And weep with them our common misery.
Oh, if my arms were round them, I might seem
To have them as of old when I could see.[52]

Shakespeare, too, knew well how to kindle the soft radiance which,
fading again, makes the ensuing darkness darker still. Ophelia, the
sleeping Duncan, Cordelia rise to our minds. Nor need we quote the
famous words of Webster's Ferdinand. It is enough that the greatest
scene in _Gorboduc_ is precisely that scene where pathos softens by a
momentary dimness of vision our horror at a mother's crime.

_The Misfortunes of Arthur_ (1587), by Thomas Hughes, though twenty-five
years later, may be placed next to _Gorboduc_ in our discussion of the
rise of tragedy. It will serve as an illustration of the kind of tragedy
that was being evolved from Senecan models by plodding uninspired
Englishmen before Marlowe flung his flaming torch amongst them. To
understand the story a slight introduction is necessary. Igerna, the
wife of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, was loved by King Uther, who foully
slew her husband and so won her for himself. As a result of this union
were born Arthur and Anne, who, in their youth, perpetuated the
inherited taint of sin by becoming the parents of a boy, Mordred.
Afterwards Arthur married Guenevera, and some years later went to France
on a long campaign of conquest. In his absence Mordred gained the love
of Guenevera. The play begins with the contemplated return of Arthur,
glorious from victory, the object being to concentrate attention upon
the swift fall from glory and power to ruin and death. Guenevera, having
learnt to hate her husband, debates in her mind his death or hers,
finally deciding, however, to become a nun. Her interview with Mordred
ends in his resolving to resist Arthur's landing. Unsuccessful in this
attempt, and defeated in battle, he spurns all thought of submission,