ia, and Endymion, but he gives us
another, that of Eumenides and Semele, which has no real connexion with
the action, but which seriously threatens to interrupt it at one point.
Other interests are hinted at, rather than developed, by the infatuation
of Sir Tophas for Dipsas, and by the history of the latter's husband.
Though _Midas_ is more advanced in other ways, it displays nothing like
the complexity of _Endymion_, and it is moreover, as I have said, cut in
two by the want of connexion between the incident of the golden touch
and that of the ass's ears. Lastly, in _Love's Metamorphosis_, which is
without the element of farce, the relations between the nymphs and the
shepherds complete that underplot of passion which is hinted at in
_Sapho_, in the evident fancy which Mileta shows for Phao, and developed
as we have just noticed in _Endymion_.

[128] Bond, II. pp. 265-266.

[129] _Campaspe_, Act III. Sc. IV. 31.

In this plot construction and interweaving, Lyly had no models except
the classics, and we may, therefore, say that his work in this direction
was almost entirely original. The last-mentioned play was produced at
Court some time before 1590, and we cannot doubt, was attended by our
greatest dramatist. At any rate the lessons which Shakespeare learnt
from Lyly in the matter of plot complication are visible in the
_Midsummer Night's Dream_, which was produced in 1595[130]. The
intricate mechanism of this play, reminding us with its four plots (the
Duke and Hippolyta, the lovers, the mechanics, and the fairies) of the
_miracle_ with its imposing but unimportant divinities in the Rood
gallery, its main stage whereon moved human characters, its Crypt
supplying the rude comic element in the shape of devils, and its angels
who moved from one level to another welding the whole together, was far
beyond Lyly's powers, but it was only possible even for Shakespeare
after a thorough study of Lyly's methods.

[130] Sidney Lee, _Life_, p. 151.

As I have previously pointed out, Lyly was not very successful in the
matter of character drawing. Never, even for a moment, is passion
allowed to disturb the cultured placidity of the dialogue. The
conditions under which his plays were produced may in part account for
this. The children of Paul's could hardly be expected to display much
light and shade of emotion in their acting, certainly depth of passion
was beyond their scope. But the fault, I think, lies rather in the