Beginning at the bottom of the scale, let us take Middleton’s “Changeling,” a play already studied, in which Antonio, the “Changeling” of the piece, counterfeits idiocy, and Franciscus his companion, pretends to be a madman. Their devices, which form the substance of a somewhat coarse underplot, are not successful. This would surprise nobody; the intention of the author (or authors) being mainly comic relief, little care is shewn and the characters are almost worthless. Franciscus says in the last scene, “I was changed from a little wit to be stark mad”; and Antonio, “I was changed too from a little ass as I was to a great fool as I am!”[169:1] The last statement we can take literally. For, after all, idiocy is fairly easy to counterfeit, and he would be a fool indeed who could not do at least equally well. Franciscus is rather better, and might really be very effective on the stage. He is supposed to have “run mad for love,” and was a “pretty poet” till the muses forsook him. He discourses most appropriately of “Titania” and “flowery banks,” invokes his imaginary mistress, and pledges her in imaginary wine.[169:2] He succeeds in extorting the pity of Isabella with his ravings. The least spark sets him alight; the mere mention of “Luna” is sufficient for him to rhapsodise upon, and he works himself up to a state of violence which has to be calmed by the whip. His snatches of song are equally true to life. But he does not re-appear for any length of time after this scene, and he never again reaches the same level of excellence. Apart from this skill in counterfeit Franciscus appears to have no character worthy of the name, and is therefore of small importance.
Something has already been said of the shopkeeper’s wife, Tormiella, of Dekker’s tragi-comedy “Match me in London”; here, as in “The Changeling,” and as in many another minor play, the feigned madness is utilised for the plot and makes little difference to the character. We have seen that Dekker has shewn considerable skill in weaving this pretended madness into the plot as well as in introducing it at a favourable place. But the scene is so short, and its place in the play of such relatively small importance, that we need do no more here than repeat that the “feigning” is well done and serves its purpose.