THOMAS MALORY

1405-1471
from Morte D’Arthur

Then were they condescended that King Arthur and Sir Mordred should meet
betwixt both their hosts, and everych of them should bring fourteen persons;
and they came with this word unto Arthur.  Then said he:  I am glad that this is
done: and so he went into the field.  And when Arthur should depart, he warned
all his host that an they see any sword drawn:  Look ye come on fiercely, and
slay that traitor, Sir Mordred, for I in no wise trust him. In like wise Sir Mordred
warned his host that:  An ye see any sword drawn, look that ye come on
fiercely, and so slay all that ever before you standeth; for in no wise I will not
trust for this treaty, for I know well my father will be avenged on me.   And so
they met as their appointment was, and so they were agreed and accorded
thoroughly; and wine was fetched, and they drank.  Right soon came an adder
out of a little heath bush, and it stung a knight on the foot.  And when the knight
felt him stung, he looked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword
to slay the adder, and thought of none other harm.  And when the host on both
parties saw that sword drawn, then they blew beams, trumpets, and horns, and
shouted grimly.  And so both hosts dressed them together.  And King Arthur
took his horse, and said: Alas this unhappy day! and so rode to his party.  And
Sir Mordred in like wise.  And never was there seen a more dolefuller battle in
no Christian land; for there was but rushing and riding, foining and striking, and
many a grim word was there spoken either to other, and many a deadly stroke. 
But ever King Arthur rode throughout the battle of Sir Mordred many times, and
did full nobly as a noble king should, and at all times he fainted never; and Sir
Mordred that day put him in devoir, and in great peril.  And thus they fought all
the long day, and never stinted till the noble knights were laid to the cold earth;
and ever they fought still till it was near night, and by that time was there an
hundred thousand laid dead upon the down.  Then was Arthur wood wroth out
of measure, when he saw his people so slain from him.

Then the king looked about him, and then was he ware, of all his host and of all
his good knights, were left no more alive but two knights; that one was Sir
Lucan the Butler, and his brother Sir Bedivere, and they were full sore
wounded.  Jesu mercy, said the king, where are all my noble knights become? 
Alas that ever I should see this doleful day, for now, said Arthur, I am come to
mine end.  But would to God that I wist where were that traitor Sir Mordred, that
hath caused all this mischief. Then was King Arthur ware where Sir Mordred
leaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men.  Now give me my
spear, said Arthur unto Sir Lucan, for yonder I have espied the traitor that all
this woe hath wrought. Sir, let him be, said Sir Lucan, for he is unhappy; and if
ye pass this unhappy day ye shall be right well revenged upon him.  Good lord,
remember ye of your night's dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you
this night, yet God of his great goodness hath preserved you hitherto. 
Therefore, for God's sake, my lord, leave off by this, for blessed be God ye
have won the field, for here we be three alive, and with Sir Mordred is none
alive; and if ye leave off now this wicked day of destiny is past. Tide me death,
betide me life, saith the king, now I see him yonder alone he shall never escape
mine hands, for at a better avail shall I never have him.  God speed you well,
said Sir Bedivere.

Then the king gat his spear in both his hands, and ran toward Sir Mordred,
crying:  Traitor, now is thy death-day come.  And when Sir Mordred heard Sir
Arthur, he ran until him with his sword drawn in his hand.  And there King Arthur
smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with a foin of his spear, throughout the
body, more than a fathom.  And when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death
wound he thrust himself with the might that he had up to the bur of King Arthur's
spear.  And right so he smote his father Arthur, with his sword holden in both his
hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-
pan, and therewithal Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth; and the noble
Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth, and there he swooned ofttimes.  And Sir
Lucan the Butler and Sir Bedivere ofttimes heaved him up.  And so weakly they
led him betwixt them both, to a little chapel not far from the seaside.  And when
the king was there he thought him well eased.

Then heard they people cry in the field.  Now go thou, Sir Lucan, said the king,
and do me to wit what betokens that noise in the field.  So Sir Lucan departed,
for he was grievously wounded in many places.  And so as he yede, he saw
and hearkened by the moonlight, how that pillers and robbers were come into
the field, to pill and to rob many a full noble knight of brooches, and beads, of
many a good ring, and of many a rich jewel; and who that were not dead all out,
there they slew them for their harness and their riches.  When Sir Lucan
understood this work, he came to the king as soon as he might, and told him all
what he had heard and seen.  Therefore by my rede, said Sir Lucan, it is best
that we bring you to some town.  I would it were so, said the king.

EXERCISE 10: Read the excerpt from Thomas Malory’s “Morte D’Arthur” and then
answer the questions that follow.

1. What is the relationship between King Arthur and Sir Mordred?

2. What ends up making the battle begin?
3. Why does Sir Lucan advise King Arthur to ‘let Sir Mordred be’?
4. Why does King Arthur reject Sir Lucan’s advice?
5. What do Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere see as they return to the battlefield?
6. What does this excerpt show of knightly behavior?

ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE*

England’s Elizabethan Age was created partly by a general European

movement that we call the Renaissance. It is necessary therefore first to
understand something about the Renaissance, which did not destroy the Middle
Ages (though this is often suggested) so much as build out of the wreck and
ruin of that period what we think of as a new age. Where the Middle Ages had
related man to God, the Renaissance concentrated more upon man himself,
creating a less strictly ordered, looser form of society, but with it an age of
extraordinarily gifted and brilliant individuals, probably not to be matched,
especially in their versatility, by men in any other age.

The Renaissance

Many important things happened almost simultaneously to bring about this

Renaissance. First, the capture of Constantinople (1453) by the Turks of
Eastern Europe drove many Greek scholars to take refuge in Italy, there to
revive classical learning. Then there was the discovery of printing by movable
types, which enormously increased the production and spread of books. The
development of banking (the main idea was brought to Italy from the East by
Marco Polo), capital investment, and letters of credit, made trading easier and
more prosperous, creating a wealthy and influential merchant class in the
growing cities. Finally, there were the great voyages of discovery, giving us
America and the wonderful globe itself almost as we know it now. Indeed, the
Renaissance is the beginning of the modern world. All our minds are shaped
and colored by it.

The common religious faith of medieval times disappeared with the Middle
Ages. Not long after all the discoveries and changes of the Renaissance had
first excited men, the Reformation arrived to challenge the corruption and later
even the doctrines of the Church. This religious movement, which began as a
protest against various practices of the Roman Catholic Church, received its
impetus from the European continent, where Martin Luther in Germany and
John Calvin in Switzerland were the most notable proponents of the new
religious thought. John Knox led the growing Protestant movement in Scotland.

There were now Protestants and Catholics, and many of them believed that it
was impossible to live in peace alongside people who did not share their
particular faith. This opinion led to ruinous wars in France and later in Germany.
But others were more tolerant. These others formed a kind of center party, and
when they also happened to be scholars, like the great Erasmus, we call them
humanists. These men were not irreligious, but they disliked fanaticism and
bigotry, considered individual human beings more important than institutions,
and believed that men had the right to think and act for themselves. The
influence of the humanists on literature, both in England and abroad, was great
and far-reaching.

In England the ruinous Wars of the Roses ended with the defeat of Richard III
(whom many people believe to be a good king blackened by Tudor propaganda)
by Henry Tudor, who became Henry VII. The country had had enough of civil
war and of quarrelsome nobles with private armies, and Henry VII (1485 –
1509), a shrewd, hard man, made his throne secure by taking more and more
power into his own capable hands. His son, Henry VIII (1509-47), seemed at
first a handsome, jolly giant but later became suspicious, tyrannical, and cruel.
He did not marry six wives because he was fond of girls (though he was), but
because he needed a son to succeed him. Though the Pope’s refusal to allow
Henry to divorce his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, may have been the
immediate cause of Henry’s break with Rome and the subsequent
establishment of the Protestant church in England, it was by no means the sole
cause. There were political and ecclesiastical as well as personal reasons: the
growth of English nationalism made the subjection of English affairs to an
outside power increasingly unacceptable, and the strong Protestant movement
on the continent had greatly influenced English thought.

The Reign of Queen Elizabeth

Elizabeth, daughter of Anne Boleyn, whom Henry married after breaking with
Rome, succeeded her half-sister Mary (who had married Philip of Spain and
tried to restore her kingdom to the Pope). Elizabeth (1558 – 1603) came to the
throne when she was only twenty-five, and her position was very difficult
indeed. A Protestant, she had still many Catholics among her subjects. And
Philip of Spain, who had the best army in Europe, still coveted England for the
Pope and was constantly enraged by the piratical raids on his treasure ships,
coming from North and South America, by Elizabeth’s daredevil sea captains.
Though progressing fast under the firm government of the Tudor monarchs,
England was not yet one of the great powers. What Elizabeth needed was time,
and she played for that time with an astonishing mixture of masculine audacity
and feminine wiliness. She was in fact— this thin red-haired woman who could
not resist making favorites out of her most handsome courtiers— by far the
cleverest ruler of her age. She was unusually well-educated, at once brilliant
and shrewd, capable of outwitting any diplomat sent to her. She was careful
with public money to the point of meanness, yet was forever compelling her
wealthier subjects to entertain her lavishly to keep both her and her people
amused. She was cautious and crafty in her efforts to preserve peace but
magnificently bold when danger threatened her and the country. By stimulating
foreign commerce and exploration, she promoted English sea power and
colonial expansion; by pursuing moderate religious policies, she prevented the
danger of open conflict between Protestant and Catholic; by respecting its
privileges, she assured the loyalty of Parliament; she reduced taxes, broadened
education, and encouraged scholarship and the arts. By the later years of her
reign, England had achieved remarkable prosperity. Elizabeth, in short, was an
astonishing woman, certainly one of the greatest in all English history, and she
well deserves to have her name given to one of the most glorious epochs in that
history.

Elizabeth had been reigning thirty years and was, for those days, an elderly
woman when what she had always dreaded, and had schemed to avoid, came
to pass. In 1588, the Spanish Grand Armada, a fleet of huge galleons crammed
with the finest soldiers in Europe, sailed at last, after many delays, for the
invasion of England. Unlike Philip of Spain, Elizabeth had no regular army of
veterans, only bands of militia. The Spanish galleons had only to effect a
landing and Elizabeth’s kingdom was doomed. But David beat Goliath. The
smaller and faster English vessels, superbly handled by the best seamen in the
world, outmatched the unwieldy Spanish galleons, more like floating fortresses
and barracks than ships, and then a great storm arose to scatter and then
destroy the Armada. England was saved. The menacing shadow of Spain under
which Elizabeth had lived ever since she took the crown suddenly vanished.
The queen, the great “Gloriana” as she was called, and her cheering, bell-
ringing subjects came out into the sunshine.

The Flowering of Elizabethan Literature

All the chief glories of the Elizabethan Age in literature— and many of them
arrived during the reign of Elizabeth’s successor, James I—came after the
defeat of the Spanish Armada. It was as if the nation suddenly found itself,
discovering new sources of confidence, energy, and delight, all these finding
expression in literature. Up to that time, in all but the last twelve years of the
sixteenth century, England, though making rapid progress under the Tudors,
had been far behind Italy, France, and Spain in literature and the arts and the
whole new civilizing process of Renaissance.

The English poets, such as they were, could only imitate foreign models. The
most important of these was the sonnet form, originally Italian. The sonnet was
always a poem of fourteen lines, but its elaborate rhyming pattern could be
varied. The Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wyatt, both of whom died at a
comparatively early age, successfully used the sonnet form during the first half
of the sixteenth century. Much later, Shakespeare, and much later still, Milton,
raised this form to a great poetic height.

The prose in Elizabethan times was stiff and ungainly, creaking in its joints.
Somehow the language, as an instrument, was not ready for great literature:
there it was, like a vast organ, with nobody knowing yet how to handle the
keyboard and work the stops. It was as if the queen’s taut anxiety, her
unsleeping watchfulness during these first thirty years of her reign, had
influenced the whole mood of the nation, which wanted to sing but could only
keep clearing its throat.

Once the Spanish menace was removed, the tremendous release that followed
changed everything. The aging queen was by this time a fabulous figure, and
the whole nation suddenly flowered. It is from this time on that we find the
Elizabethans of legend, with all their extraordinary energy and self-confidence,
beginning to flourish. And this transformation is perfectly reflected in the
literature of the time. The English language, that great instrument which nobody
had known how to play, suddenly came right. If this may seem an exaggeration,
then we must remember that within ten years after the defeat of the Armada,
Shakespeare was not only writing some of the greatest poetry of the world has
ever known, but was also using a vocabulary unequaled in its size, variety, and
richness even among the world’s greatest poets. These later Elizabethans, of all
classes, had a passion for magnificent language: they got drunk on words. And
some of us, reading now what they wrote during those distant years, can still
feel something of their intoxication.

When a whole society has an overwhelming passion, things begin to happen.

Our society, with all its technological resources and ingenuity, has a craving for
speed and rapid travel, with the result that one engineering marvel after another
arrives to hurry us along the roads or through the air. So we have done more for
quick transport in the last twenty-five years than men could do in the previous
250,000 years. Well, the Elizabethans had a similar general passion for poetry,
both lyrical and dramatic, and out of it they too created one marvel after
another, crowned by the immortal works of Shakespeare. There are now scores
of cities in the United States and Britain larger than Elizabethan London, yet
between 1595 and 1625 that London could produce more good poets and
dramatists than the combined populations of the United States and Britain have
been able to produce in the last hundred years. History shows us over and over
again this direct and deep connection between what a society wants and what it
creates. We should always keep this in mind. 

Elizabethan London

The Elizabethan society which produced the great plays was itself essentially
dramatic. Within its new national unity it was richly varied: there was the
fabulous Queen Elizabeth herself and her splendid court (and many a young
nobleman spent all he possessed just to make a fine appearance there). At the
court there were magnificent court masques (both Elizabeth and James I were
extremely fond of them) that were generally acted by amateurs but devised and
written by professional dramatists, notably Ben Jonson. The staging of masques
was often very elaborate, and a great architect like Inigo Jones did not think it
beneath his dignity to design the decoration and stage machinery.

Then there was the growing middle class of merchants, many of them already
tending toward Puritanism and providing a sturdy opposition (itself provocative
of drama) to poets and players and all the swaggering roisterers; there were the
sea captains and sailors from the ends of the earth, the crowds of lively young
apprentices, and the hearty common folk who packed the theaters to listen for
hours to poetic drama. Elizabethan London was like a gigantic fair, crammed
and noisy with all manner of characters, some of them magnificent in costumes
paid for by the sale of their estates, others in rags and tatters. In the noblemen’s
palaces off the Strand, running down to the river, musicians sang to the lutes
and poets brought copies of their verses; in the taverns of Eastcheap the wits
exchanged rapid quips and the girls giggled; and not far away was the sinister
bulk of the Tower with its thumbscrews and racks and executioners’ axes. And
in the oval-shaped roofless theaters nearby, packed almost every afternoon, the
players were saying lines that are now immortal. What a place, what a people!

The Elizabethan Theater

Great poetical drama is far rarer, far harder to achieve than great lyrical or
narrative poetry or prose fiction, just because so many things have to be right
for it all at the same time. There must be not only exceptional dramatic poets,
but also exceptional players, theaters, and audiences. All these must be on a
high level simultaneously. And here the Elizabethan dramatists were fortunate.
All the evidence we possess suggests that English acting in Shakespeare’s time
was very good indeed, so that companies of English players were in demand
abroad. It is true that women’s parts were played by boys, but these boys were
highly trained in movement, gesture, and the speaking of verse. What we would
now call the “stars” among the men, players like Alleyn and Burbage, who had
substantial shares in the playhouses (as Shakespeare finally had), must have
been very fine performers indeed. And all these actors, while capable of making
themselves heard from the pit to the uppermost gallery, were able to get
through their scenes at what seems to us now an astonishing pace. We know
this because very long plays like Hamlet could be performed in their entirety
during an afternoon, within hours roughly known to us. In ordinary productions
of Shakespeare’s longer plays, it has been the practice ever since the
eighteenth century to make many cuts, whole scenes often being omitted to
enable modern actors, in their slower pace, to present the play in a reasonable
length of time.

The Elizabethan stage which favored this rapid pace, just as it favored an
intimate and imaginative relationship between poet, players, and audience,
came into existence almost by accident. Before the London playhouses were
built, the wealthier nobles had kept troupes of players among their retainers and
had often sent these troupes touring the country, where Shakespeare as a boy
must have seen them, for records show that towns no larger than Stratford
might have visits from six troupes in a year. When playing in towns, these
touring companies used innyards, where the crowd could surround the platform
that was erected and the superior patrons could seat themselves in the galleries
running outside the bedrooms of the inn. The London playhouses merely
improved upon this setting. Their stages still had a platform coming out into the
audience, but they also had proper entrances at each side, a small inner stage
that could be curtained off, and, above, an upper stage or balcony.

All outdoor scenes were played on the platform or forestage, with the curtains of
the inner stage drawn to hide it. These curtains were pulled back, to reveal a
throne or whatever was needed, for any indoor scene. The balcony was used
whenever two different levels were necessary for girls like Juliet looking for their
lovers. For swift, imaginative poetic drama, this type of stage was far superior to
the “picture frame” stage, with its elaborate painted scenery, that succeeded it.
The play could move quickly from one short scene to the next, more like our
films than most of our contemporary plays. Not having a scene painter and
lighting electrician to help him, the dramatist had to use words to describe his
scene or to create an atmosphere: he was compelled to be imaginative and so
was his audience. It is a great pity that the plays of Shakespeare and the other
Elizabethan dramatists, all written for this kind of staging, are not still performed
in this swift and imaginative fashion.

As we know from what the dramatists themselves tell us, the popular audiences
liked to have in their plays some clowning, dancing, and sword combats. But
they must have enjoyed the poetry too, whether comic or tragic; otherwise they
would not have filled the playhouses. It is fortunate for English literature that the
university scholars and wits, who wanted stiff and solemn drama in the style of
the Roman dramatist Seneca, did not have their way. The professionals who
ran the London playhouses refused to imitate the classics and made good use
of the crude but valuable dramatic material, the wealth of popular entertainment,
already in existence. For though the men who built and ran these theaters had
to look to the court and the more important nobles both for the necessary
licenses and official patronage, they knew that to keep their companies in
employment and to fill their pits and galleries popular support was essential.

The rapid development of Elizabethan drama, from primitive comedy and

tragedy to great masterpieces within twenty-five years, is astounding. It
produced not only the incomparable Shakespeare but with him a large group of
dramatists, all with talent and some touched with genius. In this group were Ben
Jonson (1572 -1637), Christopher Marlowe (1564-93), George Chapman (1559
– 1634), John Marston (1575 – 1634), Thomas Dekker (1570 – 1632), and later,
actually Jacobean not Elizabethan dramatists, there were Thomas Middleton
(1570 – 1627), Thomas Heywood (d. 1650), John Webster (1580 – 1625),
Francis Beaumont (1584 – 1616), John Fletcher (1579 – 1625), Philip
Massinger (1583 – 1640), and John Ford (d. 1639). Some of these dramatists,
as the anthologies show us, could also write exquisite lyrical verse. The poet
Spenser could achieve an ingenious epic form in his huge allegorical panorama,
The Faerie Queene, and a generation later John Donne might be deeply
introspective and metaphysical in his verse; but, outside the drama, this age is
notable chiefly for its effortless, enchanting lyrics, the songs it lightly tossed into
the air. No age that came afterwards ever quite captured this golden singing,
ever returned to this May morning of English poetry.

Elizabethan Prose

James I, the son of Mary Queen of Scots, joined his kingdom of Scotland to the
English throne, which he rightly inherited after the death of Queen Elizabeth in
1603. A pedantic, cowardly man who considered himself king by “divine right”,
he was soon unpopular with most of his English subjects, who disliked his Scots
favorites and his pro-Spanish policy. But he must be credited with one great
contribution to English literature, for in 1604 he set his bishops the task of
making a new translation of the Bible, first published in  1611 and known from
then on as the King James Version. Its fidelity as a translation has often been
criticized by later scholars, but what cannot be questioned is the sheer beauty,
the haunting magic, of its English. This is the Bible that centuries of writers have
known from childhood onwards, and echoes of this noble old work can be heard
in nearly all the finest English prose.

But although the chroniclers and pamphleteers, men like Greene and Dekker
and Nashe (who also tried his hand at fiction), were busy during the later years
of the century, although before the age ended it had given us the essays of
Francis Bacon (1561 – 1626) and the stately narratives of Sir Walter Raleigh,
prose as a general instrument of expression was hardly yet completely
mastered. It was still not sufficiently flexible. (Much of the prose dialogue in the
drama, however, is superb.) Bacon and Raleigh in their very different ways— or
an eccentric scholar like Robert Burton, whose Anatomy of Melancholy (1621)
is one of the masterpieces of the age— might have been able to compel the
prevailing prose style to serve their various purposes, but it was not until the
following age that both the grand and the familiar prose styles came easily to
authors.

The earlier years of Elizabeth’s reign were anxious and difficult; the later years
of James I were strangely corrupt, unhealthy, as if the sun had stopped shining.
Between these years, let us say, roughly, from 1590 to 1610, was one of the
miraculous golden times of literature, when the London streets were filled with
richly gifted men, bursting with energy and zest for life. As we know, one of the
greatest of these men, now loved and admired wherever books are read and
plays performed, was William Shakespeare. It is our privilege to share the
language in which he wrote, one of the marvels of all ages. 

*In Priestley, J.B. Adventures in English Literature.  Harcourt, Brace & Jovanovich. New York, 1991

EXERCISE 11: Read the text “Elizabethan Literature” and then answer the questions
that follow.

1. “Elizabethan Age” is the name given to the Renaissance in England. Renaissance

means “rebirth”. What had been “dead” and was “born again”? 
2. What was the role of man in the Middle Ages? How did it change with the
Renaissance?
3. What religious changes happened in England in the 16 Century? th

4. Why was Humanism an important philosophical trend in the 16 Century? th

5. What made Queen Elizabeth such an important monarch? 

6. How did the defeat of the Spanish Armada affect England and its literature?
7. Why does the text say that “the Elizabethan society which produced the great plays
was itself essentially dramatic”?
8. What are some of the differences between the performance of Elizabethan plays and
Contemporary plays mentioned by the text? 
9. Why was the translation of the Bible ordered by King James so influential?
10. Comment on the Elizabethans’ use of language. 

THOMAS WYATT
1503-1542

They Flee from Me

They flee* from me that sometime did me seek

With naked foot stalking* in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek*,
That now are wild, and do not remember
That sometime they have put themselves in danger 5
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking with a continual change.

Thanked be to Fortune, it hath been otherwise

Twenty times better; but once in special:
In thin array*, after a pleasant guise*, 10
When her loose gown* did from her shoulders fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small,
Therewith* all sweetly did me kiss
And softly said, "Dear heart, how like you this?"

It was no dream, I lay broad* waking. 15

But all is turned, thorough* my gentleness,
Into a strange fashion of forsaking*:
And I have leave to go of her goodness,
And she also to use new-fangledness*.
But since that I so kindly am served, 20
I would fain* know what hath she now deserved.

flee = escape array = clothing therewith = with forsaking = abandoning

that
stalking = guise = fashion; broad = fully fangledness = absence of loyalty in
pursuing manner love
meek = weak gown = dress thorough = would fain = would prefer
complete

EXERCISE 12: Read Thomas Wyatt’s “They Flee from Me” and then answer the
questions that follow.

1. What change in behavior does the speaker describe on lines 1-2?

2. What evidence does the speaker provide on lines 5-6 to prove the described change?
3. What do lines 9-14 say about the good memories the speaker has about their past
relationship?
4. What does the pronoun “it” (line 15) refer to?
5. What do lines 18-19 say about their present relationship?
6. In his disappointed frame of mind, what does the speaker wish to know on line 21?

I Find No Peace

I find no peace, and all my war is done:a

I fear, and hope; I burn, and freeze like ice;b
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;b
And nought* I have, and all the world I seize on*;a
That locks nor loses, holds me in prison, a 5
And holds me not, yet can I escape nowise*:b
Nor lets me live, nor die at my devise*,b
And yet of death it gives me occasion.a
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I complain;c
I desire to perish*, and yet I ask health;d 10
I love another, and thus I hate myself;d
I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain.c
Likewise displeases me both death and life,e
And my delight is causer of this strife*.e

nought = nothing nowise = not at all perish = die

seize on = hold on to devise = will; desire strife = conflict

EXERCISE 13: Read Thomas Wyatt’s “I Find No Peace” and then answer the
questions that follow.

1. How can the conjunction “and” (line 1) be read?

2. How do lines 2-5 demonstrate that the speaker “finds no peace”? 
3. What does the use of “yet” (lines 3, 6, 8 and 10) reveal about the speaker’s feelings?
4. Explain the last two lines of the poem.

Pace non trovo (Petrarch)

Pace non trovo, et non ò da far guerra;
e temo, et spero; et ardo, et son un ghiaccio;
et volo sopra 'l cielo, et giaccio in terra;
et nulla stringo, et tutto 'l mondo abbraccio.

Tal m'à in pregion, che non m'apre né serra,

né per suo mi riten né scioglie il laccio;
et non m'ancide Amore, et non mi sferra,
né mi vuol vivo, né mi trae d'impaccio.

Veggio senza occhi, et non ò lingua et grido;

et bramo di perir, et cheggio aita;
et ò in odio me stesso, et amo altrui.

Pascomi di dolor, piangendo rido;

egualmente mi spiace morte et vita:
in questo stato son, donna, per voi.

Translated from the Italian to English

I find no peace, and yet I make no war:
and fear, and hope: and burn, and I am ice:
and fly above the sky, and fall to earth,
and clutch at nothing, and embrace the world.

One imprisons me, who neither frees nor jails me,

nor keeps me to herself nor slips the noose:
and Love does not destroy me, and does not loose me,
wishes me not to live, but does not remove my bar.

I see without eyes, and have no tongue, but cry:

and long to perish, yet I beg for aid:
and hold myself in hate, and love another.
I feed on sadness, laughing weep:
death and life displease me equally:
and I am in this state, lady, because of you.

PHILIP SIDNEY
1554-1586
Heart Exchange

My true love hath* my heart, and I have his,

By just* exchange one for the other given.
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss:
There never was a bargain* better driven*.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one; 5
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
I cherish* his because in me it bides*.
His heart his wound* received from my sight;
My heart was wounded* with his wounded heart; 10
For as from me on him his hurt did light*,
So still, methought*, in me his hurt did smart*:
Both equal hurt, in this change sought* our bliss,
My true love hath my heart and I have his.

hath = has driven = made wound = “ferida” methought = I thought

just = honest; fair cherish = enjoy; love wounded = “ferido” smart = move
bargain = business bides = lives, light = “acender” sought = looked for
inhabits

EXERCISE 14: Read Philip Sidney’s “Heart Exchange” and then answer the questions
that follow.

1. What “exchange” is the speaker describing on lines 1-2?

2. According to lines 3-4, what is the speaker’s opinion about this exchange?
3. What reason do they have to love each other’s heart (lines 7-8)?
4. What “wound” is the speaker describing on lines 10-11?
5. To what conclusion does the speaker get by observing his love and their hearts (lines
13-14)?

            31 (from Astrophel and Stella)

With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st* the skies!

How silently, and with how wan* a face!
What! May it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer* his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes* 5
Can judge of love, thou feel’st* a lover’s case*;
I read it in thy* looks— thy languished* grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state decries*.
Then, even* of fellowship, O moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed* there but want of* wit*? 10
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn* whom that love doth* possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

thou climb’st = long…eyes = those who thy = your even of… = in the same wit = intelligence;
you climb have been in love situation reason
wan = pale thou feel’st = you languished = deemed = considered scorn = despise
understand weak
busy archer = case = situation decries = want of = lack of doth = does
cupid reveals

EXERCISE 15: Read Philip Sidney’s “31 (from Astrophel and Stella)” and then
answer the questions that follow.

1. How does the speaker (on lines 3-4) interpret the ‘symptoms’ shown by the moon on
lines 1-2?
2. What does the speaker think the moon has in common with him (lines 5-6)? 
3. How can the speaker be sure of their similar situation (lines 7-8)?
4. Paraphrase the questions the speaker asks the moon on: 
a) lines 9-10.
b) line 11.
c) lines 12-13.
d) line 14.

EDMUND SPENSER
1552-1599

Sonnet 75

One day I wrote her name upon the sand, 

But came the waves and washed it away: 
Again I wrote it with a second hand, 
But came the tide*, and made my pains his prey*. 
Vain* man, said she, that doest* in vain* assay* 5
A mortal thing so to immortalize, 
For I myself shall like to this decay*, 
And eek* my name be wiped out* likewise*. 
Not so (quoth* I), let baser* things devise* 
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame: 10
My verse your virtues rare shall eternize, 
And in the heavens write your glorious name. 
Where when as Death shall* all the world subdue*, 
Out* love shall live, and later life renew. 
 
tide = movement of the in vain = “em vão” wiped out = erased devise = desire
sea
prey = “presa” assay = try likewise = in the same way shall = will
vain = proud decay = decadence quoth = said subdue = control
doest = do eek = want baser = simple; poor out = forever

EXERCISE 16: Read Edmund Spenser’s “Sonnet 75” and then answer the questions
that follow.

1. According to lines 1-4, what did the sea “do” to the speaker?
2. The woman concludes on line 6 that the speaker was trying to “immortalize a mortal
thing”. Which “mortal thing”? How was he trying to “immortalize” it?
3. What does she think about being immortalized (lines 7-8)?
4. The speaker disagrees with her. What does he decide to do (lines 9-12)?
5. What hopes does the speaker have for the future (lines 13-14)?

Sonnet 54

Of this world's theatre in which we stay,

My love, like the spectator, idly* sits;
Beholding me, that all the pageants* play,
Disguising diversely* my troubled wits.
Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits, 5
And mask in mirth* like to a comedy:
Soon after, when my joy to sorrow flits*,
I wail*, and make my woes* a tragedy.
Yet she, beholding me with constant eye,
Delights not in my mirth, nor rues* my smart: 10
But, when I laugh, she mocks; and, when I cry,
She laughs, and hardens evermore her heart.
What then can move her? if nor mirth nor moan,
She is no woman, but a senseless stone.
 

EXERCISE 17: Read Edmund Spenser’s “Sonnet 54” and then answer the questions
that follow.

1. Why does the speaker compare himself to an actor and his beloved to a spectator?
2. When is there “comedy” (line 6) and “tragedy” (line 8) in the speaker’s life?
3. How does the speaker’s beloved react to his feelings (lines 9-12)?
4. What conclusion about his beloved does the speaker get to (lines 13-14)?
 WALTER RALEIGH
1552-1618

What is Our Life?

What is our life? A play of passion;

Our mirth*? The music of division*; 
Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses* be
Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy. 
Heaven the judicious* sharp spectator is, 5
Who sits and marks* still who doth act amiss*; 
Our graves that hide us from the scorching* sun 
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done. 
Thus march we playing to our latest rest;
Only we die in earnest*— that’s no jest*.

mirth = happiness judicious = wise scorching = very strong

music of…= music between acts of a marks = observes in earnest = for real
play
tiring-houses = dressing rooms doth act amiss = jest = joke
misbehaves

EXERCISE 18: Read Walter Raleigh’s “What is Our Life?” and then answer the
questions that follow.

1. How does the speaker define our life on lines 1 and 4?

2. How does the speaker define our happiness in life on line 2?
3. What does the metaphor ‘wombs x tiring-houses’ mean (line 3)?
4. Why is heaven called ‘the judicious sharp spectator’ (line 4)?
5. What does the simile ‘graves like drawn curtains’ mean (lines 7&8)?
6. What figure of speech is there on ‘our latest rest’ (line 9)?
7. How does line 10 refer back to the first line of the poem?

            To Queen Elizabeth

Our passions are most like* to floods and streams, 

The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb; 
So, when affections yield* discourse, it seems 
The bottom is but shallow whence* they come. 
They that are rich in words, must needs discover 5
That they are poor in that which makes a lover.

Wrong not*, sweet empress of my heart, 

The merit of true passion, 
With thinking that he feels no smart, 
That sues* for no compassion; 10
Since, if my plaints* serve not to prove 
The conquest of your beauty, 
They come not from defect of love, 
But from excess of duty. 

For knowing that I sue to serve 15

A saint of such perfection 
As all desire yet none deserve 
A place in her affection, 
I rather choose to want* relief 
Than venture* the revealing; 20
When glory recommends the grief, 
Despair distrusts the healing. 

Thus those desires that aim too high 

For any mortal lover, 
When reason cannot make them die, 25
Discretion doth them cover. 
Yet, when discretion doth bereave* 
The plaints that they should utter*, 
Then your discretion may perceive 
That silence is a suitor*. 30

Silence in love bewrays* more woe* 

Than words though ne'er so witty*; 
A beggar that is dumb, you know, 
Deserves double pity. 
Then misconceive not*, dearest heart, 35
My true, though secret passion ; 
He smarts* most that hides his smart, 
And sues for no compassion. 

like = similar sues = asks; begs bereave = take away; woe = suffering
hide
yield = show; plaints = laments; utter = say witty = smart
demonstrate complaints
whence = from where want = lack suitor = one who courts a misconceive not = do not
woman misunderstand
wrong not = do not venture = risk bewrays = betrays; smarts = hurts
misunderstand reveals

EXERCISE 19: Read Walter Raleigh’s “To Queen Elizabeth” and then answer the
questions that follow.

1. Why does the speaker compare people who are in love to ‘shallow or deep floods and
streams’ in the first stanza?
2. What does the speaker ask ‘the empress of his heart’ for in the second stanza?
3. How does the speaker describe his feelings for her in the third stanza?
4. How does the speaker justify his ‘discretion and silence’ towards her in the fourth
stanza?
5. How does the speaker advocate for himself and his love for her in the fifth stanza?

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
1564-1593

1. The Passionate Shepherd* to His Love

Come live with me and be my Love,

And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales* and fields,
Or woods or steepy* mountain yields*.

And we will sit upon the rocks, 5

And see the shepherds feed their flocks*
By shallow* rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals*.

And I will make thee beds of roses

And a thousand fragrant posies*; 10
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle*
Embroidered* all with leaves of myrtle*.

A gown* made of the finest wool*

Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-linèd* slippers* for the cold, 15
With buckles* of the purest gold.

A belt of straw* and ivy-buds*

With coral clasps* and amber studs*:
And if these pleasures may thee* move*,
Come live with me and be my Love. 20

The shepherd swains* shall dance and sing

For thy* delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

shepherd = “pastor” madrigals = songs wool = “lã” clasps = “presilhas”

dales = flowers posies = kind of flower fair-lined = beautiful studs = “botões (de roupa)”
steepy = high  kirtle = kind of dress slippers = shoes thee = you (obj.)
yields = gives embroidered = “bordado” buckles = “fivelas” move = touch
flocks = groups of sheep myrtle = kind of plant straw = “palha” swains = young lover
shallow = not deep gown = dress ivy-buds = “botões (de flor)” thy = your
EXERCISE 20: Read Christopher Marlowe’s “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love”
and then answer the questions that follow.

1. 1 stanza: What invitation does the speaker make to his beloved? What does he offer
st

her if she accepts it?

2. 2 stanza: What will they be able to appreciate together?
nd

3. 3 & 4 stanzas: What will the speaker do in order to please her?

rd th

4. 5 stanza: What does the phrase “these pleasures” refer to?

th

5. 6 stanza: How will the speaker feel if his beloved accepts his invitation? Justify.
th