SOURCE: Spencer, Hazelton. “Tate's Adaptations.” In Shakespeare Improved: The Restoration Versions in Quarto and on the Stage, pp. 241-73. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1927.

[In the following excerpt, Spencer presents an analysis of Tate's adaptations of Shakespeare, detailing how his versions of King Lear, Richard II, and Coriolanus differ from the originals.]

1. KING LEAR

For half a century after the death of Sir William D'Avenant, every one of the poets laureate took a hand in improving Shakespeare. … The name of [Nahum Tate] lives in the hymnals. His treatment of Shakespeare's lines is even worse than his doggerel rendering of David's—the pompous substantive, “Tatefication,” has been coined expressly to describe his bungling.¹

Though apparently not the first acted, Tate's Lear was the first written of his adaptations; this is evident from the epistle dedicatory to his Richard II. It was printed in quarto in 1681, the year of its production at Dorset Garden.² The epistolary dedication is one of a number of documents in which the Restoration adapters explain their mental processes. Tate confesses to embarrassment in finding it necessary to provide dialogue for the old characters in his new scenes. But this humility is not evident as he deals with structure:

I found the whole … a Heap of Jewels, unstrung and unpolisht; yet so dazling in their Disorder, that I soon perceiv'd I had seiz'd a Treasure. 'Twas my good Fortune to light on one Expedient to rectifie what was wanting in the Regularity and Probability of the Tale, which was to run through the whole A Love betwixt Edgar and Cordelia, that never chang'd word with each other in the Original. This renders Cordelia's Indifference and her Father's Passion in the first Scene probable. It likewise gives Countenance to Edgar's Disguise, making that a generous Design that was before a poor Shift to save his Life. The Distress of the Story is evidently heightned by it; and it particularly gave Occasion of a New Scene or Two, of more Success (perhaps) than Merit. This Method necessarily threw me on making the Tale conclude in a Success to the innocent distrest Persons: Otherwise I must have incumbred the Stage with dead Bodies, which Conduct makes many Tragedies conclude with unseasonable Jests.³ Yet was I Rackt with no small Fears for so bold a Change, till I found it well receiv'd by my Audience; and if this will not satisfie the Reader, I can produce an Authority that questionless will. Neither is it of so Trivial an Undertaking to make a Tragedy end happily, for 'tis more difficult to Save than 'tis to Kill: The Dagger and Cup of Poyson are alwaies in Readiness; but to bring the Action to the last Extremity, and then by probable Means to recover All, will require the Art and Judgment of a Writer, and cost him many a Pang in the Performance.

Mr. Dryd. Pref. to the Span. Fryar.

In seeking to motivate Cordelia's failure to speak out, Tate recognizes the structural weakness of Shakespeare's play from a realistic point of view, which, of course, is precisely the point of view it is fatal to adopt. Nor does his happy ending bring aught but outrage to King Lear, whose bitter cup seemed less significant to the adapter than the billing and cooing of Cordelia and Edgar.

In the prologue Tate announces his ethical purpose, anticipating Mr. Bernard Shaw's prediction that the theatre must replace the church as the custodian of morals. The clergy are accused of plotting in the Whiggish interest; thus Lear, like Tate's other alterations, is linked with the political troubles.

ACT I⁴

The play begins with Edmund's soliloquy (I, ii, 1-22), Gloster having already been apprised of Edgar's apparent disloyalty, as is explained in an original scene between Kent and Gloster. Then comes the partition scene (I, i, 32 f.). As the court enters, Edgar and Cordelia exchange amorous speeches. Shakespeare's dialogue is then employed, though in mangled form. France does not appear in this version. Cordelia's motive is now her desire to offend Lear in order that Burgundy may reject her. The King knows of her love affair; he supposes Edgar a bad lot. Kent is banished, and Burgundy refuses Cordelia.

Thus, to line 207, the action runs as in Shakespeare. At that point all go out except Edgar and Cordelia. Edgar then woos her with some assurance, but Cordelia will not hear him. Her answer is typical of Tate's idiom; notice also his tripping measures:

CORD.
When, Edgar, I permitted your Addresses,
I was the darling Daughter of a King,
Nor can I now forget my royal Birth,
And live dependent on my Lover's Fortune.
I cannot to so low a fate submit,
And therefore study to forget your Passion,
And trouble me upon this Theam no more.
EDG.
Thus Majesty takes most State in Distress!
How are we tost on Fortune's fickle flood!(5)
The Wave that with surprising kindness brought
The dear Wreck(6) to my Arms, has snatcht it back,
And left me mourning on the barren Shore.
CORD.
This Baseness of th' ignoble Burgundy [Aside
Draws just suspicion on the Race of Men,(7)
His Love was Int'rest, so may Edgar's be
And He but with more Complement dissemble;
If so, I shall oblige him by Denying:(8)
But if his Love be fixt, such Constant flame
As warms our Breasts, if such I find his Passion,
My heart as gratefull to his Truth shall be,
And Cold Cordelia prove as Kind as He. [Exit.]

Now the Bastard bustles in, warns his brother, and shoves him out. Gloster then appears and we have the scene of the forged letter (the remainder of I, ii, 30 f.). Though the heroic play was supposed to be defunct, Drawcansir was still at large; he appears for a moment in Gloster's speech urging Edmund to “wind me into him.” Tate's addition gives a specific reason for this injunction:

That I may bite the Traytor's heart, and fold
His bleeding Entrals on my vengefull Arm.

Gloster makes his exit after line 111, as in Shakespeare; but instead of Edmund's cynical comment on his father's credulity we have more exposition: the villain plans to deceive his father again by placing him where he can overhear an interview with Edgar. Edmund then goes, and the disguised Kent comes in for Shakespeare's I, iv, his engagement by Lear; this is greatly reduced, though not much altered. Oswald is haled back by Kent. The Fool is entirely excised from Tate's version. For the most part the action runs as in Shakespeare, though with great condensation and the omission of many speeches. Lear departs shortly after Albany's appearance and does not reënter. Except for the brief comments of Goneril and Albany, the act ends on Lear's curse. Thus we do not learn of the message to Regan.

ACT II

The second act begins as in Shakespeare with the beguiling of Edgar and Gloster. Curan does not appear. Kent and Oswald enter before Regan and Cornwall: thus Shakespeare's II, i, and II, ii, are telescoped. Kent chases Oswald off the stage to make way for the entrance of the ducal party. Cornwall gives no reason for their visit to Gloster; instead he commands sports and revels. Oswald (who is called simply a Gentleman) now rushes back, pursued by Kent, and we pass to Shakespeare's II, ii, 43 f.

Shakespeare's scenes iii and iv follow at once, as in the original. As he tells us in the dedicatory epistle, Tate thinks Edgar's assumption of his rags unjustified by the sordid instinct of self-preservation. Accordingly, Edgar heroically meditates suicide, but refrains because Cordelia is in distress. To preserve himself for her service he condescends to assume a disguise. When Lear inquires for his daughter we learn that she is at a masque. He does not leave the stage. The action runs along as in Shakespeare, with the speeches much reduced, up to line 285; the act ends with Lear's departure into the storm.

ACT III

Act III begins with Shakespeare's III, ii, Lear on the heath, scene i being omitted. This great passage is grievously reduced and altered; without the Fool it is but a faint echo of its original. It is followed by a new scene in Gloster's palace; Edmund soliloquizes and reveals his lust for the “proud imperial Sisters.” Tate, albeit he dabbled in pious psalmody, emphasizes this feature of the story and writes it up con amore. “Two Servants from several Entrances deliver him each a Letter.”

Gloster then comes in, announces his intention of revolting, and entrusts Edmund with despatches. The Bastard declares, in a long aside, his purpose of betraying his father, and at a distance overhears him interview Cordelia, who wants to die with the King. Gloster informs her of his rebellion, and departs. Still overheard by Edmund, she bids Arante, a colorless confidante, to get her a disguise, that she may seek her father on the heath. It is there that she occupies the interim which in Shakespeare's play she spends in France. Edmund is a heavy villain, and has designs on everyone:

Provide me a Disguise, we'll instantly
Go seek the King:—ha! ha! a lucky change. …
I'll bribe two Ruffians that shall at a distance follow,
And seise 'em in some desert Place, and there
Whilst one retains her t'other shall return
T' inform me where she's Lodg'd; I'll be disguis'd too.
Whilst they are poching for me I'll to the Duke
With these Dispatches, then to th' Field
Where like the vig'rous Jove I will enjoy
This Semele in a Storm, 'twill deaf her Cries
Like Drums in Battle, lest her Groans shou'd pierce
My pittying Ear, and make the amorous Fight less fierce.

No wonder this play was popular, with a program of villainy like that.

We next return to the heath, for the scene before the hovel (III, iv). This is telescoped with a badly mangled version of III, vi, the scene in the farmhouse. The fantastic trial of the sisters is excised. Finally Edgar withdraws, while Gloster and Kent take the King away to shelter. Cordelia and Arante⁹ now arrive (luckily for them) before the hut, followed by the two ruffians, who seize them. At their shrieks, Edgar rushes out and drives away their captors. He reveals his identity, and is rewarded by Cordelia with the declaration of her love. I quote a few speeches as a fair sample of the curious mixture of extravagance and bathos that composes Tate's style.

CORD.
Come to my Arms, thou dearest, best of Men,
And take the kindest Vows that e're were spoke
By a protesting Maid.
EDG.
Is't possible?
CORD.
By the dear Vital Stream that baths my Heart,
These hallow'd Rags of thine, and naked Vertue,
These abject Tassels, these fantastick Shreds,
(Ridiculous ev'n to the meanest Clown)
To me are dearer than the richest Pomp
Of purple Monarchs.

The scene now changes to the palace and Gloster's punishment (III, vii). Edmund pretends to more sensibility than in Shakespeare, since before he goes he sheds a few tears over his father's plight. Goneril does not appear in this scene. To spare his feelings, Cornwall orders Edmund to withdraw, and in an aside Regan bids him seek a certain grotto. The action of Gloster's punishment runs as in Shakespeare, though it is shortened. The scene ends in a long soliloquy by the blinded man; he determines to show himself to the populace, arouse them against the Duke, and then throw himself from some precipice,

Whence my freed Soul to her bright Sphear shall fly,
Through boundless Orbs, eternal Regions spy,
And like the Sun, be All one glorious Eye.

ACT IV

We now see the grotto of dalliance. The scene being drawn discloses “Edmund and Regan amourously Seated, Listning to Musick.” Their conversation signifies terms of complete intimacy. Regan gives her lover a ring, and he reciprocates with a picture of himself. In pulling it from his pocket, he inadvertently drops a note, which is read by Regan after he goes. Of course it is from Goneril. An officer arrives with news of the rebellion.

The next scene shows the meeting of Edgar and Gloster (IV, i). As they set out for Dover, they are met by Cordelia and Kent, who seek the King. Gloster urges Kent, whose identity is now revealed, to lead the rebellion.

The scene changes to Goneril's palace. We learn that Edmund is still with Regan, that Goneril has taken her affairs out of her husband's hands, and finally that Cornwall is dead.

the next scene is tagged “Field Scene.” It begins with Shakespeare's IV, vi, the supposed ascent of Dover cliff. This whole scene, including the appearance of Lear, and the killing of Oswald, is somewhat reduced but not greatly altered. It is followed by IV, vii, both altered and reduced; the place is of course not the French camp, since there is no foreign invasion. Following Lear's exit the act closes with a warlike speech by Cordelia.

ACT V

The last act opens with an original camp scene in which the plot thickens desperately. Goneril instructs an attendant to prepare a poisonous draught for her sister, who is soon to arrive as Goneril's guest at a banquet. We next hear Edmund's speculation (altered from his soliloquy, V, i) on the future course of his amours. He has already enjoyed Regan, and Goneril thus becomes more attractive. The next scene, in “a Valley near the Camp,” is Shakespeare's V, ii. After Edgar leaves, his father soliloquizes, regretting that he is no longer able to take his customary share in the bloody work. The rest of the scene remains practically unchanged.

Next comes an altered version of V, iii. It begins with the entrance of Albany, Goneril, Regan, and Edmund, with Lear, Cordelia, and Kent as prisoners. Albany gives strict injunctions for their good treatment; but in an aside Goneril directs their execution. Edmund, accordingly, instead of telling what he has done with them, as in Shakespeare, begins to argue for their despatch; and, as in Shakespeare, is snubbed by the Duke. The first speeches of the royal ladies are left, but their controversy is then halted; Albany does not reveal his knowledge of the true situation. He is a much less interesting character in Tate than in Shakespeare.

The quarrel over Edmund's affections is terminated by the entrance of the disguised Edgar with his challenge (V, i, 38 f.). This he delivers orally, and the trial is appointed at once. All go out except the prisoners and their guards. We now have the identification of Kent with Caius, and an altered version of Lear's speech (V, iii, 9-17);

We too alone will sing like birds i' th' cage.

Goneril orders their immediate execution. With the other dignitaries she has come in for the trial. Edgar is recognized as soon as he enters, and his guilty brother is terrified. Their speeches of defiance are greatly altered; Edmund's bastardy is the chief theme. After his fall, and Albany's denunciation of Goneril, Edgar and the Duke go out, while Goneril and Regan remain to quarrel over their dying lover. Regan's boast that she has enjoyed him maddens her sister, who retorts by revealing the poisoning. But Regan announces that she has poisoned Goneril. Edmund declares he loved them both, and dies happy.

The final scene shows a prison. Lear is asleep with his head in his daughter's lap when the assassins enter. Cordelia begs to be strangled first, but as the soldiers begin their task, Lear “snatches a Partizan, and strikes down two of them; the rest quit Cordelia, and turn upon him. Enter Edgar and Albany”—in the nick of time. The former's remarks would cause almost anyone to desist from murder:

EDG.
Death! Hell! Ye Vultures hold your impious Hands,
Or take a speedier Death than you wou'd give. …
My dear Cordelia, Lucky was the Minute
Of our Approach, the Gods have weigh'd our Suffrings;
W' are past the Fire, and now must shine to Ages.

Albany assigns the whole kingdom except his marriage-portion to Lear, who gives it to Cordelia. Edgar brings the news of her sisters' deaths. Lear bestows his blessing on the lovers, and proposes to retire with Gloster and Kent to some cool cell where they may cheerfully pass in calm reflection the little remainder of their lives. The play ends with a mealy-mouthed speech by Edgar:

Divine Cordelia, all the Gods can witness
How much thy Love to Empire I prefer!
Thy bright Example shall convince the World
(Whatever Storms of Fortune are decreed)
That Truth and Vertue shall at last succeed.

Before reviewing the play as a whole, let us notice a few samples of the verbal alteration. Tate worked more freely than either D'Avenant or Dryden; where the earlier adapters would have been content to change a word or two, Tate would often cut loose and retain practically nothing of Shakespeare's. On the other hand, when he did retain Shakespeare's diction he was less apt than either of his predecessors to tamper with it.

Yet that is not saying much. There are many cases of such tampering, a few of which I shall now cite. The text first quoted is in each case that of the Quarto of 1681.¹⁰ Lines are numbered to agree with Dr. Furness's New Variorum Edition. Words replaced are cited from the Praetorius facsimile (London, 1885) of Q 2 (Butter, 1608). Tate's source is certainly the text of the Quartos, not of the Folios, and seems to be Q 2, but there are many exceptions, including Folio corrections, which point to some attempt at collation or to the existence of another text in the theatrical library.¹¹ This may be a good point for Professor Nicoll. The reason why Quarto 2 was not exclusively used is, of course, its archaic character.

Grammatical corrections are fairly numerous. Example:

II, ii, 111 (Q 1681, p. 16): “lately.” For: “late.”

Many changes are modernizations. Examples:

II, iv, 54 (Q 1681, p. 19): “Spleen.”

For:

“mother.”
II, iv, 180 (Q 1681, p. 21): “confirms.”

For:

“approues.”
III, ii, 44 (Q 1681, p. 24): “Frightens.”

For:

“gallow.”

A zeal for clearness accounts for many others. Examples:

I, i, 54 (Q 1681, p. 3): “more than words can utter.”

For:

“wield the matter.”
I, i, 122, 123 (Q 1681, p. 5):
                                                  “and in her tender Trust
Design'd to have bestow'd my Age at Ease!”

For:

                                                  “and thought to set my rest
On her kinde nursery.”

Elegance seems to have been cherished less by Tate than by either of his laureate predecessors. Yet there are some changes which seem due to it. Examples:

I, i, 90, 91 (Q 1681, p. 4): “I can't dissemble.”

For:

“I cannot heaue my heart into my mouth.”
III, ii, 14 (Q 1681, p. 24): “Rumble thy fill.”

For:

“belly full.”

The literalization of figurative language and the toning down of impassioned flights could not, of course, operate extensively in a play dealing with madness. Tate frequently refigures, however, and there are occasional cases of literalization. Example:

II, ii, 15 (Q 1681, p. 14): “white liver'd.”

For:

“lilly liuer'd.”

Scores of changes seem to be purely capricious. Examples:

I, i, 121 (Q 1681, p. 5): “Rage.”

For:

“wrath.”
IV, i, 74 (Q 1681, p. 43): “Poverty.”

For:

“misery.”

Tate's version held the stage for a century and a half. Even Dr. Johnson defended his changes, on the ground that the original tragedy is too terrible and that innocence is better rewarded on the stage than afflicted. In vain the voice of Addison was raised in advocacy of the original play; he believed that in Tate's version it had “lost half its beauty.”¹²

In the light of the critical canons, this adaptation is a curious hodge-podge. The unities of time and place are disregarded, but the action is more closely knit by the Edgar-Cordelia love story. The excision of the Fool recognizes the principle of strict separation. Like Dryden, Tate cared nothing for the dictum against scenes of violence; we shall find in his version of Coriolanus no horror too gory for him. Contrary to the neo-classical rule that love should be kept out of tragedy, it becomes in Tate's Lear the chief motivating force. In Shakespeare we catch glimpses of the sinister affections of the two elder sisters—enough to show us that other dark currents of passion are seething past. Tate not only amplifies these hints, but creates a new love story, equal in importance to the fortunes of Lear. These are not happy changes. The scenes dealing with the Edmund-Goneril-Regan triangle are highly voluptuous; and Cordelia's more decorous passion does not improve her character. She becomes, in fact, almost a Lydia Languish, as in the over-refinement of her feelings in her feigned indifference to Edgar (Act I).

Worst of all is the so-called happy ending. In Tate's alteration the principle of poetic justice receives the most pitiable sacrifice in all the English drama. The preservation of Lear is best condemned in the very words of Shakespeare: “Vex not his ghost,” cries Kent, as that tormented spirit languishes,

Vex not his ghost, O let him passe,
he hates him much, that would vpon the wracke
Of this rough world stretch him out longer.

2. KING RICHARD THE SECOND

Tate's second revision of Shakespeare was also printed in 1681;¹³ there was a second edition ten years later. The play lived, as we have seen, but two days on the stage. In his epistle dedicatory Tate gives rein to his resentment:

I am not ignorant of the posture of Affairs in King Richard the Second's Reign, how dissolute then the Age, and how corrupt the Court; a Season that beheld Ignorance and Infamy preferr'd to Office and Pow'r, exercis'd in Opressing, Learning and Merit; but why a History of those Times shou'd be supprest as a Libel upon Ours, is past my Understanding. 'Tis sure the worst Complement that ever was made to a Prince. …

In depicting King Richard, Shakespeare, says Tate, was faithful to history, but the adapter has been at pains to “elevate” him:

I have every where given him the Language of an Active, Prudent Prince. Preferring the Good of his Subjects to his own private Pleasure. … Nor cou'd it suffice me to make him speak like a King (who as Mr. Rhymer says in his Tragedies of the last Age considered, are always in Poëtry presum'd Heroes) but to Act so too, viz. with Resolution and Justice. Resolute enough our Shakespear (copying the History) has made him, for concerning his seizing old Gaunt's Revennues, he tells the wise Diswaders,

Say what ye will, we seize into our Hands
His Plate, his Goods, his Money and his Lands.

But where was the Justice of this Action? This Passage I confess was so material a Part of the Chronicle (being the very Basis of Bullingbrook's Usurpation) that I cou'd not in this new Model so far transgress Truth as to make no mention of it; yet for the honour of my Heroe I suppose the foresaid Revennues to be Borrow'd onely for the present Exigence, not Extorted. …

My Design was to engage the pitty of the Audience for him in his Distresses, which I cou'd never have compass'd had I not before shewn him a Wise, Active and Just Prince. Detracting Language (if any where) had been excusable in the Mouths of the Conspirators … but I wou'd not allow even Traytors and Conspirators thus to bespatter the Person whom I design'd to place in the Love and Compassion of the Audience. …

Further, to Vindicate ev'n his Magnanimity in Regard of his Resigning the Crown, I have on purpose inserted an intirely new Scene between him and his Queen, wherein his Conduct is sufficiently excus'd by the Malignancy of his Fortune, which argues indeed Extremity of Distress, but Nothing of Weakness.

Yet, complains Tate, “a positive Doom of Suppression without Examination” ended the play's run on the third day. And this despite the fact that “Every Scene is full of Respect to Majesty and the dignity of Courts, not one alter'd Page but what breaths Loyalty.”

Turning from political to aesthetic considerations, the adapter excuses his introduction of comic relief, which he

judg'd necessary to help off the heaviness of the Tale, … though less agreeable to stricktness of Rule; [this change is] confirm'd by our Laureat's last Piece, who confesses himself to have broken a Rule for the Pleasure of Variety.* The Audience (says he) are grown weary of melancholly Scenes, and I dare prophesie that few Tragedies (except those in Verse) shall succeed in this Age if they are not lightned with a course of Mirth.

*Epst. Ded. to the Span. Fryar.

ACT I

Tate begins with Shakespeare's opening scene, which is not greatly altered, though speeches are reduced and rearranged and there is a good deal of minor tampering with diction. Scene ii follows, as in Shakespeare; it begins with an original soliloquy by the Duchess. Gloster's opening speech is transposed and follows the Duchess's lamentation. Immediately after, York comes in. Only slightly comic in Shakespeare, he is broadly so in Tate; he is simply a funny fat man. Like his brother, he refuses to take up the Duchess's cause.

The third scene shows the pavilion at the lists.¹⁴ It is little altered. The speeches are cut down and there is some verbal tampering, but not much. Richard's exit speech is taken from Shakespeare's next scene (I, iv, which Tate omits); it is composed of lines 38-40 of Green's advice to prosecute the war in Ireland, and line 42 of Richard's decision to go there in person. The parting of Gaunt and Bolingbroke is cut down to 20 lines from 57; it is largely original with Tate and is a deplorable change, for instead of the emphasis on the human side of the parting Tate allows Bolingbroke to express his already meditated designs on the throne. But with this exception there is no serious structural alteration.

ACT II

Omitting Shakespeare's I, iv, in which Richard actually expresses his longing for his uncle's death, a species of royal turpitude that was too much for Tate's loyalty, Act II opens as in Shakespeare at the deathbed of John of Gaunt. The old lion's eulogy of England is nearly all excised, I suppose because it contains serious charges against Richard; eight lines of it are introduced later, in the King's presence. In its stead, the comic York expresses forebodings of disaster. Tate gives him Richard's lines in the preceding scene (I, iv, 24-34) descriptive of Bolingbroke's cultivation of the commons. York's part is also fattened with exposition of the rebellion in Ireland, and includes what looks like a topical hit on the court of Charles II:

all goes worse and worse in Ireland, Rebellion is there on the Wing, and here in the Egg; yet still the Court dances after the French Pipe, Eternal Apes of Vanity: Mutiny stirring, Discipline asleep, Knaves in Office, all's wrong.

Gaunt's warning to the King is echoed by York; Richard meekly accepts their correction, thanks them for it, and puts up a pious petition for his uncle's long life. As Tate points out in his preface, the King seizes the revenues only temporarily:

Be Heav'n our judge we mean him nothing fowl
But shortly will with interest restore
The Loan our sudden streights make necessary.

Piercy, that is, young Hotspur, is added to the group of lords who remain to plot, and is given some original lines and some stolen from those of his associates.

Scene ii (not so marked) corresponds to Shakespeare's II, ii, 67 f.; the Queen's conversation with the King's favorites and the exposition there given of the rebellion are omitted. The scene begins with Bushy's line, “Despair not Madam,” which is spoken by a lady in waiting. York cuts a ridiculous figure; to the Queen's demand that he “speak comfort,” he replies (in prose):

Comforts in Heav'n, and we are on the Earth, nothing but crosses on this side of the Moon; my heart stews in Choller, I shall dissolve to a Gelly. That your Husband shou'd have no more wit than to go a Knight Erranting whilst Rogues seize all at home, and that I shou'd have no more wit than to be his Deputy at such a proper time: to undertake to support a crazy Government, that can scarce carry my own Fat.

The scene ends with his exit, since Bushy, Green, and Bagot do not appear in Tate's version. This reduction of casts is typical of the altered versions.

Scene iii follows in reduced form. It begins seven lines before the arrival of Ross and Willoughby, who according to Tate bring the news of the dispersal of the Welsh royalists. Berkeley is not among Tate's characters. York enters eight lines after Ross and Willoughby, and addresses his hypocritical nephew in excellent (Shakespearean) blank verse, which is highly inconsistent with his previous utterances. To Bolingbroke's protest against the confiscation York reiterates Tate's palliation:

Thy words are all as false as thy Intents,
The King but for the Service of the State,
Has Borrow'd thy Revenue for a time,
And Pawn'd to me his Honour to repay it,
Which I as Gaunt Executour allow'd.

This explanation fails to satisfy the heir; he arrests his uncle, and the scene closes with York's reproaches.

Scene iv is an original low comedy scene in which the rabble, consisting of “a Shoomaker, Farrier, Weaver, Tanner, Mercer, Brewer, Butcher, Barber, and infinite others with a Confused Noise” debate the respective merits of a republic and a commonwealth, and then engage in a free-for-all fight, some shouting “no Laws, no Laws, no Laws,” and others, “Laws, Laws, Laws.” Bolingbroke and his forces come in. Young Piercy is all for sweeping the rabble aside. But Bolingbroke is too politic for such methods; the mob is easily swayed by his flattery. He makes the mistake of pretending not to desire the crown; but when he sees the temper of the crowd, quickly retrieves himself and professes his readiness to “take the burden of the State.” The leader of the mob counsels him not to be chicken-hearted, and, now secure in his ascendency, Bolingbroke exemplifies this advice by ordering the leader hanged; the act ends with the shouts of the rabble for their new hero.¹⁵

ACT III

Shakespeare's II, iv, the dispersal of Salisbury's Welsh troops, is omitted by Tate, the necessary exposition having been given. Shakespeare's III, i, is also omitted, since the King's favorites do not appear in Tate's version. The third act begins, therefore, with Shakespeare's III, ii, Richard and his adherents before Berkeley castle. The scene is greatly cut down. After Richard's prediction that the rebels will melt away, Carlile speaks two lines from the same speech (III, ii, 54, 55), and the fatuous Richard closes the scene with a new couplet:

Move we secure then in our Royal Right,
To th' Traytors Executions, not to Fight.

The bad news brought by Salisbury and Scroop is postponed by Tate in order to introduce the Queen's scene in York garden. This it is necessary to move forward, since Tate intends to bring the Queen to Richard's side while he is still in the field. The second scene, then, of this act is a grievously abridged version of Shakespeare's III, iv, the Queen and the Duchess of York exchanging original speeches of apprehension. The whole scene is verbally altered.

Scene iii takes us back to Shakespeare's III, ii, where Tate's III, i, ended. The place is a heath, where Richard is met successively by Salisbury and Scroop with their news of disaster. Richard's great speech of despair, beginning

No matter where, of comfort no man speake,

is cut from 34 to 24 lines, and badly garbled besides. The scene is prolonged after the news of York's capture (as it becomes in Tate), by the entrance of the Queen, the Duchess of York, and their train. The scene then turns into a love passage between the unhappy monarch and his consort, who assures him:

This Kingdom yet, which once you did prefer
To the worlds sway, this Beauty and this Heart
Is Richards still, millions of Loyal thoughts
Are always waiting there to pay you homage.
That glorious Empire yields to you alone,
No Bullingbrook can chase you from that Throne.

At this tender invitation, Richard incontinently orders:

We'll march no farther, lead to th' Castle here,

a change of plan which, in view of the King's political situation, reminds us of the celebrated simile of Mr. Bayes in The Rehearsal.

Scene iv continues with Shakespeare's III, iii, Bolingbroke's appearance before Flint castle, and Richard's surrender. Piercy is already present with his father; it is Ross who comes with the report of the castle's strength. York is much more loyal and defiant in Tate's version than in the original. Speeches are reduced and altered; otherwise the scene is little changed.

ACT IV

In place of the accusation of Aumerle as guilty of Gloster's death, and the subsequent quarrel between him and Surrey, Fitzwater, and Piercy, Tate gives us several short scenes emphasizing the new interests he has brought into the plot. The first is between Aumerle and his father. Both are hostile to Bolingbroke, York in prose and Aumerle in blank verse. The usurper has sent for York to seek his counsel, but the old man refuses to go. He retires, and the Duchess comes in, and urges her son to restrain his father's rashness.

Next the Queen appears, “supported by Ladies.” She is evidently the only person unaware of the King's decision to abdicate, but she prophesies evil none the less. The King now enters, dressed in mourning. The attendants are dismissed, and he tells the Queen of his decision. She implores him to die rather than yield the Crown. He answers in typical Tatese:

Permit me briefly to recount the steps,
By which my Fortune grew to this distress.
Then tell me, what cou'd Alexander do
Against a Fate so obstinate as mine.

The Queen “Weeps over him,” and inquires whether none will strike for “an injur'd King.” Richard will not hear of further attempts, and the loving couple sadly separate.

Scene ii is Shakespeare's IV, i, beginning with line 107. York's announcement of Richard's willingness to abdicate is given to Northumberland. There is little other alteration, except in diction, to the end of the scene. York then draws a fine distinction, in terms of current political philosophy, between royalty and the King's person. He is thus able to promise obedience to King Henry IV, though he reserves the right to pity Richard. The latter remains on with Carlile, to whom he counsels patience. There is no suggestion of a counter-revolution.

ACT V

The first two scenes of this act are transposed by Tate. The first is Shakespeare's V, ii, beginning with the description of the contrasting receptions of Richard and Henry by the populace. This is assigned to Aumerle, not to York. The latter comes in and protests he cannot blame his son for grieving. On top of that profession, and most inconsistently with York's position during the whole play up to this point, his discovery of his son's complicity is as in the original. The scene as altered is played in a much lower key. To the Duchess's passionate remonstrance,

Hadst thou groan'd for him, York, as I have done,

the fat man cleverly replies,

And art e'en like to groan for him again. Away.

The transposition of this scene with Shakespeare's V, i, gives longer suspense for the fate of Aumerle, since that scene intervenes between his discovery and his pardon.

Scene ii follows Shakespeare structurally, but the dialogue is rewritten. The Queen has put on mourning; for

Thus dead in Honour, my Lord and I(16)
Officiate at our own sad Funeral.

Instead of strengthening her dejected Lord, Tate's Queen invites him to

Lean on my Brest whilst I dissolve to Dew,
And wash thee fair agen with Tears of Love.

The height of the ridiculous is scaled in Richard's last speech before Northumberland and the Guards tear them asunder:

RICH.
Now Heaven I thank thee, all my Griefs are paid!
I've lost a single frail uncertain Crown,
And found a Virtue Richer than the World:
Yes, Bird of Paradise, wee'll pearch together,
Sing in our Cage, and make our Cell a Grove.
                    Enter Northumberland, Guards.
NORTH.
My Lord, King Bullingbrook has chang'd his Orders,
You must to Pomfrett Castle, not to th' Tower;
And for you, Madam, he has given Command
That you be instantly convey'd to France.
KING.
Must I to Pomfrett, and my Queen to France?
Patience is stale, and I am weary ont 't [sic],
Blood, Fire, rank Leprosies and blewest Plagues. …

Permit is a favorite verb with Tate; he begins Richard's concluding speech with it:

Permit yet once our Death-cold Lips to joyn,
Permit a Kiss that must Divorce for ever,
I'll ravish yet one more, farewell my Love!
My Royal Constant Dear farewel for ever!
Give Sorrow Speech, and let thy Farewell come,
Mine speaks the Voice of Death, but Thine is dumb.

Critics (like Mr. Shaw) of Shakespeare's romantic incorrigibility should study the Restoration versions to learn, not that Shakespeare was unromantic, but that his good sense usually restrained his romanticism. Compared with the tragic writers of the Restoration, and for that matter with the nineteenth-century romantics, Shakespeare seems severely realistic, austere, and classical.

The third scene is Shakespeare's V, iii, the pardoning of Aumerle. York is even more disgusted with the King's clemency than is Shakespeare. In the speech with which he ends the scene Henry includes his hint that the murder of Richard would be acceptable. Thus Shakespeare's brief scene of exposition (V, iv) becomes unnecessary; its omission is doubtless an improvement.

The last scene begins, like Shakespeare's V, v, with Richard's long soliloquy, though this is curtailed. An amazing example of Restoration taste is incorporated in this passage:

                                                                                A Table and Provisions shewn.
What mean my Goalers [sic] by that plenteous Board?
For three days past I've fed upon my Sighs,
And drunk my Tears; rest craving Nature, rest,
I'll humour thy dire Need and tast this food,
That only serves to make Misfortune Live.
                                                                      Going to sit, the Table sinks down.

Apparently the patrons of Dorset Garden insisted that some use should be made of the mechanical features of that stage, whatever the subject of the play. It is difficult to see why else table-sinking should be introduced here. Its employment in The Tempest must have scored a tremendous hit, the delight of which lasted long after it had ceased to be a novelty.

The interview with the trusty groom (V, v, 67-94) is omitted in favor of the arrival of letters from the Queen. The King is in the seventh heaven and sits down to answer them when

                                        Enter Exton and Servants.
[RICHARD].
Furies! What means this Pageantry of Death?
Speak thou the foremost Murderer, thy own hand
Is arm'd with th' Instrument of thy own Slaughter,
Go thou and fill a room in Hell,
Another Thou.                              [Kills 4 of them.]

But, despite this extraordinary prowess, the scene ends as in Shakespeare with Richard's death and Exton's repentance.

Scene v is Shakespeare's V, vi; York does not appear in it. Henry's remorse is more outspoken, and so more “loyal.”

Structurally Tate has made few serious alterations. The most important is Bolingbroke's winning of the rabble. This is amusingly done and probably acted well enough. More serious is the “elevation” of Richard's character, a feat on which Tate plumes himself in his preface. As a matter of fact, it spoils the play. The fall of Shakespeare's Richard would not be so tragic if he were only a weakling; his energy in the earlier scenes makes his collapse more striking. We cannot sympathize greatly with Tate's Richard, whose only virtues are negative. The adapter tries to engage our sympathy for the lover, but the picture is overdrawn and Richard becomes uxorious. The Queen, instead of being his foil in the last act, is merely a feminine counterpart of her husband. York is the only other character that suffers alteration. He is not elevated, but degraded to a buffoon.

Of verbal tampering there is a good deal, yet not so much as in either D'Avenant's or Dryden's alterations. Here again Tate works with a freer hand. The following illustrations of his changes are characteristic. The text first cited is in each case that of the Cambridge edition (Clark and Wright, vol. iv, 1864). Lines are numbered to agree with this edition, on which I have relied for variant readings except in the case of Q 5, which I have collated by means of the Praetorius facsimile (1887). Words replaced are cited from the latter text.

That Q 5, issued in 1634, is Tate's source I cannot state certainly, not having made an exhaustive collation. The pre-Wars texts of Richard the Second fall into two groups: (1) Q 1, 2, 3, 4; (2) Fs, Q 5. Q 5 is printed from the Folios text. Tate's alteration was printed in 1681; its source is certainly group (2), and probably Q 5.¹⁷

Tate was no such man of parts as Dryden or even D'Avenant, and his changes were not guided by principles so clearly distinguishable. Yet some categories can be set up. Modernization accounts for many of the adapter's changes. Examples:

I, i, 4 (Q 1681, p. 1): “th' Impeachment lately charg'd.”

For:

“the boysterous late appeale.”
III, ii, 36 (Q 1681, p. 25): “Desponding Cousin.”

For:

“Discomfortable.”

Metrical considerations account for other changes. Example:

IV, i, 148 (Q 1681, p. 41): “Prevent [it], resist it, stop this breach in Time.” Om. Q 1681, followed by Pope.

Efforts to clear up the meaning are less numerous in Tate than in either D'Avenant or Dryden, but I have noticed a few changes which appear to have that object. Examples:

II, iii, 84 (Q 1681, p. 19): “feign'd.”

For:

“deceivable.”
V, iii, 35 (Q 1681, p. 50): “To win thy future Love I pardon Thee.”

For:

“after—.”

The same is true of elegance. Tate's was not an elegant mind. But the following passage seems to be a feeble attempt to rise above earthly diction:

IV, i, 184, 185 (Q 1681, p. 41):
“Now is this Crown a Well wherein two Vessels
That in successive Motion rise and fall.”

For:

Now is this Golden Crowne like a deepe Well,
That owes two Buckets filling one another.”

But by far the greatest number of Tate's changes appear to be simply capricious. Examples:

I, i, 8: “sifted.”

For:

“sounded.”
I, i, 12: “sound.”

For:

“sift.”
I, i, 92 (Q 1681, p. 3): “Combate.”

For:

“battel.”
III, ii, 39 (Q 1681, p. 25): “Then Thieves and Robbers do securely Range.”

For:

“raunge abroad unseene.”
III, ii, 45, 46 (Q 1681, p. 25):
“Dismantled from the Cloak of Night, stand bare,
And Tremble at their own Deformity!”

For:

“(The Cloake of Night being pluckt from off their backes)
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves.”

Cf. Tate's second line with Shakespeare's Richard III, I, i, 27:

“And descant on mine own deformity.”
III, iv, 29 (Q 1681, p. 26): “Peaches.”

For:

“Apricocks.”
III, iv, 34 (Q 1681, p. 26): “Sprigs.”

For:

“sprayes.”

Many other examples might be cited. Trifling of this sort is not so serious as the bold mangling of D'Avenant and Dryden, but it is hardly less discreditable.

Taking the play as a whole, Tate's structural changes seem to be motivated, chiefly, by his desire for “elevation.” The unities are no more observed than in Shakespeare; there is more comedy; and there is no attempt to dodge scenes of violence. Tested by the canons Tate's version is a wretched failure; it conforms only in its elevation of its hero's character; and this in fact degrades him no less than the elevation of Cleopatra and Cressida at the hands of Dryden. As in his Lear, Tate emphasizes the love motive above all else, and here the sinister influence of the heroic play is once more visible.

A cleverer policy on the part of the court would have allowed Tate to produce his play unmolested, for it would undoubtedly have died as speedy a natural death as did his next Shakespearean venture. But censors have rarely been distinguished for their cleverness.

3. THE INGRATITUDE OF A COMMONWEALTH, OR THE FALL OF CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS

Tate's third and last attempt to improve a Shakespearean drama also had a political inspiration. Coriolanus, Professor Odell points out, “seemed destined to be launched, with new trimmings, during or after each of England's successive politico-civic upheavals; Dennis so set it forth after 1715, and Thomson, after the '45.”

The Ingratitude was printed in quarto in 1682.¹⁸ Tate's dedicatory epistle to this play is much briefer than those to his Lear and his Richard II. He owns that he has again

launcht out in Shakespear's Bottom. Much of what is offered here, is Fruit that grew in the Richness of his Soil; and what ever the Superstructure prove, it was my good fortune to build upon a Rock.¹⁹

This time, he carefully points out, the satire is unmistakably for the Whigs.

Upon a close view of this Story, there appear'd in some Passages, no small Resemblance with the busie Faction of our own time. And I confess, I chose rather to set the Parallel nearer to Sight, than to throw it off at further Distance. … Where is the harm of letting the People see what Miseries Common-Wealths have been involv'd in, by a blind Compliance with their popular Misleaders: Nor may it be altogether amiss, to give these Projecters themselves, examples how wretched their dependence is on the uncertain Crowd. Faction is a Monster that often makes the slaughter 'twas designed for; and as often turns its fury on those that hatcht it. The Moral therefore of these Scenes being to Recommend Submission and Adherence to Establisht Lawful Power, which in a word, is LOYALTY.

As always in these alterations, the number of characters is greatly reduced; in this case, to eleven.

ACT I

There is no structural alteration up to the point of the entrance of the Messenger with news from the Volscian war. The senators do not come in; the Messenger announces Martius's appointment as Cominius's second, in place of Titus Lartius, who is supposed to be dead and does not appear in Tate's version. The reluctance of the citizens to go to war is emphasized rather deftly by Tate. The colloquy of the tribunes is reduced from 28 lines to 11.

Shakespeare's I, ii, in which Aufidius makes his first appearance, is omitted by Tate, who passes directly to Shakespeare's I, iii, the Roman women. The prose of the opening speeches is rewritten as blank verse. Thus Shakespeare:

Then his good report should haue beene my Sonne, I therein would haue found issue. Heare me professe sincerely, had I a dozen sons each in my loue alike, and none lesse deere then thine, and my good Martius, I had rather had eleuen dye Nobly for their Countrey, then one voluptuously surfet out of Action.

But Tate:

Then—
His Glory shou'd have been my Darling Son:
Now by Minerva, had the Indulgent Gods
Blest me with Twenty Sons, as much Belov'd
As my brave Martius; I had rather Lose them All
In Chase of Glory, and their Country's Cause,
Than One, i' th' Surfeit of voluptuous Peace.

Tate's Virgilia is more outspoken in her pacifism than Shakespeare's. Valeria turns out to be a Restoration coquette. She enters “Gawdily and Fantastically Drest, follow'd by Six or Seven Pages.” Her airs and graces are amusing enough, but hardly suit their surroundings. No mention is made of Young Martius, though the lad is introduced by Tate later on in the play.

Scene iii is Shakespeare's I, iv, 8 f. (I number with Neilson's Cambridge edition), the attack on Corioli, the wager being omitted. It is followed by Shakespeare's I, v, the spoil-laden soldier. I, vi, the arrival of Martius at the camp of Cominius, is left out by Tate, who also omits I, vii, at the gates of Corioli. He goes instead to I, viii, the encounter of Martius with Aufidius. This is followed by Shakespeare's I, ix, the entitling of Martius. Tate seems to have missed Shakespeare's effective stroke of characterization near the end of the scene, when the lordly Martius so lightly lets go by the name of his former host. Yet it seems incredible that this should have gone over Tate's head; perhaps he excised it as a means of elevating his hero's character. Shakespeare's last scene, showing Aufidius's hatred, is also cut by Tate. This compression of the events of the fighting into two scenes instead of six is justifiable, and, on a picture stage, perhaps necessary. Tate has omitted nothing essential to his story, though his tampering with the phrasing is constant and deplorable.

ACT II

The second act opens directly with the return of Coriolanus to Rome (Shakespeare's II, i, 179 f.), omitting Menenius's skirmish with the tribunes and the proud and anxious talk of the women. The triumphal entry is thus much less effective than in Shakespeare, since no suspense is created. The conspiracy of the tribunes is abbreviated. Immediately after their resolution (at Shakespeare's II, i, 275) the scene opens and shows the Senate sitting (II, ii); the preliminaries between the officers are omitted, and the scene begins with Coriolanus's remonstrance against the eulogies of his wounds (II, ii, 71 f.). Typical of Tate's condensation is the reduction of Cominius's speech from 41 lines to 25.

The final scene is Shakespeare's II, iii, the solicitation of votes. The debate before Coriolanus's entrance is shortened, and there is much verbal alteration throughout the whole scene.

ACT III

The third act begins as in Shakespeare, with the tribunes' warning (III, i, 24 f.) and the broil between the parties. It is followed by III, ii, much altered. This takes place, not in the house of Coriolanus, but in a street, where Volumnia is met “by Valeria, passing by in a Chair.” This talkative dame babbles not unamusingly, and goes on her way rejoicing. Then the patricians appear and we have III, ii. It is immediately followed by Shakespeare's III, iii, 39 f., the people entering the street.

The next scene, Coriolanus's parting from his family and friends (IV, i), is not tagged by Tate; probably the scene did not change and the farewell was said in the street. The adapter possessed a remarkable facility in the invention of imprecations, and Volumnia is assigned in this scene a number of mouth-filling curses. Tate brings in, rather effectively, the young son of Martius, who begs to accompany his father into exile.

ACT IV

We now pass directly to the arrival of Coriolanus at the enemy's city (IV, iv). Both Shakespeare's intervening scenes, Volumnia baiting the tribunes (IV, ii), and the expository scene on the highway (IV, iii), are omitted. In Tate, however, it is to Corioli, not to Actium, that the exiled general goes. He recognizes Aufidius's house without assistance, and (presumably) the scene draws and reveals its interior. We then have Shakespeare's IV, v. The dispute with the servants is much shortened. Immediately after the conclusion of the scene, we are introduced to Nigridius, a broken Roman officer in the service of Aufidius, whom he inflames with jealousy at the warmth of Coriolanus's reception.

The next scene is Shakespeare's IV, vi, the arrival of the news of Coriolanus's treachery. It is greatly abbreviated, though it is telescoped with a reduced version of Shakespeare's V, i, in which Menenius consents to visit the renegade.

Next comes V, ii, the repulse of Menenius, considerably altered. The sentinels are omitted. On the other hand, Tate manages to crowd into this scene all the Roman efforts to soften Coriolanus. The first of these are in dumb show. Menenius's plea is shortened and turned from prose into blank verse.

After his repulse, the invaders are about to attack the walls, but are met by the family of Coriolanus. The scene is, of course, Shakespeare's (V, iii), but how differently phrased! It begins:

COR.
Look there, my Mother, Wife, and little Darling,
Are come to Meet our Triumph on its way,
And be Spectators of our keen Revenge. …

He greets his wife:

Life of my Life, Fly to me? O a Kiss.

For several speeches the unthinkable proposition is implied that Coriolanus does not know why the women have come. Thereafter Shakespeare's structure is retained, though his diction is mutilated.

ACT V

Tate's last act is brief, but he packs it full of surprise and violence. Shakespeare's V, iv, the arrival of the news of peace, is omitted. On the other hand, Shakespeare's V, v, the honored return of the ladies, furnishes Tate with another excuse for Valeria's babbling; she did not join their mission, and now affects the rôle of committee of welcome. Virgilia receives a letter from Menenius warning her that Nigridius is plotting her husband's ruin. The women determine to return and save him, though how that could possibly have been accomplished Tate does not trouble to suggest.

The next scene is original with the adapter. In voluptuous accents Aufidius confides to Nigridius his passion for Virgilia. News comes that with Volumnia and Young Martius she has entered Corioli. Aufidius orders them seized.

The final scene is in the palace, where the Volscian lords are met in council. It follows Shakespeare's V, vi (though it is much condensed) up to the assassination of Coriolanus, who manages to wound Aufidius. Nigridius comes in with news of an imminent battle between the legions of the two generals.

All rush out except Aufidius, Nigridius, and Coriolanus. The first now tells the dying Roman that Virgilia is in his power. I quote his speech despite its brutality, because it affords a curious view of the pious Tate.

I charge thee Dye not yet, till thou has seen
Our Scene of Pleasures; to thy Face I'll Force her;
Glut my last Minuits with a double Ryot;
And in Revenges Sweets and Loves, Expire.

Virgilia is brought in wounded; the piteous sight is too much for the ravisher and he dies. Coriolanus now inquires:

What means that purple Dew upon thy Breast?

Virgilia replies:

                                                                                'tis a Roman Wound,
Giv'n by Virgilia's Hand, that rather chose
To sink this Vessel in a Sea of Blood,
Than suffer its chast Treasure, to become
Th' unhallowed Pyrates Prize.

With a tender farewell she dies, and Coriolanus begs that “Some kind God descend t' inform me” where Volumnia and his son may be.

Nigridius responds, gloating over his former commander's plight, that the boy has been “Mangled, Gash't, Rack't, Distorted.” Coriolanus asks how the torturer disposed of him: “Didst eat him?” Nigridius answers:

Having kill'd your old Menenius,
Off'ring his feeble Vengeance, streight I threw
The Tortur'd Brat, with Limbs all broke …
Into Volumnia's Arms, who still retain'd
Her Roman Temper; till with bitter Language,
And most insulting, added to her Suff'rings;
I rous'd her silent Grief, to loud Disorder. …

Mark Coriolanus's phrasing of his agony:

                    Convultions! Feavers! blewest Pestilence!
                    Sleep on Virgilia. …
Enter Volumnia Distracted, with Young Martius under her Arm.

We now witness a mad scene, in which Volumnia raves at great length (one of her speeches contains 23 lines), but certainly does not turn thought and affliction, not to mention passion or hell, into either favor or prettiness. At last she snatches a partisan from one of the guards, kills Nigridius with it, and runs off.

But she has dropped the boy. And now succeeds a really “sweet bit,” as Mr. Odell calls it, between Coriolanus and his son. The pathos is artificial, and the insistence on physical torture is too painful; but the little scene is affecting, none the less. At last the boy dies and so does Coriolanus, who clasps with one arm the body of his wife, and with the other his son's.

Naturally, the Epilogue is spoken by Valeria.

The verbal changes made by Tate are of the same order as those we have noticed in his Lear and his Richard II. It hardly seems worth while to list further examples. Tate worked less on a principle than either D'Avenant or Dryden. Consequently more of his changes seem made without rhyme or reason, while on the other hand he frequently retains phrases which his predecessors would almost certainly have altered.

His play follows Shakespeare's with a reasonable degree of fidelity up to the catastrophe. Tate then cuts loose completely and turns a respectable tragedy into an unpleasant reminder of the old tragedy-of-blood. He evidently aimed at giving his audience a last act they would not easily forget; accordingly he works in a sword combat with the death of both the principals, an attempted rape, a suicidal demise, a mad scene, and a juvenile expiration.

Like Shakespeare's play, Tate's violates all the canons. The unities of time and place are disregarded by both. The unity of action is more observed by Shakespeare than by Tate, whose Valeria scenes are irrelevant to the plot. These also go a long step beyond Shakespeare's in permitting the mingling of comic with tragic. The last scene is one of horrid violence. Poetic justice is flouted by Tate even more than by Shakespeare. Again the love motive is emphasized. Rape is a favorite device with Tate; he uses it in both Lear and The Ingratitude without the slightest warrant in either source. In spite of this morsel the latter play was a failure; but in the former the poetaster scored a success which more than compensated. Shakespeare's Coriolanus seems never to have appeared on the Restoration stage.

Notes

1. Ward [Adolphus William. A History of English Dramatic Literature to the Death of Queen Anne, new and revised ed., 3 vols., London, 1899.] (Camb. Hist. Eng. Lit., viii, 41) describes Tate as “a painstaking and talented writer who, with enduring success, adapted King Lear.” The D. N. B. bluntly calls him a poetaster.

2. It appears in the Term Catalogue for May, 1681 (Arber's ed., i, 440).

3. Had the audience indulged in witticisms over Dryden's corpse-paved ending for Troilus and Cressida, two years before?

4. For elaborate tables showing Tate's use of Shakespeare's lines, see R. Erzgräber, Nahum Tate's und George Colman's Bühnenbearbeitungen des Shakespeare'schen King Lear, Weimar, 1897, pp. 40-44.

5. Shades of Pyramus and Thisbe!

6. An exquisite trope for Cordelia!

7. In spite of the fact that she has counted on it, and has directed her conduct accordingly!

8. A rather casuistical paradox.

9. Erzgräber (p. 52) points out that the introduction of the confidante was probably due to French influence. Certainly it was more decorous for Cordelia to make her sweet avowal in the presence of a chaperone.

10. This was reprinted in 1689, c. 1690, 1699, c. 1710, 1712, 1717, 1729 1733, 1745, 1749, 1750, 1756, 1757, 1759, 1760, 1761, 1763, 1767, etc. etc. See Jaggard, [William. Shakespeare Bibliograpohy, Stratford-on-Avon, 1911,] pp. 356 f. It has recently been reprinted by Mr. Montague Summers in his Shakespeare Adaptations, [London] 1922.

11. Erzgräber (p. 14) concludes that Tate's sources are Q 2 and F 3.

12. Spectator, No. 40 (April 16, 1711). Cited by Furness, v, 477.

13. It appears in the Term Catalogue for June, 1681 (Arber's ed., i, 451). William Allwardt (Die englischen Bühnenbearbeitungen von Shakespeares King Richard II; Rostock dissertation, Doberan, 1909, p. 11) concludes that Tate's sources were F 1 and F 3.

14. Professor Odell errs in stating that this scene is omitted (Odell, [George C. D. Shakespeare from Betterton to Irving, 2 vols., New York, 1920,] i, 58).

15. Allwardt (p. 20) suggests that Tate's reason for interpolating this scene was to show Bolingbroke in an unfavorable light, thus preparing the audience for his treachery to Richard. It was, rather, chiefly to portray the fickleness of the mob, a favorite theme of “loyal” writers at this time.

16. Tate had a positive genius for falling into tripping measures at solemn moments.

17. For the evidence see my unpublished Harvard dissertation (1923), pp. 457, 458.

18. Term Catalogue, Feb. 1682 (Arber's ed., i, 473).

19. Another instance of Tate's genius for absurd metaphor.