Parasitaster or The Fawn by John Marston, and: The Shoemaker’s Holiday by Thomas Dekker, and: Eastward Ho by George Chapman, Ben Jonson, John Marston

1981 ◽  
Vol 15 (1) ◽  
pp. 87-89
Author(s):  
Christopher Spencer
Author(s):  
James M. Bromley

This book examines ‘queer style’ or forms of masculinity grounded in superficiality, inauthenticity, affectation, and the display of the extravagantly clothed body in early modern English city comedies. Queer style destabilizes distinctions between able-bodied and disabled, human and nonhuman, and the past and the present—distinctions that have structured normative ways of thinking about sexuality. Glimpsing the worldmaking potential of queer style, plays by Ben Jonson, George Chapman, Thomas Middleton, and Thomas Dekker imagine alternatives to the prevailing modes of subjectivity, sociability, and eroticism in early modern London. While the characters associated with queer style are situated in a hostile generic and historical context, this book draws on recent work on disability, materiality, and queer temporality to rethink their relationship to those contexts so as to access the utopian possibilities of early modern queer style. These theoretical frameworks also help bring into relief how the attachments and pleasures of early modern sartorial extravagance can estrange us from the epistemologies of sexuality that narrow current thinking about sexuality and its relationship to authenticity, pedagogy, interiority, and privacy.


2016 ◽  
Vol 23 (2) ◽  
pp. 231-245
Author(s):  
Rebecca Yearling

This essay seeks to explore the role played by John Marston in the so-called War of the Poets – the literary quarrel between a small group of playwrights, including Marston, Ben Jonson, Thomas Dekker, and perhaps William Shakespeare, in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Marston's role in the War is problematic because although there are figures in his drama who might seem intended to be read as hostile portraits of Jonson, all of these figures are ambiguous, appearing to resemble Marston himself as much as they do his rival. I argue that this is because Jonson and Marston were participating in the War for very different reasons: Jonson in order to distinguish himself from his fellow satiric dramatists and Marston to emphasise the similarities between himself and his colleague. Marston may have done this in order to mock satiric dramatists as a class, but he may also have wanted to irritate Jonson by suggesting that Jonson was not as unique or individual as he liked to believe.


2019 ◽  
Vol 26 (2) ◽  
pp. 159-179
Author(s):  
Robert S. Miola

Throughout his career Ben Jonson drew variously upon Lucian, whom he encountered in the mythographies as well as in several Greek and Latin editions he owned. Jonson's receptions take the form of glancing reminiscence in the masques, as Lucian supplies mythological decoration and literary conceit. They appear as transformative allusion in Cynthia's Revels, which draws upon several satirical Dialogues of the Gods, and in The Staple of News, which re-appropriates a favorite satirical dialogue, Timon, the Misanthrope, to satirize the greed of the news industry. Jonson practices an extended and creative imitatio of Lucian's fantastic moon voyages (A True Story and Icaromenippus) in his much neglected News from the New World Discovered in the Moon. And, likewise, Jonson reworks Lucian extensively for the action of Poetaster: The Carousal supplies the lascivious banquet of 4.5, and Lexiphanes, the humiliating purge of Crispinus. Jonson's rich engagement with Lucian comes to a climax in Volpone, which borrows directly from The Dream, and several Dialogues of the Dead. Here whimsical ancient satire enables stern moral allegory. Responding to Poetaster in Satiro-mastix, Thomas Dekker has Captain Tucca rebuke Horace (i.e. Ben Jonson) by sarcastically calling him “Lucian.” Jonson, no doubt, took the proffered insult as the highest compliment.


Author(s):  
Warren Boutcher

Chapter 2.3 analyses the English school of Montaigne in the context of the relationship between Renaissance education and the early modern nobility. The Englished Montaigne––translated by John Florio and dramatized by Samuel Daniel, Ben Jonson, John Marston, and others––was introduced as a critic of the tyranny of custom and as a participant in the aristocratic culture of private learning in the late Elizabethan, early Jacobean noble household. Documents discussed range from the paratexts to Florio’s translation and the English text of ‘Of the institution and education of children’ to James Cleland’s work on the same subject and the famous portrait of Lady Anne Clifford. The chapter ends by offering a new perspective on Shakespeare’s use of Florio’s translation in The Tempest: that we should understand it in relation to Samuel Daniel’s use of similar passages in a play staged for the 1605 royal progress to the University of Oxford: The Queenes Arcadia.


2019 ◽  
pp. 79-112
Author(s):  
Scott A. Trudell

Boy vocalists in children’s company plays by Richard Edwards, John Marston, and Ben Jonson were portrayed as ideal vehicles for poetry, as though their charming, dainty music would provide a means of perfect transmission. Yet children’s singing was also understood to be highly sensuous and erotic—bringing out some of the most licentious dimensions of theatrical experience. This mismatch between ideal communication and embodied performance was often represented in terms of sexual violence, with boy servants graphically punished for altering the messages they were bound to convey. Plays including Edwards’s Damon and Pythias, Marston’s What You Will, and Jonson’s Epicene celebrate child singers’ virtuosity, including their capacity to reimagine their scripts and expose patterns of subjection to critical scrutiny. Song becomes a means of redirecting audiences to the extra-fictional boundaries of theatrical experience, and articulating new registers of poetic meaning grounded in the perspectives of boy performers.


Author(s):  
Roze Hentschell

This chapter provides an overview of the architectural features, uses, and users of the nave, with discussion of its physical condition. It also discusses the occupations of the nave—the various church-related and secular practices and professions that were carried out in the interior, and emphasizes the commercial activities, including those of labourers, lawyers, clergy, serving men, and criminals. The chapter looks at the newsmongers and walkers of Paul’s, including John Chamberlain, and attempts to reframe the rituals of their ‘walk’ as purposeful rather than idle. Several literary texts, including those by Thomas Middleton, Ben Jonson, and Thomas Dekker, are discussed. Further, consideration is given to how the nave’s architecture and material features, principally the tombs and monuments influenced the practices by both restricting and affording human agency, all the while affirming the importance of the dead to the living in Paul’s.


Author(s):  
Jonathan Patterson

This is a book about the outward manifestation of inner malice—that is to say, villainy—in French culture (1463–1610). In pre-modern France, villainous offences were countered, if never fully contained, by intersecting legal and literary responses. Combining insights from legal anthropology with literary and historical analysis, this study examines villainy across juridical documents, criminal records, and literary texts (broadly conceived). While few people obtained justice through the law, many pursued out-of-court settlements of one kind or another. Literary texts commemorated villainies both fictitious and historical; literature sometimes instantiated the process of redress, and enabled the transmission of conflicts from one context to another. Villainy in France follows this overflowing current of pre-modern French culture, examining its impact within France and across the English Channel. Scholars and cultural critics of the Anglophone world have long been fascinated by villainy and villains. This book reveals the subject’s significant ‘Frenchness’ and establishes a transcultural approach to it in law and literature. Villainy’s particular significance emerges through its representation in authors remembered for their less-than respectable, even criminal, activities: François Villon, Clément Marot, François Rabelais, Pierre de L’Estoile, Christopher Marlowe, Ben Jonson, John Marston, and George Chapman. Villainy in France affords comparison of these authors alongside many of their lesser-known contemporaries; in so doing, it reinterprets French conflicts within a wider European context, from the mid-fifteenth century to the early seventeenth century.


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