Middle Plays
[In the excerpt below, Houppert provides a structural and thematic overview of Endimion.]
Endimion is Lyly's comedy of ideas. Except for some antics, the play offers little action: Dipsas casts a spell, Eumenides journeys to a strange land, Endimion falls asleep, and Corsites is pinched black-and-blue by fairies. There is some slapstick and horseplay, but the comedy is basically an abstract drama which explores the relationships of five different groups of characters. The effect of love on human character provides the stimulus, and the analysis of love in five of its many faces forms the substance of the comedy. Endimion is by far the most lei-surely examination of love that the drama of the 1580's produced.
Endimion, a courtly lover, loves Cynthia, the Moon Goddess; Tellus, the Earth Goddess, loves Endimion; and Corsites, a plain soldier, loves Tellus. Around this network Lyly weaves a complex tale of magic and folklore. Tellus, in revenge for being spurned by Endimion, arranges for the sorceress Dipsas to place a spell on Endimion which causes him to sleep eternally. Cynthia dispatches messengers to various exotic lands to find a cure, but only Endimion's friend Eumenides is successful in finding one. A magic fountain, to which he is permitted access because of his friendship with Endimion, reveals that Endimion can be awakened by a kiss from Cynthia. A parodic sub-plot exists in the person of Sir Tophas, a foolish knight, whose actions parallel those of Endimion.
Unfortunately, this play has attracted critics who delight in predicating topical parallels between the characters in the play and real personages in the court of Queen Elizabeth. From N. J. Halpin's Oberon's Vision in 1843 to J. W. Bennett's "Oxford and Endimion" in 1942 [PMLA LVII] one learned conjecture after another has been entertained. For Halpin, Endimion and Corsites represent the Earl of Leicester and Sir Edward Stafford; for Bennett, they stand for the Earl of Oxford and Sir Henry Lee. Fortunately, recent criticism has shied away from historical allegory in favor of more literary types. Bernard Huppé, for example, argues [in "Allegory of Love in Lyly's Court Comedies," ELH 14, No. 2, June 1947] that if Endimion is an allegory, "it deals with the mental and psychological world of being: relations in it are relations of ideas and states." For Huppé, Cynthia represents not Queen Elizabeth, but Virtuous Love; Tellus represents not Mary Queen of Scots, but Earthly Passion.
Endimion is the most frequently anthologized of Lyly's plays, and therefore the one most familiar to students of Elizabethan drama. It is, however, atypical. With the exception of Mother Bombie, also atypical, Endimion is approximately twenty-five percent longer than Lyly's other plays; and it is more complex, expecially more complex than the comedies which precede it. Alexander and Campaspe and Sapho and Phao are basically single-plot dramas, even though Diogenes's story in Campaspe tends toward independent coexistence; Gallathea has a clearly developed sub-plot, but one which is relegated to the background (the three brothers appear in five of the twenty scenes). Not only is the main plot in Endimion more complex but the subplots are also more heavily stressed (Sir Tophas alone appears in six of the seven-teen scenes).
Endimion has a dramatic structure that is extremely balanced. The supernatural sleep of Endimion and his subsequent awakening are used by Lyly as focal points for the action. Endimion falls asleep at the end of the second act and awakens at the end of the fourth. The period before his sleep consists of two acts of seven scenes, five of which are devoted to Endimion and two to Sir Tophas; the period during his sleep consists of two acts of seven scenes, two of which are devoted to Endimion and five to the subplots (actually there is some overlapping here, but the scheme remains valid). The second division, with its emphasis on the subplots, thus inverts the first division, as indeed it must since Endimion is asleep through most of the third and fourth acts. The final division, after Endimion awakens, consists of one act of three scenes: the first is devoted to Endimion; the second, to Sir Tophas; the third, to a denouement which unifies all of the stories.
Endimion is Lyly's Hamlet. No historical or allegorical approach satisfies more than a few critics; the ending shrouds the play in ambiguity; and there are so many fashionable topics that every man finds something of interest. Always quick to capitalize on current interests, Lyly outdoes himself in Endimion by fastening upon themes and topics that were the rage in fashionable society, such as mutability (I.i), art versus nature (I.iv, II.iii), black versus white magic (II.iii,V.i). The two controlling themes, however, reach back in history, one to Classical antiquity and the other to the late Middle Ages: friendship and romantic love are what Endimion is all about.
In the Prologue to Endimion, Lyly appears to be establishing a critical principle when he writes: "Wee present neither Comedie, nor Tragedie, nor storie, nor anie thing, but that whosoever heareth may say this, Why heere is a tale of the Man in the Moone" (8-10). That Endimion is not a tragedy is obvious; no one dies, and death is essential to Elizabethan tragedy. That it is not a comedy is not so obvious. Perhaps Lyly has in mind the ending, which, far from bestowing blessings in true comic fashion, is a mixed bag of responses. Although Endimion regains his youth, he does not get Cynthia—and to serve by standing and waiting is an uncomfortable position for a lover. Eumenides gets his heart's desire—Semele, a sharp-tongued, shrewish female who will make the connubial bed a noisy place indeed. Corsites gets Tellus, the professional troublemaker. Dipsas and Bagoa are reunited, but far too late, for life has already passed them by. Perhaps of all the lovers, only Sir Tophas will not be disenchanted with his bargain. He asks for little, and little is what he gets. The irony which undercuts the love sentiment in the play is summarized in Sir Tophas's description of his ideal woman: "Turne her to a true loue or false, so shee be a wench I care not" (V.iii. 279-280). Behind Sir Tophas's nonchalance lies a cynical antidote to the various love theories which appear, however diluted, in Endimion—God made them male and female, and vive la différence!
The ending, then, does not conform to expectation. Although wedding bells ring, their sound is muted. A new society is formed, but there is some doubt that it will be superior to the old. J. W. H. Atkins argues [in English Literary Criticism: The Renascence, 1947] that Lyly, although indebted to Roman comedy, rejects the rigidity of Classical drama; and Lyly, in refusing to classify his plays as comedies or tragedies, denies that the boundaries of dramatic form have been permanently fixed. It is possible that Lyly thought of himself as a reformer, but to credit Atkins's argument is to posit a dramatic form more rigidly established than the one that in fact existed in the Elizabethan era. The whole history of the period is one of experimentation and change, from the early rhymed couplets of Nicholas Udall to the finely chiseled prose of Ben Jonson, from the heavy prosody of Robert Greene to the exquisite blank verse of Shakespeare. From Ralph Roister Doister to The Winter's Tale is a long journey indeed.
The principal theme in Endimion concerns the convention of male friendship. It not only serves as a frame-work, much as Shakespeare uses it in The Merchant of Venice, but also links together many of the diverse plot elements, such as Endimion's sleep and Eumenides's excursion into the desert. This theme is revealed through action as well as through dialogue; for example, Eumenides apparently sacrifices his own happiness for the sake of his friend Endimion when he encounters the magic fountain in Act III, Scene iv. Generally, however, themes and issues are revealed through debate; and action is sacrificed to witty exchanges of dialogue. The wit, however, is non-dramatic; for no change in character or situation results. In Act I, Scene i, for example, the confrontation between Endimion and Eumenides is non-dramatic. Nothing that Eumenides says in any way changes Endimion; in fact, all of Eumenides's objections could have been anticipated by Endimion in a soliloquy. Lyly does reveal a sense for the dramatic, however, by presenting the exposition in dialogue form.
The opening scene establishes premises upon which the drama is built. The stage is set for comedy as Endimion's romantic inclinations have been thwarted: boy has met girl, boy wants girl, but boy cannot have girl. There is, in Endimion, an even greater obstacle than is found in previous plays. In Campaspe, the obstacle was a wealthier suitor, Alexander the Great; in Sapho and Phao, the obstacle was social—queens do not marry ferrymen, however attractive they might be; in Gallathea, the obstacle was sexual—both lovers were girls; in Endimion, the obstacle is celestial—Endimion is literally in love with the moon!
The conflict which evolves from Act I, Scene i, is between what is desirable and what is possible—between the aspirations of Endimion, which are "stitched to the starres" (5), and those of Eumenides, "which creepe on the earth" (73-74). Eumenides's function in this scene is to serve as commentator on the impossibility of Endimion's quest. Such absolutes as Endimion seeks are unattainable in life, says Eumenides—man must compromise. Unable to understand or appreciate Endimion's longing, Eumenides believes that he has fallen prey either to moon madness or to melancholy.
Repetition with variation characterizes Act I, Scene ii. The non-dramatic debate technique is again employed as Tellus and Floscula take the places of Endimion and Eumenides. Just as is the case with Eumenides earlier in the play, Floscula is present for convenience's sake; her criticisms, like those of Eumenides, could have been anticipated by Tellus in a soliloquy. Furthermore, the second scene opens with the speech of a lover and ends with the speech of a critic, just as did the first scene. Finally, both scenes present identical situations in which a character, lamenting an unrequited love, is criticized by a confidant. Although the situations are identical, the tone is sharply differentiated: Endimion will be satisfied with nothing less than possession of the goddess herself, but Tellus will settle for the appearance of love—"It shall suffice me if the world talke that I am fauoured of Endimion" (73-74).
Superficially, Act I, Scene ii, presents a situation common in a love triangle when the jilted female plots revenge. But Tellus is not an ordinary female—she is, in fact, the earth goddess: "No comparison Floscula! and why so? is not my beauty diuine, whose body is decked with faire flowers, and vaines are Vines, yeelding sweet liquor to the dullest spirits, whose eares are Corne, to bring strength, and whose heares are grasse, to bring abundance? Doth not Frankinsence & Myrrhe breath out of my nostrils, and all the sacrifice of the Gods breede in my bowels? Infinite are my creatures, without which neyther thou, nor Endimion, nor any could loue, or liue" (19-26).
But Tellus wants to play the part of a Petrarchan heroine: "His sharp wit … shall hee vse, in flattering of my face, and deuising Sonnets in my fauour" (56-58). Her concluding speech reinforces the passionate craving of love already implied: "Floscula, they that be so poore that they haue neyther nette nor hooke, will rather poyson dowe then pyne with hunger: and she that is so opprest with loue, that shee is neyther able with beauty nor wit to obtaine her freende, wyll rather vse vnlawfull meanes, then try vntollerable paines" (78-82).
There is a nice irony in the opening two scenes. As Endimion plots his attack on Cynthia, Tellus plots her counterattack on Endimion. Furthermore, just as Endimion's desire to possess Cynthia is to be frustrated, so is Tellus's desire to possess Endimion. Both attempt to upset the natural order of the universe—Endimion by aspiring beyond his station; Tellus by employing Floscula to destroy a normal human inclination, love. Finally, Tellus's solution to the paradox she formulates—"Loth I am Endimion thou shouldest die, because I loue thee well; and that thou shouldest Hue it greeueth mee, because thou louest Cynthia too well. In these extremities what shall I doe?" (35-38)—is itself an unnatural solution: "He shall neyther liue, nor die" (39). This unnaturalness is made explicit by Floscula's reaction to it: "A reuenge incredible, and if it may be, vnnatural" (52).
To this point in the drama, the situation has been serious, even grim. But now (I.iii) Lyly introduces burlesque in the form of Sir Tophas, originally Pyrgopolynices in Plautus's Miles Gloriosas and more recently Ralph in Ralph Roister Doister. (Lyly's braggart soldier differs from these predecessors in that he does not profess to be a great lover; in this respect, his literary precedent is Chaucer's Sir Thopas.) The true wit of the pages, Dares and Samias, is contrasted with the false wit of Tophas. The debate technique of the first two scenes is dropped in favor of a mock-heroic approach characterized by a great disparity between words and situation. Tophas's ridiculousness is quickly established by his handling of the fine art of definition. Asked to define a poet, Tophas replies, "Why foole, a Poet is as much as one shoulde say, a Poet" (17). As a university man, Tophas serves as a target for the barbs of not only Dares and Samias but every other intelligent being as well. There is unquestionably much of Lyly's own anti-academic prejudice incorporated in this play. His own dissatisfaction with the curriculum at Oxford was well known and probably had some bearing on the academic satire in Endimion.
More important than his inability to define intelligently is Tophas's inability to distinguish between appearance and reality. He imagines that wrens are as dangerous as eagles and would hunt them with a blunderbuss. Like his successor, Sir John Falstaff, Tophas reacts to situations in an exaggerated and absurd fashion. But whereas Fal-staff frequently exaggerates for effect, Tophas does it naturally.
Although not himself a lover, Tophas's opening line—"I brooke not thys idle humor of loue, it tickleth not my lyuer, …" (7-8)—mocks the earlier love themes and prepares for the retribution that love later exacts from Tophas. In this way, as well as by paralleling the careers of Tophas and Endimion, Lyly unifies the two stories. The Tophas story, however, does function as an independent unit until the end of the play when it is integrated with the main story. For the sake of psychological plausibility, Lyly has to keep the Tophas story separate, since its mock-heroic tone of absurdity and ridiculousness does not harmonize with the grim seriousness that characterizes the Endimion story.
A new danger to Endimion is introduced in Act I, Scene iv, in the form of the sorceress Dipsas. Her magical powers are clearly spelled out—she can darken the sun and remove the moon from its course (20-21). The one thing she cannot do, however, is control love. Although she can weaken its force, she cannot destroy it; and, perhaps more importantly, she cannot rule hearts—she cannot make Endimion love Tellus. The debate technique is used more dramatically here than earlier; characters change under the force of opposing ideas, and stubbornness yields to cooperation as, for the first time in the comedy, one character consents to act on behalf of another.
Act II marks a turning point in the action when Endimion and Tellus are brought together in a face-to-face en-counter. The conflict, which until now has been abstract, is made concrete as it is embedded in the clash of human personalities. Endimion's opening soliloquy (II.i), although far too long to be dramatically effective, develops his role as lover. Complaining that for seven long years he has played the role to the hilt, he enumerates his symptoms: "Beholde my sad teares, my deepe sighes, my hollowe eyes, my broken sleepes, my heauie countenaunce" (11-12). Endimion has been suffering as every Courtly lover ought to suffer: "Every lover regularly turns pale in the presence of his beloved. … When a lover suddenly catches sight of his beloved his heart palpitates. … He whom the thought of love vexes, eats and sleeps very little" [Andreas Capellanus, The Art of Courtly Love, 1957].
The encounter between Endimion and Tellus is dramatic—she lays a trap; he falls into it, thus confirming her suspicions that he only pretends to love her. The trap itself depends on two factors for success, verbal wit and urgency. Lyly employs the rhetorical device of stichomythia (dialogue delivered in alternating lines) effectively as Tellus leads Endimion into making admissions against his will simply because the cut and thrust of the dialogue do not give him time to compose his thoughts. In revealing his affection for Cynthia, Endimion violates the code of secrecy, an integral part of the Courtly Love tradition; and for this violation he pays dearly.
Act II, Scene ii, is divided into two parts: (1) a quarrel between Scintilla and Favilla, and (2) the gulling of Sir Tophas. The quarrel, which has little relevance to the play as a whole, may simply reflect an actual quarrel between two of Elizabeth's ladies-in-waiting. Dares, however, provides a unifying link, however tenuous, with his realistic remarks about love: "How say you Fauilla, is not loue a lurcher, that taketh mens stomacks away that they cannot eate, their spleene that they cannot laugh, their harts that they cannot fight, theyr eyes that they cannot sleepe, and leaueth nothing but lyuers to make nothing but Louers?" (9-13).
The second part of this scene (57-156) repeats ideas and attitudes introduced earlier, especially in Act I, Scene iii, but Lyly handles them more dramatically by embodying them in the two ladies-in-waiting. Sir Tophas's anti-romantic tendencies now appear in a concrete situation, and they have as their object the ladies whose business is to be expert in affairs of the heart. In its entirety, Act II, Scene ii, also serves to create tension by delaying the revenge of Tellus.
The first part of Act II, Scene iii (1-23), repeats the opening of Act II, Scene i, and culminates in the symbolic death of Endimion, a motif adopted by Lyly from Udall's Ralph Roister Doister, when he falls asleep on a lunary bank. The revenge of Tellus completed, the last part of Act II, Scene iii, recapitulates arguments directed against the unnaturalness of the revenge. In short, magic is being used for improper ends!
Endimion's sleep concludes the first major movement in the play. During the two acts that Endimion sleeps, the dramatic focus shifts to the search for a remedy for his illness. Here, at what is roughly the middle of the play, the hero's fortunes are at their nadir, as they generally are at this point in most comedies. What follows in the last three acts provides a partial restoration. Actually, the first movement concludes with a dumb show, a visual representation of the dream which Endimion explicates upon awakening in the last act.
The new movement initiated in Act III, Scene i, is signaled by the appearance of new characters—Cynthia, Semele, Corsites, Panelion, and Zontes. The initial exchange between Semele and Eumenides follows:
Sem. It were good Eumenides that you tooke a nappe with your friend, for your speech beginneth to be heauy.
Eum. Contrarie to your nature, Semele, which hath beene alwaies accounted light.
(12-15)
This exchange contains just enough wit to annoy Cynthia, who orders its immediate cessation. However, a more serious breach of decorum is occasioned by Tellus's tactlessness in suggesting that Cynthia's judgment of Endimion falls somewhat short of the mark. This imprudent remark results in Tellus's exile and prepares for the subsequent scene (III.ii). One's initial view of Cynthia confirms what one has already learned about her in the first two acts: she is dignified, orderly, compassionate, but, when aroused, authoritarian in the extreme. The scene closes with Eumenides being dispatched to Thessaly, Zontes to Greece, and Panelion to Egypt, to find a remedy for Endimion's sleeping sickness. In order to make credible the time required for such journeys, Lyly now devotes his attention to Tellus and Tophas.
Since Cynthia can do little besides await the news from her messengers, since Endimion can do nothing at all, and since the Sir Tophas story will not bear much weight, Lyly introduces a new complication in Act III, Scene ii—the love of Corsites for Tellus. Corsites, a soldier who is aware of the tender side of life, now emerges as an obvious contrast to Sir Tophas; he also emerges, less obviously perhaps, as a parallel to Endimion, for both men pursue one-sided love affairs. Tellus's character continues to degenerate. Like Milton's Satan, she would rather reign in Hell than serve in Heaven: "Corsites, there is no sweeter musicke to the miserable then dispayre; and therefore the more bitternesse I feele, the more sweetnes I find; for so vaine were liberty, and so vnwelcome the following of higher fortune, that I chuse rather to pine in this Castle, then to be a Prince in any other Court." (11-15). Both Sir Tophas and Tellus suffer from over-weening pride; but, whereas he exemplifies its ridiculousness, she exemplifies its viciousness.
In Act III, Scene iii, Sir Tophas joins the growing list of unrequited lovers, now consisting of Endimion, Eumenides, and Corsites, not to mention Tellus. Love's revenge is complete when Tophas succumbs to the dubious charms of Dipsas. His description of her ought to remind one of Endimion's description of Cynthia, not, of course, in its physical details but in the awe and enthusiasm with which it is delivered:
O what a fine thin hayre hath Dispsas! What a prettie low forehead! What a tall & statelie nose! What little hollo we eyes! What great and goodly lypes! Howe harmlesse shee is beeing toothlesse! Her fingers fatte and short, adorned with long nayles like a Bytter! In howe sweete a proportion her cheekes hang downe to her brests like dugges, and her pappes to her waste like bagges! What a lowe stature shee is, and yet what a great foote shee carryeth! Howe thrifty must she be in whom there is no waste! Howe vertuous is shee like to be, ouer whom no man can be ielous!
(52-60).
That the description is meant to be humorous is obvious; that it is meant to parody sixteenth-century ideas about feminine beauty is equally obvious.
Further parallelism between Tophas and Endimion is reinforced when Tophas falls asleep (67). Not only is the sleep itself an obvious similarity, but so also is the arrival of three pages who attempt to awaken Tophas, just as three messengers try to awaken Endimion. Finally, Tophas, after awakening, reveals a dream, just as does Endimion.
Having diverted the audience's attention with the antics of Sir Tophas, Lyly returns, in Act III, Scene iv, to the main thread of the story. With motifs adopted from folk-lore, this scene contrasts sharply with the preceding ones as it theorizes about love. There is here no Platonic ladder of love; rather, a dichotomy is created between love and friendship, with the latter clearly in the ascendancy. As a dramatic convention, friendship between men was never stronger than in the sixteenth century (friendship between women never seems to have had much force). One can, in fact, almost measure the development of English comedy by the degree to which conventions are sacrificed to reality.
Until now Eumenides has played a very poor role as Endimion's confidant, but in Act III, Scene iv, he assumes a character and succumbs to the Endimion syndrome—he, too, falls in love with an unwilling female, and this parallelism once again imposes unity on the plot. The last part of the scene achieves additional structural unity through two devices: first, the notion of unity in variety introduced in Act I, Scene i, forms the basis of Geron's philosophy—"Is shee not alwaies Cynthia, yet seldome in the same bignesse; alwaies wauering in her waxing or wayning, that our bodies might the better bee gouerned, our seasons the daylier giue their increase; yet neuer to bee remooued from her course, as long as the heauens continue theirs? (174-178). Second, only Cynthia's kiss will release Endimion from the spell placed on him by Dipsas.
There is a natural division between the third and fourth acts. Eumenides has discovered the remedy, but he must be allowed time to return from his journey. Lyly thus repeats the pattern he employed in Act III—he focuses attention on Tellus (Scenes i and iii) and Sir Tophas (Scene ii). And as Lyly began with Tellus and Corsites in the third act, so he begins with them in the fourth. This time Tellus plays a silly trick on Corsites which accomplishes two ends: it further reveals Tellus's frivolous character; more importantly, it brings Tellus and Corsites back into the mainstream of the action. When Corsites, at Tellus's urging, tries to hide Endimion's body in a cave, two lines of action converge.
Act IV, Scene ii, begins by stressing the parallelism in the situation involving Endimion and Sir Tophas, and then exploits the comic potential in the similarity. But the scene degenerates toward the end into an irrelevant discussion about masterless men. With the appearance of the Master Constable and the Watch (line 73), all semblance of relevance disappears; the scene dissolves into a moment's fun, complete with a song.
In Act IV, Scene iii, Corsites joins Endimion and Tophas as sleeping lovers. His love for the whimsical Tellus has led him to violate Cynthia's command and as punishment the fairies have put him to sleep. At this point (IV.iii.42), Cynthia begins to distribute rewards and punishments. Semele is punished for her shrewishness, Corsites is forgiven for his offense, and Tellus is censured for her tricks. Cynthia thus displays her benevolence by dispensing justice combined with mercy.
By Act V, Scene i, the second major movement is almost completed. The curse on Endimion has been lifted, but his restoration is not complete—he has yet to regain his lost youth. Arising from the grave, as it were, Endimion explains his dream: " Methought I sawe a Ladie passing faire, but verie mischeeuous; who in the one hande carryed a knife with which shee offered to cut my throte, and in the other a looking-glasse, wherein seeing how ill anger became Ladies, shee refrained from intended violence" (81-85). The two ladies, anger and mercy, are followed by an old man who offers Endimion a book with three leaves containing counsels, policies, and pictures. Endimion twice refuses the book, and the old man twice tears a leaf in half. Finally, Endimion takes the book and the old man vanishes.
The crux of the dream lies, of course, in the last leaf; and Cynthia requests clarification of its significance, to which Endimion replies,
There portraid to life, with a colde quaking in euery ioynt, I behelde many wolues barking at thee Cynthia, who hauing ground their teeth to bite, did with striuing bleede themselues to death. There might I see ingratitude with an hundred eyes, gazing for benefites, and with a thousand teeth, gnawing on the bowelles wherein shee was bred. Trecherie stoode all cloathed in white … her handes bathed in blood. Enuye with a pale and megar face … stood shooting at starres. … There might I beholde Drones, or Beetles,… creeping vnder the winges of a princely Eagle, who being carried into her nest, sought there to sucke that veine, that woulde haue killed the Eagle.
(119-132)
Promising to tell Cynthia more later, Endimion concludes his explication involving the dangers that await a mon-arch.
Besides creating suspense by holding back the finale, Act V, Scene ii, serves little purpose; moreover, the gulling of Sir Tophas has, by now, become shopworn. As the final scene begins (V.iii), Cynthia is again praised for her justice and mercy, qualities evident in the second round of rewards and punishments she distributes. After Tellus confesses her trickery and begs Cynthia's forgiveness, the men and women are paired off: Endimion with Cynthia, Eumenides with Semele, Corsites with Tellus, Geron with Dipsas, and Tophas with Bagoa. The play thus ends with wedding bells, as a good comedy should. It is doubtful, however, that the couples will live happily ever after. In the Prologue, Lyly warned his audience that Endimion was "neither Comedie nor Tragedie," a warning that is realized in what should be the comic denouement. Lyly's comic universe is too complicated and sophisticated to entertain unadulterated bliss.
Lyly captures the spirit of love in a net of skepticism. Celestial love leads not to perfect union with the divine but to partial fulfillment, as Endimion's frustrated desire to possess Cynthia is modulated into a graceful acceptance of his renewed youth. Romantic love finds its fulfillment in two tense alliances between romantically inclined men and sharp-tongued females. The aged Geron is reunited with Dipsas, but much too late; for love—and life—have passed them by. Perhaps in the final analysis only the naturalistic—or biological—love of Sir Tophas achieves complete fulfillment. He asks for little, and little is what he gets, but he registers no complaints. After his fashion, he is no worse off than the rest. Love may be the mysterious force of which poets sing, but its lovely promise does not come true for the characters in Endimion.
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