January 2020 – Early Modern &c.

Galatea – Act Two: “it is no second thing to be a woman”

Scene One: In the forest, Galatea, dressed as a boy, meets Phillida, who is also dressed as a boy. They are immediately smitten with each other, each thinking the other truly is a boy. They encounter Diana and her nymphs, who are hunting, and join them for a short time.

Rafe and his brothers closed Act One with lines about being “well manned,” and the opening of Act Two picks up the thread with Galatea venting her frustration at having to dress and act like a boy. This is the first of many soliloquies in the play, a device used for characters to express their thoughts and frustrations. Galatea still has concerns about her father putting her in male attire, and her remark “But why does thou blame him, or blab what thou art” (2.1.10-11) echoes a line spoken by Phillida in 1.4, “and so unwarily blab out something by blushing at everything” (22-23). The girls’ shared concerns and their obedience to their fathers pairs them for the audience, as do their similar feelings of discomfort in having to counterfeit what and who they are. As the scene unfolds, a pertinent question is “how does this play define gender?” Is it seen as state of mind, a biological state, or directed by one’s attire? In the early modern period, gender was considered mutable. It was thought too much theatre could make men feminine, for example, and there was a legend of a girl who physically become a boy after a vigorous jump (the tale of Marie Germain, recounted by Michel de Montagne).

After Galatea’s lament, Phillida enters and voices her own distress, calling her appropriated gait “untoward” (2.1.14), her new garments “unfit” (15), and taking on the appearance of the other gender “unseemly” (15). She notices Galatea, and in a series of asides the girls muse on the other to themselves or the audience (the first use of asides in the play). Through their remarks, it is made clear that each thinks the other is indeed a boy and that each senses the other’s discomfort — much to their relief (“I [Galatea] perceive that boys are in as great disliking of themselves as maids” [2.1.18-19]). Their asides also allow the audience to follow the progression of the girls’ attraction to one another.

In Act One the girls’ individual responses to their father’s commands appeared to give an idea of their personalities, but Phillida, the more submissive to her father, proves to be the bolder of the two. She first remarks that she would speak to Galatea if she was more confident, because “say what they will of a man’s wit, it is no second thing to be a woman” (2.1.28-30), but then gathers her courage: “Why stand I still? Boys should be bold” (34). Before she can approach Galatea, however, Diana’s train interrupts them. The pair are saucy and vague in their answers to Diana, with much wordplay (often a signal of physical attraction): “Saw you not the deer come this way?… / Whose deer was it, lady? / Diana’s deer. / I saw none but my own dear” (41-45). Telusa, one of the nymphs, remarks of Galatea, “This wag is wanton or a fool” (46). This is the first of her numerous uses of “wanton,” and for the audience, recalls Phillida’s earlier protest about wearing improperly gendered clothing (“…and be thought more wanton than becometh me” [1.3.20-21]). As the girls interact with Diana’s group, the dialogue makes clear the two are more and more attracted to each other. Diana orders the pair to accompany her, and Phillida is happy to comply to be with Galatea. Phillida comments in an aside that she is pleased “not for these ladies’ company, because myself am a virgin, but for that fair boy’s favor, who I think be a god” (2.1.64-66). “But for that fair boy’s favor, who I think to be a god” plays not only on Galatea’s attractiveness, but also hints at the goodwill of Cupid, god of love.

Scene Two: Cupid has disguised himself as a nymph in order to create chaos in Diana’s train. Neptune also decides to disguise himself to keep an eye on the goings-on.

Phillida’s line “But for that fair boy’s favor…” closes Scene One, and its connection to Cupid is underscored by the god’s entrance at the start of Scene Two. He, too, is disguised (as a nymph), and determines “under the shape of a silly girl [to] show the power of a mighty god” (2.2.1-2). His “shafts,” he states, “can make wavering, weak, and wanton” (5-6), a line filled with sexual innuendo and once more, the word “wanton.” He promises to make Diana’s nymphs so unsettled it will “confound their loves in their own sex” (7-8), something that appears to be happening to Galatea and Phillida, but seemingly without Cupid’s involvement. What this might suggest about love and fate is another detail to keep in mind.

In this scene, Cupid makes a direct address to the audience. This is not an aside – it differs from the lines in 2.1 that share Galatea’s and Phillida’s working through their discomfort and attraction to each other. Here, Cupid actually breaks the fourth wall, saying: “and then, ladies, if you see these dainty dames entrapped in love, say softly to yourselves, we may all love” (15-16). This is an interesting choice by Lyly, as there is no dramatic need and it could easily have been left out.

Cupid exits and Neptune enters, disguised as a shepherd. Neptune uses similar words and phrases to those of Cupid, but to different effect: Cupid speaks of “under the shape of a silly girl show[ing] the power of a mighty god” (1-2); Neptune complains of “silly shepherds go[ing] about to deceive [him] by putting on man’s attire upon women” (17-18). Cupid sneers at “Diana and all her coy nymphs” (2), and Neptune tells himself to “be not coy to use the shape of a shepherd to show thyself a god” (23-24). Four characters are now disguised, and physical attraction between some is growing. From this point on, the text reflects these developments by an increase in wordplay and a twisting and turning of phrases in nearly all the characters’ lines.

Scene Three: In his search for a new master, Rafe meets Peter, the Alchemist’s apprentice. Peter heaps praise on his master until Rafe decides to join them; relieved that he can now run away, Peter leaves.

In the forest, Rafe meets Peter, an alchemist’s boy bemoaning the intricacies and demands of his master’s craft. Peter’s rant about serving his master is similar to the comedy in Ben Jonson’s later play The Alchemist (c.1610), making use of terminology and inside jokes.

The humor in this scene is dense with allusions to alchemy, but also employs Rafe’s penchant for double-meanings and “points” jokes. Rafe expresses his desire to work for the Alchemist and “learn his cunning” (52), which suggests not only specialized knowledge but also the chicanery to pull it off. Peter, for instance, tells Rafe that the Alchemist “is able to make nothing infinite” (103), a phrase implying either multitudes of something from nothing or an inconceivable amount of nothing. This phrase is a good example of the twisting syntax in this scene and shows the ongoing importance of wordplay. The confusion all this generates makes the Alchemist sound successful and powerful, confounding and charming Rafe. In response to Rafe’s observation that the Alchemist is clothed in tatters, Rafe is told “If thou knewest the secret of this science, the cunning would make thee so proud that thou wouldst disdain the outward pomp” (122-125), which brings the focus back to cunning and cozenage. These actions are, after all, other ways to disguise and cover one’s true self. Just as the Alchemist covers his cunning as a con artist and fraud with dense, specialized language that confuses and impresses, Peter cozens Rafe into believing things impossible or unreal and convinces him that working for the Alchemist will make his fortune. This scene expands the idea of disguise and makes clear not all disguise is tangible. It also questions whether success is subjective or objective, and, like the wearing of gendered clothing, if appearance defines the individual and creates their worth.

A quick observation regarding Rafe and his brothers: at first glance, their subplot seems to have no real connection to the main storyline. It could easily be cut if time or personnel were issues for a director. A little digging, however, shows how Rafe and his brothers’ story aligns with the central plot and augments themes of disguise and fortune that are important to a rich understanding of the play.

Scene Four: Galatea bewails her love for Melibeus (Phillida).

This is a very short scene. In a soliloquy, Galatea reveals she is falling in love with Phillida, whom she knows as Melibeus. Not only are the girls in masculine attire, they have taken their father’s names to further efface their feminine identity (and, for the audience, heighten the confusion). This confounds just as completely as the alchemic terminology used in the previous scene; the play is now chock full of disguise and deception. In her complaint, Galatea states she “having put on the apparel of a boy…canst not also put on the mind” (2.4.1-3). This may hint at an answer to questions about how the play defines gender: although Galatea is dressed as a boy, her mind is still feminine. At the close of the scene, she determines to remain with Phillida/Melibeus and let Venus direct her actions. As she did in 1.1, she remains steadfast in her belief that fate is in charge and cannot be altered.

Scene Five: Phillida bewails her love for Tityrus (Galatea).

In another short scene, Phillida also has a soliloquy. She expresses her love for Galatea, known to her as Tityrus. Phillida does not leave her love to fate, however, and decides to take matters into her own hands. “Go into the woods, watch the good times, his best moods, and transgress in love a little of thy modesty” (2.5.6-8) she tells herself. She struggles with her choice, but decides she has no other option, stating “And so I go, resolute either to bewray my love or suffer shame” (12-13). This scene makes plain that although Phillida was quickly submissive to her father (1.3.26-27) and concerned with unseemliness (2.1.15), she has the agency and confidence to assert her feelings of love.

Galatea – Act One: “since my father will have it so, and fortune must”

Scene One: Galatea’s father explains to her why he’s dressed her as a boy; he’s attempting to keep her from being selected as Neptune’s sacrificial virgin. He recounts to her the history of the virgin sacrifice. Galatea is uncomfortable being disguised as a boy and protests that destiny cannot be changed or avoided.

The 1.1 plot exposition not only provides the backstory for the virgin sacrifice and consequently, why Galatea is dressed as a boy, it situates the play in its forest setting. Galatea and her father Tityrus rest and talk under the same tree where every five years a virgin is bound and left for the sea monster Agar. Galatea protests being garbed as a boy and against attempts to avoid her destiny (“Destiny may be deferred, not prevented” 1.1.76-77), but the location is just as important as her disapproval. Galatea, although protesting her disguise, possesses an agency the virgins tied to the sacrificial tree did not/will not have: she can walk away from the tree at will. As the plot unfolds, Galatea realizes this agency and proves more philosophical, and wiser, than her father (as does Phillida). This realization gives the girls’ eventual relationship a gravitas and solidity it might not have had if they been less thoughtful or mature.

The 1.2 exposition from The Tempest, written much later in 1610-11, is similar in many respects to Lyly’s opening scene. In Shakespeare’s play, Prospero (like Tityrus) tells his tale to his daughter Miranda, who (like Galatea) listens intently and exclaims in wonder as it unfolds. Prospero and Tityrus both employ forms of deception in their attempts to direct their daughters’ destinies, and both stories involve danger from the sea (Tempest has the titular storm; Galatea has a flood legend and a sea monster).

Scene Two: Cupid encounters one of Diana’s nymphs in the wood. She is less than impressed by him, and by love in general, which angers him and leads him to begin his mischief.

At the end of Scene One, Tityrus and Galatea remark on the gods “hav[ing] taken shapes of beasts” (1.1.97) in their quest for love. Five lines later, Cupid makes his entrance at the start of Scene Two. He encounters one of Diana’s nymphs, who has no interest in him or love. She brushes his hints and suggestions aside and exits the stage, calling him a “little god” (1.2.32). The antagonized and offended Cupid then vows to cause trouble among the nymphs so they will know he is a “great god” (34).

With the introduction of Cupid and the nymph, Lyly introduces puns and wordplay. In the previous scene, the discussion between Galatea and Tityrus was straightforward, reflecting their simple pastoral (read: non-courtly) life. The nymph’s first lines in Scene Two launch the wordplay (“There is none of Diana’s train that any can train” [1.2.6-7]) and it picks up twenty lines later (“I will follow Diana in the chase, whose virgins are all chaste, delighting in the bow that wounds the swift hart in the forest, not fearing the bow that strikes the soft heart in the chamber” 25-28). This punning, twisting, and turning of words will be a staple of the text from this point on. Note that wordplay enters the text with Cupid, and therefore with the idea of love and physical attraction. It also implies that the appearance of a god signals a portal or threshold between the rustic and the courtly (or, the simple and the wittily deceptive).

Scene Three: Phillida’s father Melibeus explains to her that he’s dressed her as a boy to protect her from Neptune’s sacrifice. She, like Galatea, is not comfortable with the disguise.

The difference in the girls’ responses to their fathers’ disguising them is worthy of note. In Scene One, Galatea’s protestations were premised on her belief that destiny cannot be avoided or delayed. In Scene Three, Phillida’s argument is that it is not becoming, or virtuous, for her to wear male clothing. She argues that she “must keep company with boys and commit follies unseemly for my sex…and be thought more wanton than becometh me” (1.3.18-21). Phillida is the first character to use the word “wanton,” which as mentioned before, is used frequently throughout the play. Does this connect to the wearing of gendered clothing and its perceived effect on behavior and virtue? The recurrence of “wanton” is an interesting detail to keep in mind.

It is also helpful to consider the manner of the girls’ responses. Both are obedient to their fathers’ wishes, but it can be argued that Galatea pushes back more forcefully against her father’s directive. Her stance on destiny and virtue relies on reason, and her appeal is longer in length and more direct than that of Phillida. Phillida’s response is more submissive, her few lines of argument based on others’ perception of her honor, behavior, and appearance. Galatea’s reply to her father is three times longer than Phillida’s (fifteen lines vs five), and Scene One closes without a clear resolution to Galatea and Tityrus’s disagreement. Phillida, by contrast, states “I agree, since my father will have it so, and fortune must” (26-27), and the scene ends almost immediately. The glimpse into their personalities situates them for growth and change as the plot unfolds.

Scene Four: Three brothers, Rafe, Robin, and Dick, are cast ashore after being shipwrecked. They begin quests to find employment or new masters.

With the entrance of Rafe, Robin, and Dick, Lyly introduces more blatant sexual innuendo and punning along with themes of cunning and cozenage. The brothers are clown figures, and revel in making saucy, sarcastic remarks. One of the recurring puns is on the word “points,” which were the “tag ends of the laces that held upper and lower garments together” (Hunter and Bevington 42, n.44-5). “For you see betwixt us three there is not two good points” (1.4.44-5); “Well, begin with your points, for I lack only points in this world” (53-54). As the scene ends, the three sing a song about shipwreck and fate that includes the verse “For being well manned / We can cry ‘Stand!’” (94-95). For the audience, these bawdy lines might gesture to Galatea and Phillida, dressed as boys but not “well-manned” in any sense of the word.

Once more, the sea is shown to be important to the action of the play. Here, rather than flooding the village, it casts the brothers and the Mariner ashore after a shipwreck. Traditionally, the sea and sea voyages were associated with fortune (the rise, fall, and ebb of tides corresponding with its fickleness) and the fact that the three brothers are shipwrecked hints that fortune is not on their side. Their first attempt at a new master is with the Mariner, but they cannot grasp the basics of navigation, so he leaves them to shift for themselves. Their inability to understand the secrets of navigating the sea also suggests their poor fortune: the Mariner has the knowledge and canniness to ply the sea (fortune), but the brothers do not. They must now scheme, cozen, and use cunning to get ahead.

Galatea and John Lyly: Introduction and Overview

In short (very short), John Lyly (c.1554-1606) was one of the star playwrights of the late 1500s. Nearly all his plays were written for the Children of Paul’s, perhaps the most important boy theatre company in early modern London. Many of his characters are women, nymphs, or fairies; at the time, these were roles for young men and boys. Lyly appealed to Queen Elizabeth for patronage for many years but was never rewarded. He died relatively poor and unknown. (More information on Lyly can be found here and here.)

Galatea was entered into the Stationers’ Register in 1585. Like Lyly’s other plays, it is heavily influenced by Greek mythology. Its forest setting is important, as it brings together humans and gods in a space often considered a threshold between two worlds. In many early modern plays, a pastoral or forest setting signals a place of transition or freedom, especially from the strictures and hierarchy of the Court — think of Rosalind and Celia in Shakespeare’s As You Like It, or the lovers in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. As with AYLI, Galatea’s setting is pastoral, but Lyly’s realm is more liminal than Shakespeare’s: not-quite-human, but not-quite-myth. Much like Dream, this brings the people who enter it face-to-face with gods/goddesses, nymphs, and fairies.

The main plot involves two girls disguised as boys by their fathers. In their fathers’ minds, the male attire will help their daughters escape being selected as a virgin sacrifice. The girls each hide in the forest, and when they meet, things get interesting. A subplot has Cupid dallying in the same wood and deciding to have some sport with Diana’s nymphs, who live and hunt in the forest. Another subplot is the story of three shipwrecked brothers who end up in the vicinity and attempt to find a way to easy fortune. All three plot lines converge in the final scene.

Here are the characters, with a short explanation of who (and what) they are:

AUGUR: An oracle who warns the citizens of their debt to Neptune and interprets the outcome of the sacrifice.
ALCHEMIST: The first of Rafe’s new masters.
ASTRONOMER: The second of Rafe’s new masters.
CUPID: Venus’s son. Likes to wander about in disguise and cause trouble with his arrows of love.
DIANA: Goddess of the hunt. She places a high value on chastity, both for herself and the retinue of nymphs who accompany her. Diana has no time for the silliness of love.
DICK: One of three shipwrecked brothers attempting to improve their situation either by finding a sympathetic master or by cunning and cozenage.
ERICTHINIS: Accompanies the sacrificial virgin to the fateful tree.
EUROTA: One of Diana’s nymphs, and a victim of Cupid’s tricks.
GALATEA: A fair maiden. Her father Tityrus disguises her as a boy so she will not be selected as the sacrificial virgin, causing confusion and unexpected results.
HEBE: The maiden selected to be the sacrificial virgin.
LARISSA: Another of Diana’s nymphs. She also gets caught up in Cupid’s mischief.
MARINER: Comes to shore with the three brothers but doesn’t put up with them for long.
MELIBEUS: Phillida’s father. He decides dressing her in boy’s clothes is a way to keep her safe from Neptune’s sacrifice.
NEPTUNE: The god of the sea. Requires a virgin be sacrificed to him every five years to make up for the citizens’ previous neglect of him and the destruction of his temple.
PETER: Apprentice to the Alchemist, and just as crafty.
PHILLIDA: Melibeus’s maiden daughter. Like Galatea, her father disguises her as a boy so she will not be sacrificed to Neptune (again, with unforeseen consequences).
RAFE: Another of the shipwrecked brothers. We follow him in his attempts to find a master that will improve his fortune.
RAMIA: Another of Diana’s nymphs who feels the effect of Cupid’s fun.
ROBIN: The last of the three shipwrecked brothers.
TELUSA: Another of Diana’s nymphs on the receiving end of Cupid’s sport.
TITYRUS: Galatea’s father. Like Melibeus, he decides dressing Galatea as a boy will save her from the virgin sacrifice.
VENUS: Goddess of love and Cupid’s mom.

Lyly’s afore-mentioned debt to myth is obvious from these characters, and the forest setting has been discussed. What else is notable? Cross-dressing, disguise, and mistaken identities are extremely important. These devices are the play’s lifeblood, and many characters are garbed as, or attempt to pass themselves off as, something they are not. “Cozenage” or “cheating, deception, fraud” (per the Oxford English Dictionary) is another type of disguise seen throughout. Who is being authentic? Is anyone? Are they doing it of their own accord, or do they have no choice? What is their agenda? How does disguise allow (or hinder) the idea of self? Finally, there’s the question of fate. Can it be controlled, directed, or avoided? Are you fated to love? To live a certain way?

Looking at the text from a literary standpoint, Galatea is filled with repetition and wordplay. There are the requisite dirty jokes and double entendres (mostly from the three brothers), but there are also words and phrases that appear frequently. “Wanton” is one example. “Wanton,” sometimes defined as “unchaste,” (or “undisciplined, ungoverned; unmanageable, rebellious” per the OED) is used no less than ten times, mostly by Telusa and Diana. It’s apparent Lyly found this word especially useful, or descriptive, for this particular tale. Other intriguing structural aspects of Galatea are its heavy use of asides and direct addresses to the audience. Lyly uses them to show interiority, but they also engage the audience and create dramatic impact. The soliloquies and lengthy monologues Lyly gives many of the characters are used to similar effect.

There aren’t a lot of clips of Galatea online, but Rider University posted their 2016 production on YouTube. Before Shakespeare did a wonderful blog on a workshopping of the play and is an excellent resource on early modern drama in general. There’s also a rather different Lego version available, if that’s your thing.

For this blog and my other work on the play, I relied on the excellent Revels series version edited by George K. Hunter and David Bevington (Manchester UP, 2000). For all Shakespeare references, I used the Arden editions (the Third Series when available). The text of Galatea can also be found (free) on The Folger’s Early Modern English Drama (EMED) website: https://earlymodernenglishdrama.folger.edu/gal

So, off we go into Lyly’s world of gods and goddesses, disguise, and realization…

New Year, New Direction…or, Welcome to the Absolute Rebirth of My Blog

During a recent conversation, the topic turned to how the presence of Shakespeare seems to swallow up and overwhelm other early modern dramatists. This wasn’t about bashing the man; it was about the importance of reading or seeing Shakespeare’s plays alongside those of his contemporaries. Doing this reveals how early modern plays interconnect, share, and blatantly steal from one another, and it shows how the spirit of collaboration was alive and well. It also suggests Shakespeare’s influences (and vice versa): from whom he borrowed ideas, and in turn, who borrowed from him. It also introduces the reader or playgoer to some exceptionally good drama.

So where does the average playgoer start if they want to learn more about these plays? A good portion of the information on the web pertaining to Shakespeare’s contemporaries is for scholars and academics, which can be off-putting for the casual reader. Here’s where the new direction for my blog comes in. I want to help fill the void for those who’d like to discover plays like The Spanish Tragedy or ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore but don’t have the time or inclination to peruse a thesis or scholarly journal. I do, of course, hope my blog will be of some use to scholars and teachers. I also hope to reach those who want to better engage with Shakespeare, since knowing what Will’s contemporaries wrote about, and how the plays cross-pollenate, can enhance the reader’s or playgoer’s experience. In sum, I’d like my blog to be a resource.

My goal is an instructive close reading that is both engaging and thought-provoking. Here’s the plan: for each play, my first post will be about what to look for as far as overarching themes and concepts. Next, I’ll do more focused posts, act by act, pointing out anything interesting or important that might enhance the experience of seeing or reading the play. Since interpretations and productions vary, my posts will cleave to the spirit of the texts, but I will incorporate links to online videos where available. Finally, in hopes of making the unfamiliar more familiar, I’ll note any similarities to Shakespeare plays. If something in Galatea, for instance, is like something in The Tempest, that connection might be key to concepts otherwise missed.

This new direction isn’t meant to be an exhaustive analysis. I’m not going to state a thesis or make any claims. I’m simply going to point out things I find interesting and unusual in the hope it will help others discover and enjoy non-Shakespeare drama. I’m proselytizing for Shakespeare’s contemporaries, but I’m not the only one; check out the Read Not Dead project in the UK and the Rarely Played play-reading series at the Stratford Festival in Ontario, if you haven’t before. There’s also been an uptick in productions of plays such as Middleton’s The Changeling and Webster’s Duchess of Malfi. Even John Lyly is experiencing a bit of a revival, and if you’ve been following my blog, you know that I’ve previously done some work on his Galatea (ergo, it’s the first play I’ll feature).

This new direction is a work in progress, so I encourage feedback. How can I make this better? What else needs to be addressed? What plays should I include? Last of all, please share and spread the word. More readers mean more feedback and more potential fans of Middleton, Ford, Webster, Beaumont, Fletcher, Heywood…etc, etc, etc.

So there you have it. New year, new direction for my blog (and I hope you enjoyed the Spinal Tap reference in the title). Check back next week for my overview of Galatea.