A Letter on Shakspere's Authorship of The Two Noble Kinsmen: and on the characteristics of Shakspere's style and the secret of his supremacySpalding, William
General
A Letter on Shakspere's Authorship of The Two Noble Kinsmen: and on the characteristics of Shakspere's style and the secret of his supremacy
We have then, in the sixth and last scene of this act, the interrupted
combat of the two princes. [Sidenote: Fletcher's, not Shakspere's.] The
scene is a spirited and excellent one; but its tone is Fletcher's, not
Shakspeare's. [Sidenote: Has not Shakspere's grasp of imagery.] The
raillery and retort of the dialogue is more lightly playful than his,
and less antithetical and sententious; and though there are fine images,
they are not seized with the grasp which Shakspeare would have given,
sometimes harsh, but always at least decided. Some of the illustrations
have been quoted (page 17). The knightly courtesy with which the princes
arm each other is well supported; and their dignity of greeting before
they cross their swords, is fine, exceedingly fine. Nothing can be more
beautifully conceived than the change which comes over the temper of the
generous Palamon, when he stands on the verge of mortal battle with his
enemy. [Sidenote: Fletcher's sweet versification and romantic
phraseology.] His usual heat and impatience give place to the most
becoming calmness. The versification is very sweet, and the romantic air
of the phraseology is very much Fletcher's, especially towards the end
of the following quotation.
_Palamon._ My cause and honour guard | me.
(_They bow several ways, then advance and stand._)
_Arcite._ And me my love; Is there aught else to say?
_Palamon._ This only, and no more: Thou art mine aunt's | son,
And that blood we desire to shed is mu|tual;
In me, thine; and in thee, mine. My sword
Is in my hand, and, if thou killest me,
The gods and I forgive thee! If there be
A place prepared for those that sleep in hon|our,
I wish his weary soul that falls may win | it!
Fight bravely, cous|in;| give me thy noble hand!
_Arcite._ Here, Palamon; this hand shall never more
[43:1]Come near thee with such friendship.
_Palamon._ I commend | thee.
_Arcite._ If I fall, curse me, and say I was a cow|ard;
For none but such dare die in these just tri|als.
Once more farewell, my cousin.
_Palamon._ Farewell, Ar|cite.
(_They fight._)
[Sidenote: Act III. scene vi.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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