“ O N E T H A T H A T H T W O G O W N S ” : C O S T U M E C H A N G E I N S O M E E L I Z A B E T H A N P L A Y S JEAN MACINTYRE University of Alberta W h e n Dogberry asserts that he is “a wise fellow . . . an officer, and . . . as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law . .. and a rich fellow enough.. . and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him,” 1 we laugh at his incongruous “rich fellow . . . that hath had losses,” “wise . . . piece of flesh,” and “two gowns” that exemplify “everything handsome about him.” Yet Dogberry’s two gowns are not so particular to himself as he thinks, for all the major characters in Much Ado have “ two gowns” — or two costumes —■ for the performance of their roles. In fact, Dogberry’s two gowns may help us to understand the costume requirements for Shakespeare’s and other Elizabethan plays,2especially costume change within roles. In Elizabethan plays, costume change is neither whimsical nor, in our sense, realistic, nor is it governed by a designer’s vision of stage picture, as is now usual. Instead, it is functional, meant to give the audience information, and it seems to follow a few traditional principles, probably originating in the old practice of doubling parts. Doubling meant that a new costume normally signaled a new character, unless certain other conditions were met; the more parts in a play, and therefore the more doubling, the fewer the costume changes possible within roles. First, only major characters can change costume without becoming someone else. Second, even they change costume only when the play requires them to change in some way: for instance, when a character disguises himself for more than one scene; when his status or occupation changes, as when he is crowned or deposed, goes to war, enters a convent, and the like; when he undergoes a change of mental or moral condition, as from innocence to sin, sin to repentance,3 or madness to sanity; when he takes part in a feast, wedding, triumph, funeral, and the like, where decorum in the life of the audience would call for “unusual weeds.” Third, costume change seldom comes as a surprise; it is spoken of beforehand, or explained as it happens should the character shift dress on stage.4 Finally, even if all the above conditions are met, a full-scale costume change can only occur when the actor is given enough time offstage; with English Studies in Canada, xiii, i, March 1987 just a minute or two between exit and re-entry, he can only doff or don something like a cloak, gown, headdress, wig, or beard.5 The disguise convention means that before Julia, Portia, Rosalind, Viola, Prince Hal, the Duke of Vienna, Edgar, fmogen, and others disguise them selves, they declare, in dialogue or soliloquy, that they are going to do so, how they will be dressed, and often by what name they will be called. Soon after they re-enter in disguise, they have a soliloquy, an aside, or a confidant so they can say who they really are, and their true identity will afterwards be spoken of from time to time in the same way. When the former identity is to be resumed, this may be announced beforehand, but when a plot demands sudden unmasking, as when Julia, Viola, the Duke of Vienna, and Imogen are recognized, the recognition is given plenty of time and involves comment from most of the onlookers. If a disguise is not to last long, it never asks a costume change. Should hiding the regular costume be necessary, the character covers it with some thing easy to put on or take off, like the buckram suits Poins provides to cover his and Hal’s “noted outward garments” (i Plenry IV, I.ii.i8o), the “Russian habit” Navarre and his men mask in in Love’s Labours Lost, or the Friar...