hanging use of heroic couplet, blank verse
(pentameters), rhyming heptameters, alternate heptameters and hexameters
rhyming together, and the swift transition from one form to another in
the same speech, possibly help towards the lyrical effect aimed at; the
nature of the plot licenses a deviation from the ordinary dramatic
rules; but such metric irresponsibility would be out of place in any
ordinary play. There is a rare daintiness in some of the lines; they are
truly poetic; but we must remember that goddesses and the legendary
dwellers about Mount Ida may be permitted to speak in a language which
would be condemned as an affectation among folk of commoner clay.
Setting these objections aside--though they are important, as
demonstrating the limited amount of Peele's widely praised dramatic
verse--we may offer one general criticism of the verse of both plays.
The best lines and passages charm us by their exquisite finish, their
seductive rhythm and imagery, not by their thought. Sometimes the warm
glow of his patriotism, which was his most sincere emotion, inspired
verses that move us; noble lines will be found in _Edward the First_ and
_The Battle of Alcazar_, as well as in the better known conclusion to
_The Arraignment of Paris_. But we may look in vain through his dramas
for lines like those quoted on an earlier page from _Friar Bacon and
Friar Bungay_ (beginning, 'Why, thinks King Henry's son'), or these,
placed in the mouth of Queen Dorothea, repudiating the idea of revenge:

As if they kill not me, who with him fight!
As if his breast be touch'd, I am not wounded!
As if he wail'd, my joys were not confounded!
We are one heart, though rent by hate in twain;
One soul, one essence doth our weal contain:
What, then, can conquer him, that kills not me?[57]

For the sake of comparison with these two passages let us quote the
famous piece from _David and Bethsabe_.

Now comes my lover tripping like the roe,
And brings my longings tangled in her hair.
To joy[58] her love I'll build a kingly bower,
Seated in hearing of a hundred streams,
That, for their homage to her sovereign joys,
Shall, as the serpents fold into their nests
In oblique turnings, wind their nimble waves
About the circles of her curious walks;
And with their murmur summon easeful sleep
To lay his golden sceptre on her brows.

This has the charms of melody and graceful fancy; it is of