Was anyone undone by fire, or turned to ashes through desire?
Two young trans people find love whilst escaping oppression; a shipwrecked migrant searches for his family; goddesses clash; parents fret; an alchemist brews magic and a teenage Cupid sets hearts on fire - causing chaos and near disaster. And all the while, time is running out! Galatea is an unapologetically queer tale of love, magic, and the importance of welcoming outsiders.
Galatea was originally written in the 1580s by John Lyly, William Shakespeare's best-selling but now long-forgotten contemporary, inspiring Shakespeare's comedies from As You Like It to A Midsummer Night's Dream . Performed in front of Queen Elizabeth I over four hundred years ago, this tale of love, joy and the importance of welcoming outsiders is an incredibly resonant story for modern times.
Galatea was originally commissioned by Brighton Festival, and adapted by Emma Frankland and Subira Joy, and edited by Andy Kesson. This text features set and costume design sketches by Mydd Pharo, BSL translation support from Duffy, and notes from each contributor on the creation of the piece. This edition was published to coincide with the world premiere at Brighton Festival, in May 2023.
(c. 1553 or 1554 – November 1606) An English writer, best known for his books Euphues,The Anatomy of Wit and Euphues and His England. Lyly's linguistic style, originating in his first books, is known as Euphuism.
What a joyfully queer play. Performed in 1592 in front of the Queen of England, this play follows two young virgins, who are dressed in drag and sent into the woods by their fathers, who are afraid that they're so beautiful and fair that they'll be sacrificed to Neptune.
In the woods, Cupid plays pranks on Diana and her nymphs, causing them to experience love for the two young "men," for which Diana retaliates by making Cupid her servant. We also stumble upon some men reminiscent of the Midsummer Mechanicals, off on a journey of apprenticeships under an astronomer, alchemist, and fortune teller. Meanwhile, the two young women heavily suspect that the other is also just a woman in drag (and are both VERY bad at hiding it, trying to flirt with each other as women), and pretty immediately have the hots for each other.
At the end of the play, all the characters meet, Venus shows up and demands Cupid back, and Neptune agrees not to sacrifice anymore virgins. The girls in drag are "revealed" to be girls in drag (it was always obvious) and they announce, in front of everyone, that they are in love. Everyone seems to be baffled but also kind of okay with it and Venus says she can change one of them into a boy to allow them to be married, but the girls do not care about gender, so Venus says it'll be a surprise which one! (Then one of their dads says "hey, if we can just... change genders of people, can we make my wife a man?" which is really iconic.) Then they all go offstage and we have an iconic epilogue by our titular character telling all the women of the audience to be lesbians (including the quote mentioned above).
So yeah, great play. Thanks Lyly for the lesbians.
Unlike Shakespeare’s cross-dressing heroines, here two women, both disguised as men, fall in love with each other—even though they both strongly and explicitly suspect that the other is actually a woman in disguise. In the end, they swear that they will never love another (“I had thought that in the attire of a boy, there could not have lodged the body of a Virgin, and so was inflamed with a sweet desire...”), and Venus promises to turn one of them into a boy (though she declines to reveal who!)
I read this in the Folger Library’s Digital Anthology of Early Modern English Drama, which presents an exact reproduction of the first edition, with modern spelling, but all other idiosyncrasies intact. Gallathea was written in prose, but because it was originally printed with only about ten words to a line, and my edition reproduced the original lineation—and because the prose style Lyly pioneered, called euphuism after his first novel, emphasizes alliteration, artifice, balance, and figurative language—the overall effect was nothing like reading contemporary prose, and far more like an elegant free verse (which wasn’t yet part of English poetry at the time). I found it entirely enchanting.
Phillida. Poor Phillida, what shouldst thou think of thyself, that lovest one that I fear me, is as thyself is … For if she be a Maiden there is no hope of my love, if a boy, a hazard: I will after him or her, and lead a melancholy life…
Gallathea. I will never love any but Phillida, her love is engraven in my heart, with her eyes. Phillida. Nor I any but Gallathea, whose faith is imprinted in my thoughts by her words. Neptune. An idle choice, strange, and foolish, for one Virgin to dote on another, and to imagine a constant faith, where there can be no cause of affection. How like you this Venus? Venus. I like well and allow it, they shall both be possessed of their wishes, for never shall it be said that Nature or Fortune shall overthrow Love, and Faith. Is your loves unspotted, begun with truth, continued with constancy, and not to be altered till death? Gallathea. Die Gallathea if thy love be not so. Phillida. Accursed be thou Phillida if thy love be not so. Diana. Suppose all this Venus, what then? Venus. Then shall it be seen, that I can turn one of them to be a man, and that I will.
John Lyly was an extremely fashionable playwrite in the generation immediately prior to Shakespeare, and one of the influences of Shakespeare's favorite trope: Crossdressing.
Gallathea bases itself on a conceit wherein Neptune asks for the sacrifice of the fairest virgin every five years. Shepherd Tyterus believes his daughter Gallathea will be chosen, and thus asks her to go into the woods dressed as a boy; Melebeus believes the same of his daughter, Phillida, and thus concocts... the exact same plan. Naturally, Gallathea and Phillida meet. And they immediately fall in love.
Hijinks ensue. The play ends with Gallathea and Phillida finding out about their status as both girls, informing everyone that they're horrified, and then informing everyone that they're still in love with each other. Venus, who is also here (for the hijinks), decides to turn one of them into a man so they can live happily ever after. She does not specify which girl will be turned into a boy. As you do.
A very fascinating and very, very queer play. Lyly's style is one defined by his earlier Euphues (1578), involving a highly conceited/patterned style: sentences with the same length, balanced elements, antithesis, correspondence, and alliteration. The better way to say this is that his monologues are at times incredibly confusing to read, and the plot of this play is ridiculous. It's a great read. Highly recommend.
very fun, very gay, very short, 10/10 for enjoyability. although this was a light comedy i think it definitely serves as social commentary in some respects, demonstrating the triviality of the concept of virginity and briefly lifting the taboo on explicitly exploring homosexuality. also shows that the lesbians will prevail. also that incest is weird and bad? (looking at you, 4.2) ANYWAY
i think the plot structure could do with some work - the rafe, robin and dick subplot didn’t become relevant until literally the last page and only so they could sing at galatea and phillida’s wedding?? (although slay for the lesbians.) so anyway, they could have been made relevant way earlier, but other than that a brilliant and very entertaining play
I read this for Queer Lit and I must say, it wasn't my favorite, but it was still good. Compared to Yde and Olive (which I read before) I had high hopes for this play. It was good, but it fell flat of anything I wanted within a novel. Besides Neptune, there was no real hardships that happened within the book. I think that it's length was perfect, but the storylines (I think there were three or four) were just too confusing for me at times. But hey, this is my twentieth book I've read this year!
Not a big fan of reading plays but this one I enjoyed. A lot of people hate that it just ends but I kinda like it so that others can interpret the ending.
annoyed that i haven’t been able to log anything so far, because even though i have been reading lots of things, they’re all small parts of much larger anthologies, or medium bits of huge narratives, or similar! arg! anyway this was super fun and cute and gay!!!! i shall be comparing it to philip sidney’s very creepy Astrophil and Stella shortly
I thought this was a sweet play. However, the kindle edition I have does strange things with the spacing between words, making words such as 'kinde' into 'kind e', which was annoying to read. I think this dimmed my enjoyment a little.
‘Yield, ladies, yield to love, ladies, which lurketh under your eyelids whilst you sleep and playeth with your heartstrings whilst you wake; whose sweetness never breedeth satiety, labor weariness, nor grief bitterness.’
what an interesting little play. nested gender bends, divine sex change, sapphic love, feminist rage, and topics of consent all mixed together. i am choosing to interpret this in the pro-trans, pro-queer, pro-woman way, despite the extensive discussion around true intentions that we did in class.
Gender, Love and Marriage in John Lyly’s Gallathea
In John Lyly’s Gallathea, gender is easily changed, but the concept of love is not altered to fit the lovers’ needs. In the seventeenth century play, the two most beautiful maidens cross-dress in order to escape a sacrificial fate. Disguised as boys they meet, they fall in love and in the end the issue of marriage arises. It is revealed that both Gallathea and Phillida are actually women: “Do you both being Maidens love one another?” Neptune asks in the last scene. And once confirmed: “An idle choice, strange and foolish, for one Virgin to dote on another, and to imagine a constant faith, where there can be no cause of affection. How like you this Venus?” Here, Neptune expresses the strangeness of the situation and asks the goddess of love for validation of their love. This question is answered with another altering of fate. Venus says she allows for the love to exist.
Consequently, it is surprising that Venus’ allowance immediately leads to the resolution that one of the maidens must be turned into a boy. One the one hand the play endorses the love between two members of the same sex, on the other hand the play will not allow a marriage between the two female lovers. Although the love is valued as ‘natural’, there can be no future in such a same-sex relationship. The goddess Diana says: “Now things falling out as they doe, you must leave these fond fond affections, nature will have it so, necessitie must.” Scholarly research on cross-dressing in early modern period plays lead to the observation that in Gallathea, the androgyny as well as marriage are validated. "There is a close connection in these plays between the value assigned to androgyny and the value as signed to marriage. Gallathea ends in a validation of both, Epicoene in a repudiation of both. Sexual identity is an obstacle to marriage in both plays; but in Gallathea it proves infinitely malleable in the hands of the gods and irrelevant in the eyes of the audience (since we neither know nor care which girl will become a boy), while in Epicoene it becomes the decisive factor in determining the outcome of the plot" (Rackin 30). According to Rackin, the play validates both androgyny and marriage, but the obstacle for marriage is that the lovers are of the same sex. Marriage is a concept unaltered here and only possible between man and woman. The solution is that one of the characters changes gender, so they can be married.
In conclusion, in Lyly’s Gallathea, gender is easily changed. First by disguise, by the hand of men and later by the hands of the gods. Love is so important that one of the women must be turned into a woman. The concept of marriage does not change in order to include same-sex marriage. Rather, gender is altered for love to fit into the seventeenth-century concept of marriage.
WORKS CITED
Lyly, John. Gallathea. London: William Stansby, 1632. Online. Rackin, Phyllis. "Androgyny, Mimesis, and the Marriage of the Boy Heroine on the English Renaissance Stage." Modern Language Association Vol 102, No. 1 (1987): 29-41. Online. 25 April 2017. .
too many characters plot too vague i like the setting though
i like the triple plot where it all comes together at the end but i didn’t care about anyone apart from the main two soooo
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Augur : Bring forth the virgin, the fatal virgin, the fairest virgin, if you mean to appease Neptune, and preserve your Country.
Neptune : Do you both being Maidens love one another?
Diana : Now things falling out as they do, you must leave these fond fond affections, nature will have it so, necessity must. Gallathea : I will never love any but Phillida, her love is engraven in my heart, with her eyes. Phillida : Nor I any but Gallathea, whose faith is imprinted in my thoughts by her words.
Gallathea : Die Gallathea if thy love be not so. Phillida : Accursed be thou Phillida if thy love be not so. […] Venus : Then shall it be seen, that I can turn one of them to be a man, and that I will.
Gallathea […] I am but a child, and have not lived long, and yet not so childish, as I desire to live ever: virtues I mean to carry to my grave, not gray hairs.
Gallathea […] Nature hath given me beauty, Virtue courage, Nature must yield me death, Virtue honor. Suffer me therefore to die, for which I was born, or let me curse that I was born, sith I may not die for it.
Phillida : Dear father, Nature could not make me so fair as she hath made you kind, nor you more kind than me dutiful. Whatsoever you command I will not refuse, because you command nothing but my safety, and your happiness.
Melebus […] thou knowest the custom of this Country, and I the greatness of thy beauty
How now Gallathea? miserable Gallathea, that having put on the apparel of a boy, thou canst also put on the
Eurota : I confess that I am in love, and yet swear that I know not what it is. I feel my thoughts unknit, mine eyes unstayed, my heart I know not how affected, or infected, my sleep’s broken and full of dreams, my wakeness sad and full of sighs, myself in all things unlike myself. If this be love, I would it had never been devised.
Gallathea : I would not wish to be a woman, unless it were because thou art a man. Phillida Nay I do not wish to be woman, for then I should not love thee, for I have sworn never to love a woman.
Alchemist : My boy was the veriest thief, the arrantest liar, and the vildest swearer in the world, otherwise the best boy in the world, he hath stolen my apparel, all my money, and forgot nothing but to bid me farewell.
Sixty years ago in his excellent John Lyly: the Humanist as Courtier, G. K. Hunter offered a sympathetic, break-through portrait of this important Shakespearean predecessor as someone worthy of study in his own right, both for his innovative literary excellence and for his relevance to a new era of university-educated overachievers competing for uncertain success. In seeking to understand this favorite dramatist of the 1580s Elizabethan court, one might productively start with Gallathea.
Written for boy actors and performed before the Queen by the Children of Paul's, the play demonstrates trademark elements of Lyly's dramaturgy: beautifully balanced, poetical prose; a mythological love story self-consciously modeled on Ovid's Metamorphoses; harmonious musical interludes; and a spectacular, multiplot pastoral story featuring quarreling gods, disguised maidens, and irresistible romantic entanglements, with a surprisingly modern love-denouement effected by a deus ex machina.
In the main plot, two loving shepherd-fathers disguise their beautiful daughters as sons to avoid the required sacrifice of the country's loveliest virgin to a sea-monster (shades of King Kong); within moments of their first meeting in the nearby wood, the two pretty boys are mutually enamored. In a neatly parallel second plot, Venus's son Cupid takes on female disguise to infect the chaste nymphs of Diana with overpowering love, sparking not merely a debate of love vs. chastity but a full-blown contest between the two goddesses. In the third plot three clownish youths seek their fortune as potential apprentices to a mariner, alchemist and astronomer (plus another fortune-teller).
Not only does Lyly tie up all three plots smoothly, he celebrates the potency of cross-dressing disguise and same-sex romance as an early modern dramatic device. By sending all his characters into the woods, he evinces the power of that pastoral locale as an apt site for transformations both in form and feelings - and thus anticipates both Midsummer Night's Dream and As You Like It. And his witty satiric send-ups of mountebanks looks forward to such Ben Jonson humours comedies as The Alchemist. The recent Staunton production by the current MFA troupe Treehouse Shakespeare Ensemble reveals all these delights and more to be found in the play.
(For my personal records only.) Really didn't think I'd be hitting the four-star rating while I was reading the first half of the play. Yet--Act 5 crushed it! All the concepts clicked into place, and the language and characters felt more authentic.
Disclaimer, I read this for a summer course on Early Modern English literature. Even though I am well versed with reading Shakespearean texts, Lyly's language was his own and took me a while to unpack. The version I used had ample footnotes luckily. This made for dense reading (4 pgs in a sitting), but I think persisting just to get the plot lines will help me go back and appreciate the finer points in the wordplay.
Upon finishing the play I immediately wanted to see this play performed! What modern issues at play here. The conclusions of both humans and gods were not predictable. At times the play is a 2-dimensional farce, but at other times a complex satire. I look forward to breaking it down in my summer class.
Why hasn't this been made into a modern adaptation? Dunno. Sure, some of the characters seemed extraneous, but overall the play would make some great Euphoria-like fodder.
This play is super fun!! A couple scenes in and I was like "lol wouldn't it be great if the two women disguised as men fell in love with each other" AND THEN THEY DID!! And then they even admit their desire for each other as women?? Even if one of them has to become a man at the end, the audience is never told which one, so in our minds, they get to live on as genderfluid figures. I really want to see a modern take on this - either a performance or an adaptation.
I also found Rafe's encounters with the alchemist & astronomer very entertaining. A fun and thematically relevant B-plot! But I wasn't so interested in the gods' squabbles. One would hope that in a modern reimagining, the "oh no we have to sacrifice virgins" plotline would be resolved in a less anticlimactic way. Perhaps by deconstructing the concept of virginity...?
Transgressive on so many levels, it seems to run the gamut of LGBTQI sexuality: the cross-dressing women at the centre of the play, who both think the other is a "boy", fall in love. Are they lesbian? Are they straight? Are they trans? Are they gay men? Are they intersex? Yes to all of the above (and probably more). At the end (spoiler alert) the goddess says she's going to change the gender of one of the girls, but won't tell us which one (does it matter?).
This is one of those plays that makes it clear that, for Renaissance writers, LGBTQ issues were so much more mainstream than they are for us: this play was performed (possibly written) for the Queen, for God's sake, and went through four editions in its first five years.
The lust positively pours off the page: I would so love to see this done live.