, must be
laid, so that, if one part fails, the other may bring success. So we
watch the net being spread around the feet of the unwary victim, and
hold our breath as the critical moment approaches when a chance
recognition will decide everything. Undoubtedly the author has achieved
a genuine triumph in all this. Some of us may see the germ of his
villain in Edwards's Carisophus; there is the same element of craft and
double-dealing, of laying unseen snares for the innocent. But it is no
more than the germ. The advance beyond the earlier sketch is immense.
Lazarotto, the perfect instrument for crime, has not Lorenzo's position,
wealth or motive; nevertheless a family likeness exists between the two.
Lazarotto's cynicism is of an intellectual order, as is his ready lying
to avert suspicion from his master. Perhaps the most shuddering moment
of the play is when he leans carelessly against the wall, waiting for
his victim, 'like a court-hound that licks fat trenchers clean.' We fear
and loathe him for the callous brutality of that simile and for that
careless posture. Yet even he cannot fathom the blackness of Lorenzo's
soul, and falls a prey to a greater treachery than his own. This cunning
removal of a lesser villain by a greater is repeated in _The Spanish
Tragedy_ and is closely imitated by Marston in _Antonio's Revenge_ (or
_The Second Part of Antonio and Mellida_). Lorenzo and Lazarotto
together are the first of a famous line of stage-villains. Amongst their
celebrated descendants may be named Tourneur's D'Amville and Borachio,
Webster's Ferdinand and Bosola, and the already referred-to Piero and
Strotzo of Marston.

All the other characters, except one, reproduce familiar types of brave
soldiers and proud monarchs. Jeronimo himself, however, stands apart.
Though completely overshadowed in our memory by his terrible development
in the next play, he has here a certain independent interest on account
of age and humour. True, he announces that he is just fifty, which is no
great age. But he is old, as Lear is old; he is called the father of his
kingdom. Vague, fleeting yet recurrent is the resemblance between him
and Polonius. Tradition bids us regard Polonius as an intentionally
humorous creation. Jeronimo's humour is of the same family. We feel sure
that this newly appointed Marshal of Spain pottered about the Court,
wagging his beard sagaciously over the unwisdom of youth, his mind full
of responsibility, his heart o