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Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

James Loxley

SEL Studies in English Literature 1500-1900, Volume 52, Number 1,

Winter 2012, pp. 165-185 (Article)

Published by The Johns Hopkins University Press

DOI: 10.1353/sel.2012.0007

For additional information about this article

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/sel/summary/v052/52.1.loxley.html

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James SEL 52, Loxley 1 (Winter 2012): 165–185

165

ISSN 0039-3657

Echoes as Evidence in the

Poetry of Andrew Marvell

JAMES LOXLEY

That Andrew Marvell’s poetry is particularly allusive is an

organizing critical and editorial assumption. Pierre Legouis and

E. E. Duncan-Jones’s revision of H. M. Margoliouth’s Poems and

Letters (1971) brought together in a single erudite commentary

the plentiful echoes and resemblances to the works of other poets,

both ancient and modern, that these and other attentive readers

had noted over the years. 1 Nigel Smith’s more recent edition

(2007) of the poems has arguably given even greater prominence

to the echoing nature of Marvellian song, drawing attention to its

reverberations both in the extensive headnote to each poem and

in detailed and comprehensive textual annotations. 2 Less ambitious

editions in the intervening years similarly emphasize the

many apparent borrowings that make up an important part of the

weave of Marvell’s poetry. 3 Such editorial emphases are hardly

unusual, of course—the identification and unpacking of likely

allusions is a customarily central component of an editor’s work

in annotating the texts in his or her care—but in Marvell’s case it

has long been complemented by, or perhaps has complemented,

a steady reliance on echoes and resemblances in developing

critical readings of his work. The twin pillars of modern Marvell

James Loxley is Senior Lecturer at the University of Edinburgh. His publications

include Royalism and Poetry in the English Civil Wars (1997), Ben

Jonson (2002), Performativity (2007), and Stanley Cavell: Philosophy, Literature,

and Criticism (2011; coedited with Andrew Taylor), as well as articles on

many aspects of seventeenth-century writing. He has jointly curated a recent

exhibition at the National Library of Scotland entitled “Beyond Macbeth:

Shakespeare Collections in Scotland,” and his current projects include a

critical edition of a manuscript account of Ben Jonson’s walk to Edinburgh,

a coauthored book on Shakespeare and Jonson, and an anthology of Renaissance

literature for Oxford Univ. Press.


166 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

criticism—J. B. Leishman’s The Art of Marvell’s Poetry and John

Wallace’s Destiny His Choice—both posit and elaborate a vast

range of such connections, in support of very different critical

projects. 4 Wallace’s emphasis is on the elucidation of political

and ideological context, while Leishman is more concerned with

how Marvell’s poetry manages to borrow so extensively from his

predecessors and contemporaries while remaining “unmistakably

his own and no one else’s.” 5 Hence Wallace is principally

interested in resemblances at the level of argument or idea, while

Leishman’s attention is more readily engaged by verbal echoes.

If Wallace’s focus on the political poetry and its context has generated

more vigorous critical growth over the years, those who

have developed his approach have had a keener eye for linguistic

isomorphism. 6 Meanwhile, the full range of the poetry continues

to be inexhaustibly generative of hitherto unnoticed parallels and

allusions. No doubt future editors will, like their predecessors,

see the gathering up of such echoes as an important aspect of

the work of annotation.

Unsurprisingly, parallels are rarely noted for their own sake.

In editorial and critical work alike, they are given in evidence:

some offer useful or illuminating points of comparison, parallel

or similar handlings of motifs, metaphors, or topoi, while others—perhaps

more weightily—are deployed in support of claims

regarding Marvell’s reading, the dating of particular poems, the

circulation of his writings, and the nature and extent of his social

circles. To some extent, the emphasis on these latter is a

consequence of what has usually been seen as the paucity of

external evidence capable of resolving textual and biographical

uncertainties. Thus, for example, both Blair Worden and Nicholas

McDowell rely heavily on textual echoes in the poetry in making

different, but not incompatible, cases for Marvell’s connections

and activities in the later 1640s. 7 The only bonds to his literary

contemporaries at this time for which we have absolutely definitive

evidence are his address to Richard Lovelace in commendation

of Lucasta, first published in 1649, and his presence among

the elegists for Henry Hastings in Lachrymae Musarum the same

year; in addition, the promotion of his elegy from the addenda of

the first edition to a more central position in the second, surely

indicates his involvement with, or recognition by, contemporary

poets and their readers. 8 Building on this relatively meager evidence,

Worden and McDowell have crafted persuasive portraits

of a poet at home among the London wits of the turbulent few

years after the royalist defeat, engaged in amicable exchanges


James Loxley 167

not just with Lovelace but also with James Shirley, John Hall,

Marchamont Nedham and Alexander Brome. This is a sociable

rather than a private Marvell, linked comfortably into the circles

and networks of his age, including those of both Thomas Stanley

and Samuel Hartlib. 9 Verbal echoes and other similarities between

Marvell’s poems of this period and those of such contemporaries

offer abundant support to the claims of McDowell and Worden

alike, which would otherwise remain primarily speculative. To

see such echoes as evidence of friendship changes our sense of

Marvell’s commitments, too: where Wallace portrayed a figure

consistent in his political orientation despite the turning of the

world around him, and others have seen his writing as fractured

by the political turmoil of this time, McDowell’s Marvell works out

a transcendent commitment or allegiance to poetry, and to wit,

which coincides with the bonds of friendship among poets and

wits evidenced in the poems’ allusive engagements. 10

Given, then, the particular kind of evidential weight that the

Marvellian echo is now required to bear by editors and critics,

one might have thought that it would have been the focus for

some fairly rigorous stress testing. McDowell and Worden both

acknowledge the vulnerabilities of the “argument from poetic resemblance,”

its notably ineliminable conditionality and its reliance

on the potentially distorting or selective pursuit and extraction of

quotations, yet both remain broadly sanguine about its capacity

not only to demonstrate the attitude or illocutionary force of an

echoic poem (assuming it has, or can be said to have, one) but also

to substantiate essentially factual claims regarding its writer. 11

Perhaps, though, a cautionary note or two might be entered. For

a start, echoes that are obvious or compelling evidence of influence

or dialogue to some are unconvincing to others. For Christine

Rees, the fact that Lovelace’s poem “On Sanazar’s Being Honoured

with Six Hundred Duckets by the Clarissimi of Venice” shares a

disparaging reference to literary Goths and Vandals along with

Marvell’s “Tom May’s Death,” points to Lovelace’s direct borrowing

from his friend and commender. Yet Martin Dzelzainis is not

convinced: “this was a commonplace,” he says, though referring

the reader to Alexander Brome’s use of the phrase in his poetic

address to Lovelace does not extend its commonality that far. 12

Similarly, Allan Pritchard argues for a post-Restoration date for

“The Garden” on the basis that it features significant resemblances

to poems by Abraham Cowley and Katherine Philips that were not

published until the later 1660s. 13 His claims have been judged

“strong” by Smith, and the proposed date of 1668 accepted in this


168 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

edition. 14 Yet Andrew Barnaby has argued that some of Pritchard’s

parallels are less compelling than they might at first appear, and

that his case substantially consists of “rather dubious sourcehunting.”

15 Certainly, Pritchard’s mining of Philips and Cowley

generates an accumulation of parallels, and he himself suggests

that they are more convincing as a group than individually. 16 But

this triangulation of the three writers perhaps leads to the misjudgment

of the evidential value of such details as shared rhymes.

Pritchard sees the presence of the rhyming couple “power” and

“devour” in both Cowley’s “Upon Liberty” and Marvell’s “To His Coy

Mistress” as an “example of Cowley’s possible influence,” but this

is not an especially uncommon pairing in early modern verse. 17

The pairing of “ark” and “embark,” which Pritchard describes

as a “rather striking rhyme” and traces to a Donnean origin, is

neither Donne’s invention nor at all unusual. 18 The fact that the

image of the industrious bee is evoked by Philips, Cowley, and

Marvell’s “The Garden,” that the rhyme of “rude” with “solitude”

is shared by Philips and Marvell, and that Cowley and Marvell

alike repeat the phrasal pairing of “herbs and flowers,” might

seem cumulatively persuasive. But it perhaps ought to be noted

that all three markers are also to be found in Henry Vaughan’s

poem “The Bee.” 19 Rather than positing Vaughan, too, as a source

for Marvell, we might want to reconsider other explanations for

these kinds of parallels.

There are, in short, what we might rather grandly call epistemological

questions raised by the use of poetic resemblance as

evidence for certain types of claims. 20 We sometimes face the problem

of how to tell what makes a resemblance an allusion, and thus

at least a candidate for bearing the kind and range of evidential

significance it is often held to carry. It is frequently argued, for

instance, that a particular echo is too close to be coincidental. 21

This is, in essence, an appeal to probability, not entirely unlike

Pritchard’s suggestion that the accumulation of parallels between

“The Garden” and the poems of Cowley and Philips made each echo

more persuasive. Yet arguments grounded in an accumulation

of parallels were long ago found to be vulnerable in attribution

studies, and even though the problem here is significantly different

we would do well to note the potential for fallacy inherent in

such claims. 22 By the same token, it is hard to know whether or

not an echo is too close to be a coincidence unless we possess a

judicious sense of the degree of proximity between two texts that

“coincidence” could generate. It is not clear that we actually do.

There is even a problem within this problem: the alternatives of


James Loxley 169

“deliberate allusion” and “coincidence” are surely far too stark

to account for the range of ways in which an echo might come

about. “Coincidence” for Andrew Shifflett is synonymous with

“generic tradition working itself out”; all potentially causal factors

other than the conscious authorial will are thus grouped together

as “merely … accidental confluence,” to borrow R. F. Thomas’s

equally stark formulation, “inevitable between poets dealing with

a shared or related language.” 23 However, this lumps causal, but

nondeliberate, relationships in with those arising from something

closer to pure chance. As Stephen Hinds remarks, “the occlusion

of dynamics of language and literary discourse in the phrase

‘merely an accidental confluence’ is notable.” 24

Adopting a typology that assimilates the nondeliberate echo

to pure accident inhibits the effort to examine other kinds of causation

that might be at work, and thus makes it much harder to

judge when, or whether, some resemblances are indeed too close

to be anything other than deliberate. Some of these causal forces

are best described as grammatical or linguistic; others arise from

the demands of poetic language and form in particular, and from

the not at all coincidental molding force, operative in all aspects

of the writing process, of genre. But more complex issues can also

arise. Should our assessment of the evidential power of Pritchard’s

shared rhymes, for example, be at all influenced by the knowledge

that power/devour, ark/embark, and -ude/rude are all familiar

or obvious enough to be included in Edward Phillips’s “Dictionary

for the More Expeditious Finding Out of Any Rime,” published

in The Mysteries of Love and Eloquence (1658)? 25 Might the assumption

that such resemblances are not just verbal parallels,

and are thus all the more persuasive, be in any way challenged

by the recognition that combinations such as “power/devour” and

“ark/embark” constrain the semantic field within which they can

meaningfully operate, thus making it more likely that the rhyme

will occur in some connotative contexts—predation, sea travel—

rather than others? Such grammatical, rhetorical, and discursive

features of poetic utterance—Hinds’ “dynamics of language and

literary discourse”—are a vital part of the compositional process,

and neither random nor the work of the authorial will.

The same lack of discrimination between different kinds of

causality and their relative strengths also produces the somewhat

diminishing or dismissive labeling of an echo as a commonplace.

That a line or phrase participates in a topos or recites a sententia

does not render it empty or inert, as if collapsing into cliché. 26 The

closing lines of Marvell’s “Horatian Ode,” one of the finest politi-


170 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

cal poems in the language, rehearse a commonplace, as editors

and critics have long recognized. 27 “The same arts that did gain

a pow’r / Must it maintain” (lines 119–20) has antecedents that

reach back at least as far as Sallust; more contemporary citations

in historical writing include John Speed’s History of Great Britaine

(1611), Shakespeare’s The Life and Death of King John (1623),

Charles Aleyn’s Historie of that wise and Fortunate Prince, Henrie

of that Name the Seventh (1638), and John Davies’s Microcosmos

(1603), in which “That which is gotten with the Sword must soe

be mainetained” is offered as a marginal comment on Edward I’s

campaigns against Wales and Scotland. 28 To recite the formula in

this meditation on Oliver Cromwell is to place him in a long line

of rulers—specifically, kings—for whom the sword loomed large.

Scholars have also noted a range of highly topical tracts and pamphlets

in which the sententia, or something like it, occurs. 29 While

some of these, such as Anthony Ascham’s A Discourse, Wherein

is Examined, What is Particularly Lawfull During the Confusions

and Revolutions of Government (1648), share the poem’s ambition

to map a basis on which the legitimacy of republican rule can be

established, others are more directly hostile. 30 Act 3 of the anonymous

burlesque Famous Tragedie of King Charles I contains an

exchange in which Cromwell is advised: “The People we will Rule

by the Sword’s power, their lives and goods (by Conquest) we have

gain’d, our sway must be maintain’d by Strength, not Law. The

Sword that cut a passage to our Sphere / ’Tis that alone must

secure us there.” 31 Here there are lexical similarities to the “Ode,”

as well as a familiar insistence on the sword and a directly sententious

presentation of the commonplace. Sententiae, as Annabel

Patterson has pointed out, are very important to the poem. The

Horatian form accommodates or creates them, and helps the kind

of archepolitical grasping after rules and necessities (the poem’s,

and the commonplace’s, insistent “must”) that is a central part of

its general coming to terms. 32 To incorporate a commonplace in this

form is therefore both to appropriate its regularizing power and

to establish an intertextual relationship with its other iterations,

those situations, events, or figures that are in the same way cases

subsumed under it. The Famous Tragedie is therefore parodying

and attacking the resort to such archepolitical language by the

republic’s founders. That its strategies should be familiar enough

for parody, even before it was written, perhaps makes the “Ode”

a less adventurous poem than has sometimes been suggested.

But the identification of an echo as commonplace does

compromise its utility as evidence in both a genetic ordering of


James Loxley 171

sources and the identification of a grouping of friends or fellows.

One of the most compelling aspects of recent arguments from

poetic resemblance is the claim that such parallels demonstrate

the existence of dialogue or collaboration, of a friendship, community,

or intimacy that reflects shared interests or values at

some level, and from which others are necessarily excluded. 33

Such arguments, entirely properly, deploy resemblances within

poets’ works as supplementary evidence for connections attested

otherwise, either externally, referentially, or paratextually. That

Marvell commended Lovelace in Lucasta makes him a likely interlocutor

on at least some other occasions; that he appeared

among the contributors to Lachrymae Musarum might corroborate

otherwise more speculative or inferential suggestions of amity

or affiliation with some of his fellow contributors. It is therefore

not unreasonable to make the case the other way around and to

argue that resemblance is evidence for dialogue, collaboration,

or membership in a delimited community of readers and writers

even in the absence of some other kind of witness. Perceptive and

fruitful though it can be, this move also carries some risks that

go beyond the more general judgments of probability or likelihood

identified above. In particular, it might lead us to downplay the

chances of resemblance arising from more attenuated connections,

through the kinds of action at a distance made possible,

classically, by the written word. Here, our tendency to think of

literary production and circulation in this period through the

metaphor of the circle can be rather unhelpful. Catherine Gray,

for example, in mapping the reach of the literary community

organized around Philips, speculatively identifies contributors

to a 1643 collection elegizing Sir Bevill Grenville in which the

contributions are signed only with initials by projecting back

from the list of commenders and elegists whose poems prefaced

the 1651 collection of William Cartwright’s works. 34 This move is

seemingly justified by the considerable overlap between the two

groups, the latter of which she sees as instantiating “a heterosocial

coterie of Royalist men.” 35 Thus, the Grenville volume becomes

further evidence of this single grouping. Such speculation is not

unreasonable, as long as a presumption of continuity and some

degree of exclusivity is justifiable. In this instance we can show

that it is not: a second edition of the Grenville volume, in which

the full names of the contributors are included, disproves Gray’s

hypothesized identifications. 36 The argument for a “coterie” here

consequently becomes more tendentious.


172 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

We might want to think, instead, less circumferentially: such

groupings emerge through patterns of institutional, familial, local,

patronage, and amicable affiliation, and they are rarely exclusive. 37

Having strong and independent evidence for a close grouping of

friends organized through, and celebrated by, Stanley, we clearly

have good reason to see the resemblances between their works as

signs of ongoing intimacy and intellectual collaboration. 38 Edward

Sherburne’s discussion of his acquaintance with Robert Herrick

and John Denham has prompted scholars to add their names to

the community, and to see echoes between their works and those

of Stanley’s known intimates as further justification for such a

move. 39 The writing or exchange of commendatory verses, and

shared appearances as commender or elegist, further add Alexander

Brome, Richard Brome, Thomas Jordan, John Berkenhead,

Charles Cotton, and, eventually, Marvell. 40 Marvell’s possible links

to some of Stanley’s friends and relations might also explain the

otherwise surprising echoes of Aleyn’s Historie in “An Horatian

Ode”: Aleyn had been Sherburne’s tutor, and the pupil’s praises

of his teacher prefaced the volume. 41 Yet as the circle grows like

this, it becomes less obviously circular. Each “member” has his

own institutional, familial, and accidental connections, which in

turn open onto others elsewhere. An account of Shirley’s patronage

relations at this period, for example, would need to take in a

connection to the Prestwich family too, which also encompassed

Cotton and Jordan. 42 Jordan’s relationship to Stanley was possibly

enabled, and perhaps mediated, by a prior acquaintance

with Shirley, so perhaps we could say that in this instance at

least Stanley was a member of Shirley’s circle rather than the

other way around. 43 If the evidence suggests that such circles do

not simply overlap, then instead of a bounded space of coextensive

friendship—the corporeal or social analogue of the spiritual

and intellectual union celebrated in a highly wrought exchange

between Stanley and William Fairfax—we have paratactic and porous

groupings of acquaintance and affiliation. 44 Denser and more

enclosed where amicitia is being self-consciously rehearsed, they

nonetheless accommodate the attenuations of distance; extended,

they comprise both friends and friends of friends. Moreover, their

manifestations in books are rarely without remainder. Each list

of commenders or contributors differs from others, featuring

unexpected or, sometimes, obscure names, bringing together a

diverse range of contacts who sometimes share no more than a

connection to a stationer, author, or dedicatee. In mapping this

world of encounters and exchanges, it would be problematic, a


James Loxley 173

kind of confirmation bias, to pursue the connections we recognize

and simply overlook everything else. In volumes such as Lachrymae

Musarum, or the Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

(1647) and Cartwright (1651) editions produced by Humphrey

Moseley, a variety of different sets of connections, some still obscure,

would seem to be in evidence. Such collections manifest

a degree of contingency, or miscellaneity, which the idea of the

coterie or the metaphor of the circle is unable to render but which

we ought to consider. 45

This picture of poetic affiliation has consequences for how we

might read resemblance. While it can certainly witness to intimacy,

dialogue, and collaboration, it might also bespeak shared

institutional or educational bonds. Beyond those, it can demonstrate

the kinds of highly mediated and multilayered connections

in which the early modern literary world abounds. Sometimes, as

with Aleyn’s Historie and “An Horatian Ode,” we can trace a plausible

interpersonal route between the texts in question; sometimes

such trajectories can be guessed or inferred. Much of the time we

might indeed have to invoke the kind of action at a distance, or

the functioning through absence, of which the word is said to be

primordially capable. Out past mere reading, we can look to the

“dynamics of language and literary discourse” on which Hinds

insists. What we should only carefully do, without external, referential,

or paratextual evidence, is make a presumption in favor

of intimacy. We have to be cautious, too, in our interpretation of

this evidence. If the metaphor of the circle held, a connection to

one would be a connection to all. But in the more diffuse, less

consistently textured but more interconnected networks indicated

by the forms in which much early modern poetry circulated, such

a presumption is not so obviously secure. It is possible, of course,

that the necessary evidence is simply lost, but since there were

so many opportunities for bonds to be given a material affirmation,

consistent absence makes a difference. We might therefore

want to be wary of treating such details as Marvell’s absence

from Stanley’s “Register,” his apparent failure to exchange commendatory

poems with any of the possible participants other than

Lovelace, and Sherburne’s neglecting to mention him in his notes

on his poetic acquaintances, as mere oversights or insignificant

omissions.

This is not, I hope, a prescription for unwarranted scholarly

fastidiousness in the face of the Marvellian echo. Paying due attention

to the various textual and social matrices of its production

need not rob us of precise or compelling insights into the place


174 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

that the poems can plausibly be said to occupy in a climacteric

England’s ferment. It can, in fact, add a dimension to which the

search for sources and influences, or biographical imperatives,

is not always attuned. Here is an example.

“Tom May’s Death” is apparently the fourth and final poem

by Marvell to emerge from the nexus of poetry and royalism that

also generated his tribute to Lovelace and his elegies on Hastings

and Francis Villiers. In the revised Margoliouth edition, the poem’s

debts to Ben Jonson were suggested, its parody of the opening

of Tom May’s translation of Lucan noted, and its kinship with

other examples of Lucianic satire and raisings of Jonson’s ghost

sketched out. 46 Such hints have been developed in subsequent

critical and editorial work. Rees identified the echo of Jonson’s

Masque of Queens at the poem’s conclusion; 47 Smith notes its reorganization

of some of the phrasing and imagery with which Jonson

begins his commendatory poem for May’s Lucan, “To his Chosen

Friend,” and its generic affinity, via Lucian, with Jonson’s play

Poetaster, or His Arraignment. 48 Others have noted further echoes

of Jonson’s Roman plays, particularly Catiline His Conspiracy. 49

Most of these echoes cluster around what are undoubtedly the

poem’s most famous, and most resonant, lines:

When the sword glitters o’er the judge’s head,

And fear has coward churchmen silenced,

Then is the poet’s time, ’tis then he draws,

And single fights forsaken virtue’s cause.

He, when the wheel of empire whirleth back,

And though the world’s disjointed axle crack,

Sings still of ancient rights and better times,

Seeks wretched good, arraigns successful crimes. 50

Worden has noted, in addition to echoes of Jonson himself, the

multiple evocations and invocations of the poet in the commendatory

verses prefaced to the 1647 edition of Beaumont and Fletcher,

singling out for special mention James Howell’s conjuration of a

“grim Ben” lashing the world in “rage” and “high-swollen fury,”

and John Berkenhead’s longing backward glance to a time when

“high crimes were still arraigned.” 51 McDowell suggests a source in

Herrick’s “The Apparition of His Mistresse Calling Him to Elizium,”

which also focuses on Jonson’s ghost. For Berkenhead, at least,

we can trace extra-textual parallels with Marvell: as McDowell has

argued, he is probably the author both of a poem in Lachrymae

Musarum and of a combative elegy on Villiers. 52 Berkenhead’s


James Loxley 175

description of Charles’s trial as “People-cheating Pageantry” in

Loyalties Teares, an elegy for the king, also chimes with the denunciation

of republican heroes asthe people’s cheats” (“Tom

May’s Death,” line 18). 53

Just as significant as the picking out of possible sources and

echoes in Marvell’s poem has been the discernment of traces of

the poem’s reception by possible interlocutors. Chief among these

has been Lovelace, whose lengthy satire “On Sanazar’s Being

Honoured … by the Clarissimi of Venice,” as we saw above, has

been noted for its resemblance to Marvell’s attack on “mercenary”

May. 54 Rees suggests that the invocation of Jonson’s ghost in

Lovelace’s poem produces “a shock of recognition” in readers of

Marvell’s poem. 55 McDowell further argues that Alexander Brome’s

commendatory poem for his namesake Richard’s Five New Plays

(1653) includes a citation of Marvell’s satire:

And the Stern Poet, challenging as due

His ancient right, with freedome to speak true;

Div’d into secrets, and ’cause hee’d not be brib’d

To silence, nor compliance, was proscrib’d. 56

Though he does not give this figure Jonson’s name, Alexander

Brome’s use of the phrase “ancient right,” as much as his sense of

the corruption and censoriousness of the poet’s range of enemies,

aligns his poem with Marvell’s satire.

This use of echoes to track both sources and readers has done

much to help make sense of the place of “Tom May’s Death” in

the Marvellian canon. If we broaden the range within which such

echoes are audible, though, the picture changes accordingly.

The records of the relationship between May and Jonson include

another poem of praise, this time by the former on the latter. As

critics have long known, May contributed an elegy on Jonson to

Brian Duppa’s 1638 collection, Jonsonus Virbius, which gathered

together paeans by many of the best-known poets of the 1630s.

May’s own elegiac address to the departed “King of English Poetry

begins by recalling Statius’s poem on Lucan’s birthday, written

some years after the latter’s death, casting Jonson as a modern

Lucan; toward its end, he is likened to Virgil too, for good measure.

57 Despite its promising invocation of Lucanic possibilities,

there is little evidence for suggesting that this tribute caught

Marvell’s eye—verbal or thematic echoes are absent. Later in the

same volume, though, we find a poem by a different voice that

plausibly could have stimulated Marvell’s compositional imagina-


176 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

tion. Untitled, but signed “R. Meade,” it contains a forceful and

not unfamiliar characterization of a poet’s virtue:

Where shall we now find one dares boldly write,

Free from base flattery yet as void of spight?

That grovels not in’s Satyres, but soares high,

Strikes at the mounting vices, can descry

With his quicke Eagles Pen those glorious crimes,

That either dazle, or affright the Times?

Thy strength of Iudgement oft did thwart the tide

O’ th’ foaming multitude, when to their side

Throng’d plush, and silken censures, whilst it chose,

(As that which could distinguish Men from cloathes,

Faction from judgement) still to keepe thy Bayes

From the suspition of a vulgar praise. 58

The image of the poet developed here bears both general and

some quite specific resemblances to the vindication of the poet’s

proper function that Marvell puts into Jonson’s mouth in the

lines from “Tom May’s Death” quoted above. In sketching Jonson,

its author proffers a portrait of a defiantly independent and

free-speaking author, an evocation of the Horatian ideal that

was a not infrequent if rarely untrammeled presence in Jonson’s

own poetic self-imaginings, and which recent critics have identified

as the shaping conception behind Marvell’s revivification. 59

Given that both poems are recalling Jonson in crafting their pen

portraits of the free poet, the resemblance between the resulting

images should not perhaps surprise us, and would not of itself

be enough to justify a suggestion of indebtedness on the greater

poet’s part. If we add into our consideration the shared, though

reversed, rhyme, and the similar effect produced by the adjectival

modification of crimes as “glorious” by Robert Mead and as “successful”

by Marvell, the case appears stronger—though it ought

to be noted that “crimes/times” is hardly an uncommon rhyme,

and the semantic field of the pairing is likely to ensure that it

often occurs in censure of an age’s deeds and morals.

Mead was not, as far as we know, a member of the poetic

“circles” operating at the beginning of the 1650s. The son of a

prominent London bookseller, he had been schooled at Westminster

alongside Cowley, and contributed one of the two commendatory

poems prefacing the latter’s Poetical Blossomes on its

first publication in 1633. 60 Their paths diverged when Mead went

on to Oxford, joining the group of Christ Church poets fostered


James Loxley 177

by Brian Duppa. He contributed verses to a few other collections

besides Jonsonus Virbius, and wrote at least one play, The Combat

of Love and Friendship, which was described on its title page as

“formerly … presented by the Gentlemen of Ch[rist] Ch[urch] in

Oxford” on its eventual publication in 1653. From 1640 onwards

he served in the royal armies, and as Captain Mead was one of

the commissioners for the king’s side during the negotiations for

the surrender of Oxford in 1646. He subsequently served as a

royalist agent overseas before returning to London in 1652; he

died in February the following year, and was described in the

stationer’s address to the reader that prefaced The Combat of

Love and Friendship as “a Person, whose eminent and general

Abilities have left him a character, pretious and honourable to

our Nation.” 61 While the author of Mead’s entry in the Dictionary

of National Biography states that he “appears to have relinquished

literature” prior to taking up his military career, this is not quite

true. In 1643 he contributed two poems to the volume produced

by royalist Oxford to celebrate the Queen’s return from her foreign

travels, in which Cartwright and Berkenhead were also featured. 62

So it is not impossible that Marvell might have known of Mead in

the later 1640s. If so, he offers a vivid instance of the poet armed,

someone who “strikes at the mounting vices” in a literalization of

the military metaphor common to both his and Marvell’s poem.

Yet it is just as interesting to contemplate the possibility that

the echoic resemblance between these two characterizations of

Jonson is not the effect of deliberate recall; that it is, instead,

the work of one or more of the other causal processes mentioned

above. To let Mead break into the circle of reverberations is to

open it up to a broader and shifting arrangement of tropes and

topoi, texts and intertexts, communicating with each other across

the variously ordered and contingently intersecting processes and

vehicles of literary exchange. It places both Lovelace’s invocation

of Jonson and Alexander Brome’s characterization of the “Stern

Poet” within a broader range of plausible resonators, despite the

verbal parallel with “Tom May’s Death.” That very parallel recalls

further antecedents such as Denham’s satirical “Humble Petition

of the Poets,” which complains of the Long Parliament’s violation

of the poets’ “Priviledge Antient and Native … to speak whatever

we please / Without fear of a Prison, or Pursuivants fees,” or even

Joseph Hall’s much earlier encouragement to poets to “holde

your auncient right: / Write what you will, and write not what

you might.” 63 Such echoes also serve to sharpen the differences

between Marvell and Alexander Brome: while the latter, like Den-


178 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

ham, Hall, and, implicitly, Mead, identifies the ancient right in

question as the poet’s freedom to speak, Marvell’s pointedly plural

“ancient rights” are the subject of the poet’s song. If the Jonson of

Marvell’s poem is exercising his freedom, he is doing so to sing of

other ancient rights as well as, or rather than, his own.

Joseph Hall is certainly a relevant point of reference, given his

status as controversialist and satiric innovator—his poetry helped

to fuel the debates around the propriety of satire that were a political

as well as literary concern fifty years previously. This, too,

was the milieu from which Jonson’s configuration of his satiric

persona emerged, to be given its clearest outline in Poetaster in

1601. 64 If the arraignment of May in Marvell’s poem distantly recalls

this play, Lovelace’s “On Sanazar’s Being Honoured … by he

Clarissimi of Venice”— subtitled “A Satyre”—does so much more

directly, by both reference and quotation. Flagging up its multiple

reverberations, it incorporates a couplet from Jonson’s play that

Jonson himself adapted from Marlowe’s translation of Ovid, and

refers to the character of Crispinus, Jonson’s mock portrait of

John Marston. 65 Its invocation of Jonson quotes and rearranges

lines from the “Apologetical Dialogue” appended to Poetaster, in

which Jonson dramatizes his own authorial persona in order

to defend his satiric art. 66 Indeed, while the “mist of Insects” in

Lovelace resembles the “swarms / Of insects” assailing him in

Marvell’s commendatory poem for Lucasta, as critics have noted,

his earlier mention of “Gnats and Wasps” is at least as close to

the “flies,” “angry wasps,” and “hornets” that “fly buzzing, mad,

about my nostrils” in Jonson’s self-portrait. 67 The proximity to

“Tom May’s Death” plausibly arises from a common fascination

with the timeliness of this vision of the undaunted poet at bay,

a vision that had grown more vivid, rather than fading, in the

decade after Jonson’s death.

The exchange between Marvell and Lovelace that critics have

detected in the relationships between these poems has been seen

as a mutual marking of the differences between them, separating

“us” from “them,” “now” from “then,” as Marvell comes to see a

future for the free-speaking poet in a kingless world—a vision that

Lovelace is unable to share, even if Alexander Brome is prepared to

hope for it. 68 Lovelace’s poem, though, may well be measuring its

distance from more than one version of poetry’s postwar present.

A preoccupation with a range of models appears plausible from a

passage in which his contempt for the corrupt poetasters who fall

short of a Jonsonian ideal gives way to a more profound lament:


James Loxley 179

Faction and Envy now is downright Rage;

Once a five knotted whip there was, the Stage,

The Beadle and the Executioner,

To whip small Errors, and the great ones tear.

Now as e’re Nimrod the first King, he writes,

That’s strongest, th’ablest deepest bites.

The Muses weeping fly their Hill, to see

Their noblest Sons of peace in Mutinie.

Could there nought else this civil war compleat,

But Poets raging with Poetick heat,

Tearing themselves and th’endlesse wreath, as though

Immortal they, their wrath should be so too. 69

It is not immediately clear who such rebellious sons might be—

given the different tone of the poem’s alarm at their actions, they

are not perhaps to be lumped in with the venal or unlettered

scribblers. Some clarification becomes possible if we follow an

echo here of lines from Berkenhead’s praise of Beaumont and

Fletcher in the 1647 folio, a volume to which Lovelace also contributed

a commendatory poem. 70 Berkenhead’s tribute bemoans

the “Relapse of Wit,” and complains that “What strength remains,

is like that (wilde and fierce) / Till Johnson made good Poets and

Right Verse.” Such wildness produces “boyst’rous Trifles,” “savage

Metaphors (things rudely Great),” a tendency to “butcher a Conceit,”

in stark contrast to the virtues of the poets here revivified:

Nor art Thou Loud and Cloudy; those that do

Thunder so much, do’t without Lightning too;

Tearing themselves, and almost split their braine

To render harsh what thou speak’st free and cleane;

Such gloomy Sense may passe for High and Proud,

But true-born Wit still flies above the Cloud. 71

Such aesthetic strictures make it likely that Berkenhead’s target

here is the startlingly dense and violent satire of John Cleveland, a

poet not easily dismissed as mercenary, ignorant, or incompetent.

The date of composition—not before December 1646—also supports

this suggestion. Cleveland’s poetry was already in reasonably

wide manuscript circulation, and erupted from the presses early

in 1647, with six editions and a separate publication of his poem,

“The Kings Disguise,” appearing within five months. 72 In his most

famous poem, “The Rebel Scot,” he adopts a fierce persona and

style that Berkenhead clearly found unpalatable:


180 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

Ring the bells backward, I am all on fire,

Not all the buckets in a Countrey Quire

Shall quench my rage.

Come keen Iambicks, with your Badgers feet,

And badger-like, bite till your teeth do meet.

Help ye tart Satyrists, to imp my rage,

With all the Scorpions that should whip this age. 73

When Berkenhead praises Beaumont and Fletcher’s “Strength

and Mirth” and “Sanguin Wit,” and pointedly comments on their

lack of “Rage,” he is seeking to fend off Cleveland’s rendering of

satire as much as anything else. To some extent, this is because

he judges such ferocity to be ineffective, or symptomatic of a loss

of power: “Who blusters strong i’ th’ Darke … creeps i’ th’ Light.” 74

Nearly a decade later and at the height of Cleveland’s fame,

Lovelace considered such uncivil, biting poetry with more dismay

as a Parnassian mutiny, wit turned against itself. While he,

like Marvell, imagined a literary world corrupted by “Scorpions,”

Cleveland sought to incorporate them into his art. 75 Furthermore,

Lovelace’s antipathy to “poetic rage” was shared by friends and

kinsmen. Sherburne complained of it in his poem for Moseley’s

Cartwright volume, while John Hall pointedly characterized Stanley’s

style as “admit[ting] no wildfire in poetic rage.” 76 Cleveland’s

poetry represents an outbreak of the poetical unconscious, an

eruption of the incivility tamed by Jonson, and over which Jonson’s

authorial persona boasted of his control in Poetaster. To give

in to one’s rage is “but a feminine humour,” Jonson says, “And far

beneath the dignity of a man,” sentiments recalled in Lovelace’s

praise of the “masc’line Spirit” of “Father Ben” and his ridicule of

writing women. 77 Cleveland is therefore an unruly third term in

any mapping of poetry’s way between a cavalier past and a present

commonwealth, the demands of loyalty and the temptations

of infidelity—marked by the barbarity of the age, but no more of

it than his fellow cavaliers. Marvell was of course to find his own

way, much later, to speak back to Cleveland in “The Loyal Scot”;

here, though, we can pick out a note or two in the echoic interplay

of which both Marvell’s poetry, and those of his contemporaries,

is unendingly capable.


James Loxley 181

nOtES

1 Andrew Marvell, The Poems and Letters of Andrew Marvell, ed. H. M.

Margoliouth, Pierre Legouis, and E. E. Duncan-Jones, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon

Press, 1971).

2 Marvell, The Poems of Andrew Marvell, Annotated English Poets ed.

Nigel Smith, rev. edn. (Harlow UK: Longman, 2007).

3 Marvell, Andrew Marvell: The Complete Poems, ed. Elizabeth Story Donno

(Harmondsworth UK: Penguin, 1972); Andrew Marvell, ed. Frank Kermode

and Keith Walker, Oxford Authors (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1990).

4 J. B. Leishman, The Art of Marvell’s Poetry (London: Hutchison, 1966);

John M. Wallace, Destiny His Choice: The Loyalism of Andrew Marvell (Cambridge:

Cambridge Univ. Press, 1968).

5 Leishman, p. 29.

6 See, for example, Derek Hirst, “That Sober Liberty: Marvell’s Cromwell

in 1654,” in The Golden and the Brazen World, ed. Wallace (Berkeley: Univ.

of California Press, 1984), pp. 17–53, and Blair Worden, “The Politics of

Marvell’s Horatian Ode,” Historical Journal 27, 3 (September 1984): 525–47.

7 Worden, Literature and Politics in Cromwellian England (Oxford: Oxford

Univ. Press, 2007), pp. 54–115; Nicholas McDowell, Poetry and Allegiance

in the English Civil Wars: Marvell and the Cause of Wit (Oxford: Oxford Univ.

Press, 2008).

8 Hilton Kelliher, Andrew Marvell: Poet and Politician 1621–78 (London:

British Library, 1978), p. 39.

9 Worden, Literature and Politics; McDowell, Poetry and Allegiance.

10 Michael Wilding, Dragons Teeth: Literature in the English Revolution

(Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1987), pp. 114–37; David Norbrook, Writing

the English Republic: Poetry, Rhetoric, and Politics, 1627–1660 (Cambridge:

Cambridge Univ. Press, 1999), pp. 271–80.

11 McDowell, Poetry and Allegiance, pp. 3–4; Worden, Literature and

Politics, p. 9.

12 Martin Dzelzainis, “Literature, War, and Politics, 1642–1668,” in A

Companion to Literature from Milton to Blake, ed. David Womersley (Oxford:

Blackwell, 2000), pp. 3–19, 11.

13 Allan Pritchard, “Marvell’s ‘The Garden’: A Restoration Poem?” SEL 23,

3 (Summer 1983): 371–88.

14 Marvell, Poems, ed. Smith, p. 152.

15 Andrew Barnaby, “The Politics of Garden Spaces: Andrew Marvell and

the Anxieties of Public Speech,” SP 97, 3 (Summer 2000): 331–61, 341, 360.

16 See Pritchard: “It is when the parallels are considered cumulatively

that they become really impressive,” p. 373.

17 Pritchard, p. 385.

18 Pritchard, p. 380.

19 Henry Vaughan, The Complete Poems, ed. Alan Rudrum, rev. edn.

(Harmondsworth UK: Penguin, 1983), pp. 381–4, esp. lines 19–20, 37. “The

Bee” and “The Garden” are discussed and compared in Leona Spitz, “Process

and Stasis: Aspects of Nature in Vaughan and Marvell,” HLQ 32, 2 (February

1969): 135–47, though the verbal parallels are not noted.


182 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

20 There are also what we might call “ontological” questions about the

workings, scope, and limit of allusion, but there is no space to consider these

here. See also Joseph Pucci, The Full-Knowing Reader: Allusion and the Power

of the Reader in the Western Literary Tradition (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press,

1998), pp. 3–48, which provides an overview of modern and contemporary

theories of allusion.

21 See, for example, Christine Rees, “‘Tom May’s Death’ and Ben Jonson’s

Ghost: A Study of Marvell’s Satiric Method,” MLR 71, 3 (July 1976): 481–8,

486; Andrew Shifflett, “By Lucan Driv’n About: A Jonsonian Marvell’s Lucanic

Milton,” RenQ 49, 4 (Winter 1996): 803–23, 809; and David Roberts, “Two

Shakespearian Allusions and the Date of Marvell’s ‘The Nymph Complaining

for the Death of Her Faun,’” N&Q, n.s., 49 (September 2002): 338–43, 341.

22 See M. St C. Byrne, “Bibliographical Clues in Collaborate Plays,” The

Library, 4th series, 13 (1932): 21–48, and the discussion of this problem in

Harold Love, Attributing Authorship: An Introduction (Cambridge: Cambridge

Univ. Press, 2002), p. 90.

23 Shifflett, p. 809; R. F. Thomas, “Virgil’s Georgics and the Art of Reference,”

Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 90 (1986): 171–98, 174.

24 Stephen Hinds, Allusion and Intertext: Dynamics of Appropriation in

Roman Poetry (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1998), p. 19.

25 Edward Phillips, The Mysteries of Love and Eloquence (London: N.

Brooks, 1658), pp. 198, 217–8; EEBO Wing (2d edn.) P2066.

26 See Hinds, pp. 34–47.

27 See Wallace, pp. 96–7; Marvell, The Poems and Letters of Andrew

Marvell, ed. Margoliouth, Legouis, and Duncan-Jones, 1: 302–3; Marvell,

Poems, ed. Smith, p. 279.

28 For John Speed, see Wallace, pp. 96–7 and Speed, The History of Great

Britaine Under the Conquests of ye Romans, Saxons, Danes and Normans Their

Originals manners, Warres, Coines & Seales: With ye Successions, Lives, Acts

& Issues of the English Monarchs from Iulius Caesar, to Our Most Gracious

Soueraigne King James (n.p., 1614); EEBO SCT (2d edn.) 23046; for Shakespeare,

see David Womersley, “King John and Marvell’s Horatian Ode,” N&Q,

n.s., 34, 3 (September 1987): 327 and Shakespeare, The Life and Death of

King John, ed. Herschel Baker, Anne Barton, Kermode, Harry Levin, Hallett

Smith, Marie Edel, 2d edn., 2 vols. (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1997); for

Charles Aleyn, see Lisa Hopkins, “A Possible Source for An Horatian Ode Upon

Cromwell’s Return from Ireland,” N&Q, n.s., 48, 1 (March 2001): 19–20 and

Aleyn, The Historie of that VVise and Fortunate Prince, Henrie of that Name the

Seventh, King of England With that Famed Battaille, Fought Betweene the Sayd

King Henry and Richard the Third Named Crookbacke, Upon Redmoore Neere

Bosworth (n.p., 1638); EEBO STC (2d edn.) 353; John Davies, Microcosmos.

The Discovery of the Little World, With the Governement Thereof (Oxford: John

Barnes, 1603), p. 133; EEBO STC (2d edn.) 6333.

29 See especially Wallace, pp. 97–8, and Norbrook, pp. 260–1.

30 Anthony Ascham, A Discourse, Wherein is Examined, What is Particularly

Lawfull During the Confusions and Revolutions of Government (London:

Humphrey Moseley, 1648), p. 86; EEBO Wing (2d edn.) A3919.

31 The Famous Tragedie of King Charles I ([?London], 1649), pp. 21–2;

EEBO Wing (2d edn.) F384.


James Loxley 183

32 Annabel Patterson, Marvell and the Civic Crown (Princeton Univ. Press,

1978), p. 66.

33 In addition to McDowell and Worden, see Lois Potter, Secret Rites and

Secret Writing: Royalist Literature 1641–1660 (Cambridge Univ. Press, 1989),

pp. 113–55.

34 Catherine Gray, “Katherine Philips and the Post-Courtly Coterie,” ELR

32, 3 (Autumn 2002): 426–51, 431.

35 Gray, p. 427.

36 Verses by the University of Oxford on the Death of the Most Noble and

Right Valiant Sir Bevill Grenvill, Alias Granvill, Kt. ed. Henry Birkhead (London,

1684); EEBO Wing (2d edn.) O989.

37 See the cautionary words of P. W. Thomas, Sir John Berkenhead,

1617–1679: A Royalist Career in Politics and Polemics (Oxford: Clarendon

Press, 1969), pp. 139–45.

38 The key sources are Stanley’s “Register of Friends,” in which he celebrated

or memorialized his kinsmen William Hammond, Edward Sherburne,

and Richard Lovelace, his tutor William Fairfax, James Shirley (who may

also have had a connection to Hammond that preceded his friendship with

Stanley), John Hall, Robert Bowman, Justinian Isham, and Thomas Salmon;

the poetic addresses, including commendatory verses, between some of these

individuals; and the information provided to Anthony Wood by Sherburne.

See Stanley, The Poems and Translations of Thomas Stanley, ed. Galbraith

Crump (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962), pp. xxiii–xxxiv, 354–66.

39 Bodleian Library, MS Top. Oxon. 160c and MS Wood F. 44, fol. 261;

see Stanley, p. xxv; McDowell, Poetry and Allegiance, pp. 13–24; Susan A.

Clarke, “Royalists Write the Death of Lord Hastings: Post-Regicide Funerary

Propaganda,” Parergon 22, 2 (July 2005): 113–29. See also McDowell, “Herrick

and the Order of the Black Riband: Literary Community in Civil-War London

and the publication of Hesperides (1648),” in “Lords of Wine and Oile”: Community

and Conviviality in the Work of Robert Herrick, ed. Tom Cain and Ruth

Connolly (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2011), pp. 106–126.

40 Kelliher, p. 39; McDowell, Poetry and Allegiance, pp. 17–8, 29.

41 See Aleyn, Historie, sig. A2r; Eleri Larkum, “Aleyn, Charles (d.

1640),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, online edn., doi:10.1093/

ref:odnb/339 (14 January 2011).

42 See Edmund Prestwich, Hippolitus Translated Out of Seneca (London:

George Boddington, 1651), Sigs. b1–b2r; EEBO Wing (2d edn.) S2512; Thomas

Jordan, “Congratulatory to the Bountiful Lover of the Liberal Sciences, Sir

Thomas Prestwich Baronet” in The Muses Melody in a Consort of Poetry (London:

J. C., n.d.), n.p.; EEBO Wing (2d edn.) J1048.

43 Indeed, to Ira Clark, Shirley in the later 1640s is “the poetic centre

of a coterie promoted by Thomas Stanley” (“Shirley, James [bap. 1596, d.

1666],” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, doi:10.1093/ref:odnb/25427

[14 January 2011]). For the possibility of Jordan’s relationship to Shirley

in the later 1630s, see Lynn Hulse, “Jordan, Thomas (c. 1614–1685),” in

Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, doi:10.1093/ref:odnb/15122 (14

January 2011).

44 See Stanley, pp. 66–7.


184 Echoes as Evidence in the Poetry of Andrew Marvell

45 On the range of contributors to Lachrymae Musarum, see James Loxley,

Royalism and Poetry in the English Civil Wars, Early Modern Literature in

History (Houndmills UK: Macmillan, 1997), pp. 196–7, and John McWilliams,

“A Storm of Lamentations Writ: Lachrymae Musarum and Royalist Culture

After the Civil War,” YES 33 (2003): 273–89, esp. 276–80.

46 Marvell, “Tom May’s Death,” in Poems and Letters, 1: 304–6.

47 Rees, p. 487.

48 Marvell, Poems, ed. Smith, pp. 118, 120.

49 Norbrook, p. 279; Worden, Literature and Politics, pp. 78–9. To these

we can add Cato’s declaration in act IV: “Though heauen should speake,

with all his wrath at once, / That, with his breath, the hinges of the world /

Did cracke, we would stand vpright, and vnfeard” (Jonson, Catiline, act IV,

lines 30–2, in Ben Jonson, ed. Charles Herford, Percy Simpson, and Evelyn

Simpson, 11 vols. [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1925–52], vol. 5, p. 499).

50 Marvell, “Tom May’s Death,” lines 63–70.

51 Worden, Literature and Politics, p. 78.

52 The connection between these poems was noted in Loxley, “Marvell,

Villiers and Royalist Verse,” N&Q, n.s, 41 (1994): 170–2; for the attribution

to Berkenhead, see McDowell, Poetry and Allegiance, pp. 168–9.

53 [John Berkenhead], Loyalties Teares Flowing after the Blood of the

Royal Sufferer Charles I (London?: 1649), p. 5; EEBO Wing (2d edn.) B2967.

54 Manfred Weidhorn, Richard Lovelace (New York: Twayne, 1970), p. 157.

55 Rees, p. 486.

56 Alexander Brome, “Upon the Ingenious Comedies of Mr Richard Brome,”

in Richard Brome, Five New Plays (London: Humphrey Moseley, Richard

Marriot and Thomas Dring, 1653), sig. A4r, lines 27–30; EEBO Wing (2d

edn.) B4870. McDowell, Poetry and Allegiance, p. 266.

57 Jonsonus Virbius, or the Memorie of Ben: Johnson Revived ed. Brian

Duppa (London: Henry Seile, 1638), p. 21; EEBO Wing (2d edn.) 14784.

58 Robert Mead, untitled poem in Jonsonus Virbius, p. 59.

59 See McDowell, Poetry and Allegiance, pp. 259–71; see also Andrew

McRae, Literature, Satire, and the Early Stuart State (Cambridge: Cambridge

Univ. Press, 2004), pp. 220–4.

60 Abraham Cowley, Poetical Blossomes (London: Henry Seile, 1633), sig.

A4v; EEBO STC (2d edn.) 5906. For details of Mead’s life, see Charles Brayne,

“Mead, Robert (1615/16–1653),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, doi:

10.1093/ref:odnb/18468 (12 January 2011). Robert Mead senior was Master

of the Stationers Company in 1644, 1645 and 1649: Henry Plomer, A Dictionary

of the Booksellers and Printers who were at work in England, Scotland and

Ireland from 1641 to 1667 (London: Bibliographical Society, 1907), p. 125.

61 Mead, Combat of Love and Friendship (London: M[ercy] M[eighen], G.

Bedell, and T. Collins, 1653), sig. A2r; EEBO Wing (2d edn.) M1564.

62 Musarum Oxoniensium Epibateria (Oxford: for Leonard Lichfield, 1643),

sigs. C4r, A3r; EEBO Wing (2d edn.) O903.

63 John Denham, The Poetical Works of Sir John Denham, ed. Theodore

Banks, 2d edn. (New York: Archon Books, 1969), p. 128; Joseph Hall, Virgidemarium,

Six Bookes. First Three Bookes, Of Tooth-lesse Satyrs (London:

Robert Dexter, 1597), p. 11.


James Loxley 185

64 Jonson, Poetaster, or His Arraignment, ed. Tom Cain (Manchester UK:

Manchester Univ. Press, 1996).

65 See Lovelace, The Poems of Richard Lovelace, ed. C. H. Wilkinson (Oxford:

Clarendon Press, 1953), pp. 199 and note, p. 333; Jonson, Poetaster,

1.1.77–8.

66 Lovelace, p. 336.

67 Dzelzainis, p. 12; McDowell, pp. 270–1; Jonson, Poetaster, “Apologetical

Dialogue,” lines 107–10.

68 Dzelzainis, pp. 11–4; McDowell, pp. 268–71.

69 Lovelace, p. 197.

70 Berkenhead, “On the happy Collection of Master Fletcher’s Works,

never before Printed,” in Beaumont and Fletcher, Comedies and Tragedies

(London: for Humphrey Robinson and Humphrey Moseley, 1647), sigs. E1v–

[E2v]; EEBO WING (2d edn.) B1581.

71 Beaumont and Fletcher, sig. [E2].

72 Brian Morris and Eleanor Withington, introduction to The Poems of

John Cleveland, ed. Morris and Withington (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967),

pp. xli–xliii.

73 Cleveland, p. 29, lines 5–30.

74 Beaumont and Fletcher, sig. [E2v].

75 Lovelace, p. 199.

76 William Cartwright, Comedies, Tragicomedies, and other poems (London:

Humphrey Moseley, 1651), sig. b8r; EEBO WING (2d edn.) C709; Stanley,

p. xxxv.

77 Jonson, Poetaster, “Apologetical Dialogue,” lines 176–7; Lovelace, p.

200.

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