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EDITED BY
K AT I E H A L S E Y AND
ANGUS VINE

Shakespeare
and Authority
Citations, Conceptions
and Constructions

palgrave shakespeare studies


General Editors: Michael Dobson and Dympna Callaghan
Palgrave Shakespeare Studies

Series Editors
Michael Dobson
The Shakespeare Institute
University of Birmingham
Stratford-upon-Avon, UK

Dympna Callaghan
Syracuse University
Syracuse, NY, USA

“This fascinating multifaceted collection ventures to approach the subject of


authority as both a preoccupation within Shakespeare’s canon as well as the key
determinant of the long trajectory of his textual, dramatic, and critical recep-
tion. Together the essays give us a generous chronological and generic sweep, yet
each individual essay has its own tight focus on some aspect of the complex and
mutating interrelation of authority and authorship.”
—Margreta de Grazia, Emerita Sheli Z. and Burton Z. Rosenberg Professor of the
Humanities, University of Pennsylvania, USA
Palgrave Shakespeare Studies takes Shakespeare as its focus but strives
to understand the significance of his oeuvre in relation to his contem-
poraries, subsequent writers and historical and political contexts. By
extending the scope of Shakespeare and English Renaissance Studies
the series will open up the field to examinations of previously neglected
aspects or sources in the period’s art and thought. Titles in the Palgrave
Shakespeare Studies series seek to understand anew both where the liter-
ary achievements of the English Renaissance came from and where they
have brought us. Co-founded by Gail Kern Paster.

Editorial board members:


Margreta de Grazia
Peter Holland
Michael Neill
Lois D. Potter
David Jonathan Schalkwyk

More information about this series at


http://www.springer.com/series/14658
Katie Halsey · Angus Vine
Editors

Shakespeare and
Authority
Citations, Conceptions and Constructions
Editors
Katie Halsey Angus Vine
Division of Literature and Languages Division of Literature and Languages
University of Stirling University of Stirling
Stirling, UK Stirling, UK

Palgrave Shakespeare Studies


ISBN 978-1-137-57852-5 ISBN 978-1-137-57853-2 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-57853-2

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017945816

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2018


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in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
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The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and
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Cover illustration: ‘Mute Swan’ by Calum Colvin, by kind permission of the artist and
University of Stirling Art Collection

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The registered company is Macmillan Publishers Ltd.
The registered company address is: The Campus, 4 Crinan Street, London, N1 9XW,
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Note on the Text

Unless otherwise specified, references to Shakespeare’s works are to The


Norton Shakespeare, eds. Stephen Greenblatt, Walter Cohen, Suzanne
Gossett, Jean E. Howard, Katharine Eisaman Mauss and Gordon
McMullan, third edition (2016). Other editions are specified in the lists
of Works Cited.

v
Acknowledgements

Like Antony, we are ‘well studied for a liberal thanks’ which we ‘do
owe’ to many people (2.6.46–48). This book had its origins in the sixth
biennial conference of the British Shakespeare Association in 2014, and
we gratefully acknowledge the contributions of all participants at that
conference, which shaped our thinking in helpful ways, and the sup-
port of the trustees of the Association. Special thanks to John Drakakis
for suggesting that we bid for the conference in the first place, and for
his support throughout the whole project. We would like to acknowl-
edge the financial assistance of Stirling Council, the School of Arts and
Humanities and the Division of Literature and Languages, University
of Stirling. Various individuals provided invaluable support: Douglas
Brodie, Dale Townshend, Maxine Branagh, Matt Foley, Stuart Lindsay,
Betsy Fuller, Alison Cooper, Andrew Miller, Alan MacGregor, Tom
Kowalski, David Murphy, Sarah Bromage, Margreta de Grazia, Colin
Burrow, Andrew Murphy, Andrew Hiscock, Pete Smith, Jane Lind, and
Elaine O’Hare all deserve our thanks.
The book itself had its genesis in a series of conversations with Ben
Doyle of Palgrave, and we gratefully acknowledge his input at that
stage. The book began to take shape in 2015, and we would also like
to thank Colin Burrow, Margreta de Grazia, Andrew Murphy, Dale
Townshend, Peter Lindfield, Andrew Hass, Peter Buchanan, Pauline
Hubner, and Jim Caudle for their various contributions to the book. The
editors of the Palgrave Shakespeare Studies Series, Michael Dobson and
Dympna Callaghan, offered helpful insights and advice, and also much

vii
viii    Acknowledgements

encouragement. Calum Colvin generously allowed us to use his beautiful


artwork Mute Swan as our cover image, and we thank the University of
Stirling Art Gallery for permission to reproduce this work. Warm thanks
are due also to Ben Doyle and Camille Davies at Palgrave for their effi-
ciency and professionalism throughout the preparation of the work.
Finally, thanks to our families for their love and support.

Stirling, UK Katie Halsey


May 2017 Angus Vine
Contents

1 ‘Dressed in a Little Brief Authority’: Authority Before,


During, and After Shakespeare’s Plays 1
Katie Halsey and Angus Vine

Part I Defining and Redefining Authority

2 Shakespeare’s Authorities 31
Colin Burrow

3 Inside the Elephant’s Graveyard: Revising Geoffrey


Bullough’s Narrative and Dramatic Sources of
Shakespeare 55
John Drakakis

4 Author and Authority in the OED:


Nashe v. Shakespeare 79
Giles Goodland

5 ‘The King’s English’ ‘Our English’?: Shakespeare and


Linguistic Ownership 113
Margaret Tudeau-Clayton

ix
x    Contents

6 Foundations of Sovereign Authority: The Example


of Shakespearean Political Drama 135
Eric Heinze

Part II Shakespearean Authority

7 ‘A Trim Reckoning’: Accountability and


Authority in 1 and 2 Henry IV 157
Angus Vine

8 The King’s Ring: A Matter of Trust 179


Joseph Sterrett

9 ‘Constant in any Undertaking’: Writing the


Lipsian State in Measure for Measure 195
Daniel Cadman

10 Duty and Authority: Malvolio, Stewardship and


Montague’s Household Book 213
Eleanor Lowe

11 Poetic Authority in Julius Caesar: The Triumph


of the Poet-Playwright-Actor 231
Laetitia Sansonetti

Part III Shakespeare as Authority

12 Authority of the Actor in the Eighteenth Century 249


James Harriman-Smith

13 Shakespeare, Rule-Breaking and Artistic Genius:


The Case of Sir John Soane 265
Andrew Rudd
Contents    xi

14 Whose Gothic Bard? Charles Robert Maturin and


Contestations of Shakespearean Authority in
British/Irish Romantic Culture 281
Benedicte Seynhaeve and Raphaël Ingelbien

15 Authority, Instrumental Reason and the Fault Lines


of Modern Civilization in Peter Brook’s Cinematic
Rendering of Shakespeare’s King Lear 301
Fred Ribkoff and Paul Tyndall

16 Will Power: Visualising Shakespeare’s Authority


in Contemporary Culture 317
Jane Partner

Index 337
Notes on Contributors

Colin Burrow is a Senior Research Fellow at All Souls College, Oxford.


He is the author of several monographs on Shakespeare and on early
modern literature, including Shakespeare and Classical Antiquity (Oxford
University Press, 2013), and Epic Romance: Homer to Milton (Oxford
University Press, 1993). He edited The Complete Sonnets and Poems for
the Oxford Shakespeare, and Ben Jonson’s poems for The Cambridge
Edition of the Works of Ben Jonson. He is presently working on a study
of literary imitation, on an edition of Marston’s poems for the Oxford
Complete Works, and on the Elizabethan volume of the Oxford English
Literary History, of which he is one of the general editors.
Daniel Cadman is Lecturer in English Literature at Sheffield Hallam
University. His first monograph, Sovereigns and Subjects in Early Modern
Neo-Senecan Drama: Republicanism, Stoicism and Authority, was pub-
lished by Ashgate in 2015. He has also published articles on William
Shakespeare, Samuel Daniel, and Fulke Greville. He is Managing Editor
of the online journal, Early Modern Literary Studies, and has co-edited
two special issues focusing on the works of Christopher Marlowe and
early modern literary and cultural responses to the influence of ancient
Rome.
John Drakakis is an Emeritus Professor at the University of Stirling and
is currently a Visiting Professor at the University of Lincoln. He is the
editor of the Arden 3 edition of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice,
and has edited volumes of essays on Shakespearean Tragedy (Longman,

xiii
xiv    Notes on Contributors

1992) and Tragedy (Longman, 1998). In addition to contributing


widely to journals and volumes of essays on Shakespearean topics, he was
the editor of Alternative Shakespeares (Routledge, 2nd edition, 2005),
and Gothic Shakespeares (Routledge, 2008). He is currently working on
a new edition of Geoffrey Bullough’s Narrative and Dramatic Sources of
Shakespeare.
Giles Goodland is a Senior Editorial Researcher at the Oxford English
Dictionary. He is also a widely published poet.
Katie Halsey is a Senior Lecturer in Eighteenth-Century Literature
at the University of Stirling. Her publications include Jane Austen
and her Readers, 1786–1945 (Anthem, 2012), The History of Reading
(Routledge, 2010; with Rosalind Crone and Shafquat Towheed), The
History of Reading vol. 2: Evidence from the British Isles 1750–1945
(Palgrave, 2011; with W. R. Owens), and numerous articles on the lit-
erature and print culture of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
Research interests include the reception of Shakespeare in the eighteenth
century, Jane Austen, and the history of reading.
James Harriman-Smith is a Lecturer in Restoration and Eighteenth-
Century Literature at the University of Newcastle and a trustee of the
British Shakespeare Association. After winning the Charles Oldham and
Harness Shakespeare scholarships at Cambridge University, he completed
a Ph.D. entitled Twin Stars: Shakespeare and the Idea of the Theatre in
the Eighteenth-Century there in 2015, and is now turning it into a book.
He has published articles on acting theory, editors, and Shakespeare’s
European reception in Theatre Journal, Restoration and Eighteenth-
Century Theatre Research, and Etudes françaises.
Eric Heinze is Professor of Law & Humanities at Queen Mary,
University of London. His most recent monograph is Hate Speech and
Democratic Citizenship (Oxford University Press, 2016). His writings on
justice theory include book chapters and journal articles on The Comedy
of Errors, The Merchant of Venice, Hamlet, Timon of Athens, Cymbeline,
The Tempest, and the English history plays, as well as plays by Jean
Racine. He has also published articles on justice theory in Plato and
Aristotle, and synthesizes ancient and early modern sources in his 2013
monograph The Concept of Injustice (Routledge).
Notes on Contributors    xv

Raphaël Ingelbien is a Reader in Literary Studies at the University


of Leuven, Belgium, where he teaches a module on Shakespeare and
recently supervised a project on ‘Shakespeare and Irish Romanticism’.
He is the author of Irish Cultures of Travel. Writing on the Continent,
1829–1914 (Palgrave, 2016) and has published widely on Irish literature.
His essays on Shakespeare have appeared in Modern Language Quarterly,
Shakespeare, and a collection on Shakespeare and European Politics
(Delaware University Press, 2008).
Eleanor Lowe is Senior Lecturer in Drama in the Department of
English and Modern Languages at Oxford Brookes University. Her
research focuses on early modern drama with interests including material
culture, clothing, and costume, as well as in editing plays. Publications
include online editions of Brome’s A Mad Couple Well Matched and The
Love-Sick Court, Chapman’s An Humorous Day’s Mirth, and work on
humours comedy.
Jane Partner is Fellow Commoner, College Teaching Associate and
Director of Studies in English at Trinity Hall and a College Teaching
Associate at St John’s College as well as an Affiliated Lecturer in the
Faculty of English, University of Cambridge. Her research interests are
in Early Modern texts and visual culture, and the intersections between
the two.
Fred Ribkoff has a Ph.D. in English with a specialization in drama. He
teaches in the English and Interdisciplinary Expressive Arts programs at
Kwantlen Polytechnic University in British Columbia, Canada. Fred’s
research and writing focus on literary and cinematic representations of
trauma and mourning. He has published essays on Arthur Miller’s Death
of a Salesman, Tennessee Williams’ Not About Nightingales, Suddenly
Last Summer and the Holocaust, Bharati Mukherjee’s ‘The Management
of Grief’, Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment and co-authored
essays on Coleridge’s ‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner’, Williams’ A
Streetcar Named Desire and Marilynne Robinson’s Housekeeping.
Andrew Rudd is Lecturer in Eighteenth-Century and Romantic
Literature at the University of Exeter. He holds a Ph.D. from the
University of Cambridge and is the author of Sympathy and India in
British Literature, 1770–1830, published by Palgrave Macmillan in 2011.
xvi    Notes on Contributors

Laetitia Sansonetti is Senior Lecturer in English at the University of


Paris Nanterre and general co-editor of the online journal of the French
Shakespeare Society (Société Française Shakespeare). She has pub-
lished articles on Shakespeare, Spenser, Marlowe, and Chapman, as well
as a French translation of English Early Modern tales (William Painter
et alii, Roméo et Juliette avant Shakespeare [Romeo and Juliet Before
Shakespeare], 2014). Her current research bears on the reception of the
classics, questions of authorship and authority, and the links between
poetry and politics in late Elizabethan England.
Benedicte Seynhaeve holds an M.A. in Western Literature from the
Catholic University of Leuven. In 2016, she completed her doctoral the-
sis ‘“Coupled and inseparable”: Shakespeare and Irish Romanticism’. She
has published on several aspects of Shakespearean intertextuality in the
work of three key Irish Romantic writers (Lady Morgan, Charles Robert
Maturin, and James Clarence Mangan). At the moment, she works as
‘Coordinator Learning Network’ at Knowledge Centre ARhus, where
she is responsible for several projects with educational partners.
Joseph Sterrett is Associate Professor of English Literature at Aarhus
University. He is currently researching early modern expressions of trust
and their relation to a developing understanding of risk. He is organ-
izer of the Trust and Risk in Literature Network and Project. His mono-
graph, The Unheard Prayer: Religious Toleration in Shakespeare’s Drama
was published by Brill in 2012, and he is the editor of collections on
Prayer and Performance (Cambridge University Press, forthcoming) and
Sacred Text—Sacred Space (Brill, 2011), as well as the author of numer-
ous articles.
Margaret Tudeau-Clayton is Professor of Early Modern Literature in
the English Institute at the University of Neuchâtel. She is author of
Jonson, Shakespeare and early modern Virgil (Cambridge, 1998) as well as
numerous articles on English Renaissance literature, especially on transla-
tion and on Shakespeare. She has co-edited three collections of essays:
Addressing Frank Kermode: Essays in Criticism and Interpretation (with
Martin Warner) (Macmillan, 1991); Textures of Renaissance Knowledge:
Cultural Difference and Critical Method (with Philippa Berry)
(Manchester University Press, 2003); This England, That Shakespeare
(with Willy Maley) (Ashgate, 2010).
Notes on Contributors    xvii

Paul Tyndall completed a Ph.D. in English at Dalhousie University


in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with a dissertation on the American poet-critic
Yvor Winters. He is currently a member of the English department at
Kwantlen Polytechnic University in Surrey, British Columbia, where he
teaches courses in American literature and film, and Shakespeare and
film. His current research interests include Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead
trilogy and Shakespeare’s history plays on stage and screen.
Angus Vine is Lecturer in Early Modern Literature at the University of
Stirling. Major publications include In Defiance of Time: Antiquarian
Writing in Early Modern England (Oxford University Press, 2010) and
the forthcoming Miscellaneous Order: Manuscript Culture and the Early
Modern Organization of Knowledge (Oxford University Press). He is
also the editor (with Abigail Shinn) of The Copious Text: Encyclopaedic
Books in Early Modern England (special issue of Renaissance Studies,
vol. 28 [2014]). Teaching and research interests include Francis Bacon,
Shakespeare, manuscript culture, textual scholarship, and the history of
the book.
List of Figures

Fig. 12.1 David Garrick’s monument in Westminster Abbey.


Copyright: Dean and Chapter of Westminster 260
Fig. 13.1 Henry Howard, The Vision of Shakespeare (1830),
oil on canvas. By courtesy of the Trustees of
Sir John Soane’s Museum 276
Fig. 14.1 James Barry, King Lear Weeping Over the Dead Body
of Cordelia (1786–1788). Copyright: Tate, London 2016 295
Fig. 16.1 Robert Cruikshank, The hostile press; and the consequences
of crim. con. or Shakespeare in danger. Etched and Hand
Coloured Satirical Print [Published February 1825].
London: J. Fairburn. By permission of the Folger
Shakespeare Library 321
Fig. 16.2 Tom de Freston, Elizabeth Siddal as Ophelia (2011),
oil on canvas, private collection. By kind permission
of the artist 327
Fig. 16.3 Davy and Kristin McGuire, Ophelia’s Ghost (2014),
holographic film projection into water. By kind permission
of the artists 329
Fig. 16.4 Stephan Thiel, ‘Shakespeare Googled’ from ‘Understanding
Shakespeare’ (2010). By kind permission of the artist 331

xix
List of Tables

Table 4.1 Newly added Nashe first citations 87


Table 4.2 Shakespeare’s first citations in Schäfer’s list:
words that have been edited for OED3 91
Table 4.3 Nashe’s first citations in Schäfer’s list: words
that have been edited for OED3 105
Table 5.1 ‘The King’s English’(KE)/‘The King’s
Language’(KL)/‘The Queen’s English’(QE):
Early modern instances, 1550–1700 115
Table 6.1 Bases of sovereign authority 138

xxi
CHAPTER 1

‘Dressed in a Little Brief Authority’:


Authority Before, During, and After
Shakespeare’s Plays

Katie Halsey and Angus Vine

In his epigram ‘To William Camden’ Ben Jonson praised his friend and
former schoolmaster in the following lavish manner:

What name, what skill, what faith hast thou in things!


What sight in searching the most antique springs!
What weight, and what authority in thy speech!
Man scarce can make that doubt, but thou canst teach. (Jonson
2012, V, pp. 119–120 [ll. 7–10])

Jonson’s anaphoric praise locates Camden’s scholarly merits in both his


deep knowledge of the past and his mastery of eloquence; the list of attrib-
utes conjoins his attention to ‘things’ with his historical perspicuity and his
proficiency in ‘speech’. Camden is celebrated for matter, knowledge, and

K. Halsey (*) · A. Vine (*)


Division of Literature and Languages, University of Stirling, Scotland, UK
e-mail: katherine.halsey@stir.ac.uk
A. Vine
e-mail: angus.vine@stir.ac.uk

© The Author(s) 2018 1


K. Halsey and A. Vine (eds.), Shakespeare and Authority, Palgrave
Shakespeare Studies, https://doi.org/10.1057/978-1-137-57853-2_1
2 K. Halsey and A. Vine

style, and then finally, as a result of all these, for his virtuoso pedagogy.
The anaphora, moreover, suggests an equivalence between these attributes,
emphasizing that it is their combination that earns Camden the accolade of
the man to whom Britain owes her ‘great renown and name’ (ll. 3–4) ear-
lier in the epigram. As such, the poem is an entirely fitting tribute to a man
who was at once pedagogue, grammarian, antiquary, and historian.
Strikingly, Jonson couches this compliment to his former teacher, first
and foremost, in terms of authority, with the anaphora culminating in
the hypermetrical ‘and what authority in thy speech’ (l. 8). Authority in
early modern English commonly denoted the ‘power to influence the
opinion of others, esp. because of one’s recognized knowledge or schol-
arship’ (OED, s.v. ‘authority’, n. iii. 5[a]), a usage synonymous with clas-
sical learning and acknowledged expertise. This is the sense that pertains
in Jonson’s poem: Camden’s authority as a writer and scholar is predi-
cated on his historical learning, his plumbing ‘antique springs’. That
authority, moreover, is also inextricably linked with classical and human-
ist learning: the second line of the second couplet is an imitation of Pliny
the Younger’s praise for his friend the Roman lawyer Titius Aristo (nihil
est quod discere velis quod ille docere non possit [1.22.2]; see Haynes 2003,
p. 71), mimetically enacting the very combination of matter, knowl-
edge, and style for which Camden himself is praised. In characteristi-
cally Jonsonian fashion, that praise of Camden’s authority also, therefore,
ends up being an act of self-aggrandizement and commendation of his
own authority and learning. As Lawrence Lipking has noted, speaking
of Jonson’s better known poem ‘To the memory of my beloved, The
Author Mr. William Shakespeare: and what he hath left us’, Jonsonian
eulogy frequently turns back as much on the poet as on the object of his
praise (Lipking 1981, pp. 142, 144). In the Camden epigram, the hier-
archical relation between master and pupil (rather than fellow playwright
and poet) is clearer and less contested, but the dynamics of authoriza-
tion and praise are largely the same—as the opening lines, testimony to
Jonson’s own scholarly and writerly authority (‘Camden, most reverend
head, to whom I owe | All that I am in arts’ [ll. 1–2]), make clear.
It is hardly surprising that Jonson, the archetypal classicizing poet,
would have understood authority in this way. Nor is it surprising that he
should have praised his schoolmaster as the source of his own author-
ity and as the national writer par excellence. Nonetheless, few people
today, certainly outside the academy, would think of Camden in relation
to either ‘authority of speech’ or the nation’s ‘great renown and name’.
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 3

That honour, when it comes to early modern writers at least, would nor-
mally be afforded instead to the man Jonson described in his conversa-
tions with William Drummond of Hawthornden as wanting ‘art’ (Jonson
2012, V, p. 361), and whom he famously said had ‘small Latin and
less Greek’ (‘To the memory of my beloved, The Author Mr. William
Shakespeare: and what he hath left us’, l. 31). It is Shakespeare, not the
Westminster schoolmaster, whose face has adorned Bank of England
banknotes, an imprimatur that sets the seal of monumental authority on
both the promissory notes themselves and the cultural figure displayed
upon them (Holderness 1988a, p. xi). Furthermore, it is Shakespeare,
not Camden, whose texts have provided the archetypal testing material
for new media and technologies; when Thomas Edison, for example,
tested his inventions, including the electric pen that he patented in 1876,
he habitually turned not to the monumental opening of the Britannia,
but to the much more familiar, quasi-proverbial opening soliloquy of
Richard III (Galey 2014, pp. 170–172). And it is Shakespearean monu-
ments and inscriptions, not Camdenian ones, that decorate public spaces
and buildings across the western world: from Giovanni Fontana’s 1874
marble statue, which stands in Leicester Square in London (Engler
2011, p. 439), to the motto (misquoted) from The Tempest (‘WHAT IS
PAST IS PROLOGUE’ [cf. 2.1.246]), which is carved on a plinth on
the Pennsylvania Avenue side of the National Archives in Washington,
DC (Garber 2008, pp. 284–285; Galey 2014, pp. 49–52). Shakespeare’s
words—indeed, his material presence alone—it seems, bestow consider-
able cultural capital, monumentalizing purpose, and linguistic authority.
Camden and Jonson, by contrast, certainly in the modern era, have rarely
been put to such edifying purposes.1
Jonson’s epigram reminds us that Shakespeare’s contemporaries
would not necessarily have anticipated these developments. Certainly, for
much of the seventeenth century, it would have been by no means appar-
ent that his works would be afforded the position of unique cultural
authority that they have come to possess. Indeed, until Nicholas Rowe’s
biographical essay, ‘Some account of the life of Mr. William Shakespeare’,
which prefaced his 1709 edition of the Works, Shakespeare’s plays were
generally afforded no more authority than those of contemporaries such
as Jonson or Fletcher, the other playwrights of the era whose works
appeared in Folio collections, and to whom Shakespeare was most often
compared (De Grazia 1991, pp. 33–48). The same went for the fate of
the plays on the stage. As Michael Dobson has noted, by the 1630s, just
4 K. Halsey and A. Vine

a decade after the publication of the First Folio, the number of plays in
regular repertory had been reduced to perhaps just five: Hamlet, Othello,
Julius Caesar, The Merry Wives of Windsor, and 1 Henry IV (Dobson
1992, p. 2). Moreover, even in the Restoration era, when Shakespeare
did start to return to the centre of English literary culture, many of the
plays were performed only in heavily revised and substantially rewritten
versions—a curious coming together that, as Dobson has also observed,
reveals ‘that adaptation and canonization, so far from being contradic-
tory processes, were often mutually reinforcing ones’ (Dobson 1992,
p. 5). Initially, at least, perceptions of Shakespeare’s authority (or rather
lack thereof) were such that his texts were freely available to later play-
wrights for adaptation and appropriation; it was only in the early eight-
eenth century that some kind of recognizable authorial authority began
widely to obtain (Dobson 1992, p. 61).
In fact, to some of Shakespeare’s seventeenth-century readers, his later
position as the figure of ultimate cultural authority would have come as a
very great surprise. The critic and historian Thomas Rymer, for example,
whose trenchant views in his 1693 A Short View of Tragedy; It’s Original,
Excellency, and Corruption. With Some Reflections on Shakespear and other
Practitioners for the Stage (1693) are often seen as the embodiment of
leaden-footed and rules-obsessed neoclassical criticism, would certainly
have been shocked. For Rymer, the problem with Shakespearean drama
in large part is its lack of authority, the departure from its classical and
modern sources, which leads to what he identifies as its unreasonable-
ness and unnaturalness.2 Speaking of Othello, Rymer observes that
‘Shakespear alters it from the Original in several particulars, but always,
unfortunately, for the worse’; in illustration of this, he cites the descrip-
tion of the titular character as ‘the Moor of Venice: a Note on pre-emi-
nence, which neither History nor Heraldry can allow him’ (Rymer 1693,
p. 87). Julius Caesar fares little better, with Rymer particularly critical
of the blooding episode (3.1.106–111) and Brutus’s visceral language
there: ‘For, indeed, that Language which Shakespear puts in the Mouth
of Brutus wou’d not suit, or be convenient, unless from some son of the
Shambles, or some naturall offspring of the Butchery’ (Rymer 1693,
p. 151). The issue for Rymer, then, is a matter of decorum, but also a
question of probability and reason: at this moment, he suggests, Brutus
speaks less like a member of the Roman nobility and more like a com-
mon butcher or slaughterman. He also points out, in a telling parallel
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 5

with his criticism of Othello, that Shakespeare’s scene is unauthorized by


‘History’ (p. 150): that is to say, unauthorized by Plutarch’s Lives, the
principal source for the play.
Few critics now would now object to Othello on grounds of heral-
dic probability; nor would many be troubled by Shakespeare’s depar-
ture from Plutarch to dramatize the moment when Brutus’s Republican
ideals most starkly unravel in the face of political reality. Furthermore,
few modern critics would share Rymer’s hotheaded indignation: at the
moment when he condemns Shakespeare for departing from ‘History’,
he speaks of ‘Shakespear’s own blundering Maggot of self contradic-
tion’ (p. 150). Indeed, the choleric and invective that characterize his
criticism have almost invariably met with revulsion and/or ridicule. As
John Dryden observed in 1693, in a letter to his friend and fellow critic
John Dennis, ‘[a]lmost all the Faults which he has discover’d are truly
there; yet who will read Mr. Rymer, or not read Shakespeare? For my own
part, I reverence Mr. Rymer’s Learning, but I detest his Ill-Nature and
Arrogance’ (Vickers 1995, p. 86). Nonetheless, Rymer’s views were ech-
oed, albeit in a less strident form, by many who valued the authority of
the ancients, and the neoclassical unities of time, place, and action. These
included Dryden himself, whose Essay of Dramatic Poesy (1668) would
set the terms of Shakespearean criticism for at least a century.
Intemperate and ‘pedantic’ as it is (see Eliot 1932, p. 97), Rymer’s
criticism does still remind us of the extent to which the issue of author-
ity was at stake in the seventeenth-century reading and reception of
Shakespeare.3 One of the principal reasons for this was because, from the
First Folio onwards, Shakespeare was very much identified as the poet of
nature rather than art, as Margareta De Grazia has compellingly shown
(De Grazia 1991, p. 46). John Heminges and Henry Condell initiated
this view, characterizing Shakespeare as a spontaneous author who wrote
without revision, and whose ingenuity enabled him to invent without the
artfulness customarily associated with conceptions of genius in the early
modern era or, indeed, the inkblots linked with scribal and authorial cor-
rection: ‘His mind and hand went together: And what he thought, he
vttered with that easinesse, that wee haue scarse receiued from him a blot
in his papers’ (Shakespeare 1623, sig. A3r). Leonard Digges then rein-
forced this view in his commendatory poem ‘Vpon Master WILLIAM
SHAKESPEARE, the Deceased Authour, and his POEMS’, written for
the edition of the sonnets and miscellaneous poems published by John
Benson in 1640. ‘Poets are borne not made,’ Digges observes in the
6 K. Halsey and A. Vine

opening line of that poem, and Shakespeare is the prima facie evidence
for this: ‘when I would prove | This truth, the glad remembrance I must
love | Of never dying Shakespeare, who alone, | Is argument enough to
make that one’ (Shakespeare 1640, sig. *3r, ll. 1–4). With Shakespeare,
moreover, the reader finds ‘Art without Art unparaleld as yet’; ‘Nature
onely helpt him’, Digges adds (ll. 10–11). For Rymer, it was precisely
the lack of art in Digges’s second (punning) sense—that is, in the sense
of skill as a result of knowledge or practice (OED, s.v. ‘art’, n. i. 1)—
that was the problem, and what lay behind the faults that he identifies in
Othello and Julius Caesar. By 1668, this view of Shakespeare as the poet
of nature, rather than art, had become almost a truism, as we can see in
Dryden’s Of Dramatic Poesy:

He was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the
largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of Nature were still
present to him and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckily; when he
describes any thing, you more than see it, you feel it too. Those who
accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation:
he was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read
nature; he looked inwards, and found her there. (Dryden 1918, p. 67)

If seventeenth-century readers increasingly constructed Shakespeare


as the poet of nature, Jonson, by contrast, was almost always figured
as the supreme poet of art—and, as such, also as a more immediately
obvious authority figure. Where Shakespeare’s works, in Heminges and
Condell’s, Digges’s, and Dryden’s accounts at least, are imagined as
transcending the strictures of literary precedents and classical authority,
Jonson’s works were widely recognized for their embodiment of those
very things. As Edward Heyward put it in his commendatory poem for
Jonson’s own 1616 Folio (‘TO BEN. IONSON, on his workes’):

Words speake thy matter; matter fills thy words;


And choyce that grace affords
That both are best: and both most fitly plac’t,
Are with new VENVS grac’t
From artfull method. (Jonson 1616, sig. 6v, ll. 15–19)

Heyward’s praise emphasizes that Jonson’s poetic powers reside in his


mastery of humanist discourse, his matching of matter and word in the
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 7

manner requisite for true eloquence, and that his transformative powers
thus rely not on nature, but on art, method, and knowledge. This con-
trast between Shakespeare and Jonson was, of course, in some senses a
rhetorical construct. As recent scholars have shown, Shakespeare’s clas-
sical learning, much of which he would have imbibed from his school-
days in Stratford-upon-Avon, was considerably more extensive than
popular consciousness has often allowed (see, inter alia, Martindale and
Martindale 1990; Bate 1993; Miola 2000; Gillespie 2001; Martindale
and Taylor 2004; Burrow 2004, 2013).4 Furthermore, the familiar nar-
rative of Shakespeare and Jonson as literary and intellectual opposites and
antagonists (as presented in Dryden’s Of Dramatic Poesy and elsewhere)
was, as Ian Donaldson has shown, largely a later historical invention,
which had as much to do with evolving conceptions of genius as with the
reality of the authors’ relations (Donaldson 2001). Nonetheless, there is
little doubt that the two outstanding dramatists of the Elizabethan and
Jacobean eras did have very different conceptions of literary author-
ity and that those conceptions did generate divergent attitudes towards
prior texts and sources.
In illustration of this, it is hard to imagine Jonson, the poet of ‘artfull
method’, complaining about ‘art made tongue-tied by authority’ in the
way that Shakespeare does in Sonnet 66 (l. 9). Shakespeare’s complaint
has sometimes been understood as an allusion to the fetters of press cen-
sorship and as his sole reference to the frustrations of working under
such conditions (Clare 1999, p. 39). But, as the Oxford and Penguin
editors of the Sonnets have both pointed out, the line also seems to sig-
nal the frustration of being limited, or inhibited, by precedent and tra-
dition (Shakespeare 2002, p. 512; and Shakespeare 1986, p. 257). Of
course, there is an irony in Shakespeare complaining about authority
in a sonnet, the most codified of all literary forms. That irony, moreo-
ver, is only emphasized by the sonnet’s dominant rhetorical scheme:
the anaphora which structures the poem’s list of ills, and which results
in the word ‘And’ repeated ten times at the beginning of ten differ-
ent lines. Furthermore, the litany of complaints in the sonnet (includ-
ing ‘art made tongue-tied by authority’) turns out to be conditional, as
the closing couplet makes clear: ‘Tired with all these, from these would
I be gone, | Save that to die I leave my love alone’ (ll. 13–14). So the
poem is not a straightforward rejection of authority in favour of some
notion of unbridled rule breaking and literary freedom: but it does sig-
nal the kind of commitment to transformative imitation that, as Margaret
8 K. Halsey and A. Vine

Tudeau-Clayton and Colin Burrow have both emphasized, distinguishes


Shakespeare’s engagement with classical learning and authority (Tudeau-
Clayton 1998; and Burrow 2004, p. 16) from that of his most notable
contemporary.
*
The story of Shakespeare’s eighteenth-century transformation into
the paradigmatic authorizing literary figure has been extensively told
(see, for example, Bate 1989; De Grazia 1991; Dobson 1992; Ritchie
and Sabor 2012; and Rumbold 2016). This story begins with the grad-
ual return of Shakespeare to the stage at the Restoration, and it takes in
the construction of Shakespeare as an ‘author’ figure in the wake of the
emergence of copyright following the Statute of Queen Anne of 1710.
As such, it also tells of the reification of the (now commonly accepted)
connection between controlling authorship and authority—a connection
at odds, though, with both what we know about the collaborative nature
of dramatic production in the early modern era, and the material, tex-
tual, and biographical remains themselves. Further noteworthy develop-
ments in the story include the first great age of Shakespearean textual
scholarship and the series of editions by Pope, Theobald, Warburton,
Johnson, Capell, and Steevens that this produced, all of which followed
and built upon Rowe’s 1709 Works in what has been described as a
‘dynastic tradition’ (De Grazia 1991, p. 3). Other landmarks in this story
include David Garrick’s formative Stratford Jubilee of 1769, the three-
day Shakespearean celebration in the playwright’s hometown, which
did much to substantiate his reputation as the national poet, and the
emergence of notions of authorial authenticity in the wake of Edmund
Malone’s groundbreaking decision to include a textual and critical appa-
ratus in his 1790 The Plays and Poems of William Shakespeare.5 The
Ireland forgeries of the 1790s add yet another dimension to the tale of
Shakespearean authority in the eighteenth century. The intense excite-
ment generated by the faked deeds, letters, and manuscripts that Ireland
claimed to have discovered, followed by the crushing disappointment of
Malone’s decisive exposure of the forgeries, reveals something of what
was invested in Shakespearean authority by 1795. In a letter to George
Steevens of 1796, James Boaden based his refutation of the supposed
Lear on the poor quality of the versification in the manuscript—an argu-
ment clearly derived from Shakespeare’s reputation as a writer of genius
(Boaden 1972). For Malone, in contrast, authority primarily depended
on historical accuracy—his Inquiry into the Authenticity of Certain
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 9

Miscellaneous Papers and Legal Instruments (1796) proved conclusively


that various dates, as well as the handwriting and orthography were
incorrect, and hence that the documents must be fraudulent. Authority
and authenticity thus began to coalesce.
As well as these literary and authorial perspectives, the story of emer-
gent Shakespearean authority also had a significant political dimension,
as Michael Dobson has shown: ‘the transformation of Shakespeare’s sta-
tus from the comparative neglect of the Restoration to […] national,
indeed global pre-eminence,’ he observes, ‘constitutes one of the cen-
tral cultural expressions of England’s own transition from the aristocratic
regime of the Stuarts to the commercial empire presided over by the
Hanoverians’ (Dobson 1992, p. 8). More recently, it has also been sug-
gested that Shakespeare’s pervasive presence in eighteenth-century cul-
tural life had a significant moral dimension. Kate Rumbold has argued
that Shakespeare emerged in the same era as a source of moral author-
ity: something to which the ‘repeated acts of quotation’ in contemporary
novels, such as those discussed in Chap. 14 of this volume, which ‘invest
him with an enduring emotional and moral authority’, attest (Rumbold
2016, p. 50). ‘Perhaps the novel’s most significant contribution’, she
adds, ‘is to construct Shakespeare as a personal authority on whom all
kinds of individual can call’ (p. 53).
By 1814, Jane Austen could describe Shakespeare as ‘part of an
Englishman’s constitution’. Her character, Henry Crawford, continues,
‘His thoughts and beauties are so spread abroad that one touches them
everywhere; one is intimate with him by instinct.’ In response, another
character agrees: ‘His celebrated passages are quoted by everybody; they
are in half the books we open, and we all talk Shakespeare, use his simi-
les, and describe with his descriptions’ (Austen 2005, pp. 390–391).
But, as Gail Marshall has argued, Shakespeare’s pervasive presence in
the nineteenth century in fact points to a contested legacy: ‘Shakespeare
was not just the darling of civic bodies looking to advertise their cul-
tural credentials, but belonged just as much to the ordinary people of
Britain who used his voice to contest contemporary power distribution’
(Marshall 2012, p. 2). Evidence collected by historians of reading such
as Andrew Murphy and Jonathan Rose certainly supports this point.
As Murphy points out, the increasing availability of cheap editions of
Shakespeare’s texts made his works ever more accessible to working-class
readers (Murphy 2010, pp. 58–94; see also St Clair 2004, pp. 140–157,
692–714), and such readers sometimes saw in Shakespeare’s texts a
10 K. Halsey and A. Vine

legitimization of their own challenges to authority. For example, Rose


discusses a number of readers for whom Shakespeare ‘was a proletarian
hero who spoke directly to working people’ (Rose 2001, pp. 122–123).
For some working-class readers, Shakespeare’s own obscure birth and
‘small Latin and less Greek’—his supposed lack of learning and ‘natu-
ral’ genius—was inspirational. And they found in his plays ‘a language of
radical political mobilization’, an anti-authoritarian stance that allowed
them to co-opt Shakespeare for their own purposes. J.L. Clynes, a tex-
tile worker who later became deputy leader of the House of Commons,
for example, ‘drew inspiration from the “strange truth” he discovered in
Twelfth Night: “Be not afraid of greatness (“What a creed! How it would
upset the world if men lived up to it, I thought” […] Reading Julius
Caesar, “the realization came suddenly to me that it was a mighty politi-
cal drama” about the class struggle’ (Rose 2001, p. 123). While such
responses seem willfully to ignore such negative representations of politi-
cal rebels as the plebeians in Julius Caesar and Jack Cade and his rebels
in 2 Henry VI, it is nonetheless significant that two competing notions of
Shakespearean authority came into being in the nineteenth century. The
idea of the ‘People’s Bard’ allowed many to see Shakespeare as an anti-
hierarchical, anti-authoritarian role model authorizing radical left-wing
political ideologies, while its polar opposite—what Marshall calls the
‘monumental civic Shakespeare’, memorialized in Establishment heart-
lands and invested with all the trappings of high art—implicitly opposed
all such ideas (Marshall 2012, p. 2).6 The story of Shakespeare’s complex
relationship to questions of national identity has been well told elsewhere
(see Klett 2009; Tudeau-Clayton and Maley 2010; Ivic 2017), and is dis-
cussed in Chaps. 5, 6, and 14 of this volume, but it is important also to
note that relationship here, and its effects in investing Shakespeare with
ever greater literary authority.
Scholarship has also started to recover Shakespeare’s signifi-
cance as a figure of authority in more recent periods. Topics to have
attracted attention range from Shakespeare’s importance as an author-
izing figure for the emergence of English Studies as an academic dis-
cipline in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries (Hawkes
1986) to the rise of bardolatry and the so-called Shakespeare industry,
focused from Garrick’s Jubilee onwards, on Stratford-upon-Avon and
the supposed Shakespearean associations of its buildings and places
(Holderness 1988b). Studies have also begun to show the importance
of Shakespeare’s cultural authority beyond England or Britain. Doug
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 11

Lanier, for example, has recently drawn attention to how Union voices
in the American Civil War appropriated Shakespeare, drawing on and
claiming kinship with his long established status as a ‘transcendent, vatic,
even quasi-divine’ figure of English literary authority, while at the same
time also explicitly Americanizing him (Lanier 2015, pp. 146, 157–158).
Rather like the eighteenth-century novels discussed by Rumbold, the
website of New York’s Shakespeare Society (www.shakespearesociety.
org) continues to figure Shakespeare as personal moral authority, while
directly aligning him with that most American of cities: ‘Shakespeare
teaches us all how to be better human beings and citizens. A great city
like New York needs The Shakespeare Society’ (http://www.shake-
spearesociety.org/who-we-are, accessed 6 April 2017). Recent stud-
ies of Shakespeare in Japan, Africa, China, India, Korea, Brazil, the
Arab world, Latin America, and elsewhere (see, for example, Ryuta
Carruthers and Gillies 2001; da Cunha Resende 2002; Levith 2004;
Banham et al. 2013) demonstrate the various ways in which Shakespeare
is appropriated and into different national cultures in diverse and some-
times unexpected ways. MIT’s Global Shakespeares archive (http://
globalshakespeares.mit.edu/about/) bears tribute to the ubiquity of per-
formances of Shakespearean plays and the complexity of Shakespeare’s
cultural authority in the global economy.
*
The chapters in Shakespeare and Authority, jointly and individually, are
further contributions to this story. What sets the volume apart from pre-
vious explorations of the topic, though, is its chronological and generic
scope: chapters extend across the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth,
nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first centuries, and examine topics
from performance and acting style to architecture, cinema, lexicogra-
phy, and visual culture.7 What also sets the volume apart is that it places
its discussions of Shakespeare as an authority figure alongside a series of
chapters in the first two parts of the book, which explore conceptions
of authority in and for Shakespeare. These chapters, which range from
discussions of the monarchy to investigations of the household, and from
explorations of the law to examinations of linguistic, financial, and mate-
rial accountability, consider the construction, performance, and ques-
tioning of authority across the Shakespearean canon. They also include a
series of re-examinations of Shakespearean sources, both from a method-
ological perspective and as case studies. What this three-fold organization
and content enables is a more rigorous examination of the significance
12 K. Halsey and A. Vine

of Shakespeare for both the history of authority as a concept and the


shift from auctoritas to more modern understandings of the word—one
of our principal aims in this book. This tripartite approach, moreover,
underscores that both the plays themselves and their reception are essen-
tial to the story.
That authority is a central concern of Shakespearean drama has long
been recognized. As Robert Weimann notes, the word ‘authority’ occurs
no fewer than 60 times across the canon as a whole (Weimann 1995,
p. 201). The plays in this way responded to one of the great shifts in six-
teenth- and early seventeenth-century England: the reconceptualization
of authority, in the wake of the Reformation, as something no longer
accepted and received automatically as a given, but something instead to
be ‘negotiated, disputed, or reconstituted’ through acts of representation
(Weimann 1996, p. 5)—through speech, performance, and various forms
of textual inscription. For Weimann, moreover, the Elizabethan theatre
was the most important place for this exploration of authority and its
associated political, religious, and juridical discourses; he attributes this
to both the indeterminacy of the Elizabethan theatre and its different
spatial modes of performance and representation and to the location of
the playhouses themselves in the liberties just outside the city’s jurisdic-
tion (Weimann 1995, pp. 204–206).
In Shakespeare’s plays, perhaps the most obvious dramatization of this
Reformation redefinition of authority occurs in Act 3 Scene 1 of King
John, when the king disputes papal sway with Cardinal Pandulph and
disavows the legate’s authority as a mere earthly commission (3.1.73–
86). ‘What earthy name to interrogatories | Can task the free breath of a
sacred king?’ (3.1.73–74), John asserts, in anachronistic lines that clearly
echo the language of the Henrician Reformation and the discourse of
Tudor divine right. The rest of John’s speech, including his striking ref-
erences to tolling and tithing (‘no Italian priest | Shall tithe or toll in
our dominions’ [3.1.80]), largely reiterates the equivalent speech in the
play’s most important dramatic source, the avowedly Protestant and
anonymous history play The Troublesome Raigne of Iohn King of England
(1591). However, in one significant way, Shakespeare departs from his
source, and that is by framing the dispute explicitly in terms of author-
ity. Where in the earlier play John concludes his rebuttal of Pandulph
with a rejection of papal supremacy (‘so wil I raigne next vnder God,
supreame head both ouer spirituall and temprall: and hee that contra-
dicts me in this, Ile make him hoppe headlesse’ [The Troublesome Raigne
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 13

1591, sig. E1r]), Shakespeare’s John ends also with a reassertion of his
own divine authority and rejection of the Pope’s mere ‘mortal’ author-
ity: ‘Where we do reign, we will alone uphold | Without th’assistance
of a mortal hand. | So tell the Pope, all reverence set apart | To him and
his usurped authority’ (3.1.83–86). Pandulph’s response is not only to
excommunicate John (3.1.99), but also to legitimize rebellion against
him: ‘blessèd shall he be that doth revolt | From his allegiance to a here-
tic’ (3.1.100–101). This time there is a parallel passage in the earlier play
(‘I Pandulph of Padoa […] pronounce thee accursed discharging euery
of thy subiectes of all dutie and fealtie that they doo owe to thee’ [The
Troublesome Raigne 1591, sig. E1r–v]), although Shakespeare’s blunter
wording again makes the exploration of sovereignty and monarchical
authority much more prominent.
Some of the clearest evidence of the extent to which conceptions
of authority were in flux at the time comes from contemporary word-
lists. Glosses are multiple, and often not synonymous, and in this way
they are testimony to the process of redefinition and recalibration that
Weimann describes. In his Bibliotheca Eliotæ (1542) Sir Thomas Elyot
glossed authority in a number of different ways: ‘Authoritas, authori-
tie, credence, puyssaunce, iugement, the inioyeng of possession’ (Elyot
1542, sig. E8r). Importantly, his dictionary also foregrounds the connec-
tion (conceptual as well as etymological) between authority and author,
and his definition of the latter goes some way to explaining why one
individual rather than another might garner the warrantable expertise,
the ‘credence’ and ‘puyssaunce’, requisite to operate as an authority fig-
ure: ‘Author, the first inue[n]tour or maker of a thing also a reporter of
newes. also a ruler or tutor also he that dothe sell or delyuer a thynge
on warrantise. also he whom a man foloweth in doynge of any thynge’
(Elyot 1542, sig. E8r). The conjunction here between author and
authority, and the implicit relation to textuality and inscription, antici-
pates one of the more striking aspects of Shakespeare’s own treatment
of authority. As Richard Wilson has observed, in Shakespearean politics,
authority and authorship are ‘synonymous’; speaking of Jade Cade’s
revolt in 2 Henry VI, he notes that ‘[t]o the writer of these scenes, rebel-
lion is the rage of the illiterate against the written word’ (Wilson 1993,
pp. 27–28).
Later lexicographers tended to be more explicit about the identifica-
tion between authority and sovereignty. Authority was what the holder
of high office possessed and thus frequently a synonym for the monarch’s
14 K. Halsey and A. Vine

(or, for that matter, any other official’s) power and rule. John Florio,
for example, defined the Italian word autorità in his Worlde of Wordes
as ‘authoritie, power, free will, command, swaie, rule’ (Florio 1598, sig.
C6r), a more delimited and politically more specific list of synonyms than
Elyot’s gloss, while Henry Cockeram then substantiated this association
between authority and the exercise of power through a series of glossarial
examples in his English Dictionarie (1623):

the Authority of a King. Regallity.

the Authority of a Magistrate. Magistracy.

lawfull Authority in a place. Iurisdiction.

Authority. Commission.

hauing all Authority in’s hand. Omni-regency.

which hath Authority to keepe out vnworthy persons fro[m] the church.
Oratory.

hauing Authority to order and to dispose of matters. Committee.


(Cockeram 1623, sig. A3v)

Cockeram’s lemmata emphasize that authority was a spiritual as well as


a temporal matter and a concept that was at once legislative and disposi-
tive. Other wordlists from the period also suggest that authority started
to be understood not necessarily as an innate quality, but as something
that could be adopted or put on, and as such a question of performance
rather than essence—an insight to which Shakespeare, as we shall see,
turns out to have been especially important.
Shakespearean drama, at different moments, entertains, examines, and
explores all these different senses of the word. In Pericles, for example,
authority is very much equated with sovereignty and the rightful exer-
cise of the law. When Lysimachus, governor of Mytilene, enters the city
brothel, he promises Marina that he will not abuse his power either to
prosecute her for prostitution or to take advantage of her: ‘Oh, you have
heard something of my power and so stand aloof for more serious woo-
ing, but I protest to thee, pretty one, my authority shall not see thee,
or else look friendly upon thee’ (4.6.77–80). In similar fashion, in All’s
Well That Ends Well the Countess speaks of the Clown remaining at the
court of Roussillon by her son’s ‘authority’, and of him taking that as
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 15

a ‘patent’, or licence, ‘for his sauciness’ (4.5.55–56), while in 2 Henry


IV, after he has read over and acceded to the rebels’ demands, Prince
John confesses that his ‘father’s purposes have been mistook, | And
some about him have too lavishly | Wrested his meaning and authority’
(4.1.223–225). All three instances reinforce the connection between
authority, legislation, and licence implicit in Florio and Cockeram’s defi-
nitions, while the third also underscores the essentialness of inscription
to the exercise of sovereign authority. As Prince John ruefully notes,
the king’s authority resides in his words, but that also leaves it open to
abuse, as interpreters may twist his ‘meaning’ to fit their own purposes.
The king’s authority thus emerges as oddly fragile and peculiarly limited,
subject to both the vagaries of language and the good will of his sub-
jects, an idea also central to Joseph Sterrett’s argument in Chap. 8 of this
volume.
Few Shakespearean rulers are quite as aware of the evanescence of
authority as, say, Marlowe’s Barabas after he has ‘gotten, by […] policy’
the governorship of Malta (Marlowe 1969, 5.2.28–34). But Shakespeare
does, on various occasions, present governors and rulers made strikingly
aware of the fragility of their own power. In Antony and Cleopatra, for
example, he dramatically stages Antony’s realization of his impotence fol-
lowing his humiliation at the Battle of Actium, figuring this explicitly as a
melting away of authority. ‘Approach there!’ Antony commands Caesar’s
messenger Thidias; almost immediately, though, he recognizes that his
words no longer carry sway and reflects grimly, ‘Now gods and devils! |
Authority melts from me. Of late, when I cried, “Ho!” | Like boys unto
a muss kings would start forth | And cry, “Your will?” (3.13.90–94).
Divested of authority by his dishonour in battle, the man who could
once render kings schoolboys is reduced to the object of a pert servant’s
scorn.
As to the connection between authority, office, and person,
Shakespearean drama is characteristically ambiguous. On the one hand,
the Duke of Alençon’s words in Act 5 Scene 5 of 1 Henry VI associate
authority with both the office of kingship and the power of the mon-
arch himself. In response to Winchester’s command that the Dauphin
and the French ‘shall become true liegemen’ to Henry VI’s crown, and
that the Dauphin shall ‘pay him tribute and submit’, the Duke indig-
nantly replies: ‘Must he then be a shadow of himself, | Adorn his temples
with a coronet, | And yet in substance and authority | Retain but privi-
lege of a private man’ (5.5.133–136). Authority, these lines suggest, is
16 K. Halsey and A. Vine

what makes the king a king. Constituted through the ability to legislate,
it signifies, in particular, the status of not being subject to another. True
monarchical authority, then, is more than just what the material crown
signifies; it is also, Alençon’s words imply, what inheres in the body of
the king. As Colin Burrow points out in Chap. 2 of this volume, that
same sentiment is even more apparent in King Lear, when the disguised
Kent tells Lear ‘you have that in your countenance which I | would fain
call master’, that is, ‘Authority’ (1.4.23–24, 26)—lines that lend them-
selves readily to an absolutist reading and a defence of the divine right.
Lear may have abdicated, but to the loyal Kent he retains the marks of
sovereign authority, which transcend the external trappings of rule and
are signalled by his body itself. On the other hand, though, Shakespeare
also provides a series of moments that seem to deny any innate connec-
tion between authority and a ruler or governor’s person. In Coriolanus,
for example, the titular character contemns the tribunes of the people
‘[f]or they do prank them in authority | Against all noble sufferance’
(3.1.23–24). While Coriolanus’s words here maintain the hierarchi-
cal order essential to notions of absolutist government, the charge also
recognizes the portability of authority and the fact it was something
seemingly as easily put on as embodied; to prank in Shakespearean
English meant to dress up or embellish (OED, s.v. ‘prank’, v. 4.1[b]).
This is also, of course, the point of Isabella’s famous words in Measure
for Measure, from which we take this chapter’s title, when she inveighs
against Angelo’s unstinting and unbending exercise of the law: ‘man,
proud man | Dressed in a little brief authority, | Most ignorant of what
he’s most assured’ (2.2.118–120).
All these senses of authority are, to a greater or lesser extent, still
current today. They were also very much current in the age when
Shakespeare himself became the archetypal authority figure, as the vari-
ous definitions in Dr Johnson’s Dictionary (1755) attest. The most
famous of all English lexicographers, Johnson defined authority succes-
sively as ‘(1). Legal power’, ‘(2). Influence; credit’, ‘(3). Power; rule’,
‘(4). Support; justification; countenance’, ‘(5). Testimony’, and ‘(6).
Weight of testimony; credibility’ (Johnson 1755). There was, however,
one sense of Shakespearean authority that Johnson did not include, and
that is barely current today, but which has considerable significance for
our understanding of both Shakespeare’s method of composition and the
relation of the plays to their source materials. That is the peculiarly (but
not exclusively) early modern sense of authority associated with books,
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 17

reading, and humanist theories of knowledge production. Authority in


this sense constitutes what we take from others’ books to authorize our
own writing and knowledge—a variant, of course, of Jonson’s use in his
epigram to Camden with which we began this chapter. The most strik-
ing Shakespearean example of authority in this sense occurs in Love’s
Labour’s Lost, when in response to the King of Navarre’s foreswearing
of women in favour of study and books, Biron observes: ‘Small have
continual plodders ever won, | Save base authority from others’ books’
(1.1.86–87). Authority here is associated with commonplace books and
commonplace learning—methods that are apparently fit only for the
dullest, most plodding of writers and scholars.
Biron’s remark, however, is not quite the straightforward trenchant
dismissal it initially appears. For while his observation does demonstrate
that Shakespeare’s attitude towards textual authority was more than just
unthinking reverence, as Colin Burrow notes in Chap. 2 (p. 31), the joke
ends up being as much on Biron himself as on the dullards he berates.
The irony, as the King points out shortly afterwards (‘How well he’s
read to reason against reading’ [1.1.94]), is that Biron’s larger claim that
spiritual enlightenment comes not from books, but from gazing into a
beautiful woman’s eyes (1.1.72–93) is itself built upon the very literary
method that he disavows here. Not only is Biron’s argument a common-
place in the Petrarchan tradition, but the speech itself (the last 14 lines
of which constitute a sonnet) is made up of commonplace learning and
of phrases culled from the authority of others. As such, it is a model of
the very humanist textual practice it ostensibly rejects. Instances in the
speech include the world-weary ‘all delights are vain’ (1.1.80), a com-
monplace that repeatedly turns up in early modern literature, including
Middleton’s The Nice Valour (3.3.36) and Book 2 of The Faerie Queene
(II.v.27.2). A further notable example from later in the speech is the
analogy ‘Study is like the heavens’ glorious sun | That will not be deep-
searched with saucy looks’ (1.1.84–85), an (appropriately transforma-
tive) imitation of the proverb ‘He that gazes upon the sun shall at last
be blind’ (cf. Dent 1981, S971.1). The joke, then, is partly on Biron and
partly on humanist methods of reading, but also an implicit recognition
that those very methods are essential to literary composition. Authorities
are what produce eloquence—even if they need skillful hands to trans-
form them from slavish mimicry to true imitation.
*
18 K. Halsey and A. Vine

It is with this literary sense of authority that Shakespeare and Authority


begins. The next two chapters in this volume revisit the question of
Shakespeare’s sources, and both suggest that we need a more capa-
cious term to reflect his range of influences and his mode of literary
composition. In Chap. 2, Colin Burrow proposes that we speak not of
Shakespeare’s sources, but of his authorities, arguing that Shakespeare’s
‘narrative’ sources have been explored at the expense of discursive texts.
Burrow suggests that we should pay attention to a wide range of texts
including narrative works, rhetorical treatises, and works of philosophy,
which provide the contentious seeds of thought within Shakespearean
drama. He discusses examples from 1 Henry IV, which show how
Shakespeare used Cicero’s De Oratore to enhance Prince Hal’s political
and rhetorical authority, and ends by arguing that in Hamlet and King
Lear a hybrid mingling of ‘authorities’, ranging from Cicero and Seneca
to Melanchthon, come to the fore in speeches by characters within the
drama who are themselves suffering crises of authority. In Chap. 3, John
Drakakis also suggests that the terms of ‘source study’ are unsatisfac-
tory, proposing the term ‘resources’ in response to Burrow’s ‘authori-
ties’. Theorized through Roland Barthes, Gérard Genette, and Jacques
Derrida, and providing a close reading of Hamlet in this context,
Drakakis presents a radical questioning of the nature of the ‘text’ itself,
and offers an account of the palimpsestic nature of Shakespeare’s dra-
matic texts.
Chapter 4 (re)turns to linguistic authority, comparing Shakespeare
and Nashe, and considering the idea that Shakespeare’s cultural author-
ity can be indexed by the number and placement of Shakespearean cita-
tions in the Oxford English Dictionary. Giles Goodland suggests that
various changes in editorial policy and the development of electronic
resources in the past three decades have had important effects on that
authority. This research raises important warnings about Shakespeare’s
pre-eminent position as an authority for lexicographical and historical
linguistic research, and highlights the transformative potential of digi-
tal resources in re-writing narratives of linguistic authority. In Chap. 5,
Margaret Tudeau-Clayton continues the discussion of Shakespeare’s
linguistic authority, exploring the relationship between ‘Englishness’
and linguistic authority in The Merry Wives of Windsor through a discus-
sion of the phrase ‘the King’s English’ in the Folio version of that play.
Tudeau-Clayton argues that this phrase is commonly used as a rhetori-
cal/ideological tool to produce by exclusion the centre of ownership and
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 19

authority it represents, but is specifically interrogated in the Folio ver-


sion of Merry Wives, which sets against it an inclusionary idea of ‘our
English’ as a ‘gallymaufry’ without a centre. Eric Heinze also touches on
the relationship between national identity and Shakespearean authority in
Chap. 6. As post-Renaissance Europe created modern concepts of state-
hood and sovereignty, figures like Bodin, Grotius, and Hobbes under-
took ‘constructive’, system-building theories of sovereign authority.
Dramatists, in the meantime, de-constructed sovereignty by unsettling
the divergent bases of authority and legitimacy claimed for it. Concepts
like ‘rule of law’, ‘popular consent’, or ‘natural law’ often serve to char-
acterize rival legitimacy claims, but such concepts’ scope and interrela-
tionships can be vague. Through a reading of Shakespeare’s historical
tetralogies, Heinze’s chapter proposes a vocabulary and topology of legal
and political authority within early modern drama.
Part II of the volume contains five chapters that directly focus on
Shakespeare’s own representations of authority within the plays. In
Chap. 7, Angus Vine considers 1 and 2 Henry IV as plays that are essen-
tially concerned with the construction, questioning, and acceptance of
authority—paternal authority, monarchical authority, divine authority.
This chapter argues that central to their engagement with the idea of
authority is a persistent rhetoric of financial reckoning and fiscal respon-
sibility, a language of debit and credit. He connects this language with
a broader discourse of reckoning, financial, but also metaphorical, that
was emerging in early modern England. The chapter demonstrates that
in 1 and 2 Henry IV—and elsewhere, as Eleanor Lowe also shows in her
analysis of Twelfth Night in Chap. 10—Shakespeare invokes an emerg-
ing discourse of accountability, which is both spiritual and financial,
metaphorical and actual, first to examine notions of personal and pub-
lic responsibility, and then to explore what those notions mean for the
constitution of political, and more particularly, monarchical, author-
ity. Joseph Sterrett’s chapter examines the material and social effects of
an exchange of trust between a king, Henry VIII, and his counsellor,
Thomas Cranmer, in Shakespeare and Fletcher’s All is True. The ring
that the King gives Cranmer is both nothing and everything: nothing
in that it could be anything, any ring, and everything because it is the
King’s and is declared to be so. Such a performance of trust not only
protects the King’s favoured minister, it dares and threatens Cranmer’s
enemies to do or say something that would jeopardize the King’s trust in
them. It is thus a uniquely assertive form of trust, a site where material,
20 K. Halsey and A. Vine

political, and social values meet. Daniel Cadman returns to the notion
of Shakespeare’s authorities (in Burrow’s sense), considering Measure
for Measure as a response to De Constantia and Politica, the two major
works of the Flemish neo-stoic philosopher and political theorist, Justus
Lipsius. Cadman highlights that Duke Vincentio’s methods of exercising
his authority are two-fold: the Duke commends and seeks to inspire the
virtue of constancy in his subjects (as recommended in De Constantia),
while, at the same time, using questionable methods to strengthen his
own political power (similar to the often underhand political pragmatism
advocated in the Politica). The representation of such strategies is part of
the play’s sustained interrogation of Lipsian statecraft and the effects of
the tensions generated through the co-existence of the two principal ten-
ets of constancy and governmental prudence.
Like Joseph Sterrett’s, Eleanor Lowe’s chapter focuses on the
materiality of authority. Her analysis of Malvolio’s authority as stew-
ard in Chap. 10 is viewed through the prism of Viscount Montague’s
Household Book of 1595. Montague lists his servants, their duties
and his rules for the management of them and the household. The
Household Book provides a detailed description of the activities and
responsibilities of his servants, particular to their specific role, and pri-
oritizes the steward as most important in the household. Lowe exam-
ines Malvolio’s interactions and conduct in Twelfth Night in the light of
the steward’s ambiguous position between responsibility and authority,
concentrating on the performance of domestic authority on the early
modern stage. In Chap. 11, Laetitia Sansonetti considers the author-
ity of the poet-playwright-actor, a theme that is also explored by James
Harriman-Smith in Chap. 12. Sansonetti analyses Julius Caesar. In that
play, the character of Cinna-the-poet is often considered to represent a
form of poetic counter-authority. Far from taking the murdered poet as
a figure of self-identification for Shakespeare, this chapter argues that
Cinna deserves to die. The two poets in Julius Caesar fare so ill when it
comes to convincing others (the plebeians not to kill him for Cinna in
Act 3, Brutus and Octavius to patch up their quarrel for the anonymous
camp poet in Act 4) because they fail at composing and delivering effec-
tive rhetorical speeches. By showing the failures of uninventive poets on
stage, Shakespeare is actually staging the triumph of a more rounded fig-
ure of authority, that of the poet-playwright-actor.
In Chap. 12—the first of Part III of the volume, which considers
Shakespeare as authority—James Harriman-Smith distinguishes two ways
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 21

in which the authority of actors with regard to Shakespeare was articu-


lated during the playwright’s seventeenth- and eighteenth-century rise
to the status of a national poet. From the reopening of the theatres to
the early 1700s, actors appeared as apostles, handing down Shakespeare’s
intentions from generation to generation as part of an independent per-
formance tradition. The career of David Garrick, from 1741 to 1776, was
marked, however, with the claim that, rather than inheriting a connec-
tion to Shakespeare, this new star was Shakespeare reborn. Resurrection
had replaced succession as a mode for articulating the actor’s authority.
Harriman-Smith explains this paradigm shift with an analysis of the rise of
textual editing between the death of Betterton and the debut of Garrick,
showing how it destabilized the transmission of theatrical practice while
also justifying Garrick’s claim to bring Shakespeare to life through a close
study of his writing. The chapter then concludes with a brief study of the-
atrical authority beyond Garrick, focusing on the critical writing of John
Philip Kemble. Andrew Rudd’s chapter considers Shakespeare’s author-
ity in the field of architecture, examining the authority Shakespeare pro-
vided in the eighteenth century and Romantic period as a rule-breaker
whose genius transcended both Classicism and the Gothic. Specifically,
it considers his appeal to the architect John Soane, who referred to
Shakespeare’s plays (not always accurately) in his lectures to the Royal
Academy and whose house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields exemplified the eclec-
ticism Shakespeare’s ‘infinite variety’ (Antony and Cleopatra, 2.2.248)
supposedly mandated. It discusses Shakespeare criticism by Alexander
Pope, Elizabeth Montagu, and Samuel Johnson, as well as the ideas of
Soane’s associates John Britton, Joseph Gandy, and Barbara Hofland.
Rudd argues that Shakespeare acted as an authority for Soane to recon-
cile both personal crises and stylistic divisions between Neo-Classicism
and Romanticism. Benedicte Seynhaeve and Raphaël Ingelbien, in their
chapter, revisit the question of Shakespeare and national identity, discuss-
ing Shakespeare’s identity as the national ‘Gothic Bard’ in the context
of Irish appeals to his authority in the Romantic period. Invocations of
Shakespeare in English Gothic helped situate the genre in a native tra-
dition. However, Shakespeare’s status as a national ‘Gothic Bard’ was
complicated in the Irish context. Chap. 14 shows how Charles Robert
Maturin (1780–1824) used Shakespeare to justify a distinctly Irish aes-
thetic of Gothic excess. His deployment of Shakespearean horror and
hyperbolic emotion is contrasted with Ann Radcliffe’s Shakespearean
blend of terror and melancholy, simultaneously revealing very different
22 K. Halsey and A. Vine

interpretations of Burkean aesthetics. Like the Shakespearean work of the


Irish painter James Barry, Maturin’s Gothic writings were condemned by
British commentators, whose sense of a Gothic Shakespeare was incom-
patible with the Irishmen’s perceived extravagance. The debates sur-
rounding their works show that Shakespeare was a contested national
icon within British Romantic culture.
The volume concludes with two chapters that consider Shakespeare in
the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. In Chap. 15, Paul Tyndall and
Fred Ribkoff discuss Peter Brook’s film version of King Lear. Brook’s
film dramatizes a paradigm shift from the discretionary authority and
divine right of Kings to a recognizably modern rule of law governed by
instrumental rationality. When Lear begs his daughter to ‘reason not the
need’ (2.2.445), he is unknowingly asking her to act counter to bru-
tally rational divisive forces he himself has set in motion. The rupture
of bonds between power and authority, and between family members,
is a result of the emergence of a modern sensibility. In Brook’s hands,
the Lear story becomes a malleable myth chronicling the transition from
a primitive, patriarchal culture into a culture reflective of Brook’s own
post-war, existential sensibility. Brook’s Lear evokes the primitive world
of Shakespeare’s King Lear as well as the inevitable collapse of civi-
lization characteristic of ancient Greek tragedy, while at the same time
embodying the apocalyptic vision of post-war avant-garde theatre and
film. Thus Shakespeare’s Lear, although clearly the source for Brook’s
film, is one of many ‘authorities’ operating as an intertext. Brook fore-
grounds the tragic consequences of the modern act of giving up per-
sonal freedom and power—thus authority—to the state for the sake of
security and social order, an act culminating in the erasure of all signs
of civilization. In the final chapter of this volume, Jane Partner exam-
ines the ways in which Shakespeare’s authority is constructed and rep-
resented in contemporary visual culture, and places a diverse selection
of contemporary artworks in the longer history of the interpretation of
Shakespeare in painting, sculpture, and printed media. The first section
examines the presentation of Shakespeare himself, examining modern
portraits and memorabilia in the context of earlier visual constructions
of Shakespeare’s ‘genius’. The second section considers contemporary
paintings and video art that take on Shakespearean subjects, interpret-
ing them as responses to eighteenth- and nineteenth-century usages of
these same subjects in the genre of ‘history’ painting. The final section
1 ‘DRESSED IN A LITTLE BRIEF AUTHORITY’: AUTHORITY BEFORE … 23

examines artists who use Shakespeare’s text itself as their material, either
in graphic projects or in the form of digital sculpture.
If one of the purposes of this book is to examine how Shakespeare
became the archetypal figure of English cultural authority, another is
to illuminate why—a question that, as David Hopkins has observed,
has received rather less attention (Hopkins 2004, p. 263). Two differ-
ent answers to that question, and two different strands, emerge from the
chapters here: first of all, the way in which Shakespeare freely adopts,
adapts, translates, and transforms his own sources and authorities; and
second, the extent to which his plays forensically examine the nature of
authority itself. But to worry at authority (political, historical, or liter-
ary) is not the same thing as to reject it outright, and in Shakespearean
drama, as Stephen Greenblatt has recently noted (Greenblatt 2010,
p. 17), the exercise of authority is not something easily evaded or laid
aside lightly. Instead, Shakespeare’s plays insistently emphasize the
notion of authority, only to destabilize straightforward understandings of
it. Such complexity inevitably colours the ways in which actors, readers,
and audiences respond to Shakespearean authority, as well as the ways in
which the author’s reputation is forged in the following ages. Shakespeare
and Authority therefore enables a new understanding of Shakespearean
authority by foregrounding both its historical precedents and its subse-
quent effects.

Notes
1. For images of Jonson (including his own statue in Westminster Abbey), see
Hearn (2014).
2. While this is partly explained by neoclassical dogma and the growing influ-
ence of French critics, Rymer himself, as Fred Parker has emphasized,
‘grounds his criticism in an appeal to the common sense of the reader’
(Parker 1988, p. 18).
3. In the same place, his essay ‘Four Elizabethan Dramatists’, Eliot also
observed (surely with his tongue in his cheek) that Rymer still ‘makes out
a very good case’ (Eliot 1932, p. 97, n. 3).
4. For the connection between Shakespeare’s education and his classical
learning, the most thorough account remains Baldwin (1944).
5. For eighteenth-century editing of Shakespeare, see Parker (1989), Seary
(1990), and Jarvis (1995); for the Stratford Jubilee, see Rumbold (2012);
and for Malone and the emergence of notions of textual and critical
authenticity, see De Grazia (1991).
24 K. Halsey and A. Vine

6. Although this is not the place for a rehearsal of the Shakespearean author-
ship controversy, it is worth noting that the refusal to believe that a
Stratford grammar boy could have written the plays of Shakespeare, and
subsequent attributions to Bacon, the Earl of Oxford, et al. is directly
related to these contested notions of Shakespearean authority.
7. In our range and scope, we, of course, follow Taylor (1989), the exem-
plary multitudinous account of Shakespeare’s afterlife.

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Another random document with
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E si na festividade
D’aquelle martyr frechado
Se dá á todo o culpado
Remissão e liberdade,
De Deus na Natividade,
Á que já de agora assisto,
Muito mais logar tem isto,
E com tanta mais razão
Quanto vai por medição
De São Sebastião á Christo.

Nós os abaixo assignados


Pedimos com humildade,
Ou fundados na piedade,
Ou na amizade fiados,
Que d’esses grilhões malvados
Por seu duro e infame tracto,
Solteis o prêzo malato,
Porque tem bons fiadores
Nestes vossos servidores,
De que ha de ser bom mulato.
Á ANTONIA
MOÇA PARDA DE PERNAMIRIM CHAMADA VULGARMENTE
CATONA

Que pouco sabe de amor


Quem viu, formosa Catona,
Que ha nessa celeste zona
Astro ou luminar maior.
Tambem a violeta é flor,
E mais é negra a violeta,
E si bem póde um poeta
Uma flor negra estimar,
Tambem eu posso adorar
Nos céus um pardo planeta.

Catona é moça luzida,


Que á pouco custo se asseia,
Entende-se como feia,
Mas é formosa entendida:
Escuza-se commedida,
E ajusta-se envergonhada,
Não é tão desapegada
Que negue á uma alma esperança,
Porque emquanto a não alcança,
Não morra desesperada.
Piza airoso e compassado,
Sabe-se airosa mover,
Calça que é folgar de ver,
E mais anda a pé folgado:
Conversa bem sem cuidado,
Ri sizuda na occasião,
Escuta com attenção,
Responde com seu desdem,
E inda assim responde bem,
E bemquista a sem razão.

É parda de tal talento,


Que a mais branca e a mais bella,
Podéra trocar com ella
A côr pelo entendimento
A um prodigio, um portento;
E si vos espanta ver,
Que adrêde me ando a perder;
Dá-me por desculpa amor,
Que é femea trajada em flor,
E sol mentido em mulher.
Á MESMA CATONA
DESPEDINDO-SE O AUCTOR DE PERNAMIRIM PARA A VILLA
DE S. FRANCISCO

Não vos pude merecer,


Pois vos não pude agradar,
Mas eu hei de me vingar,
Catona, em mais vos querer;
Vós sempre á me aborrecer
Com odio mortal e atroz,
E eu a seguir-vos veloz,
Si sois veremos emfim
Mais firme em fugir-me a mim,
Que eu em seguir-vos á vós.

Quizera vos persuadir,


Porque vos saibaes haver,
Que sou mais firme em querer,
Que vós ligeira em fugir:
Eu não hei de desistir
D’esta minha pretenção,
Quer vós o approveis, quer não,
Porque vêr me importaria
Si talvez faz a porfia
O que não fez a razão.
Mil vezes o tempo faz
O que á razão não conveio,
Metterei pois tempo em meio,
Porque elle nos metta em paz:
Vós estaes muito tenaz
Em dar-me um e outro não,
E eu, levado da affeição,
Espero tempo melhor,
Onde o que não obra amor
Vença o tempo, obre a razão.

Catona, a minha esperança


Me dá por conselho são,
Que espere, porque o rifão
Diz que quem espera alcança:
Tudo tem certa mudança,
O bem males ameaça,
O mal para bem se passa,
Que como a fortuna joga,
O braço que hoje me affoga,
Talvez amanhã me abraça.
Á ANNICA
UMA MULATA DA CAJAHYBA

Annica, o que me quereis,


Que tanto me enfeitiçaes,
Uma vez quando cantaes,
E outra quando appareceis?
Si por matar-me o fazeis,
Fazei esse crime atroz
De matar-me sós por sós,
Para que eu tenha o soccorro,
Que vendo que por vós morro,
Viva de morrer por vós.

Matar-me eu o soffrerei,
Mas soffrei tambem chegar-me,
Que ter asco de matar-me
Jámais o consentirei:
Fugir e matar não sei,
Anna, como o conseguis?
Mas si a minha sorte o quiz
E vós, Anna, o intentaes,
Não podeis matar-me mais
Do que quando me fugis.
Chegae e matar-me já:
Não chegando estou já morto;
Coisa que se me tem absorto,
Matar-me quem não me dá:
Chegae, Anna, para cá,
Para dar-me essa ferida,
Porque fugir de corrida
E matar-me d’essa sorte,
Si o vejo na minha morte,
O não vi na minha vida.

Não sei que pós foram estes


Que na alma me derramastes?
Não sei com que me matastes?
Não sei o que me fizestes?
Sei que aqui me apparecestes,
E vendo-vos com antolhos,
Topei com tantos abrolhos
Na vossa dura conquista,
Que me tirastes a vista
E me quebrastes os olhos.
Á UMA MULATA
DE PERNAMIRIM CHAMADA LUZIA

Parti o bolo, Luzia,


Que a mim mesmo me acommoda:
Não deis a fatia toda,
Dae-me parte da fatia:
Quem pede como eu pedia,
Pede tudo o que lhe importa
E acceita o que se lhe corta,
E quem dá com manha e arte
Seus dados sempre reparte,
Si tem mais pobres á porta.

Não é bem que tudo eu cobre,


E é bem que um pouco me deis;
Dae-me um pouco e alegrar-me-heis:
Com pouco se alegra o pobre;
Não deis coisa que me sóbre,
Dai-me siquer um bocado;
Mas o que vos persuado
Que deis com manha e com arte,
Dando vós e de tal parte,
Sempre será grande o dado.
Si á todos cinco sentidos
Não tendes coisa que dar,
Dae ao de vêr e apalpar,
Os dois sejam preferidos:
Não deis que ouvir aos ouvidos,
Mas dae aos olhos que vêr
E ao tacto em que se entreter;
Deitemos á bom partir
Os dois sentidos a rir
E os demais a padecer

As mãos folgam de apalpar,


Os olhos folgam de vêr,
Os dois logrem seu prazer,
Os tres sintam seu pezar:
Que depois que isto lograr,
Virá o mais por seu pé,
Que inda que ninguem me dê,
Nem eu o tome á ninguem,
Morrerá vosso desdem
Ás forças de minha fé.
A ANTONIA
MOÇA PARDA, CHAMADA A MARIMBONDA, QUE MORAVA NA
RUA DA POEIRA, E A VIU O P. NO CAMPO DA PALMA DEBAIXO
DE UMA URUPEMBA EM CASA DE UMA AMIGA. ALLUDE AO
REMEDIO SYMPATHICO DE SE QUEIMAR A CASA DOS
MARIMBONDOS, PARA SE EXTINGUIR LOGO A DÓR DAS
SUAS PICADAS

Fui hoje ao Campo da Palma,


Onde com subito estrondo
Me investiu um marimbondo,
Que me picou dentro da alma:
Era já passada a calma,
E eu me sentia encalmado,
Corrido e injuriado,
Porque sendo obrigação
Metter-lhe eu o meu ferrão,
Eu fui o que vim picado.

Fiz por fecha-lo na mão,


Mas o marimbondo azedo
Me picava em qualquer dedo
E escapava por então:
Desesperada funcção
Foi esta, pois me fui pondo
Tão abolhado em redondo
Por cara, peito e vasios,
Que estou com febres e frios
Morrendo do marimbondo.
Dizem que a vingança está
Em lhe saber eu da casa,
Porque deixando-lh’a em braza,
Um fogo outro abrandará:
Mas temo não arderá,
Por mais que toda uma matta
Lhe applique com mão ingrata,
Porque o que eu lhe hei de pôr
Ha de ser fogo de amor,
Que inda que abraza, não mata.

Nesta afflicção tão penosa


D’onde me virá o soccorro?
Morrerei, pois por quem morro,
Morro uma morte formosa:
Esta dôr tão tormentosa
Me levará de maneira,
Que, ou ella queira ou não queira,
Em chegando á sua rua,
Si acaso se mostrar crua,
Tudo irá numa poeira.
SAUDOSO
DE PERNAMIRIM, E POR OCCASIÃO DE HAVER VISTO NA
VILLA DE S. FRANCISCO, ONDE ESTAVA, UM MOLEQUE
CHAMADO MOÇORONGO, ESCREVE A UM AMIGO D’AQUELLE
SITIO

ROMANCE

Veiu aqui o Moçorongo


Tão occulto e escondido,
Que não sei si o tenha a elle,
Si a vós por meu inimigo.

Chegou terça feira á tarde,


Metteu-se em casa de Chico,
Passou a tarde e a noite,
E o peior é que dormindo.

Porque havia de dormir


O Moçorongo maldicto,
Sabendo que estava eu
Desvelado e affligido?

Amanheceu quarta feira,


Chegou o nosso Arcebispo,
Gastou-se toda a manhã
Com visitas e visitos.

Deu meio dia, e fui eu


Para casa dos amigos
Esfaimado como um cão,
E como um lobo faminto.
Quando o cão do Moçorongo
Sahiu do seu escondrijo,
E sem lhe occorrer o encontro
Deu de focinhos commigo.

Alegrei-me, e enfadei-me,
Que ha casos em que é preciso
Que se mostre ao mesmo tempo
Alegre um peito e mofino.

Amofinou-me a traição
Com que elle esteve escondido,
E alegrei-me de encontrar
Com gente d’esse districto.

Perguntei logo por vós,


Por Ignacio e Antonico,
Por Luzia e por Catona,
E mais gente d’esse sitio.

Todos estão com saude,


Me disse o crioulo esquivo,
Um tanto triste da cara,
Pouco alegre do focinho.

Mas eu fiz-lhe muita festa,


Assim por ser seu amigo,
Como por ser cousa vossa,
E neste pasto nascido.

Perguntei si me escreveras,
Zombou d’isso, e deu-me um trinco
Zombou com cara risonha,
Trincou com dedo tangido.
D’isto formo a minha queixa,
D’isto fico mui sentido,
Pois sei que tendes papel,
Tinteiro, penna e juizo.

Mais andar lá nos veremos,


E vereis que de sentido
Vos hei de estrugir a vozes,
E me hei de espojar a gritos.

Meus recados a Luzia,


E que estou já de caminho,
Porque só ella me farta,
E á fome aqui me entizico.
ESCREVE
TAMBEM QUEIXOSO A SEU AMIGO IGNACIO, MORADOR EM
PERNAMIRIM, EM QUEM FALLA NO ROMANCE ANTECEDENTE.

ROMANCE

Senhor Ignacio, é possivel


Que quizestes desdizer
D’aquella boa opinião
Que eu tinha na vossa fé?

É possivel que um amigo,


De que tanto confiei,
Nem por escripto me falla,
Nem em pessoa me vê?

É possivel que uma ausencia


Tanta potestade tem,
Que ao vivo morto reputa
No que toca ao bem querer?

Si isto em vós a ausencia faz,


Como em meu peito o não fez?
Não sois vós o meu ausente,
Que em meu peito viveis?

O certo é, meu amigo,


Disse amigo, mas errei,
Que não sois amigo já,
Sois o meu socio talvez.
Fostes socio nos caminhos
D’aquella terra infiel,
Onde Luzia traidora,
E Catona descortez,

Me privaram dos sentidos,


E me deixaram crueis
O corpo uma chaga viva
A golpes de seus desdens.

Mas eu me não queixo d’ellas,


Que de nenhuma mulher,
Má ou boa, ha de queixar-se
Homem que juizo tem.

Queixo-mo de vosso tio,


Que se foi por me empecer
Esta terceira jornada
Para acabar o entremez.

Praza a Deus que ache Simoa,


A quem amante foi ver,
Como ha de achar Antonica
Farta de xesmininez.

D’aquella Antonica fallo,


Que pôz no negro poder
Das Quitas, para que a guardem,
E a guardarem ao revez.

Que a Silvestre a entregaram,


O qual, como vós sabeis,
Apezar dos dias sanctos
Lhe deu tanto que fazer.
Mas pois em Pernamirim,
E em suas cousas toquei,
Neste mesmo assumpto quero
Me façais uma mercê.

Dizei-me si está o Antonio


Recolhido a seu vergel,
Onde era geral Adão
Das Evas que Deus lhe deu.

E si acaso tiver vindo,


Vos peço que lhe mandeis
Este romance fechado
Em um molhado papel.

Porque no molhado veja


O chôro com que lancei
Estes versinhos tão tristes
Por amar e querer bem,

A elle, que me fugiu


D’esta casa, ha mais de um mez,
E á Catona que o imita
No esquivo e no infiel.

E com isto, e outro tanto


Que me fica por dizer,
Adeus, até que tenhais
Quem vos traga a meu vergel.
Á ANTONIO DE ANDRADE
SENDO DESPENSEIRO DA MISERICORDIA

Senhor Antonio de Andrade,


Não sei si vos gabe mais
As franquezas naturaes,
Ou si a christã charidade:
Toda esta nossa Irmandade,
Que á pasmos emmudeceis,
Vendo as obras que fazeis,
Não sabe decidir não
Si egualaes o amor de irmão,
Ou si de pae o excedeis.

Ou, senhor, vós sois parente


De toda esta enfermaria,
Ou vos vem por recta via
Ser pae de todo o doente:
Quem vos vê tão diligente,
Tão caritativo e tão
Inclinado á compaixão,
Dirá de absorto e pasmado,
Que entretanto mal curado,
Só vós fostes homem são.
Aquella mesma piedade,
A que vos move um doente,
Vos mostra evidentemente
Homem são na qualidade:
De qualquer enfermidade
São aphorismos não vãos,
Que enfermarão mil irmãos:
Mas si o contrario se alude
Somente a vossa saude
Foi contagio de mil sãos.

Quem não sarou d’esta vez


Fica muito temeroso,
Que lhe ha de ser mui penoso
Acabar-se-vos o mez:
Ninguem jámais isto fez,
Nem é coisa contingente
O ficar toda esta gente
Com perigo tão atroz,
Que se acabe o mez á vós
Para mal de outro doente.
AO CAPITÃO
JOÃO RODRIGUES DOS REIS, HOMEM GENEROSO E
ALENTADO, GRANDE AMIGO DO P.

Meu capitão dos Infantes,


Que por vossas boas artes,
Sois homem de muitas partes,
Nascendo só em Abrantes:
Por vossos ditos galantes,
Discretos e cortezãos,
E por largueza de mãos
Á todos nos pareceis
Não sómente João dos Reis,
Si não o rei dos Joãos.

O principe, que de juro


Senhorêa os corações,
Como lá disse Camões,
Que sois vós o conjecturo:
Tanto nisto me asseguro,
Que em ver como procedeis,
Presumo que descendeis
De algum principe de França,
D’onde tendes por herança
Esse appellido dos Reis.

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