Henry Porter (playwright) - Death

Death

It is likely that the publication of The Two Angry Women of Abington was prompted by Porter’s death. The last definite record of him is an IOU in his hand in Henslowe’s diary on 26 May 1599. Leslie Hotson discovered the record of a case in the Southwark Assizes, which records the death of a Henry Porter on 7 June 1599 in Southwark. He is recorded as having been struck a mortal wound in the left breast with a rapier “of the value of two shillings” the previous day. The killer is named as John Day, almost certainly the playwright of that name, who worked for Philip Henslowe. Although collaboration was common there is no record of Porter and Day working together. Ben Jonson, with whom Porter did collaborate, described Day as a “rogue” and a “base fellow”. Day was charged with murder, but admitted manslaughter, on the grounds of self-defence, his plea in formal terms being that “he fled to a certain wall beyond which, etc”. Although it is not recorded he seems to have obtained a Royal Pardon.

The rapier was a fashionable but particularly dangerous weapon, more likely to cause death than traditional swords. It is ironic that one of the characters in The Two Angry Women laments “this poking fight of a rapier and dagger” saying that “a good sword-and-buckler man will be spitted like a cat or a coney”. The irony would be greater still if the author of this was the same Henry Porter granted a “Pardon de se defendendo”

Read more about this topic:  Henry Porter (playwright)

Famous quotes containing the word death:

    The death of a dear friend, wife, brother, lover, which seemed nothing but privation, somewhat later assumes the aspect of a guide or genius; for it commonly operates revolutions in our way of life, terminates an epoch of infancy or of youth which was waiting to be closed, breaks up a wonted occupation, or a household, or style of living, and allows for the formation of new ones more friendly to the growth of character.
    Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)

    Our love is old, our lives are old,
    And death shall come amain:
    Should it come today, what man may say
    We shall not live again?
    Langdon Smith (1858–1908)

    For God was as large as a sunlamp and laughed his heat at us and therefore we did not cringe at the death hole.
    Anne Sexton (1928–1974)