Christopher Marlowe


The juggler with words: Thomas Nashe

thomas nasheThomas Nashe played a large role in the Elizabethan  literary world, for a small man. He was renowned in his day as a superlatively witty writer whose verbal barbs pricked inflated egos from the highest court to the darkest alley.

He wrote anything that would sell: bits of government propaganda, plays, accounts of dreams, religious invective, even a picaresque novel (more on this later.) A pamphlet sold for threepence; Nashe got 40 shillings and perhaps a cup of wine. The nascent concept of copyright at this time only applied to publishers, not writers.

(12 shillings in a pound; 40s = £3.3. A blacksmith or a cook might make £6/year, plus meat and drink, in 1588. A gentleman of an Inn of Court would want £60/year to pay his fees and keep up appearances. The schoolmaster at Nashe’s grammar school got £16/year in 1570.)

The printer might sell hundreds of copies of a popular pamphlet and Nashe was a very popular writer. C.S. Lewis called him ‘the perfect literary showman, the juggler with words.” Biographer Charles Nicholl wrote “He was prolific and controversial, the pamphleteer who precisely caught the time’s flavour. He reigned pre-eminent among ‘the riffe-raffe of the scribling rascality.'” If you want to know what sophisticated Elizabethans read (since they couldn’t watch The Daily Show), read some Nashe. If you want to learn about Elizabethans, read Charles Nicholl’s excellent books, referenced below.

The look of a rascal

We have a portrait of Thomas Nashe, or at least a caricature. The woodcut shown above was first printed in a pamphlet written by one of his bitter enemies, yet another victim of his ferocious wit, Richard Lichfield, a barber-surgeon from Trinity College, Cambridge. The pamphlet, published in 1597, was titled The Trimming of Thomas Nashe. Apparently Nashe had written something insulting about barbers and Lichfield felt the need to respond with heat.

The woodcut shows Nashe in chains — wishful thinking, most likely, although he did spend time in prison for debt now and then. It also shows him wearing a doublet and round hose (“Spanish kettledrums”), the garb of a gentleman, although they don’t fit him very well. Note the unbuttoned doublet and the lack of a hat — the sign of a disreputable man. He wore his hair a bit long, which was the fashion in the ’90s, but had no beard, a feature that was remarked upon by his contemporaries. Nashe was fair and probably nearly beardless by nature. He was also apparently on the short side and scrawny. You can’t really tell from this woodcut, but he was also gag-toothed — some of his teeth stood out at odd angles. That’s quite a handicap in a age that considered external appearance to mirror internal qualities.

The briefest of biographies

Nashe was born in Suffolk in November, 1567, making him 3 years younger than Marlowe and Shakespeare. Nashe’s father was a curate, one of the poorer forms of cleric, when Thomas was born. He later was granted the living at All Saints near Thetford, a better position. Nashe went to St. Johns’ College at Cambridge University as a sizar, a student who performs menial labor such as cleaning rooms and waiting at table in exchange for tutelage. He graduated BA in 1586, but stayed on for a few more years, leaving without taking an MA.

Dido seated on a throne

St. John’s was famous for its theatrical productions; perhaps that’s how Thomas met Christopher Marlowe. They did become friends at university. It’s believed they collaborated on Marlowe’s first play, Dido, Queen of Carthage (a fun read, go for it.)

Nashe came down to London around 1589 and joined the University Wits (a Victorian term), a group of poor, but educated, scribblers that included Robert Greene, John Lyly, George Peele, Thomas Lodge, and of course, Marlowe. Greene and Nashe were among the first men to make a living from writing in the history of English letters; that alone ought to make them notable.

Nashe lived all around London, especially in the suburbs north of the city walls, moving frequently for lack of funds.He knew everyone; literary London was a small world in those days. He played dice with courtiers’ pageboys and drank with the Clerk of the Kitchen, picking up gossip about his betters. He hung out in taverns near the theaters and picked up gossip about his peers. Shakespeare affectionately lampooned him with the character Master Moth in Love’s Labour Lost.

He skipped town in 1597 to avoid arrest for a play he co-wrote with Ben Jonson called The Isle of Dogs, deemed so dangerous by the government that no copies of it remain. His last work was published in 1599. By 1601, a eulogy appeared for him; he had died. How or when we’ll never know.

Nashe vs Martin

In 1589, Thomas Nashe was one of three satirical writers hired by Canon Richard Bancroft to write counter-strikes against the popular and highly illegal works of a radical Presbyterian who called himself Martin Marprelate. (Mar-prelate = mess up a priest. Get it? Elizabethan humor, not always funny.) If this sounds like a stupid move, I agree with you, but Martin was winning the public over to his anti-establishment cause. Canon Bancroft thought a popular appeal might help turn things around. Mostly it just raised the rhetorical temperature in London that summer, but it also succeeded in drawing Martin back out of seeming retirement, so that his pressmen, at least, could finally be caught.

I’ve blogged at length about the Marprelate Controversy (and part II) and am happy to say it’s finally out of my system. So I’ll just give you a couple of excerpts for the flavor of the exchange. Mostly they just slung insults at each other, though Martin was chiefly aiming at the Church.

Martin Junior (a pseudonym of the pseudonymous Martin), July, 1589, Theses Martinianae

“Fire and faggot, bands and blows, railing and reviling, are — and have been hitherto — their common weapons; as for slandering and lying, it is the greatest piece of their holy profession. And these, with their bare assertions, and their wretched cleaving to popish absurdities are, in a manner, the only proofs and tried maxims they offer unto the church in this age.”

Nashe, Aug. 1589, A Countercuffe given to Martin Junior. 

“Pasquill [Nashe] hath taken up your Glove, and desires you to charge your weapon at him like a Man. If you play with him, as your father and your selfe have doone with the Bishops heretofore, if you barke like a Curre and bite behind, he will have a trick with his heele to strick out your teeth.”

Martin, Oct. 1589, The Protestatyon

(This was published after Martin’s printers were captured. Martin, still unidentified, may have printed this himself, with the help of another conspirator.)

“Wherein, notwithstanding the surprising of the printer, he maketh it known unto the world tha the feareth neither proud priest, antichristian pope, tyrannous prelate, nor godless catercap, but defieth all the race of them by these presents, and offereth conditionally, as is farther expressed herein, by open disputation to appear in the defence of his cause against them and theirs.”

Nashe, spring, 1590, An Almond for a Parrot

(You slip the ship’s parrot an almond to get it to regurgitate the latest gossip.)

“Welcome, Master Martin, from the dead, and much good joy may you have of your stage-like resurrection. It was told me by the undaunted pursuivants of your sons… that your grout-headed holiness had turned up your heels like a tired jade in a meadow, and snorted out yourr scornful soul like a measled hog on a muckhill, which, had it not been false (as the devil would have it), that long-tongued doctress, Dame Lawson, must have been fain (in spite of inspiration) to have given over speaking in the congregation, and employ her parrot’s tongue instead of a wind-clapper to scare the crows from thy carrion.”

(No idea who Dame Lawson is. But this is utterly typical Nashe!)

A few words about the works

Nashe’s prose is so aggressively novel in words and imagery, it can be hard to read. Excerpts are nice; there are lots in Nicholl’s book.

The Wikipedia page lists all his works. You can find them for free at places like the Gutenberg Project in a variety of formats, including epub and mobi. I can recommend The Unfortunate Traveller, which I read on the elliptical machine (thus in small doses.) Not being an expert in literature, I don’t know why this isn’t considered the first novel, rather than Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe. Maybe Nashe’s work is too rambling? I enjoyed it anyway.

Here are some samples of Nashe’s style. Remember that Elizabethans, especially the educated ones, LOVED word play. Extravagant new words and bizarre metaphors tickled them in all the right places.

From Pierce (pronounced ‘purse’) Penniless, pub. 1592:

About the typical gentleman of the Inns of Court: “A young heir or cockney that is his mother’s darling, if he have played the waste-good at the Inns of Court or about London, and that neither his student’s pension nor his unthrift’s credit will serve to maintain his college of whores any longer, falls in a quarrelling humour with his fortune because she made him not King of the Indies, and swears and stares after ten in the hundred that ne’er such a peasant as his father or brother shall keep him under….”

“Envy is a crocodile that weeps when he kills and fights with none but he feeds on.”

And this, describing the eight kinds of drunkard: “Nor have we one or two kind of drunkards only, but eight kinds. The first is ape drunk, and he leaps and sings and hollers and danceth for the heavens. The second is lion drunk, and he flings the pots about the house, calls his hostess whore, breaks the glass windows with his dagger, and is apt to quarrel with any man that speaks to him. The third is swine drunk — heavy, lumpish, and sleepy, and cries for a little more drink and a few more clothes. The fourth is sheep drunk, wise in his own conceit when he cannot bring forth a right word. The fifth is maudlin drunk, when a fellow will weep for kindness in the midst of his ale and kiss you, saying ‘By God, Captain, I love thee; go thy ways, thou dost not think so often of me as I do of thee. I would, if it pleased God, I could not love thee so well as I do’ — and then he puts his finger in his eye and cries. The sixth is martin drunk, when a man is drunk and drinks himself sober ere he stir. The seventh is goat drunk, when in his drunkenness he hath no mind but on lechery. The eighth is fox drunk, when he is crafty drunk as many of the Dutchmen be, that will never bargain but when they are drunk.”

Nashe makes a few brief appearances as Marlowe’s sidekick in Death by Disputation. He plays a more prominent role in the fourth Bacon mystery, Publish and Perish. I love the little squirt, so I’ll bring him back at least one more time in book 6, to be set in 1593, when Tom persuades Francis Bacon to investigate Christopher Marlowe’s death.


(Note: I link to Nicholl’s books in Amazon, but A Cup of News was priced for libraries and it’s now out of print. $66 + shipping from the UK!! The Reckoning can be had, but really all his books are worth the trouble of ordering through Interlibrary Loan.)

The Elizabethan Compendium

Nicholl, Charles. A Cup of News: The Life of Thomas Nashe. Routledge & Kegan Paul. 1984.

Nicholl, Charles. The Reckoning: The Murder of Christopher Marlowe. The University of Chicago Press. 1995.

Nicholl, Charles. The Lodger Shakespeare: His Life on Silver Street. Viking Adult. 2008.

Dare the gods: Marlowe's Tamburlaine

avery brooks
Avery Brooks as Tamburlaine at the Shakespeare Theater in Washington, D.C. in 2007

Somehow in between studying for his master’s of arts degree and travelling abroad as a secret intelligencer, Christopher Marlowe found the time to turn centuries of European drama on its head. He wrote Tamburlaine the Great sometime during 1587, probably before he left Cambridge. It was first performed on the London stage in November, 1587. (The Wikipedia page gets this wrong.) We know the date because a fellow named Phillip Gaudy wrote about the performance in his diary. He considered it noteworthy because a child and a pregnant woman were killed and another man injured. The guns fired during the play were loaded with live shot, as was customary in the day. (And to think I got upset when they lit an actual fire on the stage in Stratford for a production of Much Ado about Nothing. “Fire codes, fire codes!” I cried to myself. But they have so much water in England, maybe they just don’t worry about fire the way we do in Texas.)

(Photo from NPR, copied 05/04/2015. Oh, how I wish I could have seen that production!)

Marlowe’s impact

A. L. Rowse described the poet thus: “Marlowe was a bookish, intellectual dramatist whose mind was fired by ideas rather than by his immediate contacts with life or by any close observation of his fellow human beings.” He was the opposite of Shakespeare, in other words. We don’t imagine Kit wandering past a blacksmith shop and leaning in the doorway to ask appreciative questions. We do see him burning the midnight oil in his squalid chambers at Corpus Christi College, poring over Ortelius’ Theatrum Orbis Terrarum (World Map; the first true atlas.)

The Wikipedia article about Tamburlaine says, “The influence of Tamburlaine on the drama of the 1590s cannot be overstated. The play exemplified, and in some cases created, many of the typical features of high Elizabethan drama: grandiloquent and often beautiful imagery, hyperbolic expression, and strong characters consumed by overwhelming passions.”

Marlowe might not have cared a fig about the common man — much less the common woman — but he was the first English dramatist to create real individuals rather than embodiments of abstract types. Tamburlaine is Timur the Great, an historical figure, not the personification of Greed or Ambition. He grew up seeing medieval mystery plays still being performed in the streets of Canterbury, but as Rowse notes, he was interested in power, ambition, men who reached beyond the limits of their birth. Hm; Kit was the son of a shoemaker who became a Master of Arts and then blew the roofs off the theaters in London. (That’s a joke, darlin’s; theaters had no roofs.)

The play’s the thing

You can get Marlowe’s works in any e-format you like for free at the Gutenberg Project. His plays are mostly horribly boring, with occasional flashes of breathtaking poetry and insight. He coined the phrase ‘aspiring minds’ which so aptly describes the temper of the late Elizabethan period — the age of outsized dreams. The full quote is in this previous post.

Tamburlaine is about the rise of a mighty conqueror. He began as a lowly shepherd on the hills of Anatolia and went forth, driven by his vast ambition, to conquer the world; all the world you could reach on horseback, anyway. There’s plenty of blood and gore, betrayals, pleadings of women, but of course, all verbal. They didn’t do sets in those days or have much in the way of props. They had glorious costumes and actors who could pitch their voices to the uppermost galleries, even over the rumbling commentary from the groundlings standing right at their feet.

Scenes were set with words, and remember that Elizabethans loved new words and exotic imagery. Tamburlaine is studded with the names of legendary places: Scythia, Zanzibar, Persepolis. Characters are connected to the ancient gods: Phoebus, Jupiter, Saturn.

Here’s “contributory king” Techelles describing his lord:

     “As princely lions, when they rouse themselves,
     Stretching their paws, and threatening herds of beasts,
     So in his armour looketh Tamburlaine.
     Methinks I see kings kneeling at his feet,
     And he with frowning brows and fiery looks
     Spurning their crowns from off their captive heads.”

And nobody writes menace like Christopher Marlowe. Here’s Tamburlaine pointing his sword at a bunch of quivering virgins:

     “Your fearful minds are thick and misty, then,

     For there sits Death, there sits imperious Death,

     Keeping his circuit by the slicing edge.”

I love to think of Kit writing this glorious stuff while sitting at his worn desk in his shabby academic garb, ignoring his chamber mates and his tutors alike. This was a man who lived in his head.

Performance history

Oddly, no movie has ever been made of this vivid, exciting play. The excuse seems to be that it would require a big cast and lots of expensive sets and that it’s hard to find an actor who could play so grand a character as Tamburlaine. To which I say, “Phooey!” What’s wrong with Avery Brooks? (I adore Professor Brooks, who played my favorite Star Trek captain, Captain Benjamin Lafayette Sisko of Deep Space Nine: the Sub-plot Laboratory.) As for the cast of thousands and the elaborate sets, have we already forgotten Cleopatra, with Elizabeth Taylor?

Part of the reason the play was so successful in its own time — a big part — was that the title role was performed by the incomparable Edward Alleyn of the Admiral’s Men. In this portrait, he looks like an ordinary pious gentleman, but he was the Avery Brooks of his time. Tamburlaine was HUGE — it rocked the whole theater-going world back on its heels. Marlowe’s reputation rocketed into the stars; not bad for a 20-year-old shoemaker’s son.

It was so popular, he wrote a sequel. (Was this the first box-office-driven sequel in dramatic history?) Tamburlaine the Great, Part 2, has the oft-quoted line, “Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia!” This is the play in which Tamburlaine harnesses the captured kings to his chariot and forces them to pull him through the streets.

Part 2 came out in 1588, followed by The Jew of Malta, Doctor Faustus, Edward II, and The Massacre at Paris. Doctor Faustus is worth reading, or you could watch the very 60’s movie with Richard Burton. I’ve mentioned the excellent RSC production of Edward II with Ian McKellan, findable at Netflix. That’ll probably do you for Marlowe.

I’ll end with one more nice long quote from Tamburlaine:

What is beauty, saith my sufferings, then?

            If all the pens that ever poets held

            Had fed the feeling of their masters’ thoughts,

            And every sweetness that inspired their hearts,

            Their minds and muses on admirèd themes;

            If all the heavenly quintessence they still

            From their immortal flowers of poesy,

            Wherein as in a mirror we perceive

            The highest reaches of a human wit;

            If these had made one poem’s period,

            And all combined in beauty’s worthiness,

            Yet should there hover in their restless heads,

            One thought, one grace, one wonder at the least,

            Which into words no virtue can digest.”



Jones, Emrys. 2008. “‘A World of Ground’: Terrestrial space in Marlowe’s ‘Tamburlaine’ plays,” The Yearbook of English Studies, Vol. 38, No. 1/2, Tudor Literature (2008), pp. 168-182.

Rowse, A.L. 1966. Christopher Marlowe: His Life and Work. New York: Grosset & Dunlap.