Love Restored (1612)

Edited by David Lindley

Introduction

Love Restored was performed at Whitehall on 6 January 1612. (A masque sponsored by the Queen and Prince Henry, of six men and six women, had been planned, but was abandoned in December because of the Queen of Spain’s death.) It was danced, as the indefatigable letter-writer, John Chamberlain, informs us, not by the eminent courtiers that might have been expected for the originally intended masque, but by ‘gallants chosen out of the King’s and Prince’s men’ (Letters, ed. McClure, 1939, 1, 438; Masque Archive, Love Rest., 13). Chamberlain’s fragmentary letter is the only surviving notice of the masque outside the accounts; it suggests that most of the performers were Scots. In this respect the work anticipates Irish, which was also performed by relatively minor court figures, notable for their prowess as dancers, and it is similarly sparse in its requirements for any setting or elaborate music. There is some uncertainty as to the sponsorship of this masque. In the Revels Book it is described as ‘The Princes Masque performed by Gentlemen of his Highness’, though James’s warrant to Meredith Morgan for charges states that ‘we have appointed a masque to be performed in our court this Christmas for the honour and recreation of us and our court’.

Whatever Prince Henry’s involvement, the work is designed very specifically to address the current concerns of the King rather than his son. For, as Furniss (1958) and Fischer (1977) demonstrate, the work negotiates issues that had attended the unsuccessful attempt in the Parliament of 1610–11 to bring about a revolution in royal finances through the ‘Great Contract’ devised by the treasurer, Robert Cecil. The collapse of these negotiations led to determined efforts to economize, and the records of payments for this masque suggest that it may have cost as little as £280 8s. 9d. Plutus’s attack on masquing and its expense represents those inside and outside Parliament who criticized the King for his extravagance; the resolution offered in the masque itself, that love for the King should prompt his subjects to provide him with adequate supply, chimes exactly with the sentiments James expressed in his 1610 speech to Parliament (see 198–202).

In that speech James argued that ‘it is true I have spent much; but yet if I had spared any of those things, which caused a great part of my expense, I should have dishonoured the kingdom, myself, and the late Queen’ and hoped ‘you will never mislike me for my liberality’ (Political Writings, ed. Sommerville, 1994, 196, 197). But he also promised that ‘the vastness of my expense is past, which I used the first two or three years after my coming hither: and, as I oft used to say, that Christmas and open tide is ended’ (197). Martin Butler suggests that Jonson negotiates this paradoxical position by arguing that ‘however much the revelry seems to be called into question by the lack of glorious display, the celebrations are all the truer for being frugal: they become revels done by Love rather than Money’ (Butler, 1994, 101). The figure of Plutus was taken up by Chapman in the Memorable Masque presented by Inns of Court to honour Princess Elizabeth’s marriage in 1613.

It may have been the need for an economical masque, together with the lateness of the commission, that led Jonson to make his first experiment with an antimasque that is written in prose which adopts a colloquial, satirical style. It was to become a characteristic mode in later masques, and its theme – the difficulty of gaining access to the masque – recurs in Augurs and in Shirley’s later Triumph of Peace (1633). The frugality of the masque is paralleled by the paucity of information provided in the text. There is no note of a set – perhaps none was required or could be built in time – and though the musical requirements are modest, with no antimasque dances, there must have been singers and a consort to accompany the dances (though Jonson does not indicate who might have performed the four songs). Chamberlain’s letter suggests that when it came to the revels Frances Howard and her sister refused the masquers’ invitation to dance, and that other ladies followed them so that the gentlemen were compelled to ‘make court to one another’. The ladies’ motivation for breaking the decorum of the celebration is not recorded, though it may have been on the grounds that the Scottish dancers were not of sufficiently elevated social status to match the wives of the Earl of Essex and Lord Cranbourne. The text makes no mention of this embarrassing refusal of the ladies to take part in the revels (235–7), though this may be a consequence only of the fact that it is likely that the copy for the printers was of a final draft of the speeches, little revised after the performance.

The text was first printed in 1616. There are a number of obvious textual corruptions, indicating that Jonson did not proof-read the work, though the presence of the Jonsonian abbreviation ‘’hem’, the spelling of ‘windore’, and the preference for ‘daunce’ rather than ‘dance’ might indicate that an authorial MS or immediate scribal transcription of it served as printer’s copy.

 

 LOVE RESTORED IN A MASQUE AT COURT
by gentlemen the King’s servants

[Enter]  MASQUERADO [vizarded].

MASQUERADO

I would I could make ’em a show myself. In troth,  ladies, I pity you

all. You are here in expectation of a  device tonight, and I am afraid you can

do little else but  expect it. Though I dare not show my face, I can speak truth

under a  vizard. Good faith,    an’t please Your Majesty, your masquers are all 5

 at a stand; I cannot think Your Majesty will see any show tonight, at least

worth your patience. Some two hours since we were in that  forwardness, our

dances learned, our masquing  attire on and attired. A pretty fine speech was

 taken up o’the poet too,  which if he never be paid for now, it’s no matter;

his wit costs him  nothing. Unless we should come in like  a morris-dance, 10

and  whistle our  ballad ourselves, I know not what we should do. We ha’  no

other musician to play our tunes but the  wild music here, and the rogue

 play-boy that acts Cupid is got so hoarse, Your Majesty cannot hear him half

the breadth o’ your chair.

    [Enter PLUTUS disguised as Cupid, with bow and quiver.] 15

See, they ha’ thrust him out  at  adventure. We humbly beseech Your Majesty

to bear with us. We had both hope and purpose it should have been better;

howsoever, we are lost in it.

PLUTUS

What makes this   light,  feathered vanity here? Away, impertinent folly!

Infect not this assembly. 20

MASQUERADO

How,   boy?

PLUTUS

Thou common corruption of all manners and places that admit thee!

MASQUERADO

Ha’ you recovered your voice to rail at me?

PLUTUS

No, vizarded impudence. I am neither player nor masquer, but the

god himself whose deity is here profaned by thee. Thou and thy like think 25

yourselves authorized in this place to all licence of  surquidry. But you shall

find custom hath not so grafted you here but you may be rent up and thrown

out as unprofitable evils. I tell thee, I will have no more masquing; I will not

buy a false and fleeting delight so dear. The merry madness of one hour shall

not cost me the repentance of an age. 30

  [Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW.]

ROBIN

  How? No masque, no  masque? I pray you say, are you sure on’t? No

masque indeed? What do I here then? Can you tell?

MASQUERADO

No,  faith.

ROBIN

 ’Slight, I’ll be gone again  an there be no masque. There’s a jest. Pray you 35

 resolve me. Is there any, or no? A masque?

PLUTUS

Who are you?

ROBIN

Nay, I’ll tell you that when I can. Does anybody know themselves here,

think you? I would fain know if there be a masque, or no.

PLUTUS

There is none, nor shall be, sir; does that satisfy you? 40

ROBIN

’Slight, a fine trick!  A piece of England’s Joy, this. Are these your court- sports?

Would I had kept me to my  gambols o’the country still:  selling of

fish,  short service,  shoeing the wild mare, or  roasting of robin redbreast.

These  were better than after all this time no masque. You look at me. I

have  recovered myself now for you. I am the honest, plain country spirit 45

and harmless, Robin Goodfellow; he that sweeps the hearth and the house

clean –  riddles for the country maids – and does all their other drudgery while

they are at  hot cockles; one that has discoursed with your court spirits ere

now, but was fain tonight to run a thousand hazards to arrive at this place.

Never poor goblin was so put to his  shifts to get in, to see nothing. So many 50

thorny difficulties as I have passed deserved the best masque, the whole  shop

of the revels. I would you would  admit some of my feats, but I ha’ little hope

o’that, i’faith, you let me in so  hardly.

PLUTUS

Sir, here’s no place for them, nor you. Your  rude good-fellowship must

seek some other sphere for your   admitty. 55

ROBIN

Nay, so your stiff-necked porter told me at the gate, but not in so good

words. His staff spoke somewhat to that  boisterous sense. I am sure he

 concluded all in a non-entry, which made me e’en climb over the wall and in

by the  wood-yard, so to the  terrace, where when I came, I found the  oaks of

the guard  more unmoved, and one of ’em, upon whose arm I hung, shoved 60

me off o’the ladder and dropped me down like an acorn. ’Twas well there

was not a  sow in the  verge, I had been eaten up else. Then I heard some talk

o’the carpenters’  way, and I attempted that; but there the wooden rogues

let a huge trap-door fall o’my head. If I had not been a spirit, I had been

  mazarded. Though I confess I am none of those  subtle ones that can creep 65

through at a key-hole or the cracked pane of a  window. I must come in at a

door, which made me once think of a trunk, but that I would not imitate so

 catholic a  coxcomb as  Coryate, and make a   case  o’ catsos. Therefore I took

another course. I watched what kind of persons the door most opened to, and

one of their shapes I would  belie to get in with. First, I came  with authority, 70

and said I was an  engineer and belonged to the  motions. They asked me if I

were the  fighting bear of last year, and laughed me out of that, and said the

motions were ceased. Then I took another figure, of an old  tirewoman, but

 tired under that too, for none of the masquers would take note of me;  the

mark was out of my mouth. Then I pretended to be a musician; marry, I could 75

not  show mine instrument, and that bred a discord. Now there was nothing

left for me that I could presently think on but a  feather-maker of Blackfriars,

and in that shape I told ’em: ‘Surely I must come in,  let it be opened unto me’.

But they all made as light of me as of my feathers, and wondered how I could

be a puritan, being of so vain a vocation. I answered: ‘We all are masquers 80

sometimes.’ With which they knocked hypocrisy o’the pate , and made room

for a  bombard-man that brought  bouge for a country lady or two that fainted,

he said, with fasting for the fine sight since seven o’clock i’the morning. Oh,

how it grieved me that I was  prevented o’that shape and had not  touched on

it in time, it  liked me so well. But I thought I would  offer at it yet. Marry, 85

before I could procure my  properties, alarum came that some o’the   whimlens

had  too much; and one showed how fruitfully they had  watered his head as

he stood under the   greces; and another came out complaining of a   cataract

shot into his eyes by a planet as he was star-gazing. There was that device

defeated. By this time I saw  a fine citizen’s wife or two let in, and that figure 90

provoked me exceedingly to  take it; which I had no sooner done, but one o’the

 black-guard had his hand in my  vestry, and was groping of me as nimbly as

the  Christmas cutpurse. He thought he might be bold with me because I had

not a husband in sight to  squeak to. I was glad to forgo my form, to be rid

of his hot steaming  affection, it so smelt o’the  boiling-house. Forty other 95

devices I had, of  wiremen, and the  chandry, and I know not what else; but all

succeeded alike. I offered money too, but  that could not be done so privately

as it durst be taken, for the danger of an example. At last, a troop of  strangers

came to the door, with whom I made myself sure to enter. But before I could

mix, they were all let in, and I left alone  without,  for want of an interpreter. 100

Which,  when I was fain to be to myself,  a  colossus o’the company told me I

had English enough to carry me to bed; with which all the other statues of

flesh laughed. Never till then did I know the  want of a hook and a piece of

beef, to have baited three or four o’those goodly  wide-mouths with. In this

despair, when all invention, and  translation too, failed me, I e’en went back, 105

and stuck to this  shape you see me in, of mine own, with my  broom and my

candles, and came on confidently, giving out I was a part o’the  device. At

which, though they had little to do with wit, yet because some  on’t might

be used here tonight, contrary to their knowledge, they thought it fit way

should be made for me; and, as it falls out, to small purpose. 110

PLUTUS

Just as much as you are fit for. Away, idle spirit; [To Masquerado] and thou,

the idle cause of his adventuring hither, vanish with him. ’Tis thou that art

not only the sower of vanities in these high places, but  the call of all other  light

follies to fall and feed on them. I will endure thy  prodigality nor riots no more;

they are the  ruin of states. Nor shall the  tyranny of these nights hereafter 115

impose a necessity upon  me of entertaining thee. Let  ’em embrace more frugal

pastimes. Why should not the thrifty and right worshipful game of  post and

pair content ’em? or the witty invention of noddy,  for counters? or ‘ God make

them rich’, at the tables? But masquing and revelling? Were not these ladies

and their gentlewomen more housewifely employed, a  dozen of ’em to a 120

light, or twenty – the more the merrier – to save  charges i’their chambers at

home, and their old  nightgowns, at  draw-gloves, riddles,  dreams, and other

pretty  purposes, rather than to  wake here, in their flaunting  wires and  tires,

laced gowns, embroidered petticoats and other  taken-up braveries? Away! I

will no more of these superfluous excesses. They are these make me  hear so 125

ill, both in town and country, as I do; which if they continue, I shall be the

first shall leave ’em.

MASQUERADO

Either I am very stupid, or this a  reformed Cupid.

ROBIN

How? Does any take this for Cupid, the Love-in-Court?

MASQUERADO

Yes, is’t not he? 130

ROBIN

Nay then, we spirits, I see, are subtler yet, and somewhat better discoverers.

No, it is not he, nor his brother  Anti-Cupid, the Love of Virtue, though

he pretend to it with his phrase and face. ’Tis that impostor Plutus,  the god

of money, who has stol’n Love’s  ensigns, and in his belied figure  reigns i’the

world, making friendships, contracts, marriages, and almost religion; begetting, 135

breeding, and holding the  nearest respects of mankind, and usurping

all those offices in this  age of gold which Love himself performed in the

Golden Age. ’Tis he that pretends to tie kingdoms, maintain commerce, dispose

of honours, make all places and dignities  arbitrary from him; even to the

very  country, where Love’s name cannot be  razed out, he has yet gained there 140

upon him by a proverb insinuating his pre-eminence: not for love or money.

There Love lives confined by his tyranny to a cold region, wrapped up in furs

like a Muscovite and almost frozen to death; while  he, in his enforced shape

and with his  ravished arms, walks as if he were to set bounds and give laws to

destiny. ’Tis you, mortals, that are fools, and worthy to be such, that worship 145

him; for  if you had wisdom, he had no godhead. He should stink in the grave

with those wretches whose slave he was.  Contemn him, and he is one. Come,

follow me. I’ll bring you where you shall find Love, and by the virtue of  this

majesty, who projecteth so powerful beams of light and heat through this

hemisphere, thaw his icy fetters and scatter the darkness that obscures him. 150

Then, in despite of this insolent and barbarous  Mammon, your sports may

proceed, and the solemnities of the night be complete without depending

on so earthy an idol.

PLUTUS

 Ay, do; attempt it! ’Tis like to find most necessary and fortunate  event,

whatsoever is enterprised without my aids. Alas! How bitterly the spirit of 155

poverty spouts itself against my  weal and felicity! But I feel it not.  I cherish and

make much of myself, flow forth in ease and  delicacy, while  that murmurs

and starves.

  Enter CUPID in his chariot, guarded with the MASQUERS.

Song 160

Oh how came Love, that is himself a fire,

To be so  cold!

Yes,  tyrant money quencheth all desire,

Or makes it old.

But  here are beauties will revive 165

Love’s youth, and keep his heat alive.

As often as his torch here dies,

He needs but light it at  fresh eyes.

Joy, joy the more; for in all courts

If Love be cold, so are his sports. 170

CUPID

I have my  spirits again, and feel my limbs.

Away with this cold cloud that dims

My light! Lie there, my furs and charms;

Love feels a heat that inward warms,

And guards him, naked, in these places, 175

As at his birth, or  ’mongst the Graces.

[To Plutus] Impostor Mammon, come, resign

This bow and quiver; they are mine.

Thou hast too long usurped my rites;

I now am lord of mine own nights. 180

Begone, whilst yet I give thee leave.

When thus the world thou wilt deceive,

Thou canst in youth and beauty shine,

Belie a godhead’s form divine,

Scatter thy gifts, and fly to those 185

Where thine own humour may   dispose;

 But when to good men thou art sent,

By Jove’s direct  commandëment,

Thou then art agèd, lame, and blind,

And canst  nor path nor persons find. 190

[To Robin] Go, honest spirit, chase him hence

T’ his caves,  and there let him dispense

For murders, treasons, rapes, his bribes

Unto the discontented tribes;

Where let his heaps grow daily less, 195

And he and they  still want success.

[Exit Robin, leading Plutus away.]

 The majesty that here doth move

Shall triumph, more secured by love

Than all his earth; and never  crave 200

 His aids, but force him as a slave.

To those bright beams I owe my life,

And I will pay it, in the  strife

Of duty, back.  See, here are ten,

The spirits of court and  flower of men, 205

Led on by me, with  flamed intents,

To  figure the ten ornaments

That do each courtly presence grace.

Nor will they rudely strive for place,

One to precede the other, but, 210

As  music them in form shall put,

So will they  keep their measures true,

And make still their proportions new,

 Till all become one harmony

 Of Honour and of Courtesy, 215

True  Valour and  Urbanity,

Of Confidence,  Alacrity,

Of Promptness, and of  Industry,

  Ability,  Reality.

Nor shall those graces ever quit your court, 220

Or I be wanting to supply their sport.

Dances.

  Song

This motion was of Love begot,

It was so airy, light and good; 225

His wings into their feet he shot,

Or else himself into their blood.

But ask not how. The end will prove

That love’s in them, or they’re in love.

Song 230

Have men beheld the  Graces dance,

Or seen  the upper orbs to move?

So these did turn, return, advance,

Drawn back by doubt, put on by love.

And now,  like earth, themselves they fix, 235

 Till greater powers vouchsafe to mix

Their motions with them. Do not fear,

You brighter planets of this sphere:

 Not one male heart you see

But rather to his female eyes 240

Would die a destined sacrifice

Than live at home and free.

Song

Give end unto thy pastimes, Love,

Before they labours prove. 245

A little rest between

Will make thy next shows better seen.

Now let them close their eyes, and see

If they can dream of thee,

Since morning hastes to come in view, 250

And all the  morning dreams are true. 

TITLE As for the later Irish, there are a number of ways in which the title of this masque might be represented. Here, as there, the indication of ‘gentlemen the King’s servants’ refers primarily to the minor courtiers who were the masquers, though it may also indicate that the actors who performed in the antimasque were from the King’s Men.
1 MASQUERADO A masked man, a participant in a masque.
2 ladies As in other masques, it is implied that the ladies of the court are the most eager spectators.
3 device masque.
4 expect wait for.
5 vizard mask.
5 an’t] F1 (and’t)
5 an’t if it.
6 at a stand unable to move; in a state of perplexity (OED, Stand n.1 6).
7 forwardness readiness, preparedness.
8 attire . . . attired The second ‘attired’ might mean ‘adorned’, but it seems clumsily redundant. If there is textual corruption, however, it is not obvious how it might be repaired.
9 taken . . . poet acquired from the dramatist (OED, Take v. 98).
9–10 which . . . nothing In 1613 Chapman, in his Memorable Masque, a work which self-consciously refers back to Love Restored, has his antimasque figure, Capriccio, complain to Plutus: ‘you great wise persons have a fetch of state – to employ with countenance and encouragement, but reward with austerity and disgrace; save your purses, and lose your honours’ (Lindley, 84).
10 nothing. Unless] F2; nothing, vnlesse F1
10 a morris-dance a troupe of morris-dancers. The morris began as a courtly dance, probably in the late fifteenth century, and thence migrated into popular culture, becoming ‘in many ways the national dance of England, as much city as country dance, performed by “rude mechanics” in both venues . . . it was equally a ritual, a social, and an exhibition dance, often all three in one’ (Ward, 1986b, 294–5). The dancers generally wore bells on their legs and carried handkerchiefs, and were often accompanied by a ‘maid Marian’ and a ‘fool’. See Hutton (1996), 262–76, for its evolution during the sixteenth century and beyond.
11 whistle . . . ourselves In the absence of musicians they would be forced to whistle the tune to which they would dance.
11 ballad] F1 (ballat)
11–12 no other] H&S; neither F1
12 wild music The music for antimasque dances was generally provided by a separate group of musicians playing instruments distinct from those associated with the main masques. Love Freed, 2, similarly refers to ‘wild instruments’, and some suggestion of what these might have been is offered in Pleasure Rec., 3, Pan’s Ann., 57–9, 75–8. It is probably the presence of percussion instruments which is most characteristic of the differentiation of antimasque music. (See ‘The Court Masque’, vol. 1.)
13 play-boy boy actor.
15 Enter . . . Cupid] G; not in F1
15 PLUTUS . . . Cupid There were two traditions in the representation of Plutus. Jonson had already drawn on the accounts in Giraldi and Cartari in King’s Ent., 367–8, where Plutus is the son of Ceres, a ‘little boy, bareheaded, his locks curled and spangled with gold’, hence easily mistaken for Cupid. Masquerado is represented as taken in by his disguise, but whether or not the text assumes that the audience are similarly fooled is an open question. In the other tradition, deriving from Aristophanes (to which Jonson alludes in King’s Ent., marginalium 53), he is an old man, blind and decrepit.
16 at adventure recklessly (without a plan or script).
16 adventure. We humbly] F2; aduenture, humbly F1
19 light, feathered] F1 (light, fether’d)
19 light, feathered H&S record the conjecture that this might read ‘light-feathered’, but hyphenation renders the phrase somewhat tautologous (what would be a ‘heavy’ feather?).
19 feathered Indicating that Masquerado’s costume included feathers in the headdress. Plutus echoes familiar puritan complaints, but is, of course, on dangerous ground, since feathers frequently were to be found in noble masquers’ costumes.
21 boy?] this edn; boy! F1
21 boy It is an open question whether Plutus was played by an adult or a boy actor. The part is a demanding one, but to give it to an adult perhaps would render the illusion of Plutus-as-Cupid too obvious from the outset.
26 surquidry arrogance, presumption.
31 SD] G; not in F1
31 robin goodfellow A puck, or sprite, ‘the best-known and most often referred to of all the Hobgoblins of England in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries’ (Briggs, 1976, 341). He was conventionally associated with practical jokes and domestic mischief, especially in the countryside, as in MND, 2.1.34–7, and in the 1618 Coleorton Masque (Lindley, Court Masques, 126–35).
32 How?] this edn; How! F1
32 masque?] F2; masque. F1
34 faith in faith.
35 ’Slight Abbreviation of ‘God’s light’. Another mild oath.
35 an if.
36 resolve answer.
41 A piece . . . Joy The failure of a masque to materialize is compared by Robin to the con trick perpetrated by one Richard Vennar of Lincoln’s Inn, who had advertised in a broadsheet a performance of a play entitled England’s Joy at the Swan theatre on 6 November 1602. It was supposed to be acted by ‘certain gentlemen and gentlewomen of account’, and the entrance fee was therefore high, but Vennar disappeared after taking the entrance money, and no play was performed. He was apprehended, but the Lord Chief Justice ‘would make nothing of it but a jest and a merriment’. The scam was often alluded to, including by Jonson again in Augurs, 94 and n. See Chambers, ES, 3.500–2 for a full account.
42 sports?] G; sports! F1
42 gambols merrymakings.
42–3 selling . . . fish ‘not elsewhere associated with Robin’ (H&S).
43 short service ‘being a domestic servant for short periods’ (Orgel).
43 shoeing . . . mare A Christmas game, riding a plank in see-saw fashion. H&S cite Herrick, Hesperides, ‘Of Blind-man-buffe, and of the care / That young men have to shoe the mare’. They also suggest that the phrase might be taken literally, as indicating the performance of a difficult task; the same ambivalence attends Francis Beaumont, Knight of the Burning Pestle, I. Interlude, 6–7: ‘I’ll have Rafe come and do some of his gambols. He’ll ride the wild mare, gentlemen, ’twould do your hearts good to see him’ (Dramatic Works in the Beaumont and Fletcher Canon, ed. Bowers, 1966–96).
43 roasting . . . redbreast This seems to be meant literally – ‘a treat for his fairy namesake comparable to a roast turkey for a human being’ (H&S).
44 were would be.
45 recovered myself i.e. returned to my real or normal appearance.
47 riddles . . . maids One of Robin’s standard pranks (or good services): to clean the house at night to the puzzlement of the maids the next morning.
48 hot cockles ‘A rustic game in which one player lay face downwards, or knelt down with his eyes covered, and being struck on the back by the others in turn, guessed who struck him’ (OED).
50 shifts stratagems, tricks.
51–2 shop . . . revels repertory of masque devices. Perhaps also alluding to the stock of costumes and props maintained by the Revels office.
52 admit (1) acknowledge; (2) grant admittance to.
53 hardly unwillingly.
54 rude rustic, lower-class.
55 admitty] F1 (admittie); actiuitie H&S conj.
55 admitty admittance. This is the only recorded instance of this word, which H&S believe is a misprint for ‘actiuitie’. This does not seem palaeographically very likely, though ‘activity’ is used in Christmas, 248.
57 boisterous rough.
58 concluded . . . non-entry ended up by denying me entrance.
59 wood-yard A yard outside the palace of Whitehall, otherwise known as Scotland Yard.
59 terrace] F1 (tarras)
59–60 oaks . . . guard guardsmen standing as stiff as oak trees.
60 more i.e. even more than the porter.
62 sow . . . else Continues the image of Robin as an acorn, an attractive food for a pig.
62 verge precincts of the court.
63 way (workmen’s) entrance.
65 mazarded] F1 state 1; amazed F1 state 2
65 mazarded hit on the head. OED gives this as the only instance of the verb, formed from the jocular meaning of the noun, whose original sense is a drinking-vessel. (Shakespeare uses ‘mazard’ for ‘head’ in Ham., 5.1.87.) That it was printed as ‘amazed’ in the resetting of this page suggests that it was an unfamiliar word to the compositors.
65 subtle (1) rarified; (2) thin.
66 window] F1 (windore)
68 catholic universal.
68 coxcomb conceited fool.
68 Coryate Thomas Coryate (?1577–1617), of Odcombe in Somerset. A traveller, and figure of fun. When he failed to find a publisher for the narrative of his four-month journey on foot across Europe in 1608, he appealed to people of eminence to write prefatory verses for his book. Many did so, including Jonson, who wrote a prose ‘Character’ of Coryate, and referred to him as that ‘odd jovial author’ in his verses ‘To the Right Noble Tom’ (4.192). The volume, Coryate’s Crudities, appeared in 1611. His feat of having himself smuggled into a masque in a trunk was commemorated by Sir Henry Goodere in his preliminary verse: ‘If any think him dull or heavy, know / The court and city’s mirth cannot be so. / Who thinks him light, ask them who had the task / To bear him in a trunk unto the masque.’
68 case o’ catsos] Orgel (Ricks conj.); case: vses F1; case of asses G conj.; case of aufs Greg (1942) conj.
68 case pair.
68 o’ catsosCatso is Elizabethan slang; its basic meaning is roughly equivalent to the modern cock, but it is also regularly used to mean rogue or scamp, and Jonson elsewhere makes it synonymous with cockscomb’ (Orgel, ed., Masques, 1969, 482). F1 prints ‘case: vses’, which is clearly an error. F2 solved the problem simply by ending the sentence at ‘Coryat’. Noting that there are two instances elsewhere in this masque (98, 129) where F1 prints a punctuation mark in error for either ‘i’ or ‘o’, Gifford (1875) conjectured ‘case of asses’, an emendation H&S find attractive, though they do not adopt it. Greg suggested that F1’s ‘vses’ was a misreading of ‘vfes’, which might be understood as ‘case of aufs’ or oafs, idiots. Orgel, 481–2, rejects both, and accepts instead Christopher Ricks’s suggestion of a ‘case o’catsos’, the reading adopted here. He offers in support a passage in EMO, 2.1.23–4: ‘These be our nimble-spirited catsos that ha’ their evasions at pleasure’, and concludes that ‘for Robin to call Coryat a catso would be rude, but not necessarily pejorative’. Though the emendation is less obviously ‘orthographically defensible’ than Orgel asserts, this is a crux which has no easy solution and the alliteration suits well with the character of Robin’s speech.
70 belie falsely imitate.
70 with authority with (pretend) authorization.
71 engineer one involved with the ‘engines’ or moving devices of the masque.
71 motions (1) moving stage machinery; (2) show. ‘Robin means the former, but the guards take him to mean the latter’ (Orgel).
72 fighting . . . year See also Bart. Fair, 3.4.104 and n., which probably refers to an actor belonging to the Fortune theatre, commemorated in a ballad entered in the Stationers’ Register, 21 January 1612, to John Wright, ‘The men baited in a bear’s skin’, and in Samuel Rowlands, The Knave of Hearts (1612), sig. F4, which speaks of ‘an unfortunate two-legged bear, / Who though indeed he did deserve no ill, / Some butchers (playing dogs) did well-nigh kill’.
73 tirewoman dressmaker; one who assisted the masquers to dress.
74 tired wearied, despaired. (With wordplay on ‘tirewoman’.)
74–5 the mark . . . mouth The absence of marks on a horse’s teeth is a sign of age; but Robin presumably appears too young, rather than too old, for his disguise, and the meaning may be simply that the marks in his mouth were inappropriate.
76 show mine instrument Cf. Staple, 1.5.128–30, where Pennyboy Junior reports that his barber, Tom, ‘got unto a masque at court by his wit, / And the good means of his cittern, holding up thus / For one o’the music’.
77 feather-maker of Blackfriars ‘Blackfriars was the Puritan centre of London, and making feathers for court costumes was a common trade in the district. The supposed moral anomaly was a frequent butt of satire’ (Orgel). Cf. Alch., 1.1.128–9.
78 let . . . me Parodying puritan biblical rhetoric; cf. Matthew, 7.7: ‘knock, and it shall be opened unto you’.
81 knocked . . . pate i.e. gave my head a beating in my guise as a hypocritical puritan.
82 bombard-man One carrying a large leather container of drink.
82 bouge court-rations, provisions. Cf. Merc. Vind., 62.
84 prevented o’ anticipated in.
84 touched on hit upon, thought of.
85 liked appealed to.
85 offer at attempt.
86 properties The theatrical sense: Robin needed a bombard to sustain his disguise.
86–7 whimlens had] F1; whimlens had had H&S
86 whimlens miserable creatures (OED, Whimling). The word is only recorded twice: here and in Beaumont and Fletcher, The Coxcomb, 4.7.18 (Dramatic Works, ed. Bowers, 1966–96).
87 too much i.e. too much to drink. H&S conjecture ‘had had too much’, but the emendation is unnecessary.
87 watered i.e. urinated on.
88 greces] F1 (grices)
88 greces stairway. (The term is also used for the rows of seats upon which the audience sat, but here applies to the steps leading up to the entrance to the hall.)
88 cataract waterfall, but also punning on the eye-disease.
88–9 cataract . . . star-gazing A euphemistic description of the plight of the observer drenched in urine as he looks up the skirts of the women standing above on the steps.
90 a fine . . . in This suggests that to dress elaborately might persuade the guards to let those of lower ranks in to the masque.
91 take it adopt that disguise.
92 black-guard The generic name for the lower class of kitchen servants at the court (cf. Merc. Vind., 65). OED suggests that the use of the word as a term of moral opprobrium post-dates this masque, but Jonson seems to be edging towards it.
92 vestry Usually glossed as ‘dress’, or ‘vesture’, a rare sense. But the vestry in a church was both a robing-room and the place where valuables were kept, and there are numerous references in the period to the crime of robbing a vestry of its treasures. This sense implied here is of a private place in which to keep one’s jewels, i.e. testicles. The servant is groping in an attempt at purse-snatching, but with a suggestion also of the sexual sense.
93 Christmas cutpurse John Selman was caught picking pockets in the royal chapel during the Christmas service in 1611, and was executed on 7 January 1612, the day after the masque. His crime was commemorated in a ballad, ‘The Captaine Cut-purse’ by Henry Smith (1612). This highly topical allusion must have been a last-minute addition to the script. Chamberlain noted that many possessions were lost at the performance of Blackness (Masque Archive, Blackness, 6; SP 14/12/6 fols 8v–9), and Nightingale, in Bart. Fair, 3.5.27ff., sings a ballad which enumerates the variety of social situations in which cutpurses operated.
94 squeak squeal for help.
95 affection (erotic) attentiveness.
95 boiling-house building for boiling of soap, sugar, tallow etc., hence distinctly odiferous. Merc. Vind., 66 speaks of the black-guard ‘especially those of the boiling-house’. (And cf. Neptune, 167.)
96 wiremen wire-workers.
96 chandry Literally the place where candles were kept.
97–8 that . . . example those to whom money was offered privately could not take it, for fear that they would be found out and made an example.
98 strangers foreigners (perhaps an ambassador and his entourage).
100 without outside.
100 for . . . interpreter because I lacked an interpreter. Robin, to present himself convincingly as a foreigner, needed someone who appeared to interpret his speech to the guards.
101 when . . . myself when I tried to pretend that I was myself an interpreter. (Robin suggests that he tried to imitate an interpreter, but was seen through by the guards, who recognized him as English and mocked him.)
101 a colossus o’the] H&S; a Colossus, the F1 state 1; as a Colossus, the F1 state 2; a Colossus of the Wh
101 colossus huge man (after the statue, the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the wonders of the ancient world, a conceit continued in the ensuing remark about ‘statues of flesh’).
103 want lack.
104 wide-mouths (1) ‘one who speaks loudly or without restraint’ (although OED gives no instance for the noun in this sense before 1959, its meaning is implied in a number of early modern uses); (2) referring to the gaping mouths of the laughing guards.
105 translation transformation into different shapes. (Cf. the comment of Peter Quince to Bottom as he appears in his ass’s head in MND, 3.1.113: ‘Thou art translated.’)
106 shape form, appearance.
106–7 broom . . . candles The insignia of a household sprite. Puck, in the Epil. to MND, remarks ‘I am sent with broom before / To sweep the dust behind the door.’
107 device masque.
108 on’t of it (i.e. wit).
113 the call the one who calls.
113 light i.e. morally light.
114 prodigality nor riots Plutus voices the two principal objections to the masque: its cost, and the disorderliness that opponents saw it as engendering.
115 ruin] F1 state 1; ruines, F1 state 2
115 tyranny i.e. the restrictions imposed by a formal occasion.
116 me Plutus here speaks as the miserly god of riches, rather than in his assumed persona.
116 ’em Plutus speaks disparagingly of those who attend masques.
117–18 post and pair . . . noddy card games.
118 for counters i.e. not played for money.
118–19 God . . . rich A form of backgammon (cf. Alch., 5.4.45).
120–1 dozen . . . charges Plutus’s vision of the economical use of candles in the home contrasts with the splendour and extravagance of the lighting of the masque (see ‘The Court Masque’, vol. 1).
121 charges costs.
122 night-gowns dressing gowns.
122 draw-gloves A parlour game, which ‘consisted apparently in a race at drawing off gloves at the utterance of certain words’ (OED). Herrick has a poem ‘Draw Gloves’.
122 dreams interpreting dreams.
123 purposes (1) ‘A game consisting of questions and answers’, as in Cynthia (F), 4.3.63 and n. (OED, Purpose n. 4.a); (2) conversations (OED, 4b).
123 wake stay up late for revelry (OED, Wake v. 1.d, noting that is it used ‘with unfavourable implication’).
123 wires Used to make ruffs stand up.
123 tires attires, fine clothes.
124 taken-up braveries ‘fine dresses procured on credit’ (H&S); though the elaborate jewellery and other ornaments might equally be implied. See Pory’s comments on borrowed and hired jewellery, Hym., 547 n.
125–6 hear so ill hear myself so ill-spoken of.
128 reformed In a general sense, Masquerado expresses his surprise at Plutus-as-Cupid having turned his back on his usual patronage of love; but also, more specifically, suggests that he has become a puritan, a member of the reformed churches.
132 Anti-Cupid Anteros. Jonson refers to the allegorization of Cupid’s younger brother as heavenly love, as opposed to the sensual love symbolized by Cupid or Eros. (For the different interpretations of the myth, see Challenge, 152–4 and n.)
133–9 the god . . . him Butler (1994), 102, notes: ‘though this passage is a generalised account of money’s authority in the world at large, it makes specific reference to James’s financial shifts’ and suggests that it articulates some of Prince Henry’s views, notably more spartan than his father’s.
134 ensigns insignia.
134–5 reigns i’the world] H&S; raignes; the world F1
136 nearest respects closest relationships.
137–8 age . . . Age Contrasting the present age’s love of material gold with the mythical time of harmony in the Golden Age, when gold had not yet been discovered. Cf. Epigr. 64.3–4; Ovid, Ars Amatoria, 2.277–8.
139 arbitrary from him dependent on his (arbitrary) will.
140 country . . . out Robin contrasts the rural world with those of court and city, where money rules (cf. Forest 3).
140 razed out obliterated.
143 he . . . shape Plutus, in the stolen appearance of Cupid.
144 ravished arms weapons he has seized (from Cupid).
146 if . . . godhead Imitated from Juvenal, Satires, 10.365–6: ‘Thou wouldst have no divinity, O Fortune, if we had but wisdom; it is we that make a goddess of thee, and place thee in the skies’ (Loeb). Cf. Sej., 5.715–16.
147 Contemn Disdain, scorn.
148–9 this majesty King James, imagined, in familiar fashion, as the sun.
151 Mammon The Aramaic word for ‘riches’, retained in the Greek New Testament in Matthew, 6.24, and Luke, 16.13, and in some, but not all, biblical translations. It became the personification of inordinate desire for wealth, and in Milton’s Paradise Lost Mammon is one of Satan’s fellow-devils. In medieval and Renaissance periods he was commonly linked to the classical Plutus, and thence to Pluto, god of the underworld. These links are evident in Spenser’s description of Mammon and his underground kingdom, next to hell’s door, in The Faerie Queene, 2.7.
154 Ay . . . it Plutus ironically suggests that no masque will work without his aid – a statement uncomfortably close to Jonson’s own assertion that royalty should be ‘studious of riches and magnificence in the outward celebration or show’ (Hym., 9).
154 event outcome.
156 weal (1) wealth; (2) happiness, prosperity.
156–7 I cherish . . . delicacy Plutus’s killjoy puritanism is exposed as hypocritical self-interest.
157 delicacy luxury.
157 that murmurs the spirit of poverty grumbles, complains.
159 Enter . . . chariot The stage direction does not indicate by whom the chariot was drawn on stage, nor from whence it emerged, nor its decoration. It seems to have been the most basic and traditional of entries on a ‘pageant-wagon’, no doubt suitably adorned for the triumph of Love.
162 cold! F1’s exclamation-mark could equally be modernized as a question-mark.
163 tyrant] F1 (tyran)
165 here in this court.
168 at fresh eyes Cf. Cynthia (F), 5.4.363; a conceit derived, H&S suggest, from the pseudo-Tibullus.
171 spirits vital spirits, understood as circulating heat round the body.
176 ’mongst the Graces Cupid was brought up by the Graces, the servants of Venus.
186 dispose control.
187–90 H&S cite Lucian, Timon, 20, where Riches explains ‘When I go to visit anyone on a mission from Zeus, for some reason or other I am sluggish and lame in both legs, so I have great difficulty in reaching my journey’s end’ (Loeb).
188 commandëment Pronounced as four syllables.
190 nor path neither path.
192–4 and there . . . tribes Plutus is banished to his cave, where he will resume, but without success, his normal practices of offering bribes to the discontented to commit crimes.
196 still want will perpetually lack.
198–204 The majesty . . . back These lines are the core of the masque’s topical political statement. James, secure in the love of his people, will not have to beg for money (as he had in effect done to Parliament in 1610), but be able to compel it. Cupid represents the grateful subject, acknowledging that he owes everything to the King. In his speech to Parliament in March 1610 James had argued: ‘Duty I may justly claim of you as my subjects; and one of the branches of duty which subjects owe to their Sovereign, is supply: but in what quantity, and at what time, that must come of your loves’ (Political Writings, ed. Sommerville, 1994, 193).
200 crave beg.
201 His Plutus’s.
203–4 strife Of duty Cupid will enter into a competitive exhibition of dutiful gratitude with the King’s other subjects.
204 See, here The masquers entered with Cupid above, at 159, but this is the first direct reference to them. They might move forward at this point, or in pairs as Cupid defines their characteristics at 215–19, or not until they begin their dances at 222.
205 flower the choicest.
206 flamed intents a burning sense of purpose.
207 figure represent.
211 music . . . put music will arrange them in the dances (thus figuring co-operation, not competition).
212 keep . . . true both (1) perform their dances correctly; and (2) be moderate and restrained (OED3, Measure n. 1e).
214 Jonson links the harmony of music, the proportion of dance, and the proper ordering of the courtly and political world.
215–19 The names and qualities which the masquers symbolize are of Jonson’s invention. The distinctions between some of them are minute. F1 prints the names with an initial capital, which is here retained to suggest the way the abstractions are personified in the masquers.
216 Valour] F1 (valure)
216 Urbanity Refinement. OED cites Lodowick Bryskett, Discourse of Civil Life (1606), 245: ‘the virtue of Urbanity, a Latin name, which in English we cannot better’.
217 Alacrity Cheerful readiness, promptitude.
218 Industry Diligence.
219 Ability] F1 (Habilitie)
219 Ability The term could either refer to bodily strength, or to mental acuity and cleverness. The F1 spelling ‘Habilitie’ preserves the etymological link with Latin habilitas, a characteristic classicizing gesture on Jonson’s part.
219 Reality Devotion, loyalty (predating OED’s first instance of this sense in 1652).
223 Song There is no indication as to who sings the songs. It might most likely have been Cupid himself, but, equally, could have been one or more musicians not specified in the text. The final song, in particular, seems to be addressed to Cupid, rather than sung by him.
231 Graces dance The dance of the Graces was allegorized in many ways, of which two are particularly appropriate to this masque’s attempt to conjoin issues of generosity and of love. In Seneca’s De Beneficiis they symbolize ‘the triple rhythm of generosity, which consists of giving, accepting and returning’ (Wind, 1967, 28); in neoplatonic thinking they represent the triad of Beauty, Love, and Joy (Wind, 43–52). Whether the choreography of the dances reproduced their characteristic representation with two figures advancing, one moving away, can only be a matter of conjecture.
232 the upper orbs the spheres of the planets.
235 like . . . fix they are stationary as the earth is at the centre of the moving spheres.
236–7 Till . . . them Until the ladies agree to dance with them. In the event, as the fragmentary letter from Chamberlain indicates, Frances Howard and her sister Lady Cranborne refused the invitation (see Introduction). Chamberlain’s letter suggests that their conduct caused considerable displeasure. Jonson edits out this embarrassment, making no mention of the revels.
239–42 There is not one of the male dancers you behold who would not rather sacrifice himself to the eyes of his lady than live alone (Masque Archive, Love Rest., 13).
251 morning . . . true A common belief, which Jonson alluded to in a letter to the Earl of Newcastle: ‘this Tuesday morning in a dream (and morning dreams are truest)’ (Letter 17). He could draw on the authority of Horace, Satires, 1.10.33, and pseudo-Ovid, Heroides, 19.195–6.
A Note on the Masquers Chamberlain gives three names: ‘Leviston’ (either John Livingstone of Kinnaird or Sir John Levison, gentleman in ordinary of Prince Henry’s Privy Chamber), ‘Abercrummit’ (Abercrombie), and ‘Sir W. Bowyer’s son’ (Sir Henry Bowyer).
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