth now enuite,” and “Awake sweet loue thou art returnd.” Barnfield’s poem from The Passionate Pilgrim had opened, “If music and sweet poetry agree,” and Dowland’s Second Book of Songes from 1600 has a song that opens, “O sweet woods, the delight of solitarinesse,” identified as a line taken from Sir Philip Sidney’s 1598 edition of The Countess of Pembrokes Arcadia (Poulton, John Dowland, 262). For Peacham on Luca Marenzio, see Poulton, John Dowland, 415. Patrick Hannay’s poem, “Seretine and Mariana,” appeared in The Nightingale (London: Nathaniel Butler, 1622). His work has long been seen as hearkening back to Marlowe’s Hero and Leander in particular. An especially Dowland-like moment in Marlowe’s poem may be: “And now begins Leander to display / Loues holy fire, with words, with sighs and teares, / Which like sweet musicke entered Heroes eares” (Hero and Leander, 192–94, in Fredson Bowers, ed., The Complete Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 2 [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981]). Roland Greene finds these images of sweetness to be part of a larger sixteenth-century engagement with Petrarch’s poetry and with the inheritance of the idioms of things dolce in Italian poetry. See Post Petrarchism: Origins and Innovations of the Western Lyric Sequence (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991).
20. Phaer’s translation of the first seven books of the Aeneid appeared in 1558. Written in fourteeners, it was widely praised throughout the 1560s and 1570s. But by the 1610s, its verse form and its diction would have seemed arrestingly old-fashioned. Phaer’s vocabulary, in the words of Margaret Tudeau-Clayton, aspired to an “exclusive . . . ornate . . . polished” language. See her “Supplementing the Aeneid in Early Modern England: Translation, Imitation, Commentary,” International Journal of the Classical Tradition 4 (1998): 507–25. See, too, Sheldon Brammall, The English Aeneid: Translating Virgil, 1555–1646 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014), esp. 22.
21. Bruster, “Local Tempest,” in Murphy, ed., Critical Essays, 267–70.
22. The word “playing” appears three times in The Tempest and only in stage directions: at 1.2, “Reenter Ariel, invisible, playing and singing”; at 2.1, “Enter Ariel, invisible, playing; solemn music”; and at 5.1, “Here Prospero discovers Ferdinand and Miranda playing at chess.”
23. See Deanne Williams, “Enter Ofelia Playing on a Lute,” in Kaara L. Peterson and Deanne Williams, eds., The Afterlife of Ophelia (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 119–36.
24. For a close look at Ariel’s entrances, songs, and exits as a matter of performance cuing, see Simon Palfrey and Tiffany Stern, Shakespeare in Parts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 284–88.
25. See the citations in the online Shakespeare Concordance.
26. Poulton, John Dowland, 70. Dowland and Johnson are recorded, as well, as playing at James’s funeral, May 5, 1625 (Poulton, John Dowland, 88).
27. Jonathan Woolfson, “The Renaissance of Bees,” Renaissance Studies 24 (2009): 281–300.
28. For a recent discovery of another, printed text of this lyric, together with reflections on its cultural importance in the late Elizabethan world, see Samuel Fallon and David Scott Kastan, “Signature Verses,” TLS (February 5, 2016): 14. Fallon and Kastan identify a printed fragment as coming from the volume The Muses Garland (entered in to the Stationer’s Register on February 7, 1603), and containing the poem beginning “It was a time, when sillie Bees could speake,” attributed to “Ess.” The poem, they write, is “associated with Essex in the manuscript tradition.” Whatever the authorship of the poem, it is clear that this publication, as they state, offers “the varied forms in which Elizabethan and Jacobean poetry was published,” and it serves to illustrate how much this poem, and its amorous/political narrative of bees, was current in the early years of the seventeenth century.
29. Poulton, John Dowland, 285.
30. Bruster, “Local Tempest,” in Murphy, ed., Critical Essays, 270.
31. Burrow, “’Full of the Maker’s Guile,’” 278.
32. For an interpretation of Prospero’s names for Ariel (“dainty,” “chick,” “bird,” “tricksy”) and their possible historical connotations about gender and service, as well as their stimuli for post-Shakespearean performances of the role, see Deanne Williams, “Prospero’s Girls,” Borrowers and Lenders, 9 (2014), available online at http://www.borrowers.uga.edu/1382/show.
1. Orgel prints a modernized text of Foreman’s account from his Book of Plaies and Notes thereof per formans for Common Pollicie, Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Ashmole 208, fols. 201v–202r (Orgel, ed. Winter’s Tale, 233). An unmodernized edition of the text appears in Robert Kean Turner and Virginia Westling Haas, eds., A New Variorum Edition of Shakespeare. The Winter’s Tale (New York: Modern Language Association of America, 2005), 606. On the broader question of the play’s comic quality, its generic affiliations, and its movement of forgiveness and restoration, see the overview of critical discussion (through the 1980s) in Turner and Haas, New Variorum, 717–28. See, too, Palfrey, Late Shakespeare, 232–43; and Sarah Beckwith, Shakespeare and the Grammar of Forgiveness (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2012), 127–46.
2. Orgel, ed., Winter’s Tale, 81. For a review of the bibliographical issues surrounding the printing of the play in the First Folio, see Turner and Haas, New Variorum, 586–601.
3. On Ralph Crane and his role in preparing the text, see Turner and Haas, New Variorum, 598–601.
4. See the broad lines of argument in, most notably, Palfrey, Late Shakespeare; Russ McDonald, Shakespeare’s Late Style (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Gordon McMullan, Shakespeare and the Idea of Late Writing: Authorship in the Proximity of Death (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007); Beckwith, Shakespeare and the Grammar of Forgiveness. The most pointed and succinct statement of the place of The Winter’s Tale in the late plays remains Anne Barton, “Leontes and the Spider: Language and the Speaker in Shakespeare’s Last Plays,” originally published in Philip Edwards et al., Shakespeare’s Styles: Essays in Honour of Kenneth Muir (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), and frequently reprinted.
5. A. D. Nuttall, “The Winter’s Tale: Ovid Transformed,” in A. B. Taylor, ed., Shakespeare’s Ovid: The Metamorphoses in the Plays and Poems (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), these quotations from 141, 146, respectively.
6. Autolycus makes his brief appearance in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, book 11, lines 313–17, where he is described as “of crafty nature, well versed in cunning wiles” (furtum ingeniosus ad omne) and capable of making white black and black white (candida de nigris et de candentibus atra / qui facere adsuerat). Ovid, Metamorphoses, ed. and trans. Frank Justus Miller, Loeb Classical Library (London: William Heinemann, 1916), 142–43.
7. See Palfrey’s extended discussion, New World, 232–34, and his distillation: “The play’s arts are thus plotted in its rogue’s etymology” (233). For an argument about Autolycus and his ballads as raising political questions about legitimacy and power in a new, Jacobean world of family politics, see Aaron Kitch, “Bastards and Broadsides in The Winter’s Tale,” Renaissance Drama 30 (1999): 43–71.
8. An edited text of the marginalia, together with critical discussion of their potential source and origin, appeared by Akihiro Yamada, The First Folio of Shakespeare: A Transcript of Contemporary Marginalia (Tokyo: Yoshido, 1998), and has been digitized online at shakes.meisei-u.ac.jp/ALL.html#161. I quote from the online edition. Yamada dates the handwriting to the 1620s up to about 1630. See the brief description in Anthony James West, The Shakespeare First Folio: The History of the Book, Volume 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 6–7. See, too, the account in Emma Smith, The Making of Shakespeare’s First Folio (Oxford: Bodleian Library), 164–66, where she suggests that the annotations are by the individual named as an owner of the volume, William Johnstoone [sic], and of whom Smith states “we can deduce from spellings and other linguistic forms that he was probably Scottish, and writing in the late 1620s or 1630.”
9. Quoted in Poulton, John Dowland, 289.
10. See Steve Newman, “Shakespeare’s Popular Songs and the Great Temptations of Lesser Lyric,” in Jonathan F. S. Post, ed., The Oxford Handbook to Shakespeare’s Poetry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 279: “popular songs . . . in The Winter’s Tale . . . help to transform tragedy into renewal but also to complicate pastoral structures and lyric temptations.”
11. See Gibson, “‘How hard.’” For the rise of printed broadside ballads and the changing attitudes toward publication in the popular world, see Natascha Würzbach, The Rise of the English Street Ballad, trans. Gayna Walls (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). For a variety of perspectives, some scholarly, some more popular, on printing, song, balladeering, and the Shakespearean world, see Jessie Anne Owens, ed., “Noyses, sounds, and sweet aires”: Music in Early Modern England (Washington, DC: Folger Shakespeare Library, 2006).
12. See Kitch, “Bastards and Broadsides”: “The shared anxieties of paternity and print in the play inscribe broader cultural anxieties about printing as a shift in modes of material production. . . . The print/paternity dialectic provides a cultural context from which to analyze plot, character, and generic status in a way that is unique to The Winter’s Tale, with its multiple investments in forms of print—not only the source text in Robert Greene’s romance Pandosto but also the broadside ballad as a competing commercial commodity” (44–45).
13. Orgel, ed., Winter’s Tale, 80. For a comprehensive review of the early performances, responses, and documentation, see Turner and Haas, New Variorum, 798–99.
14. Quoted in Poulton, John Dowland, 401.
15. Ibid., 53–54.
16. I offer here an approach to pastoral in the play very different (in scenic emphases and verbal markers) from Jerry H. Bryant, “The Winter’s Tale and the Pastoral Tradition,” SQ 14 (1963): 387–98.
17. Balletts and Madrigals to Five Voyces appeared in 1598. I quote from the edition printed by Thomas Este (London, 1608), item xxiii.
18. Thomas Nashe, A Pleasant Comedy, Called Summer’s Last Will and Testament (London: Simon Stafford for Walter Burre, 1600).
19. I quote from Victor Stetkowicz, ed., Sir Philip Sidney, The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia (The New Arcadia) (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987), 11.
20. Note the phrasing of Barnabe Barnes in his fourth Spiritual Sonnet, “Thy precious self in sacrifice had’st laide / To my soul’s sustenance.” From Alexander B. Grossart, ed., The Poems of Barnabe Barnes (London, 1875), 163.
21. For a review of critical assessments of Polixenes’s and Leontes’s language at the play’s opening, see Turner and Haas, New Variorum, 753–56.
22. The word “grace” shifts in its force and connotation across its twelve appearances in The Winter’s Tale. At times it is an aspect of character, at times a quality of personal relationships, at times a title, and at times a quality of social performance. Sidney uses the word (and its various formations) to connote a blend of social virtue and artistic finesse. See, for example, this formulation about virtue, social class, and commercial aspiration in versemaking: “base men with servile wits undertake it [i.e., writing poetry], who think it enough if they can be rewarded of the printer. . . . so these men, no more but setting their names to it, by their own disgracefulness disgrace the most graceful poesy.” Sir Philip Sidney, An Apology for Poetry or The Defense of Poesy, ed. Geoffrey Shepherd, rev. R. W. Maslen (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1973), 109.
23. The Merchant of Venice is one of the First Folio’s Comedies, and Shylock’s historical reputation would have been one of a comically exaggerated figure. See John Gross, Shylock: A Legend and Its Legacy (New York: Touchstone, 1994), who suggests that Shylock would have been created either by the tragedian Richard Burbage or by the “low comedy actor Will Kempe” (105).
24. Critical responses to Leontes have long stressed the ways in which his increasingly incomprehensible speech may mark his inner self: for example, L. C. Knights on the impossibility of making Leontes’s speech “conform to ordinary syntactical forms; the point is its disjointedness” (“Integration in the Winter’s Tale,” Sewanee Review 84 [1976]: 601–2); S. S. Hussey, Leontes “always chooses the worst sense” of words, the “deliberately revolting” (The Literary Language of Shakespeare, 2nd ed. [London, 1992], 232).
25. The Folio reads “Holy-Horse.” Nicholas Rowe emended to “hobby-horse” in his 1709 edition of the Works. Turner and Haas consider any preference of the Folio reading to be “ridiculous” (New Variorum, 108), and they review the possibilities of Ralph Crane’s role in this mistake.
26. Thomas Weelkes, Madrigals to 3. 4. 5. & 6. Voices (London: Tomas Este, 1597), item XI. Nashe’s Summer’s Last Will and Testament calls for “Morris dancers, with the hobby-horse,” and the character of Will Summer states: “You, friend with the hobby-horse, go not too fast, for fear of wearing out my Lord’s tilestones with your hobnails.”
27. The OED gives this line from The Winter’s Tale as the only citation for “flax-wench” (s.v. “flax,” C.2, “flax-wench”). The OED cites Greene for “flax-wife.” See R. Greene, A Notable Discovery of Cozenage (London: John Wolfe for T. N., 1591).
28. Howard Felperin, “‘Tongue-tied, our Queen?’ The Deconstruction of Presence in The Winter’s Tale,” in Felperin, The Uses of the Canon: Elizabethan Literature and Contemporary Theory (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990), 51–52.
29. OED, s.v. “slippery,” which records the phrase “slippery as an eel” from Thomas Hoccleve in the early fifteenth century on. By the early seventeenth century, it is apparently proverbial. The OED does record Leontes’s line about Hermione as testimony to the definition “licentious, wanton, unchaste,” offering two other citations from the 1580s and 1590s.
30. For the repeated appearances of the word “mark” as an imperative verb, see the citations in the online Shakespeare Concordance.
31. Ben Jonson, Epigrammes: 4, quoted and discussed in Jonathan Goldberg, James I and the Politics of Literature (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1989), 17.
32. Ibid.
33. George Puttenham, The Arte of English Poesie (London: Richard Field, 1589), 244.
34. Goldberg, James I, 19. The full title of James’s work is Ane Schort Treatise conteining some Reulis and Cautelis to be observit and eschewit in Scottis poesie, printed in the Essayes of a Prentise in the Divine Art of Poesie (Edinburgh: Thomas Vautroullier, 1585). I use the reprint edited by Edward Arber (London, 1869).
35. See Ronald D. S. Jack, “James VI and Renaissance Poetic Theory,” English 16 (1967): 208–11. For a broader contextual survey of James’s work in the context of sixteenth-century Scottish literary and political theory, see Sarah M. Dunnigan, Eros and Poetry at the Courts of Mary Queen of Scots and James VI (London: Palgrave, 2002).
36. I quote from Arber’s edition, 59.
37. The textual, linguistic, and interpretive difficulties of this passage are reviewed in Turner and Haas, New Variorum, 69–78.
38. I quote from Charles Howard McIlwain, ed., The Political Works of James I (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1918), 43, 46.
39. Ibid., 52.
40. Ibid., 50.
41. For a modern attempt to double the parts, see the account in Antony Sher, Players of Shakespeare #5 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 91–112.
42. OED, s.v. “catch (n.),” def. 14, citing Grove’s Dictionary: “The catch was for each succeeding singer to take up or catch his part in time.” The first citation is from 1601, “Like a singing catch.” On the use of the “catch” in Twelfth Night, especially the performance in act 2, scene 3 (with the stage direction “Catch, sung”), see Peter J. Seng, The Vocal Songs in the Plays of Shakespeare: A Critical History (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1967), 101–3.
43. Samuel L. Bethell, ed., The Winter’s Tale, New Clarendon Shakespeare (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956). See, too, David Lindley, Shakespeare and Music (London: Thompson Learning, 2006), 166: “Autolycus, entering on to an empty stage, is singing not just to himself, but explicitly to the audience. . . . it becomes a kind of musical soliloquy. . . . The first person pronouns . . . invite us to identify with the singer, while his self-presentation to us asserts Autolycus’s own identity with the persona of his song.” My only quarrel with Lindley is his statement that Autolycus sings “on the bare Elizabethan stage,” for The Winter’s Tale is unquestionably a Jacobean play.
44. OED, s.v. “doxy.” The OED quotes this line from The Winter’s Tale, as well as Middleton and Dekker’s Roaring Girl: “My doxy stayes for me in a bousing ken.” For Dekker’s poetic use, see the canting song included in Villaines Discouered by Lanthorne and Candle-light . . . (London: John Busby, 1620), with the refrain “yet would he Wap / with a Mort with a Dell, / And an Autem Mort, with a Doxy,” Sig. P4v.
45. OED, s.v. “pugging (adj.),” “Of uncertain meaning,” quoting this line from The Winter’s Tale. OED, s.v. “pug (n. 2),” def. 1.1.b. Thus, I would take the phrase “pugging tooth” as connoting something like “a taste for whores.” The word “tooth” had, since Chaucer, been used to evoke a sexual appetite. See OED, s.v. “tooth,” def. 2.a, quoting the Contemplations of Bishop Hall of 1615: “A wanton tooth is the harbinger to luxurious wantonnesse.”
46. OED, s.v. “aunt,” def. 3, “a bawd or procuress,” not quoting this passage, but giving the earliest usage as Middleton’s Michaelmas Terme, 1607: “She demaunded of me whether I was your worships Aunt or no?”
47. Lindley, Shakespeare and Music, 164: “a mixture of pastoral images and thieves’ slang.” See, too, Steve Newman’s formulations: Autolycus’s phrasing “allies him to a commercial world that would seem alien to pastoral,” and the notion that his performances embody an “interpenetration of high and low at the level of the text” (“Shakespeare’s Popular Songs,” 279–80).
48. Barton, “Leontes and the Spider,” in Shakespeare’s Styles, 148.
49. Orgel, ed., The Tempest, 43–44.
50. I rely on the survey in Würzbach, Rise, as well as the materials collected in the English Broadside Ballad Archive, available online at ebba.english.ucsb.edu.
51. Ibid., 257.
52. Ibid., 259.
53. Ibid., 264.
54. Würzbach prints the extended episode of Nightingale’s entrance in Bartholomew Fair, 2.1, in Rise, 265–69.
55. See Jonathan Haynes, “Festivity and the Dramatic Economy of Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair,” ELH 51 (1984): 645–68, especially these remarks on the Stage-keeper’s introduction, accusing Jonson of failing to portray the Fair in its historical and social accuracy: “His demands modulate from having actual characters transferred from the Fair to the stage, to the reenactment of social rituals characteristic of fair time . . . to fidelity to the popular tradition of the theater. . . . Jonson meets this attempt by the popular tradition to reclaim its own identity . . .” After quoting the responses of the Book-holder to the Stage-keeper, Haynes states: “The opposition between the popular and coterie theaters is perfectly expressed in this moment: groundlings vs. gentlemen; the Stage-keeper with his memories of an improvisational popular theater vs. the Book-holder and Scrivener, men of the poet’s written text . . .” (658–59). The dramatic tensions in The Winter’s Tale are, I am arguing throughout, not tensions between popular and poetic theater: they are the tensions involved in poetically representing the popular itself.
56. See the discussion in Gibson, “‘How hard.’” My quotations from Dowland’s publications are from Poulton, John Dowland, 219, 344, and 289, respectively.
57. Newman, again: “When Mopsa and Docas ask if [his ballads] are true, Autolycus insists that the latter [the one about the enormous fish] has been attested to by the signatures of five justices and the former [the story of the usurer’s wife] by the midwife, ‘one Mistress Taleporter,’ thereby supplementing print with the ‘authority’ of handwriting and oral gossip, as the midwife’s name richly combines feminine tale-telling with bawdry” (“Shakespeare’s Popular Songs,” 280).
58. Orgel reprints settings of the songs in Winter’s Tale, 275–83. The New Variorum has different settings on 851–73. Lindley offers the following conjectures of his own, arguing that Autolycus’s first sets of songs are a “kind of musical soliloquy . . . speak[ing] exactly to his present situation. . . . This is clarified by the difference of the final song Autolycus sings as he exits after picking the Clown’s pocket. ‘Jog on, jog on’ seems much more likely to have been one whose words and tune would have been familiar to an audience . . . and the absence of a first-person pronoun generalizes its sentiments, so that it seems much more a case of Autolycus appropriating a lyric of good cheer as a song of triumph for the success of his thievery” (164). Such a view implies that Autolycus’s songs are not all of a piece: that some are new and unique, and that others are old and familiar (an argument impossible, at present, to confirm on archival grounds).
59. Poulton, John Dowland, 266. Christian Kelnberger, Text und Musik bei John Dowland (Passau: Verlag Karl Stutz, 1999), 272, associates this song with those of Autolycus but rejects any direct influence of Dowland on Shakespeare here.
60. The OED uses this passage to illustrate def. 2.b, “A female human being,” tracing a usage from 1547 to 2000. Among these usages, however, “my she” stands alone. I consider this phrasing more appropriate for def. 1.c., “With premodifying adjectives,” called obsolete and rare by the OED, with examples only from 1567 to 1684 (“cruel she,” “proud she,” “poore she”). The use of “mart” as a verb appears, according to the OED, first in 1589, and carries with it a “sexual connotation,” as in “Let peasants marte their marriages” (1598, Warner, Albion’s England) and, later, in this quotation from Cymbeline: “If he shall think fit, A saucy Stranger in his Court, to Mart as in a Romish Stew. . . .”
61. Michael Goldman, Acting and Action in Shakespeare (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984), 73–74.
62. Simon Smith, “‘Pleasing Strains’: The Dramaturgical Role of Music in The Winter’s Tale,” Shakespeare Survey 67 (2014): 372–83, this quotation from 382.
63. Ibid., 383.
64. Compare Palfrey, New World: Autolycus “is obviously much more than a ‘sturdy’ vagabond, one of the banes of Jacobean England. He is in fact the future as well as the past incarnate. He supplies what the festive crowd want, as if the metamorphosis of their desires: so it is as their future, their ambivalent consequence, that Autolycus achieves first his expropriative triumphs and then his integration and anonymity” (239).
1. Wotton’s account of the burning of the Globe has been enshrined as the opening editorial move in the following recent editions of the play: John Margeson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 1; Jay Halio (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 17; Jonathan Crewe, in Stephen Orgel and A. R. Braunmuller, The Pelican Shakespeare (New York: Penguin, 2002), 1169; Stephen Greenblatt, The Norton Shakespeare (New York: Norton, 1997), 3111; David Bevington, The Complete Works (New York: HarperCollins, 1992), 893.
2. For an incisive argument about the title of the play in its historical and editorial contexts, see Anston Bosman, “Seeing Tears: Truth and Sense in All Is True,” SQ 50 (1999): 459–76.
3. Since the mid-nineteenth century, discussion of the play’s integrity has been wrapped up in discussions of its possibly collaborative origins—the argument often deriving from perceptions that the unevenness of language and dramatic pacing must imply a lack of overall Shakespearean control. The range of views goes from James Spedding, “Who Wrote Shakespeare’s Henry VIII,” Gentleman’s Magazine (August 1850): 115–24 and (October 1850): 381–82; to Samuel Hickson, Notes and Queries (August 24, 1851): 198. Peter Alexander, “Conjectural History, or Shakespeare’s Henry VIII,” Essays and Studies 16 (1953): 85–120, argued for the authorial integrity of the play, while claiming that its differences of style could be seen as having an overarching dramatic function. More recently, John D. Cox made the case for dramatic integrity through the uses of masque and pageant in “Henry VIII and the Masque,” ELH 45 (1978): 390–409.
4. See Margeson’s edition, 4–14, and Halio’s edition, 16–24.
5. Raphael Lyne, Shakespeare’s Late Work (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007); these quotations from 15, 79, and 17, respectively.
6. On the rising use of writing in the administration of Henry VIII, the images of hand and text, and the broader implications of rule by textuality, see the discussions in G. R. Elton, Policy and Police (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972); Jonathan Goldberg, Writing Matter: From the Hands of the English Renaissance (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1990); Seth Lerer, Courtly Letters in the Age of Henry VIII (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); and the suggestive summary in Bosman, “Seeing Tears,” 463–64.
7. On the tensions between writing and performing in Wyatt, see Jonathan Crewe, Trials of Authorship (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990); and Lerer, Courtly Letters. On the self-consciousness of writing and publishing in Tottel’s Miscellany, together with the elegiac quality of much of that verse, see Seth Lerer, “Cultivation and Inhumation: Some Thoughts on the Cultural Impact of Tottel’s Miscellany,” in Stephen Hamrick, ed., Tottel’s Songes and Sonettes in Context (Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate, 2013), 147–61.
8. Letter to Sir Edmund Bacon, in Logan Pearsall Smith, ed., The Life and Letters of Sir Henry Wotton, vol. 2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907), 32–33. For a reading of Wotton’s letter as it bears on the uses of royal pageantry and the initial impressions of the play, see Roderick H. McKeown, “Royal Entries and the Form of Pageantry in All Is True,” Shakespeare Survey 67 (2014): 191–201.
9. From the letter of Henry Bluett to Richard Weeks, dated July 4, 1613, edited and printed in M. J. Cole, “A New Account of the Burning of the Globe,” SQ 32 (1981): 352. Bluett calls the play “new,” but adds that it “had been acted not passing 2 or 3 times before.”
10. OED, s.v. “train (n.),” def. I.3.b, “a line of gunpowder,” first attested 1522.
11. OED, s.v. “stuff (n.).” In papermaking, not attested until 1745 (def. I.4.c), but see def. I.2.c, “manufactured material,” and these quotations: 1555, W. Waterman, trans. J. Boemus, Fardle of Factions I.v.52, “They did weare . . . shoes of a certaine kinde of russhes named Papyrus, which after became stuffe, to geue name to our paper”; 1626, Bacon, New Atlantis, “Wee haue also diuerse Mechanicall Arts, which you haue not; And Stuffes made by them; As Papers, Linens, Silks, Tissues; dainty Works of Feathers of wonderfull Lustre; excellent Dies, and many others.”
12. Bosman, “Seeing Tears,” 461.
13. See Geoffrey Bullough, Narrative and Dramatic Sources of Shakespeare, vol. 4 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962), 437–42, and the notes to the Prologue in the editions of Halio and Margeson. See, too, Isabel Karremann, “Nostalgic Spectacle and the Politics of Memory in Henry VIII,” Shakespeare Survey 67 (2014): 180–90.
14. Leontes on the “bawdy planet,” Winter’s Tale, 1.2.199. Though a common word, “fellow” appears thirteen times in The Winter’s Tale, often to mark the bawdy Autolycus and the clowns (“I am a poor fellow,” 4.4.625, 633; see, too, 5.5.151–62).
15. For the presence, and manipulation, of Holinshed’s Chronicles in Henry VIII, see material in Bullough, Narrative and Dramatic Sources, 444, and the summary accounts in Margeson, 14–22, and Halio, 12–16. On the broader source materials for the play, see Annabel Patterson, “‘All Is True’: Negotiating the Past in Henry VIII,” in R. B. Parker and S. P. Zitner, eds., Elizabethan Theater: Essays in Honor of S. Schoenbaum (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1996), 147–66. On the Cloth of Gold episode and the displays of royal masculinity, see Gordan McMullan, “‘Thou has made me now a man’: Reforming Man(ner)liness in Henry VIII,” in Jennifer Richards and James Knowles, eds., Shakespeare’s Late Plays: New Readings (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1999), 40–56.
16. Enobarbus’s speeches beginning “The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,” are at Antony and Cleopatra, 2.2.196–245.
17. Corresponding to 1.1.69–72. Halio and Margeson punctuate: “Whence has he that? If not from hell, the devil . . .” But see Margeson’s note on the Folio text at 68.
18. Cox, “Henry VIII and the Masque,” 391.
19. McKeown, “Royal Entries,” 200.
20. Raphael Holinshed, The Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland, ed. Abraham Fleming, 2nd ed. (London: Henry Denham, 1587), 922.
21. Karremann, “Nostalgic Spectacle,” 185.
22. They include Feste in Twelfth Night, Ariel in The Tempest, Autolycus in The Winter’s Tale, the dramatis personae closing Love’s Labor’s Lost, the Fool in Lear. The witches sing in Macbeth, but they are hardly women. Ophelia has her songs in Hamlet, but by this point in the play she is insane. Desdemona has the “Willow Song” in Othello, a staging more of inward eroticism than commissioned entertainment. And Hotspur’s wife sings in Henry IV, but she does so in Welsh (and what she may have sung is unrecorded in the text).
23. The work of Linda Austern is fundamental here: “‘Sing Againe Syren’: The Female Musician and Sexual Enchantment in Elizabethan Life and Literature,” Renaissance Quarterly 42 (1989): 420–48; “Art to Enchant,” Journal of the Royal Musical Association 115 (1990): 191–206; “‘Alluring the Auditorie to Effeminacie’: Music and the Idea of the Feminine in Early Modern England,” Music and Letters 74 (1993): 343–54; “‘No Women Are Indeed’: The Boy Actor as Vocal Seductress in Late Sixteenth- and Early Seventeenth-Century Early Drama,” in Leslie C. Dunn and Nancy A. Jones, eds., Embodied Voices: Representing Female Vocality in Western Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 83–102. Building on Austern’s work, but making the argument for female music’s disturbing power on the Jacobean stage of sorcery, is Amanda Eubanks Winkler, O Let Us Howle Some Heavy Note: Music for Witches, the Melancholic, and the Mad on the Seventeenth-Century English Stage (Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 2006).
24. Austern, “Art to Enchant,” 204.
25. Austern, “‘Sing Againe Syren,’” 435–36.
26. The heading “Song” is from the Folio.
27. Quoted and discussed in Austern, “‘Sing Againe Syren,” 446–47.
28. The song beginning “In this trembling shadow”: in Nadal, ed., Third and Fourth Books, 84–86.
29. When Katherine imagines the two cardinals coming in to speak with her, she questions their motives and their sincerity: “But all hoods make not monks.” The Latin version of this maxim, cucullus non facit monachum, had appeared in Twelfth Night and in Measure for Measure. But it appears, too, in Dowland’s preface to his 1612 collection, Pilgrime’s Solace, where he criticizes those new, upstart lutenists at James’s court: “Now if these gallant young Lutenists be such as they would haue the world beleeue, and of which I make no doubt, let them remember that their skill lyeth not in their fingers endes: Cucullus non facit Monachum” (Poulton, John Dowland, 290). The maxim is a commonplace, but I find it striking coming at this moment in the play’s most powerfully Dowlandian scene of lyrical performance and political intrusion.
30. I quote here directly from the Folio text.
31. Text from Nadal, Third and Fourth Books, 83; translation mine.
1. I quote from the slightly modernized edition of Foreman’s account as printed in Martin Butler, ed., Cymbeline (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 3–4.
2. Throughout, I refer to the character by his Folio spelling, “Iachimo,” as opposed to Warren’s editorial “Giacomo.”
3. See Butler, ed., Cymbeline: “speakers seem divorced from their own verse, striving after notions that they can barely find words to articulate” (19).
4. Ibid., 23.
5. The range of scholarship and criticism on the play through the mid-1900s is usefully summarized in Warren, ed., Cymbeline, with some updating in Butler, ed., Cymbeline. Recent studies that have influenced my chapter include: Peggy Munoz Simonds, Myth, Emblem, and Music in Shakespeare’s “Cymbeline”: An Iconographic Reconstruction (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1992); Bate, Shakespeare and Ovid, esp. 215–19; Palfrey, Late Shakespeare, 83–99, 126–37, 213–21, 243–50; Patrick Cheney, Shakespeare, National Poet-Playwright (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 267–83; Ortiz, Broken Harmony, 157–60; Beckwith, Shakespeare and the Grammar of Forgiveness, 104–26; Burrow, Shakespeare and Classical Antiquity, 83–91, 124–26; Marion Wells, “Philomela’s Marks: Ekphrasis and Gender in Shakespeare’s Poems and Plays,” in Jonathan F. S. Post, ed., The Oxford Handbook of Shakespeare’s Poetry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 205–24, esp. 212–17; J. K. Barret, “The Crowd in Imogen’s Bedroom: Allusion and Ethics in Cymbeline,” SQ 66 (2015): 440–62; Wayne, “First Folio’s Arrangement.”
6. On Crane’s role in preparing the text, see Paul Werstine, “Ralph Crane and Edward Knight,” in M. J. Kidnie and Sonia Massai, eds., Shakespeare and Textual Studies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 27–38. Wayne considers Cymbeline the “only Crane text among the tragedies” (“First Folio’s Arrangement,” 401).
7. W. K. Wimsatt, ed., Dr. Johnson on Shakespeare (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1969), 136.
8. Of the twenty-two appearances of the word “garment” in Shakespeare’s plays and poems, eight of them (more than in any other single text) are in Cymbeline.
9. Butler, ed., Cymbeline, 2.
10. Burrow, Shakespeare and Classical Antiquity, 126.
11. See Julia Haig Gaisser, Catullus and His Renaissance Readers (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), and discussion, texts, and bibliography in Gaisser, ed., Catullus in English (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 2001).
12. Gordon Braden, “‘Viuamus, mea Lesiba’ in the English Renaissance,” English Literary Renaissance 9 (1979): 199–224.
13. George Puttenham, in the Arte of English Poesie, lists him with Horace as an exemplar of the lyric mode in Latin. See The Arte of English Poesie (London, 1589), facsimile reprinting ed. Baxter Hathaway (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 1970), book 1, chapter 11, 41. Puttenham also praises Catullus in book 1, chapter 26, in discussing marriage poems (epithalamia). Frank Whigham states that Puttenham “owned a copy of Catullus’s poems.” See Whigham, ed., The Art of English Poesy by George Puttenham: A Critical Edition (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2007), 63n128.
14. See Braden, “‘Viuamus, mea Lesiba,’” and more speculatively, Jacob Blevins, Catullan Consciousness and the Early Modern Lyric in England (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004).
15. The Folio’s “You are a friend” was first emended by Lewis Theobald to “You are afraid.” See Butler, ed., Cymbeline, 100.
16. Warren, ed., Cymbeline, 108.
17. Tiffany Stern, “Sermons, Plays and Note-Takers: Hamlet Q1 as a ‘Noted’ Text,” Shakespeare Survey 66 (2013): 1–23; “Watching as Reading: The Audience and Written Text in Shakespeare’s Playhouse,” in Laurie Maguire, ed., How to Do Things with Shakespeare (Oxford: Blackwell, 2013), 136–59, especially 142–44.
18. See the review in Barret, “The Crowd in Imogen’s Bedroom.”
19. See Lindley, Shakespeare and Music, 172–75.
20. David Armitage, “The Dismemberment of Orpheus: Mythic Elements in Shakespeare’s Romances,” Shakespeare Survey 39 (1987): 123–33. See, too, Ortiz, Broken Harmony, 157–60; Palfrey, Late Shakespeare, 83–99.
21. Among the earliest examples, Thomas Hedley’s single printed sheet, “The Judgment of Midas,” retold the tale in 1552 more like an Aesopic fable than a myth: a brief account, capped by a moral exhortation not to judge what you do not know. See Thomas Hedley, Of such as on fanteseye decree & discuss: on other mens works. Lo Ouids tale thus (London: Harry Stutton, 1552), STC 1896.5. George Turberville’s handling of the myth appeared in his “The Lover against one that compared his Mistresse with his Ladie,” in Epitaphes, Epigrams, Songs and Sonnets, ed. John Payne Collier (privately printed, 1867), 25.
22. See George K. Hunter and David Bevington, eds., John Lyly: Galatea, Midas (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000).
23. See the discussion in Peter Holland, ed., Shakespeare: A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 74–81, with special reference to the discussion of Midas in Erasmus’s Praise of Folly (1.2).
24. George Sandys, Ovid’s Metamorphoses Englished, facsimile reprinting (New York: Garland, 1976).
25. OED, s.v. “give (v.),” def. 46 and draft additions 2002.
26. The OED records contemporary uses of the verb “tune” meaning “to make subservient to one’s own ends” (s.v. “tune [v.],” def. 2.c).
27. Joshua Sylvester, in his translation of The Divine Weeks and Workes of Du Bartas (1605–1606), quoted in Poulton, John Dowland, 68.
28. OED, s.v. “chaliced,” quoting this passage from Cymbeline as the first usage (and none others until the mid-nineteenth century). OED, s.v. “Mary,” subheading “Mary-bud,” quoting this passage as the first usage and stating that the term is used “now only in echoes of Shakespeare.” OED, s.v. “winking (adj.),” def. 2, quoting this passage and a passage from Shakespeare’s King John as the first uses.
29. OED, s.v. “penetrate,” def. 3, quoting this passage and, earlier, Two Gentlemen of Verona as the first appearances. OED, s.v. “Horse-hair,” quoting this passage from Cymbeline in def. 1.a. OED., s.v. “catgut,” as used for the strings of musical instruments, first cited in 1599. OED, s.v. “gut,” def. 4.c., used in the plural “for making violin strings,” first attested in 1611 in Middleton and Dekker’s Roaring Girl. OED, s.v. “unpaved,” def. 2., called a “nonce-use,” with this passage from Cymbeline the only quotation.
30. George Sandys, Ovid’s Metamorphoses Englished, facsimile reprinting (New York: Garland, 1976).
31. Quinn, ed., Catullus, poem 85, with commentary on 421–22. The couplet, perhaps the most famous of Catullus’s epigrams, influenced later poets from Martial at least through Abraham Cowley. See Sven Lorenz, “Catullus and Martial,” in Marilyn B. Skinner, ed., A Companion to Catullus (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 418–19. For Cowley’s mid-seventeenth-century version, see Gaisser, Catullus in English, 35.
32. Most readings of Cymbeline stress its political over its aesthetic tenor. See, for example, the concluding remarks in Jonathan Goldberg, James I and the Politics of Literature (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1981), 240–41, suggesting that the play speaks directly to the “images of rule [and the] ruling images of James’s reign”; Leah Marcus, Puzzling Shakespeare, 109–57, esp. the avowal, “Cymbeline demands political interpretation” (137); and the extended engagements in Palfrey, Late Shakespeare, 83–99.
33. Ed. Quinn, Catullus, poem 3; translation mine. This poem, together with Catullus 2, became famous as the “sparrow” poems, influencing a range of later writers, again from Martial through John Skelton (in his Phyyllyp Sparowe), Thomas Campion, and Nahum Tate. See Gaisser, Catullus in English, esp. xxix–xxx, 35–37.
34. Another Catullan resonance in the play may be Iachimo’s praise of Posthumus in act 1. Speaking to Innogen, he describes his rival: “He sits ’mongst men like a descended god; / He hath a kind of honour sets him off / More than a mortal seeming” (1.6.169–71). These lines recall Catullus’s poem 51, the famous translation of Sappho, that begins: “Ille mi par esse deo uidetur, / ille, si fas est, superare diuos, / qui sedens aduersus identidem te spectat et audi / dulce ridentem . . .” I translate: “He seems to me on par with a god, he, if it may be said, seems to surpass the gods, who sitting opposite watches, over and over, you sweetly laughing.” In keeping with what I see as the arc of the Catullan imagery of the poem, these lines may gain their force as an example of Iachimo’s lyric ventriloquism—a moment when he does not so much praise Posthumus directly, but ironically distances himself from that praise by means of a literary allusion.
35. Facsimile ed., 22.
36. Quoted and discussed in Warren, ed., Cymbeline, 274.
37. Ibid.
38. Burrow, Shakespeare and Classical Antiquity, 86.
39. I relineate to reaffirm the fourteen-beat line as the governing metrical structure here.
40. Henry Peacham, The Compleat Gentleman (London, 1622). I quote from the edition based on the 1634 reprinting, ed. G. S. Gordon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906), 78.
41. Wayne, “First Folio’s Arrangement,” 406.
1. Lois Potter, ed., The Two Noble Kinsmen, Arden Shakespeare 3, rev. ed. (London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 58.
2. See Frederick W. Sternfeld, Music in Shakespearean Tragedy (London: Methuen, 1963), 23–52; Eubanks Winkler, O Let Us Howle Some Heavy Note, 4–76, 92.
3. Relationships between the play and its Chaucerian source motivate much criticism. See, for example, Ann Thompson, Shakespeare’s Chaucer: A Study in Literary Origins (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1978); E. Talbot Donaldson, The Swan at the Well: Shakespeare Reading Chaucer (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1985); Alex Davis, “Living in the Past: Thebes, Periodization and The Two Noble Kinsmen,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 40 (2010): 173–95; Mischa Teramura, “The Anxiety of Auctoritas: Chaucer and The Two Noble Kinsmen,” SQ 63 (2012): 544–76.
4. The Jailer’s Daughter and her scenes have sparked a range of recent critical commentary. Some have found in her an earthly lyricism that reveals Shakespeare’s unique hand: see Douglas Bruster, “The Jailer’s Daughter and the Politics of Madwomen’s Language,” SQ 46 (1995): 277–300. Others have found her scenes to be a kind of Fletcherian ventriloquism of Shakespeare: see Eric Rasmussen, ed., The Two Noble Kinsmen, in Jonathan Bate and Eric Rasmussen, eds., William Shakespeare, Complete Works (New York: Palgrave, 2007), 2356. Aspects of the character and her scenes that generate interpretations keyed to the historical recovery of gender roles, of madness, and of class distinction include: L. Dawson, Lovesickness and Gender in Early Modern Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008); Carol Thomas Neely, “Documents in Madness: Reading Madness and Gender in Shakespeare’s Tragedies and Early Modern Culture,” SQ 42 (1991): 315–38; Kaara Peterson, “Fluid Economics: Portraying Shakespeare’s Hysterics,” Mosaic 34 (2001): 35–51.
5. Mary Ellen Lamb, The Popular Culture of Shakespeare, Spenser and Jonson (New York: Routledge, 2006), 206.
6. On the status of the 1609 Quarto, its reprintings, and its possible relationships to performance traditions, see the discussions throughout Roger Warren, ed., A Reconstructed Text of Pericles, Prince of Tyre (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), and Doreen Delvecchio and Antony Hammond, eds., Pericles, Prince of Tyre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). Warren bases his text on the reconstructed version of the play by the Oxford edition editors, and he adds material from the prose version of the story from George Wilkins (whom he also lists as coauthor). The Cambridge editors, by contrast, deemphasize the possibilities of collaboration, and seek a text more directly based on the Quarto. Warren prints a diplomatic edition of the Quarto as an appendix, and it is that text that I use here. For broader discussions of Pericles in its textual and generic heritage, see Palfrey, Late Shakespeare, 57–78.
7. For the status of Pericles and The Two Noble Kinsmen as “late plays” in the canon of Romances, see Lyne, Shakespeare’s Late Work, who considers Pericles “the first last play,” 56, and who locates The Two Noble Kinsmen in the broader thematic, textual, and generic forms of the early 1610s (17–19). By contrast, Palfrey devotes an entire chapter to Pericles, while excluding both The Two Noble Kinsmen and Henry VIII (considering a link between the former and The Tempest to be “fairly remote,” 31).
8. The history of the term “worthy,” as both adjective and noun, to connote an old literary authority may start with Chaucer, whose Clerk calls Petrarch “worthy,” and the term is picked up in the fifteenth century to characterize Chaucer himself (along with Gower). For example, Robert Henryson begins his Testament of Cressid with a paean to “worthy Chaucer.” William Caxton printed Chaucer’s Boece, calling him “digne and worthy.” An anonymous writer of the 1540s refers to “worthy Chaucer,” as does John Selden in 1612. By 1660, William Winstanley could publish England’s Worthies as a literary history beginning with Chaucer and Gower. For these references and others, see Caroline Spurgeon, Five-Hundred Years of Chaucer Criticism and Allusion (1357–1900) (London: Oxford University Press, 1922). The noun “worthy” connoted distinction from the late fourteenth century, and by the early sixteenth century it was applied to scholars as well as heroes of history and legend (OED, s.v. “worthy,” def. C.1.d).
9. Bruster, “Jailer’s Daughter,” 277.
10. Citations here are to signatures in the Quarto and to corresponding scene numbers in Warren’s edition.
11. See the competing approaches in Warren, ed., Pericles, and in Delvecchio and Hammond, eds., Pericles.
12. For the variety of views on Gower’s role in the play (his language, his relationship to Pericles, and his status as source material), see Walter F. Eggers Jr., “Shakespeare’s Gower and the Role of the Authorial Presenter,” Philological Quarterly 54 (1975): 434–43; F. David Hoeniger, “Gower and Shakespeare in Pericles,” SQ 33 (1982): 461–79; Stephen Dickey, “Language and Its Role in Pericles,” English Literary Renaissance 16 (1986): 550–56; Deanne Williams, “Papa Don’t Preach: The Power of Prolixity in Pericles,” University of Toronto Quarterly 71 (2002): 595–622.
13. Delvecchio and Hammond, eds., Pericles, 88.
14. Orgel’s phase comes from “The Poetics of Incomprehensibility,” Shakespeare Quarterly 42 (1991): 431–47, portions of which are incorporated into the introduction to his edition of The Winter’s Tale, esp. 10.
15. Lyne, Shakespeare’s Late Work, 58.
16. In Stephen Orgel and R. A. Braunmuller, eds., The Complete Pelican Shakespeare (New York: Penguin, 2002), 605.
17. Ibid., 606; Lyne, Shakespeare’s Late Work, 59. My comparisons with Pericles and Lear deal with the Quarto text, The History of King Lear, as edited in Wells and Taylor, Complete Works, and cited by scene and line.
18. My comparisons are between Pericles and the Quarto version of King Lear. I quote from The History of King Lear as edited in the Wells and Taylor Oxford Complete Works.
19. For arguments that “rough music” connotes ritual and magic performance, akin to the “rough magic” of Prospero, and that the word “rough” should not be emended to “still” as some editors have it, see F. Elizabeth Hart, “Ceremon’s ‘Rough’ Music in ‘Pericles,’” SQ 51 (2000); 313–31. The word “viol” was changed to “vial” in the Fourth Quarto printing of the play, an emendation supported by Warren, ed., Pericles (164), but rejected by Delvecchio and Hammond, eds., Pericles (104), who support a reading devoted to the musical imagery of the episode. See also Lyne, Shakespeare’s Late Work, for whom “the emendation to ‘vial’ surely makes sense,” but goes on: “it is interesting, though, how the simultaneous music and medicine mark a slippage in language” (65).
20. See Dickey, “Language and Its Role in Pericles,” 561: “Ceremon restores Thaisa to life with ‘air,’ that is, music and oxygen, the pun combining the worlds of art and nature whose intersection so often makes for a supernatural moment in the romances.”
21. Poulton, John Dowland, collects and prints these various appearances: Dowland’s dedication of the Second Book to Lucy Countess of Bedford (1600), “yet so rare” (249); Henry Peacham’s Compleat Gentleman (1622), Dowland as a “rare lutenist” (82); William Webbe (1624), introductory verses to Francis Pilkington’s Second Set of Madrigals, “rare artists” (87); letter of William Browne to Earl of Shrewsbury (1602), “rare musick and songs” (398); John Webster, The Devil’s Law Case (1623), “rare consort of musicke” (165).
22. Teramura, “The Anxiety of Auctoritas,” 576.
23. See Potter, ed., Two Noble Kinsmen, 406–10.
24. See Tim William Machan, “Speght’s Works and the Invention of Chaucer,” TEXT 8 (1995): 145–70.