Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

“ The Court its Confidence; The Plebs their feares; Gallants their Apishnesse and Perjurie, Women their Pleasure and Inconstancie; Poets their Wine; the Usurer his Pelfe; The World its Vanity; and I my Selfe.
Roger L'Estrange.
COMMENDATORY On the Dramatick Poems of Mr JOHN FLETCHER.
Wonder! who's here? Fletcher, long buried
Reviv'd? Tis he! hee's risen from the Dead.
His winding sheet put off, walks above ground,
Shakes off his Fetters, and is better bound.
And may he not, if rightly understood,
Prove Playes are lawfull? he hath made them Good.
Is any Lover Mad? see here Loves Cure ”

“ That We rejoyce and glory in thy Wit,
And feast each other with remembring it,
That we dare speak thy thought, thy Acts recite:
Yet all men henceforth be afraid to write.
RICH. LOVELACE. On Master JOHN FLETCHERS
Dramaticall Poems.
Great tutelary Spirit of the Stage!
FLETCHER! I can fix nothing but my rage
Before thy Workes, 'gainst their officious crime
Who print thee now, in the worst scæne of Time. ”

“ They from their owne loves had Apostates beene;
Thus Fletcher did the fam'd laureat exceed,
Both when his Trumpet sounded and his reed;
Now if the Ancients yeeld that heretofore,
None worthyer then those ere Laurell wore;
The least our age can say now thou art gon,
Is that there never will be such a one:
And since t' expresse thy worth, our rimes too narrow be,
To help it wee'l be ample in our prophesie.
H. HOWARD. On Mr John Fletcher, and his Workes, never before published.
To flatter living fooles is easie slight:
But hard, to do the living-dead men right. ”

“ That have no soule, nor reason to their will,
But rime as ragged, as a Ganders Quill:
Where Pride blowes up the Error, and transfers
Their zeale in Tempests, that so wid'ly errs.
Like heat and Ayre comprest, their blind desires
Mixe with their ends, as raging winds with fires.
Whose Ignorance and Passions, weare an eye
Squint to all parts of true Humanity.
All is Apocripha suits not their vaine:
For wit, oh fye! and Learning too; prophane!
But Fletcher hath done Miracles by wit,
And one Line of his may convert them yet. ”

“ They that silenc'd Wit,
Are now the Authours to Eternize it;
Thus Poets are in spight of Fate revived,
And Playes by Intermission longer liv'd.
THO. STANLEY. On the Edition of Mr Francis Beaumonts, and Mr John Fletchers PLAYES never printed before.
I Am amaz'd; and this same Extacye
Is both my Glory and Apology.
Sober Joyes are dull Passions; they must beare
Proportion to the Subject: if so; where
Beaumont and Fletcher shall vouchsafe to be
That Subject; That Joy must be Extacye.
Fury is the Complexion of great Wits ”

“ When such rare soules live themselves o're agen.
We erre, that thinke a Poet dyes; for this,
Shewes that tis but a Metempsychosis.
BEAUMONT and FLETCHER here at last we see
Above the reach of dull mortalitie,
Or pow'r of fate: thus the proverbe hitts
(Thats so much crost) These men live by their witts.
ALEX. BROME. On the Death and workes of Mr JOHN FLETCHER.
My name, so far from great, that tis not knowne,
Can lend no praise but what thou'dst blush to own;
And no rude hand, or feeble wit should dare
To vex thy Shrine with an unlearned teare. ”

“ This information, also, Cockayne had from his own cousin who was a friend and old companion of Fletcher. This cousin, the chief bosom-friend, as I have shown elsewhere, was Charles Cotton, the elder, who died in 1658, not the younger Charles Cotton (the translator of Montaigne) ,—for he was not born till five years after Fletcher died. And, third, that not only is the title of the folio "Comedies and Tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen" a misnomer, but that the bulk of their joint-plays, "the old ones" (not here included) calls for a volume to itself. ”

“ For still your fancies are so wov'n and knit,
'Twas FRANCIS FLETCHER, or JOHN BEAUMONT writ.
Yet neither borrow'd, nor were so put to't
To call poore Godds and Goddesses to do't;
Nor made Nine Girles your Muses (you suppose
Women ne're write, save Love-Letters in prose)
But are your owne Inspirers, and have made
Such pow'rfull Sceanes, as when they please, invade.
Tour Plot, Sence, Language, All's so pure and fit,
Hee's Bold, not Valiant, dare dispute your Wit.
GEORGE LISLE Knight.
On Mr. JOHN FLETCHER'S Workes. ”

“ Imperiall FLETCHER! here begins thy Raigne,
Scenes flow like Sun-beams from thy glorious Brain;
Thy swift dispatching Soule no more doth stay
Then He that built two Citties in one day;
Ever brim full, and sometimes running o're
To feede poore languid Witts that waite at doore,
Who creep and creep, yet ne're above-ground stood,
(For Creatures have most Feet which have least Blood)
But thou art still that Bird of Paradise
Which hath no feet and ever nobly flies:
Rich, lusty Sence, such as the Poet ought,
For Poems if not Excellent, are Naught;
Low wit in Scenes? ”

“ Fletcher's workes by themselves, because single & alone he would make a Just Volume: But since never parted while they lived, I conceived it not equitable to seperate their ashes.
It becomes not me to say (though it be a knowne Truth) that these Authors had not only High unexpressible gifts of Nature, but also excellent acquired Parts, being furnished with Arts and Sciences by that liberall education they had at the University, which sure is the best place to make a great Wit understand it selfe; this their workes will soone make evident. I was very ambitious to have got Mr. ”

“ Beaumont was ever acknowledged a man of a most strong and searching braine; and (his yeares considered) the most Judicious Wit these later Ages have produced; he dyed young, for (which was an invaluable losse to this Nation) he left the world when hee was not full thirty yeares old. Mr. Fletcher survived, and lived till almost fifty; whereof the World now enjoyes the benefit. ”

“ By this hand, wench,
I'll give thee a new hood for this.
Has she met with your Lordship?
John. Touch-wood take her.
Enter A [n] thony.
She's a rare ghostly Mother.
Ant. Below attends ye
The Gentlemans man, Sir, that was with you.
John. Well, Sir;
My time is come then; yet if my project hold,
You shall not stay behind; I'll rather trust
Enter Constantia.
A Cat with sweet milk, Frederick; by her face,
I feel her fears are working.
Const. Is there no way,
I do beseech ye think yet, to divert
This certain danger?
Fred. 'Tis impossible ”

“ As spight of Malice she shall ne're expire.
Attending, not affecting, thus the crowne
Till every hand did help to set it on,
Hee came to be sole Monarch, and did raign
In Wits great Empire, absolute Soveraign.
JOHN HARRIS. On MR. JOHN FLETC [H] ER's ever to be admired Dramaticall Works.
I've thought upon't; and thus I may gaine bayes,
I will commend thee Fletcher, and thy Playes.
But none but Witts can do't, how then can I
Come in amongst them, that cou'd ne're come nigh?
There is no other way, I'le throng to sit
And passe it'h Croud amongst them for a Wit. ”

“ If Beaumont's family had deliberately set about preparing him for his career of poet and dramatist, especially of dramatist who, with John Fletcher, should vividly reproduce the life, manners and conversation of young men of fashion about town, they could not have placed him in a community more favourable to [37] these ends than that of the Inns of Court. As the name itself implies the members were gentlemen of the Court of the King. They must be "sons to persons of quality"; they must be trained to the possibility of appearance before the King at any time ”

“ Ravish our spirits, that entranc't we see
None writes lov's passion in the world, like Thee.
ROB. HERRICK. On the happy Collection of Master FLETCHER'S Works, never before
PRINTED.
FLETCHER arise, Usurpers share thy Bayes,
They Canton thy vast Wit to build small Playes:
He comes! his Volume breaks through clowds and dust,
Downe, little Witts, Ye must refund, Ye must.
Nor comes he private, here's great BEAUMONT too,
How could one single World encompasse Two?
For these Co-heirs had equall power to teach
All that all Witts both can and cannot reach. ”

“ I cannot chuse but thinke (now things so fall)
That witt is past its Climactericall;
And though the Muses have beene dead and gone
I know they'll finde a Resurrection.
Tis vaine to prayse; they're to themselves a glory,
And silence is our sweetest Oratory.
For he that names but FLETCHER must needs be
Found guilty of a loud hyperbole.
His fancy so transcendently aspires,
He showes himselfe a witt, who but admires.
Here are no volumes stuft with cheverle sence,
The very Anagrams of Eloquence,
Nor long-long-winded sentences that be,
Being rightly spelld, but Witts Stenographie. ”

“ The way is strow'd with Lawrell, and ev'ry Muse
Brings Incense to our Fletcher: whose Scenes infuse
Such noble kindlings from her pregnant fire,
As charmes her Criticke Poets in desire,
And who doth read him, that parts lesse indu'd,
Then with some heat of wit or Gratitude.
Some crowd to touch the Relique of his Bayes,
Some to cry up their owne wit in his praise,
And thinke they engage it by Comparatives,
When from himselfe, himselfe he best derives. ”

“ When_ JOHNSON, SHAKESPEARE, and thy selfe did sit,
And sway'd in the Triumvirate of wit—
Yet what from JOHNSONS oyle and sweat did flow,
Or what more easie nature did bestow
On SHAKESPEARES gentler Muse, in thee full growne
Their Graces both appeare, yet so, that none
Can say here Nature ends, and Art begins
But mixt like th'Elemcnts, and borne like twins,
So interweav'd, so like, so much the same,
None this meere Nature, that meere Art can name:
'Twas this the Ancients meant, Nature and Skill
Are the two topps of their Pernassus Hill.
J. DENHAM. Upon Mr. John Fletcher's Playes. ”

“ THE MAIDS TRAGEDY PHILASTER A KING, AND NO KING THE SCORNFUL LADY THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY THE TEXT EDITED BY ARNOLD GLOVER, M.A. OF TRINITY COLLEGE AND THE INNER TEMPLE NOTE. The first collected edition of the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher was published in 1647, in folio (12 1/2 ins. x 8 1/8 ins. is the measurement of the copy used for the purpose of collation) . The title-page runs thus:—
Comedies | and | Tragedies |
{ Francis Beaumont }
|written by { And } Gentlemen. |
{ John Fletcher }
Never printed before, | And now published by the Authours | Originall Copies. ”

“ RICH. CORBET. D.D. To Mr FRANCIS BEAUMONT (then living.)
How I doe love thee BEAUMONT, and thy Muse,
That unto me do'st such religion use!
How I doe feare my selfe, that am not worth
The least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth!
At once thou mak'st me happie, and unmak'st;
And giving largely to me, more thou tak'st.
What fate is mine, that so it selfe bereaves?
What art is thine, that so thy friend deceives?
When even there where most than praisest me,
For writing better, I must envy thee.
BEN: JOHNSON. Upon Master FLETCHERS Incomparable Playes. ”

“ Two, full, Congeniall Soules; still Both prevail'd;
His Muse and Thine were Quarter'd not Impal'd:
_Both brought Your Ingots, Both toil'd at the Mint,
Beat, melted, sifted, till no drosse stuck in't,
Then in each Others scales weighed every graine,
Then smooth'd and burnish'd, then weigh'd all againe,
Stampt Both your Names upon't by one bold Hit,
Then, then'twas Coyne, as well as Bullion-Wit.
Thus Twinns: But as when Fate one Eye deprives,
That other strives to double which survives:
So_ BEAUMONT dy'd: yet left in Legacy
His Rules and Standard-wit (FLETCHER) to Thee. ”

“ Able to make a worke Heroyicall.
Given to your service John Fletcher.
These lines are in A and B.
To the inheritour of all worthines, Sir William Scipwith. Ode.
If from servile hope or love,
I may prove
But so happy to be thought for
Such a one whose greatest ease
Is to please
(Worthy sir) I have all I sought for,
For no ich of greater name,
which some clame
By their verses do I show it
To the world; nor to protest
Tis the best
These are leane faults in a poet
Nor to make it serve to feed at my neede Nor to gaine acquaintance by it Nor to ravish kinde Atturnies, in their journies. ”

“ Nor is this violent, he steals upon The yeilding Soule untill the Phrensie's gone; His very Launcings do the Patient please, As when good Musicke cures a Mad Disease. Small Poets rifle Him, yet thinke it faire, Because they rob a man that well can spare; They feed upon him, owe him every bit, Th'are all but Sub-excisemen of his Wit.
J. M. On the Workes of Beaumont and Fletcher, now at length printed. ”

“ How Angels (cloyster'd in our humane Cells) Maintaine their parley, Beaumont-Fletcher tels; Whose strange unimitable Intercourse Transcends all Rules, and flyes beyond the force Of the most forward soules; all must submit Untill they reach these Mysteries of Wit. The Intellectuall Language here's exprest, Admir'd in better times, and dares the Test Of Ours; for from Wit, Sweetnesse, Mirth, and Sence, This Volume springs a new true Quintessence. ”

“ Saviour's, and the records of "John Fletcher" marriages may, therefore, not involve the dramatist. But two items communicated to [220] Dyce [140] by Collier, "more in jest than in earnest," from the Parish-registers, are suggestive, if we reflect that, about 1612 or 1613, the ménage à trois, provided it continued so long, would have lapsed at the time of Beaumont's marriage; and if we can swallow the stage-fiction of Fletcher's "maid Joan" in Bury-Fair (see page 96 above) , whole and as something digestible.
These are Collier's cullings from the Registers ”