Kyd's end was lamentable. He was arrested, and tortured, in May, 1593, on suspicion of having written a placard threatening a massacre of undesirable aliens in London, who interfered with home industries. In his papers was found part of a perfectly serious though heterodox discourse on a theological topic, apparently intended to be submitted to a Bishop. He cleared himself of the placard, and, in a letter to Puckering, the Lord Keeper, said that he had the theological piece from Marlowe, that it was among his papers by accident, and that Marlowe, then just dead, was an evil man, and no friend of his. Kyd now lost the patronage of a peer, unnamed, and by December in the following year he was dead; his family renounced the administration of what possessions he may have left behind him. He has of late been the subject of minute English and German research, like every one who had, or may have had, the faintest connexion with Shakespeare. The indecision of Hieronymo (Act III. scene 12) in revenging himself on Balthasar for slaying Horatio, Hieronymo's son, and hanging him up in Hieronymo's summer-house, has other motives than the indecision of Hamlet. But this indecision, and the play within the play, and Kyd's supposed authorship of the "Ur-Hamlet," which lies behind the First Quarto of "Hamlet," make Kyd interesting to critical specialists. These predecessors of Shakespeare need to be mentioned, though perhaps only Marlowe's dramas are now commonly read by lovers of poetry. Though these men wandered in the wilderness, so to speak, they pointed out the way to Shakespeare, and made the world familiar with rude forecasts of the forms of the romantic comedy, the historical play, and the tragedy. Several wrote blank verse well, occasionally; Marlowe brought blank verse, not precisely dramatic, but rather reflective, to the highest beauty. Almost all the early dramatists also graced their plays with charming songs. All of these early dramatists had that sweet and birdlike English note of song, "woodnotes wild," which (to an English ear) is rare in all but the early poetry of France. We have observed this note in the lyrics of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Time did not stifle the music, it is prolonged in the fashionable love-romances and in the early dramas. Thus even Nash, the least poetical of his associates, has his Adieu, farewell earth's bliss This world uncertain is, which, with its refrain, Lord, have mercy on us, recalls Dunbar's lament _Timor Mortis conturbat me._ Dust hath closed Helen's eye, Worms feed on Hector brave. Where are the lovely knights and the ladies of old time? Autumn hath all the summer's fruitful treasure, written in a time of pestilence, is another lament of Nash's, and Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year. Peele has His golden locks hath time to silver turned, and the beautiful song of Bethsabe at the bath,