J? ;■..' ' OUR OLD ENGLISH DRAMATISTS. THE MERMAID SERIES, No. I. The Plays of Philip Massinger, FROM THE TEXT OF WILLIAM GIFFORD, With the Addition of the Tragedy of " Believe as you List." Edited by LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. Saturday Review, Dec. 12, 1868. Colonel Cunningham, by this handy, and indeed handsome volume of the Plays of Massinger, has supplied a void long existing in popular collections of our Old Dramatists. The Athenceum, Jan. 30, 1869. In this handy volume, Colonel Cunningham has given the world of readers, who like a good book, and a cheap book, a complete edition of Massinger's Works so far as these are yet known .... We are glad to see this effort made by Mr. Crocker to popularize the writings of Philip Massinger, a man whose taste was purer, and diction finer than most of his contemporaries. Notes and Queries, Oct. 31, 1868. Massinger, beautifully printed, carefully edited, and with an able introductory notice by Colonel Cunningham, to be published for five shillings, seems to us a marvel of cheap- ness, even in these days of cheap publications. Colonel Cunningham has evidently taken great pains with his share of the work, which deserves the patronage of all admirers of the Elizabethan drama. Illustrated London News. A volume that deserves to be placed beside the Globe Skakspeare upon every well- filled bookshelf. The diligence and judicious care with which Colonel Cunningham has performed his task — evidently a labour of love — must have our sincere commen- dation. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. Inverness Courier. Tin's edition of the dramatist is comprised in a handsome volume of 668 pages, in- cluding about sixteen of a well-written introductoiy notice, and ten of a Glossarial Index * * * * We hope soon to meet again, in some other work, with the careful and accomplished editor of this volume. It would be easy for him to sink another shaft in the mine of Elizabethan literature, which is still scarce and high priced. The Sunday Times. The works of Philip Massinger, form the first volume of a dramatic series, on which the exceedingly appropriate name of the "Mermaid Series" has been bestowed. No similar undertaking comes nearer to our wishes than this. None seems in every way more admirable or more worthy of support, and none has our more hearty wishes for success * * * * So far the task is well commenced. In all typographical respects the volume before us is excellent, and its editor has discharged his task with conscientious zeal. The Scotsman. Whoever wants a copy of Massinger, handy and inexpensive, cannot do better than procure one of the present edition by Colonel Cunningham. The book ought to interest, if only on account of the editor's name. One son of Allan Cunningham — Mr. Peter Cunningham — has already long been known as one of the best of our literary anti- quarians and editors of works of note in British literary history. It is pleasant to find another son of so well-remembered a man proving that he too has inherited the family love of literature, and making it his relaxation,, after a life of varied public service, to read, study, and re-edit the works of an old English dramatic poet. And the office has been well performed. In an introductory notice of eighteen pages, Colonel Cunningham has prefixed to the volume a condensed summary of all that the reader of Massinger re- quires to know about him, including a sketch of his life, a dated list of all his plays, an account of previous editions of his preserved plays, and a selection of critical notes on them. There is a certain spice of combativeness in behalf of his author in some passages of this "introductory notice," which imparts a relish to the mere bibliographical details. The Glasgow Herald. Lieut. -Col on el Cunningham has admirably edited the work before us. His introductory notice is a specimen of what introductory notices to such volumes should be — terse in language, and interesting in the information it brings together. We have no doubt the book will command, as it certainly merits, an extensive circulation. North British Daily Mail. We have not been for a long time more pleased with any reprint of an English author. Printed in very clear type, on slightly toned paper, containing almost 650 pages, and handsomely bound, its price — five shillings — is a marvel of cheapness. THE WORKS GF CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. THE WORKS OF / ■ CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. Jjruhttiing Ijis Cnmslai'tcrns. EDITED, WITH NOTES AND INTRODUCTION. BY LTCOL. FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM. Marlowe's mighty line." — Ben Jonsox. LONDON : ALBERT J. CROCKER BROTHERS, 303 & 304, STRAND. 1870. LONDON: SAVILL, EDWARDS AND CO., PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET, COVENT GARDEN. CONTENTS. PAGE INTRODUCTORY NOTICE vii TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. Part the First i TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. Part the Second .... 30 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS ... 59 THE JEW OF MALTA 86 EDWARD THE SECOND 118 THE MASSACRE AT PARIS 156 DIDO QUEEN OF CARTHAGE 173 HERO AND LEANDER 196 OVID'S ELEGIES 228 EPIGRAMS BY J. D. . * 263 IGNOTO 271 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE .... 271 THE PASSIONATE SHEEPHEARD TO HIS LOUE .... 272 THE NIMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEEPHEARD . . . .272 ANOTHER OF THE SAME NATURE MADE SINCE . . . .273 FRAGMENT 274 DIALOGUE IN VERSE 274 vi CONTENTS. PAGE EPITAPH OX SIR ROGKR MAXWOOD 276 THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN 277 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS FROM THE 4T0 OF 1604 288 NOTES, EXPLANATORY AXD ILLUSTRATIVE 309 APPENDIX A 369 APPEXDIX B 370 IXDEX TO XOTES 372 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. On the 26th day of February, 1564, says the register of the parish church of St. George the Martyr, in the ancient city of Canterbury, ivas christened Christofer the sonne of John Marlowe ; and exactly two months afterwards, on the 26th of April, 1564, the register of the church of Stratford-upon-Avon records the baptism of Gulielmus,Jilius Johannis Shakspere. So few days intervened between the births of these two children, one of whom was destined to lead the way in showing what an English Play ought to be, and the other to carry the English Drama to the highest conceivable pitch of excellence and glory. But although they came into the world so nearly together, there was an interval of many years between their deaths. Marlowe perished suddenly before he was. twenty-nine, and Shakspeare went quietly to his rest at the age of fifty-two. Had their fates been reversed how different an aspect would our literary history have borne. It is idle to speculate on what Marlowe might have performed if twenty-three years had been added to the narrow span of his working existence ; but it is quite safe to assert that, if Shakspeare had died in 1593, the name, which now fills the whole wide world with its renown, must have been content with a narrow niche in Specimens of Poets of the Age of Elizabeth * John Marlowe, the father of Christopher, is stated in a scurrilous ballad of uncertain date to have followed a " trade ;"f and in two scribbles, J "in a very old hand," in the margins of volumes, themselves not printed for some years after the poet's death, the particular trade is fixed as that of a " shoemaker," From a more reliable source we learn that he survived his son, and the entry of his funeral in 1605 describes him as. " clarke of St. Maries." He had two other sons, Thomas and John, and two daughters, * " Marlowe was buried on June 1, 1593, and there is reason to suppose that previous to that year Shakspeare had done little more than improve the three parts of Henry VI. (if indeed he touched the third part of Henry VI. at all), and had written The Two Gentlemen of Verona and The Comedy of Errors. His Richard II. has generally been assigned to the year 1593."-— Cottier's Memoirs of Alley n, p. 10. t " Had he been brought up to the trade His father followed still, This exit he had never made Norplayde a part so ill." — Appendix A, p. 370. % " 'Marlowe a shooe makers sonne of Cant,' MS. note in a very old hand, on the margin of a copy of Beard's Tlieatre of God's Judgments, 1598, which, when I saw it, belonged to Mr. B. H. Bright. 'His father was a shoemaker in Canterburie,' MS. note in a copy of Hero and Leander^ ed. 1629, now in the possession of Mr. J. P. Collier."— Mr^ Dyae's.Note.. INTRODUCTORY-NOTICE. Mary and Margaret. The poet appears to have been the second child and first son of his parents. The earlier entry of 1548 I take to refer to an aunt, not a sister.* It was a great advantage in those days, and not at all a bad thing now, to be born in a cathedral city. There was always the certainty of a good school, and the probability that among the numerous clergy who battened in the shadow of the ancient Minster, (men of greater culture and more abundant leisure than their fellows), some particular individual might haply be found with discernment to discover and taste to appreciate any instance of distinguished merit which might crop up among the boys who were educated at their doors. There is something, too, in the daily sight of one of these "vast abbayes" which rains as much poetic influence on the soul of a youthful genius as all the shaggy woods, brown heaths, fountains, and floods between the Land's End and John o' Groats. In the next generation the "antique pillars, massy proof/' of Powles, and the " storied windows, richly dight," of the Minster on Thorney Island, were found to be meet nurses for the poetic child of a scrivener in Bread Street ; while, nearer to our own time the grimy tower and gloomy record chamber of an old church in Bristol were the Helicon and Hippocrene of Thomas Chatterton. Canterbury, even now, with the single exception of Oxford, is the most interesting city in England, and in the sixteenth century it was possessed of still greater relative importance. For the sordid spirit of the " little beagle," Robert Cecil, had not yet turned its buildings into quarries for his palace in the Strand ;f the shrine of its am- biguous archbishop had not ceased to be regarded by at least one-half of the people as the holiest spot in the island ; and the venerable town was still as it were an ante-city to the metropolis, the halting-place of every foreign prince and ambassador who sought the court of the great Elizabeth. Strange emotions must have stirred the soul of the schoolboy who ten years afterwards was to write Doctor Faust us and Edward //.when he ascended the pilgrim-worn steps which led to the shrine of Becket, or looked up at the sword and shield, and helmet and surcoat, which overhung the stately tomb of the Black Prince. There is something that requires clearing up about Marlowe's stay at the King's School at Canterbury. Mr. Dyce details the "great difficulty" which he experienced in 1548. The 28th day of December was christened Marget the daughter of John Marlow. 1562. The 21st of May was christened Mary the daughter of John Marlowe. 1565. The of May was christened Margarit the daughter of John Marlowe. 1568. The last day of October was christened the sonne of John Marlow. 1569. The 20th day of August was christened John the sonne of John Marlow. 1566. The 10th day of December was buried Simon the sonne of Thomas Marlow. 1567. The 5th day of November was buried the sonne of John Marlow. 1568. The 28th day of August was buried the daughter of John Marlow. 1570. The 7th day of August was buried Thomas the sonne of John Marlow. 1604. John Marloe, Clarke of St. Maries, was buried the 26th of January. The existing register is only a copy from the lost original, and the blanks arose from the tran- scriber's inability to decipher the names. t See the Calendars of State Papers, Domestic Series. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. obtaining an extract from the Treasurers A ccounts; and after giving this extract, which proves that Marlowe was a scholar from Michaelmas, 1578, till Michaelmas-, 1579,* he goes on to inform us in a note that the accounts for that very year, and the year before and after it, are "wanting" ! Beyond the dates in this curiously-derived extract, nothing is known of him until 1580, when, at sixteen years of age, he was entered at Benet (Corpus Christi) College, Cambridge. The terms in which this entry is made, the bare name Marlin being written without prefix or affix, is conceived to render it " nearly certain" that he had not obtained one of the two scholarships which had recently been founded in this very college for the benefit of the boys of the King's School at Can- terbury. But when a biographer is reduced to the dilemma of choosing between two improbabilities, the safest course is to select the lesser; and in the present case there can, I think, be no question that it is less unlikely that a hurried and quasi informal entry has been made in the College books, than that a boy of Marlowe's ability and industry and precocity of intellect should have gone from that particular school to that particular college on any footing but that of a foundation scholar. The matter is of little consequence, except as furnishing a curious instance of the manner in which a " speculative" biography is almost of necessity built up. Two centuries and a half after this entry was made, "a gentleman of Corpus"f remarks to the Rev. George Skinner that icholarswere entered with a pomp and circumstance not found in the notice of Marlin." He was therefore not a scholar. Two anonymous scribblers in the margins of books had noted that he was the son of a "shoemaker," so the father is at once set down as a cobbler and a pauper, and unable to pay the expenses of a college. Somebody else, therefore, must have paid them, but who could that somebody be ? By great good fortune, at the very moment when this question had to be answered, a MS. copy of a Latin epitaph on a Kentish Squire, with Marlowe's name inscribed, turns up at Dulwich College,:}: and one Sir Roger Manwood is immediately hailed as the generous and discriminating patron! But although a certain baldness in the wording of the College entry has thus suggested a doubt; which, if true, demanded an hypothesis; which, if not false, required a guess ; which if possessing a fragment of a toe to stand upon, was to be recorded as history — the entries in the Records of the University are plain and satisfactory, and refuse to be burdened with any such rickety superstructure. The Matriculation Book tells us that on the 17th of March, I58i,§ when just turned seventeen, he was matriculated as Pensioner of Benet College : the Grace Book adding that he proceeded B.A. 1583, and commenced M. A. 1587. || How Marlowe passed the interval between these two degrees it is impossible now to determine. Of his two contemporaries at the University, who grew to distinction in the same literary pursuits, * "The year ending at the Feast of St. Michael, 21st Eliz." t Some Account of Marlowe and his Writings, p. xii. Note. % This epitaph was discovered by Mr. Cottier, but the strangely ingenious deductions from it were entirely the work of others. § Athetue Cantabrigierises, \\. 158. " 17 Mar. 1580. Chrof. Marlen Pensioner." Cambridge Matriculation Book. || "Xrof Marlyn, 1583, A.B." " Chr. Marley, 1587, A.M." Cambridge Grace Book. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. Thomas Nash, we know, passed* " seven yere together lacking a quarter" in residence at Cambridge ; Robert Greene,f on the other hand, tells us that he had been drawn into travelling to Italy and Spain, and on his return to England had " ruffeled out in my silks in the habit of malcontent" before he became a Master of Arts. There was nothing, therefore, to have prevented Marlowe1 from travelling out of the island, and his home at Canterbury placed him in the very trackj of the bold spirits who followed Leicester and Sidney to the Wars of the Low Countries. His familiarity with military terms, and his fondness for using them are most remarkable; and I make no doubt myself that he was trailing a pike or managing a charger with the English force a few months after " that strange engine for the brunt of war," " the fiery keel," had been hurled against "Antwerp bridge." In the days of Elizabeth, as in those of Anne, it may be granted that our army swore terribly in Flanders, and in the rough school of the march and the leaguer he was more likely to have acquired the habit of using profane oaths and appealing to the dagger than in the quiet halls on the banks of the Cam. While, therefore, it is very probable that some portion of the interval between 1583 and 1587 was thus employed, it is quite certain that a still greater part of it must have been passed in a diligent cultivation of the Muses ; for the researches of Mr. Collier have placed it beyond a doubt, not only that Marlowe was the author of Tamlurlaine the Great, but that both parts of that, in every sense of the word, asto- nishing drama, had been publicly performed in London at least as early as 1587. § I have already mentioned Robert Greene and Thomas Nash as contemporaries at Cam- bridge. The former had taken his M.A. degree from Clare Hall in 1583, and the latter had just left St. John's College with nothing but the Bachelor's degree which he had obtained the year before. It seems probable that he had been compelled to quit the University, but, at any rate there were circumstances which rendered Marlowe's better fortune peculiarly irritating to him. Greene had originally belonged to the same College as Nash, and it may have been owing to this circumstance, or to a common jealousy of Marlowe's rising talents, that, when the former in this year 1587 published his Menaphon, Camilla's Alarum to Slumbering Euphues in his melancholy cell of Silexadra, &c. &c, he permitted or invited Nash to prefix an Epistle to the Reader. Of the work itself we learn from its interminable title-page that it was " worthie the youngest eares for pleasure, or the gravest censures for principles," but it derives all its interest now from Nash's preface, which contains a violent tirade against the " idiot art-masters who intrude themselves to our ears as the alchymists of eloquence, who (mounted on the stage of arrogance) think to outbrave better pens by the sicelling bombast of braggart blank verse ;" as also against those "who commit the digestion of their choleric incumbrances to the spacious volubility of a drumming decasylla- * Athcnce Cantahrigicnscs. f TJie Repentance of Robert Greene. \ In a letter dated 12th Jan. 1586, Burghley describes to Leycester how his son Thomas Cecil, with 60 horses and 200 foot, had been lying at " Margat in Kent ever sence" the 26th December. § History of Dramatic Poetry, iii. 113. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. l'o?u"* A great original genius had come soaring down from the topmost heights of Parnassus, and the kites and the crows, as is their wont on such rare occasions, had assembled together to pick holes in the nobler bird's plumage. And as it so hap- pened the lights and shadows were so strong, and the colours so glaring, as to appear to invite the attacks of hostile beaks and claws. The reader of 1870 must endeavour to place himself in the position of the spectator of 1587 before he commences upon Tamhurlaine the Great. He must consider that when it appeared the literature of England was only "mewing its mighty youth ;" and that the fantastical and wearisome, yet eloquent and ingenious Euphues of John Lyly was to the then generation of Englishmen all, and more than all, that Pick- wick and Vanity Fair and the Waverley Novels are to us just now. The Faery Queenej was still in manuscript, and so was The Arcadia ;X and although the public taste was showing itself ripe for the reception of dramatic entertainments of a high order, all that a clever body of rising young actors could obtain from a still cleverer body of rising young authors, was a tiresome farrago, in which stilted classicalities and puerile historic fables sought to mingle with the old moralities and the stupid jokes of clownish jackpuddings ; the whole conveyed either in involved prose or in a bastard kind of verse, sometimes rhymed sometimes unrhymed, but, as a general rule, destitute of melody, strength, and animation, Tamhurlaine the Great, with all its faults, which are not unfairly hit off by Greene and Nash, put an end to this at once and for ever, and cleared the way for the most vigorous shoot of that " noble literature, the greatest of the many glories of England." The pervading sins of Tamhurlaine are so glaring and manifest that he who travels express may read them, but there can be no doubt that it was by virtue of these sins that the plays became so marvellously popular. The bombast and ranting which so grate upon our ears or provoke us to laughter, were in the days of Elizabeth absolutely essential to the conventional idea of an Oriental conqueror. It was this very " scenical strutting, and furious vociferation," which, though "flying from all humanity," as Ben Jonson§ said fifty years afterwards, "warranted the Tamer-lanes and Tamer- chamsof the late age to the ignorant gapers." But while thus of necessity ministering to the vulgar taste in one way by his representation of the Scythian Tamhurlaine, "threatening the world with high astounding terms," this young poet of twenty-two * The work in which this appears was published in 1587, and as there can be no mistake as to Tamhurlaine being the production aimed at, it is plain that it must have been before the public some time previously. t The Faerie Queene, disposed into twelve books, fashioning XII Morall verities. London, printed for William Ponsonbie, 1590. Mr. J. W. Hales, the latest biographer of Spenser, has repeated the old error of fixing the day of his death as the 16th of January. The following extract makes it clear that it occurred on the 13th :—" Spenser, our principall poet, comming lately out of Ireland, died at Westminster on Satterday last." — John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley Carleton, 1 7th Jan. 1598. \ The Countesse of Pembroke's Arcadia, written by Sir Philippe Sidnei. London. Printed for William Ponsonbie. Anno Domini 1590. § Ben Jonson's Discoveries. Ingeniorum Discrimina. Not. 10. Gifford's Ed. ix. 180. J INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. stood alone among the writers of 1586 in the rare power of grasping his subject as a whole — that prime essential of excellence — and in the art of making his characters converse in a language which was at once harmonious, poetical, and natural. The opening lines of the Prologue,* if spoken when the play was first acted, proclaim, per- haps a little arrogantly, the poet's sense of the superiority of his work over that of any of his predecessors, but whatever his confidence may have been, he could hardly have anticipated the effect which was at once produced. Mr. Collier was the first modern writer to point out the great extent of our debt to Marlowe on this score, and his views on the subject have since been fully adopted by Mr. Hallam. "This play," says that most cautious and judicious of critics,f "has more spirit and poetry than any which upon clear grounds can be shown to have preceded it. We find also more action on the stage, a shorter and more dramatic dialogue, a more figurative style, with a far more varied and skilful versification. If Marlowe did not re-establish blank verse, which is difficult to prove, he gave it at least a variety of cadence, and an easy adapta- tion of the rhythm to the sense, by which it instantly became in his hands the finest instrument that the tragic poet has ever employed for his purpose, less restricted than that of the Italians, and falling occasionally almost into numerous prose, lines of fourteen syllables being very common in all our old dramatists, but regular and harmonious at other times, as the most accurate ear could require." No man reaped greater advantage from this reform than Shakspeare, but so provoking occasionally is the bombast, that even he, all "gentle" as he was, could not resist making fun of a particular passage, which he has put into the mouth of Pistol in a manner so exquisitely ludicrous that up to the time of the publication of Mr. Collier's History of Dramatic Poetry all the intervening generations had received it as utterly damnatory of the poem from which it was taken. Even Charles Lamb+ was so tickled with the humour of Mine Ancient that it blinded him to the beauty of some lines in the same passage where, addressing the pampered jades of Asia, he says : " The horse that guide the golden eye of heaven, And blow the morning from their nosterils, Making their fiery gait above the clouds, Are not so honoured in their governor !" which one could almost fancy to have flowed from the pen of Shakspeare himself. The play, indeed, will be found full of such passages by any one who honestly searches for them. We are all taught to admire the spirit and fire of Hotspur when he says : — By heaven methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks." * See p. 1. t Introduction to the Literature of Europe, vol. ii. p. 270. % Specimens of English Dramatic Poets (Ed. 1849), i. 18. Mr. Dyce corrected this edition, as far as the quotations are concerned, but he omitted to notice that Lamb had given one of the lines quoted in the text, — " Making their fiery gait above the glades." INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. And delightful as this exaggeration is, it is not at all more poetically conceived than many of the rants of the Scythian shepherd and his bassoes. Take for instance the following lines, which appear to me to breathe the very spirit of Harry Hotspur : " And till by vision or by speech I hear Immortal Jove say ' Cease my Tamburlaine,' I will persist, a terror to the ivorld, Making the meteors (that, like armed men, Are seen to march upon the towers of heaven), Run tilting round about the firmament, And break their btcrning lances in the air For honour of my wondrous victories."* Marlowe was no doubt as sensible as his critics of the injury done to his genius by the spirit of ranting which pervaded his first production, and selected a subject for his second which he felt himself able to handle in such a manner as would show the world that he had a spirit within him which would carry him to the loftiest heights of legiti- mate imagination. The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus has had the good fortune to be written of by Hazlitt in his happiest vein, and when Hazlitt is at his best, what critic can excel him in eloquence and discrimination. "His Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, though an imperfect and unequal perfor- mance, is his greatest work. Faustus himself is a rude sketch, but it is a gigantic one. This character may be considered as a personification of the pride of will and eagerness of curiosity sublimed beyond the reach of fear and remorse. He is hurried away, and, as it were, devoured by a tormenting desire to enlarge his knowledge to the utmost bounds of nature and art, and to extend his power with his knowledge. He would realize all the fictions of a lawless imagination, would solve the most subtle speculations of abstract reason ; and for this purpose sets at defiance all mortal consequences, and leagues himself with demoniacal power, with ' fate and metaphysical aid.' .... Faustus, in his impatience to fulfil at once and for a moment, for a few short years, all the desires and conceptions of his soul, is willing to give in exchange his soul and body to the great enemy of mankind. Whatever he fancies becomes by this means present to his sense ; whatever he commands is done. He calls back time past, and anticipates the future ; the visions of antiquity pass before him — Babylon in all its glory, Paris, and CEnone; all the projects of philosophers, or creations of the poet, pay tribute at his feet; all the delights of fortune, of ambition, of pleasure, and of learning, * P. 49 a. This idea, derived from the stars in their courses fighting against Sisera {Judges v. 20), had been previously employed in the first part of this play (p. 24 b), where the moon, the planets, and the meteors are represented as angels in their crystal armour fighting a doubtful battle with the resolves of Tamburlaine. I had followed Mr. Dyce in giving up in despair the lines introduc- tory to these now referred to, but I have since fancied that a very trifling change — make in for maki?ig— would restore their meaning. " Eyes that, (when Ebena steps to heaven) In silence of thy solemn evening's walk, Make, in the mantle of the richest night The moon, the planets, and the meteors light." See p. 24 b, line 9 from top. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. are centered in his person ; and from a short-lived dream of supreme felicity and drunken power, he sinks into an abyss of darkness and perdition. This is the alterna- tive to which he submits ; the bond which he signs with his blood ! As the outline of the character is grand and daring, the execution is abrupt and fearful. The thoughts are vast and irregular, and the style halts and staggers under them ' with uneasy steps,' • such footing found the sole of unblest feet.' There is a little fustian and incongruity of metaphor now and then, which is not very injurious to the subject."* Hallamf says of Faustus that " it is full of poetical beauties, but an intermixture of buffoonery weakens the effect, and leaves it, on the whole, rather a sketch by a great genius than a finished performance. There is an awful melancholy about Marlowe's Mephistophiles, perhaps more impressive than the malignant mirth of that fiend in the renowned work of Goethe. But the fair form of Margaret is wanting, and Marlowe has hardly earned the credit of having breathed a few casual inspirations into a greater mind than his own." When the illustrious possessor of this greater mind was himself spoken to on the subject,^: we are told that he "burst out with an exclamation of praise : How greatly it is all planned ! He had thought of translating it. He was fully aware that Shakspeare did not stand alone." Charles Lamb is the very last man to be selected to weigh the merits of a Georgian German and an Elizabethan English- man. One might as well have asked Sir Egerton Brydges for a judicial opinion on the claims to the Barony of Chandos of Sudeley. But the very prejudices of such a man are delightful, and it is difficult not to sympathize with him when he says§ " What has Margaret to do with Faust ? Marlowe makes Faust possess Helen of Greece ! " He is not the only person who has doubted whether the conquest of a simple village maiden would have arrested the daring ambition that had just made so tremendous a sacrifice. With regard to the buffoonery of which Hallam so justly complains, I have no hesitation in saying that it must be attributed to any hand rather than Marlowe's own. The edition of 1604 has been separately reprinted, with the view of showing that this debasing matter was of gradual introduction, the dose being made stronger and stronger to satisfy the taste of the groundlings, a proceeding which can hardly be com- plained of in a generation which appears to relish few things so much as the beastly grimaces, hurdy-gurdy tunes, and stupid threadbare jokes of pack after pack of buffoons smeared all over with filthy lampblack. If by any chance the original MS. of the Tragical History of Dr. Faustus is ever recovered, it is almost safe to predicate that Marlowe's share would be found to consist solely and entirely of those grand, daring, and affecting scenes which will last as long as the English language. * Hazlitt's Lectures on Elizabethan Literature, ed. 1869, p. 43. t Introduction to the Literature of Europe, ii. 271. % Henry Crabb Robinson's Diary, ii. 434, under date 1829. § " 1833. April 19. I reached the Lambs' at tea-time. . . . Hayward had sent him his Faust. He thinks it well done, but he thinks nothing of the original. How inferior to Marlowe's play ! One scene of that is worth the whole ! What has Margaret to do with Faust? Marlowe, after the original story, makes Faust possess Helen of Greece." — H. C. Robinson's Diary, iii. 24. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. Mr. Collier* considers that The Jew of Malta was written in 1589 or 1590, and on such a point the opinion of no other man is of equal weight. It seems the work of a writer grown confident — not to say careless — by use and success, as may well have been the case of the young author of Tamhurlaine and Faustus ; and had he carried out the three last acts, as he was well capable of doing, with the same ability as the two first, he would not only have drawn a Jew fit to be matched against Shylock, but have written a play not much inferior to the Merchant of Venice. But while the first part conveys the most life-like and poetical idea conceivable of what the great Levantine merchant of the Middle Ages must have appeared to an untravelled subject of the Tudors, the whole of the latter part is more grotesquely untrue to nature than the worst portions of Tamhurlaine. Looking at the first two acts, Hallamf justly says, that the drama is " more vigorously conceived, both as to character and circumstances, than any other Elizabethan play, except those of Shakspeare ;" and, regarding the three last acts only, Lamb, J with equal justice (there being no modern German rival to warp his judgment), describes the principal character as "a mere monster, brought in with a large painted nose to please the rabble. He kills in sport, poisons whole nun- neries, invents infernal machines. He is just such an exhibition as, a century or two earlier, might have been played before the Londoners by the royal command, when a general pillage and massacre of the Hebrews had been previously resolved on in the Cabinet." There are, however, a few passages of uncommon merit, and among these may be distinguished the living picture of the Alsatian bully, sent by Bellamira to extort money from Barabas. " He sent a shaggy tottered staring slave, That when he speaks draws out his grisly beard And winds it twice or thrice about his ear : Whose face has been a grindstone for men's swords : His hands are hacked : some fingers quite cut off ; Who, when he speaks, grunts like a hog, and looks Like one that is employed in catzerie And cross-biting — such a sort of rogue As is the husband to a hundred whores !" — p. no a. Qualified, however, as must always be the praise assigned to the Jew of Malta, the critics combine in a chorus of approbation when they come to speak of Edward the Second, which is recognised by common consent as, after Shakspeare's, the finest specimen of the English historical drama; while, as regards its only superiors, it possesses the important advantage of being anterior to them all in the date of its pro- duction. The conclusion, in particular, has called forth the admiration of the highest judges. Hazlitt§ pronounces it to be "certainly superior" to the parallel scene in Richard II., and " in heart-breaking distress, and the sense of human weakness claiming pity from utter helplessness and conscious misery, is not surpassed by any History of Dramatic Poetry, iii. 135. t Introduction to the Literature of Europe, ii. 270. § Elizabethan Literature, p. % Lamb's Specimens, i. 29. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. writer whatever." This is high praise, but it is more than confirmed by the verdict of Lamb,* who says " the death-scene of Marlowe's King moves pity and terror beyond any scene, ancient or modern, with which I am acquainted." But, if I may presuMie to speak after such authorities, the pity and terror fail to exalt the character of Edward in the reader's mind, while the last scene of Faustus fills the soul with love and admi- ration as for a departed hero. The Massacre of Paris is not only a fragment, but the little that remains to us has come down in a most corrupt state. f Mr. Dyce, however, considers that, "after every allowance has been made on these accounts, it must be regarded as the very worst of Marlowe's dramas." The nobles of the French court appear to me, how- ever, to have more marked individuality of character than those in Edward II. , where the Barons resemble each other as closely as if they had been painted by Kneller, in his later days, when the grasping old Westphalian was thinking of his dividends rather than his fame.:}: In the tragedy of Dido, Queen of Carthage, which, in Mr. Collier's opinion, was written in 1590, although not printed till 1594, Marlowe was assisted, or perhaps rather his work was completed, by his old opponent Thomas Nash. However this may be, the production must be regarded on the whole as a very pleasing poem, every now and then swelling into real beauty, and at the worst times not sinking lower than other poets at the time were apt to do. Occasionally we come upon such a line as, — " Gentle Achates reach the tinder-box," which, if I were a proper biographer, I should at once assign to Nash, while just after- wards we stumble upon passages of such genuine vigour and beauty as nobody but the writer of a life of the lesser genius would give to any one but Marlowe. Take for instances the lines in which iEneas describes the opening of the Wooden Horse : — " Then he unlocked the horse, and suddenly, From out his entrails, Neoptolemus, Setting his spear upon the ground, leapt forth, And after him a thousand Grecians more, In whose stern faces skirted the quenchless fire That after burnt the pride of Asia ;" and the charming verses in which Dido indulges her fancy in equipping the ships of her lover : " I'll give thee tackling made of rivelled gold, Wound on the barks of odoriferous trees, Oars of massy ivory, full of holes, * Lamb's Dra?uatic Specimens, p. 26. t In the note at p. 336 on the words " Enter a soldier." \ I have made no mention of the play of Lust's Dominion ; or, TJte Lacivious Queen, which was first printed as Marlowe's in 1657, but was proved by Mr. Collier, in 1826, to be the joint work of Thomas Dekker, William Houghton, and John Day. Hazlitt, who was not aware of the above fact, criticized it as a play of Marlowe's, and assigned it a high place among his dramas. The verdict of Mr. Collier has been emphatically endorsed by Mr. Dyce. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. Through which the water shall delight to play ; Thy anchors shall be hewed from crystal rocks, Which, if thou loose, shall shine above the waves ; The masts, whereon thy swelling sails shall hang, Hollow pyramides of silver plate ; The sails of folded lawn, where shall be wrought The wars of Troy, but not Troy's overthrow ; For ballace, empty Dido's treasury ! Take what ye will, but leave JEneas here." I now come to the poem of Hero and Leander, or The Sestiad, as I suppose Marlowe must have intended to call it (from the town of Sestos, in which the scene is laid) ; a name which Chapman retained, or perhaps invented, when he completed the poem and divided it into books. In Marlowe's time it was supposed that the Musaeus who wrote the Greek poem on which the Sestiads were founded, was in very deed the ancient Athenian bard whom modern criticism has dismissed from his position as the flesh and blood predecessor of Hesiod and Homer, and fixed in nubibus along with Orpheus and other " semi-mythological personages." It is fortunate that the respect which Marlowe must have felt for what was then regarded as the most ancient of human compositions did not lead him into a repetition of the fatal blunder of a line for line translation. In fact he may almost be said to have lost sight of his original altogether, and to have given full swing to his rich and thick-coming fancies. Malone told Thomas Warton that, in addition to the two first Sestiads, Marlowe left behind him " about a hundred lines of the third ;" which, however, in my opinion are not to be looked for in the place assigned to them, where all is manifestly Chapman's, but in the episode of Teras, and other portions of the fifth Sestiad, where the higher hand of Marlowe seems to me easily discernible. Chapman was a true and excellent poet, in some respects Marlowe's superior, but altogether different from him in lines of thought and modes of expression, and labouring besides under the immense disad- vantage of singing as it were in falsetto, by endeavouring to work in the style and spirit of another man's performance. The age was not the age of mocking-birds, but of genuine songsters of the grove, who each piped the wood notes that were native to him, and which persist in making themselves heard sweet and clear in the midst of any attempt at imitating another. The popularity of this poem was unbounded. Contemporary literature is full of allusions to it: Shakspeare and Ben Jonson have introduced quotations from it into their works ; and Taylor the Water Poet tells us that his brother " scullers " sweetened their toil by chanting its couplets as they rowed along the Thames. But before this time arrived, the short and troubled career of this greatly gifted man had come to a dark and melancholy close. During the six years which elapsed between his quitting Cambridge and his death, we know literally nothing of him, except that he must have composed the works above enumerated ; that he had the evil reputation of being a free liver and a free-er thinker; and that he had tried his fortune upon the stage. The curtain is for a moment lifted, but it is only to show him in the agonies of INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. a violent death. In the last week of May, 1593, he was carousing at Deptford, in — to say the least — very doubtful company ; and taking offence at some real or supposed insult to himself or his female companion, he unsheathed his dagger to avenge it, and in the scuffle which ensued received a mortal wound in the head from his own weapon. It is a convenient custom in fatal brawls like these to cast the blame on the dead man and the stranger who can make no answer himself, and is without friends to represent the matter in a fairer light. In the present case, too, the narratives which have come down to us were written long after the event, and by men whose purpose it was to represent him in the blackest light as the object of the direct vengeance of the Almighty. I shall not, therefore, detain the reader by pointing out the improbabilities and discrepancies in their stories, which are given at the foot of the page,* and only wish I could convince myself that, in the following passage of the Hero and Leander, Chapman intended us to understand that the dying bed of the poet was watched over by some " associate" or "friend beloved," who listened to and treasured up his "late desires." " Then, now, most strangely intellectual fire That, proper to my soul, hast power to inspire * " Not inferior to any of the former in atheisme and impietie, and equal to al in maner of punishment, was one of our own nation, of fresh and late memorie, called Marlin, by profession a scholler, brought up from his youth in the Universitie of Cambridge, but by practice a playmaker and a poet of scurrilitie, who by giving too large a swing to his owne wit, and suffering his lust to have the full reines, fell (not without just desert) to that outrage and extremitie, that hee denied God and his sonne Christ, and not onely in word blasphemed the Trinitie, but also (as is credibly reported) wrote bookes against it, affirming our Saviour to be but a deceiver, and Moses to be but a conjurer and seducer of the people, and the holy Bible to bee but vaine and idle stories, and all religion but a device of policie. But see what a hooke the Lord put into the nostrils of this barking dogge ! So it fell out, that as he purposed to stab one, whom he ought a grudge unto, with his dagger, the other party perceiving so avoyded the stroke, that, withal catching hold of his wrest, hee stabbed his owne dagger into his owne head, in such sort that, notwithstanding all the meanes of surgerie that could bee wrought, hee shortly after died thereof : the manner of his death being so terrible (for hee even cursed and blasphemed to his last gaspe, and together with his breath an oath flew out of his mouth) that it was not only a manifest signe of God's judgement, but also an horrible and fearfulle terror to all that beheld him. But herein did the justice of God most notably appeare, in that hee compelled his owne hand which had written those blasphemies, to bee the instrument to punish him, and that in his braine which had devised the same." — Beard's Tfieatre of God's Judgements. 1597. "As the poet Lycophron was shot to death by a certain rival of his, so Christopher Marlow was stabd to death by a bawdy servingman, a rival of his in his lewd love." — More's Palladio Tamia. 1598. " Not inferior to these was one Christopher Marlow, by profession a playmaker, who as it was reported, about fourteen years ago wrote a book against the Trinitie. But see the effects of God's justice ! It so hapned that at Detford, a little village about three miles distant from London, as he meant to stab with his poniard one named Ingram, that had invited him thither to a feast, and was then playing at tables, hee quickly perceiving it, so avoyded the thrust, that with all drawing out his dagger for his defence, hee stabd this Marlowe into the eye, in such sort, his braynes comming out, at the daggers point, hee shortly after dyed. Thus did God, the true executioner of divine justice, work the end of impious atheists." — Sir William VaughaiCs Golden Grove, Moralized in three books. 1600. Let any one who is inclined to place implicit reliance on evidence of this description take up the works of Peter Pindar, Esq., 5 vols. 8vo, 1812, and turn to the note at p. 493 of vol. hi., and read what is there specifically asserted as to the career of the living William Giffbrd. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. Her burning faculties, and with the wings Of thy unsphered flame, visits't the springs Of spirits immortal. Now, as swift as Time Doth follow motion, find th' eternal clime Of his free soul, whose living subject stood Up to the chin in the Pierian flood, And drunk to me half this Mussean story, Inscribing it to deathless memory : Confer with it, and make my pledge as deep That neither's draught be consecrate to sleep : Tell it how much his late desires I tender (If yet it know not), and to light surrender My soul's dark offspring." But whatever our opinions may be as to the attending circumstances, the parish register leaves us in no doubt as to the main fact by recording the burial of " Christopher Marlow, slaine by ffrancis Archer, the i of June, 1593." The old church of St. Nicholas at Deptford has been enlarged and rebuilt, and restored and re-restored, till nothing of the original except the old grey tower remains, and it is vain even to guess at the spot in which the body of the young poet was laid. He died we may well suppose in the worst inn's worst room, and his grave was dug we may be certain in the obscurest corner of the churchyard; but even had it been otherwise, all knowledge of the locality would have passed away during the dark hundred years in which Christopher Marlowe became a name unknown.* The Reverend Daniel Lysons was a " man of letters," well read in " standard authors," and had made a narrow scrutiny of the Deptford registers; but, in 1796, when he published his account of the "Towns, Villages, and Hamlets within Twelve Miles of London," he passed over the record above quoted as one in which no human being was likely to feel interest. He bestows twenty- six quarto pages on this particular parish, and devotes several of them to extracts from the registers, which he says commence in the year 1563. In his anxiety that every entry of importance should be preserved, he is careful to transcribe the particulars of the * A century ago the ignorance of the general public regarding the early English writers was something portentous. John Monck Mason, when he published his edition of Massinger in 1779, informs his readers that "notwithstanding my partiality for this kind of reading, and some pains I had taken to gratify it, I never heard of Massinger till about two years ago, when a friend of mine, who knew my inclination, lent me a copy of his works I " Dean Stanley, however, goes too far when he tells us of Michael Drayton that " after the lapse of not much more than a hundred years, Goldsmith, in his visit to the Abbey, could say, when he saw his monument, ' Drayton ! I never heard of him before.' " But Goldsmith does not make the remark in propria persona, but puts it into the mouth of his learned Chinese, Lien Chi Altanghi. It would hardly be more unfair to say that Addison imagined that St. Paul's had been hollowed out of a mountain. The mention of Drayton suggests the propriety of quoting his eloquent lines ;— " Next Marlowe bathed in the Thespian springs, Had in him those brave translunary things That the first poets had ; his raptures were All air and fire, which made his verses clear ; For that fine madness still he did retain, Which rightly should possess a Poet's brain." INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. baptism* of "Phineas Pctt, son of Peter Pett," on the 8th of November, 1570, and the burial of " Mr. Ephraim Paget, Rector of St. Edmund, Lombard Street;" the interment, also, on the 26th of August, 1631, of " William Shewers and John Finicke, two children, which, playing together, shut themselves into a hutch and were smothered." If Mr# Lysons, therefore, had ever heard our poet's name, it is certain that the fact of his being slain by Francis Archer would have found a niche in his Environs. He has, however, preserved one item which in a manner connects itself indirectly with our subject. When Captain Pearse and Lieut. Logan were interred in the churchyard of St. Nicholas after being " shot to death for losing the Saphire cowardly ;" we may be sure they were laid in the same dark corner which contained the dust of Marlowe. The dagger of Francis Archer averted one trouble which was hanging ominously over his victim's head. A very few days before the poet's death a " note " of his " damn- able opinions and judgment of religion, and scorn of God's work," had been laid before Elizabeth's council, with a view to the institution of proceedings against him. These charges, it is to be observed, were drawn up by one Richard Barnes or Bame, who was himself hanged at Tyburn in the course of the following year for some degrading offence; and they besides include matter, such as that about coining, which could never have been seriously spoken by any man of ordinary common sense. As authority, therefore, they are of themselves utterly worthless; but, even supposing the whole of them to be the clumsy fabrication of a scoundrelly professional informer, there is no smoke without fire, and the man who could thus be charged must have been well known as a free thinker and reckless speaker. In the present day the speculations, after being purged of grossness and manifest exaggerations, would not, in their general scope, appear novelties to any bearded man who did not chance to be a "great arithmetician " suddenly converted into a South African bishop; but in the Tudor times they found no being, certainly no utterance, save among such intellectual Bohemians as formed the Greene and Marlowe circle. When the latter commenced his career one of the great turning-points of English history was about to commence. The Queen of Scots was put to death, and the Armada destroyed ; and the common dread of Spanish conquest and Papal tyranny being for ever removed, the Englishmen who had merely drifted away from Catholicism, and the Englishmen who had become Protestants from conviction, having no longer occasion to stand side by side, had for the first time leisure to look each other in the face, and to recognise the full extent of the gulf which separated them. Elizabeth at this moment held such a com- manding position in the hearts of her people that it was quite in her power. to have bridged over this chasm of differences, and to have become the founder of a really national Church. Not only did she neglect this opportunity, but, by following the bent of her own, and her father's Fidei Defensor inclinations, she drove the Puritans into a position where nothing was left for earnest men but to close their ranks and with- draw themselves farther than ever from their opponents. Happily the vigorous rule of * I have merely selected this entry on account of its early date. This fine old family of master shipwrights were among the most faithful servants of their country for fully a hundred years. INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. the great queen, and the affection which they bore to her, put actual warfare out of the question ; and, till other times arrived, broadsides and pamphlets were the only vents left for their bitterness. I have entered upon this digression to show the exceptional circumstances under which Marlowe's personal character has been handed down to us in the writings of the Puritan pamphleteers and balladmongers, and the many grains of salt which must in fairness be employed to qualify their descriptions. Stage plays and bear-baitings and holidays had never been favourites with the stricter Protestant- ; but about this time they began to single them out as the most particular manifestations of the presence of Satan amongst us ; and the awfully sudden death of so eminent a man as Marlowe, in the very flower of his manhood, following, as it did, so closely upon the miserable ending of Robert Greene, may well have tended to confirm the belief. And, even in our own time, the daring sentiments which it was necessary to put into the mouth of Faustus, nay, the mere selection of such a subject for a drama, have been held by many to justify the description which had then been given of his opinions. Even so gentle a critic as Charles Lamb gives a certain amount of counte- nance to the idea. " The growing horrors of Faustus are awfully marked by the hours and half hours as they expire, and bring him nearer and nearer to the exactment of his dire compact. It is indeed an agony and bloody sweat. Marlowe is said to have been tainted with atheistical positions, to have denied God and the Trinity. To such a genius the history of Faustus must have been delectable food : to wander in fields where curiosity is forbidden to go; to approach the dark gulf near enough to look in; to be busied in speculations which are the rottenest part of the core of the fruit that fell from the tree of knowledge. Barabas the Jew and Faustus the conjuror are offsprings of a mind which at least delighted to dally with interdicted subjects. They both talk a language which a believer would have been tender of putting in the mouth of a character, though but in fiction. But the holiest minds have sometimes not thought it blameable to counterfeit impiety in the person of another, to bring Vice in upon the stage speaking her own dialect, and themselves being armed with an unction of self-confident impu- nity, have not scrupled to handle and touch that familiarly which would be death to others. Milton, in the person of Satan, has started speculations hardier than any which the feeble armoury of the atheist ever furnished ; and the precise, strait-laced Richardson has strengthened Vice from the mouth of Lovelace, with entangling sophistries, and abstruse pleas against her adversary, Virtue, which Sedley, Villiers, and Rochester wanted depth of libertinism sufficient to have invented." It only remains to speak of some of the minor productions which go to make up this volume, and which we may suppose to have been the mere sweepings found in his desk after the tragedy at Deptford. The translation, line for line, and in rhyme, of Ovid's Elegies, was in all probability executed in his Cambridge days, an dalmost as a tour deforce. Some years after his death the bishops fixed upon it as a proper sacrifice to be burned by the common hangman; but although perhaps the object was to heap further discredit on the name of Marlowe, and through him on the Stage, it must be remembered that the publication was no doing of his own, and that the ideas INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. are the property of Ovid. A much better plea might easily be set up for him than Dryden, a century later, with all his ingenuity, was able to offer for a similar offence.* The charming verses, The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, must also have been an early production. They are quoted by Marlowe himself in The Jew of Malta (p. i ioa), and no doubt suggested to Shakspeare the affectionate name of " dead Shepherd " under which he apostrophizes him in As You Like it. Mr. Campbell, one of the most fastidious of critics, says very truly of this song that it " combines a sweet wild spirit with an exquisite finish of expression." This delightful combination again appears in the beautiful lines called A Fragment (p. 274) in reading which the blindest eye must see the sun flickering through the leaves and the dullest ear recognise the sound of the crystal stream singing among the pebbles. In the translation of the First Book of Luean blank verse was happily chosen instead of rhyme as in the Ovid, and the result has been the occurrence every here and there of one of those "mighty lines" of which the mightiest might be proud. At page 285 they will be found in a cluster, and the de- scription of the supernatural appearances which followed the passage of the Rubicon, must have been lingering in the memory of Shakspeare when he penned two of his noblest passages. How still grander might Marlowe here have shown himself had he not been dancing in the self-imposed fetters of a line-for-line translation. It would be unpardonable to close any notice of Marlowe without adverting to the great loss which the cause of old English literature has recently suffered by the death of the Rev. Alexander Dyce. No person who has not had occasion to compare the Edition of Marlowe's Works in 3 vols. 8vo., published by Mr. Pickering, in 1826, under the editorship of Mr. Dickinson, with those which Mr. Dyce issued in 1850 and 1865, can appreciate the immense labour which he must have bestowed upon his task If I have differed from him now and then in the course of the notes at the end of this volume, I have never done so but with the most unfeigned diffidence in the value of my own opinion, and the most genuine respect for his acquirements as a scholar and a critic, and regard for his memory as a gentleman and a friend. * "I can less easily answer why I translated it than why I thus translated it.' The objection arises from the obscenity of the subject, which is aggravated by the too lively and alluring delicacy of the verses. In the first place, without the least formality of an excuse, I own it pleased me, and let my enemies make the worst they can of this confession ; I am not yet so secure from that passion, but that I want my author's antidotes against it. He has given the truest and most philosophical account both of the disease and remedy which I ever found in any author : for which reasons I translated him. But it will be asked why I turned him into this luscious English (for I will not give it a worse word) ? Instead of an answer, I would ask again of my supercilious adversaries, whether I am not bound when I translate an author to do him all the right I can, and to translate him to the best advantage ... If nothing of this kind be to be read, physicians must not study nature, anatomies must not be seen, and somewhat I could say of particular passages in books, which, to avoid profaneness, I do not name." — Preface to Sylvce, or the Second Part 0/ Poetical Miscellanies. 1685. I Tamburlaine the Great. PART THE FIRST. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Mycefes, King of Persia. Cosroe, his Brother. Ortygius, Ceneus, Meander, Menaphon, Theridamas, Tamburlaine. Techelles, Usumcasane, Agydas, Magnetes, Capolin, an Egypt ia?i Captain. t Persian Lords. > Persian Captains. Y his Officers. \ Median Lords attending j tipon Zenocrate. Bajazet, Emperor of the Turks. King of Arabia. King of Fez. King of Morocco. King Ve are enow to scare the enemy, \nd more than needs to make an emperor. [ They go out to the battle. SCENE IV. Enter Mycetes, with his Crown in his hand, offering to hide tt. Myc. Accursed be he that first invented war! They knew not, ah they knew not, simple men, How those were hit by pelting cannon shot, Stand staggering like a quivering aspen leaf Fearing the force of Boreas' boisterous blasts. In what a lamentable case were I If Nature had not given me wisdom's lore, For kings are clouts that every man shoots at, Our crewn the pin that thousands seek to cleave ; Therefore in policy I think it good To hide it close ; a goodly stratagem, And far from any man that is a fool : So shall I not be known ; or if I be, They cannot take away my crown from me. Here will I hide it in this simple hole. Enter Tamburlaine. Tamb. What, fearful coward, straggling from the camp, When kings themselves are present in the field? Myc. Thouliest. Tamb. Base villain! darest thou give me the lie? Myc. Away; I am the king; go; touch me not. Thou break'st the law of arms, unless thou kneel And cry me "mercy, noble king." Tamb. Are you the witty king of Persia? Myc. Aye, marry am I : have you any suit to me? Tamb. I would entreat you speak but three wise words. Myc. So I can when I see my time. Tamb. Is this your crown? Myc. Aye, didst thou ever see a fairer? Tamb. You will not sell it, will you? Myc. Such another word and I will have thee executed. Come, give it me ! Tamb. No ; I took it prisoner. Myc. You lie ; I gave it you. Tamb. Then 'tis mine. Myc. No ; I mean I let you keep it. Tamb. Well; I mean you shall have it again. Here ; take it lor awhile : I lend it thee, 'Till I may see thee hemmed with armed men ; Then shalt thou see me pull it from thy head! Thou art no match for mighty Tamburlaine. [Exit Tamb. THE FIRST PART OF [act II. Myc. O gods! Is this Tamburlaine the thief? I marvel much he stole it not away. [ Trumpets sotmd to the battle : Mycetes runs out. SCENE V. Enter Cosroe, Tamburlaine, Theridamas, Menaphon, Meander, Ortygius, Techel- les, Usumcasane, with others. Tamb. Hold thee, Cosroe ! wear two im- perial crowns ; Think thee invested now as royally, Even by the mighty hand of Tamburlaine, As if as many kings as could encompass thee With greatest pomp, had crowned thee em- peror. Cos. So do I, thrice-renowned man at arms, And none shall keep the crown but Tambur- laine. Thee do I make my regent of Persia, And general lieutenant of my armies. Meander, you, that were our brother's guide, And chiefest counsellor in all his acts, Since he is yielded to the stroke of war, On your submission we with thanks excuse, And give you equal place in our affairs. Mcand. Most happiest emperor, in hum- blest terms, I vow my service to your majesty, With utmost virtue of my faith and duty. Cos. Thanks, good Meander: then Cosroe reign, And govern Persia in her former pomp ! Now send eVnbassage to thy neighbour kings, And let them know the Persian king is changed, From one that knew not what a king should do, To one that can command what 'longs thereto. And now we will to fair Persepolis, With twenty thousand expert soldiers. The lords and captains of my brother's camp With little slaughter take Meander's course, And gladly yield them to my gracious rule. Ortygius and Menaphon, my trusty friends, Now will I gratify your former good, And grace your calling with a greater sway. Orty. And as we ever aimed at your be- hoof, And sought your state all honour it deserved, So will we with our powers and our lives Endeavour to preserve and prosper it. Cos. I will not thank thee, sweet Ortygius; Better replies shall prove my purposes. And now, Lord Tamburlaine, my brother's camp I leave to thee and to Theridamas, To follow me to fair Persepolis. Then will I march to all those Indian mines, My witless brother to the Christians lost, And ransom them with fame and usury. And till thou overtake me, Tamburlaine, (Staying to order all the scattered troops,) Farewell, lord regent and his happy friends ! I long to sit upon my brother's throne. Meand. Your majesty shall shortly have your wish, And ride in triumph through Persepolis. [All go out but Tamb., Tech., Ther., and Usum. Tamb. "And ride in triumph through Persepolis !" Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles? Usumcasane and Theridamas, Is it not passing brave to be a king, "And ride in triumph through Persepolis?" Tech. O, my lord, 'tis sweet and full of pomp. Usum. To be a king is half to be a god. Ther. A god is not so glorious as a king. I think the pleasure they enjoy in heaven, Cannot compare with kingly joys in earth. — To wear a crown enchased with pearl and gold, Whose virtues carry with it life and death ; To ask and have, command and be obeyed ; When looks breed love, with looks to gain the prize, Such power attractive shines in princes' eyes ! Tamb. Why say, Theridamas, wilt thou be a king ? Ther. Nay, though I praise it, I can live without it. Tamb. What say my other friends ? Will you be kings ? Tech. I, if I could, with all my heart, my lord. Tamb. Why, that's well said, Techelles; so would I, And so would you, my masters, would you not ? Usum. What then, my lord ? Tamb. Why then, Casane, shall we wish for aught The world affords in greatest novelty, And rest attemptless, faint, and destitute? Methinks we should not: I am strongly moved, That if I should desire the Persian crown, I could attain it with a wondrous ease. And would not all our soldiers soon consent, If we should aim at such a dignity ? Ther. I know they would with our per- suasions. Tamb. Why then, Theridamas, I'll first assay To get the Persian kingdom to myself; 7 SCENE VII. J TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. Then thou for Parthia ; they for Scythia and Media; * And, if I prosper, all shall be as sure As if the Turk, the Pope, Afric, and Greece, Came creeping to us with their crowns apiece. Tech. Then shall we send to this tri- umphing king, And bid him battle for his novel crown ? Usum. Nay, quickly then, before his room be hot. Tamb. 'Twill prove a pretty jest, in faith, my friends. Ther. A jest to charge on twenty thou- sand men ! I judge the purchase more important far. Tamb. Judge by thyself, Theridamas, not me; For presently Techelles here shall haste To bid him battle ere he pass too far, And lose more labour than the gain will quit. Then shalt thou see this Scythian Tambur- laine, Make but a jest to win the Persian crown. I Techelles, take a thousand horse with thee, And bid him turn him back to war with us, That only made him king to make us sport. |,vVe will not steal upon him cowardly, 3ut give him warning and more warriors, rlaste, thee, Techelles, we will follow thee. What saith Theridamas ? j; Ther. Go on for me. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Enter Cosroe, Meander, Ortygius, Mena- phon, -with other Soldiers. il Cos. What means this devilish shepherd to aspire Vith such a giantly presumption Jo cast up hills against the face of heaven, I vnd dare the force of angry Jupiter? I Jut as he thrust them underneath the hills, I And pressed out fire from their burning jaws, o will I send this monstrous slave to hell, I Vhere flames shall ever feed upon his soul. I Meand. Some powers divine, or else in- fernal, mixed Hf heir angry seeds at his conception ; I or he was never sprung of human race, I ince with the spirit of his fearful pride, te dare so doubtlessly resolve of rule, ' id by profession be ambitious. Orty. What god, or fiend, or spirit of the earth, r monster turned to a manly shape, r of what mould or mettle he be made, /hat star or state soever govern him, jet us put on our meet encountering minds ; nd in detesting such a devilish chief, In love of honour and defence of right. Be armed against the hate of such a foe, Whether from earth, or hell, or heaven, he grow. Cos. Nobly resolved, my good Ortygius ; And since we all have sucked one whole- some air, And with the same proportion of elements Resolve, I hope we are resembled Vowing our loves to equal death and life. Let's cheer our soldiers to encounter him, That grievous image of ingratitude, That fiery thirster after sovereignty, And burn him in the fury of that flame, That none can quench but blood and empery. Resolve, my lords and loving soldiers, now To save your king and country from decay. Then strike up, drum ; and all the stars that make The loathsome circle of my dated life, Direct my weapon to his barbarous heart, That thus opposeth him against the gods, And scorns the powers that govern Persia ! [Exeunt. Martial miisic. SCENE VII. Alarums. — A battle ; enter Gosroe, wounded, Theridamas, Tamburlaine, Techelles, Usumcasane, with others. Cos. Barbarous and bloody Tamburlaine, Thus to deprive me of my crown and life ! Treacherous and false Theridamas, Even at the morning of my happy state, Scarce being seated in my royal throne, To work my downfall and untimely end ! An uncouth pain torments my grieved soul, And death arrests the organ of my voice, Who, entering at the breach thy sword hath made, ' Sacks every vein and artier of my heart. — ! Bloody and insatiate Tamburlaine ! Tamb. The thirst of reign and sweetness of a crown I That caused the eldest son of heavenly Ops, j To thrust his doting father from his chair, ' And place himself in the empyreal heaven, Moved me to manage arms against thy state. What better precedent than mighty Jove? Nature that framed us of four elements, Warring within our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds : Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, THE FIRST PART OF (ACT in. And always moving as the restless spheres, Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest, L'ntil we reach the ripest fruit of all, That perfect bliss and sole felicity, The sweet fruition of an earthly crown. Ther. And that made me to join with Tamburlaine : For he is gross and like the massy earth, That moves not upwards, nor by princely deeds Doth mean to soar above the highest sort. Tech. And that made us the friends of Tamburlaine, To lift our swords against the Persian king. [/sum. For as when Jove did thrust old Saturn down, Neptune and Dis gained each of them a j crown, So do we hope to reign in Asia, If Tamburlaine be placed in Persia. Cos. The strangest men that ever nature made! I know not how to take their tyrannies. My bloodless body waxeth chill and cold, And with my blood my life slides through my wound ; My soul begins to take her flight to hell, And summons all my senses to depart. — The heat and moisture, which did feed each other, For want of nourishment to feed them both, Are dry and cold ; and now doth ghastly death, With greedy talons gripe my bleeding heart, And like a harpy, tires on my life. Theridamas and Tamburlaine, I die : And fearful vengeance light upon you both ! [Cosroe dies. — Tamburlaine takes the crown and puts it on. Tamb. Not all the curses, which the furies breathe, Shall make me leave so rich a prize as this. Theridamas, Techelles, and the rest, Who think you now is king of Persia? All. Tamburlaine! Tamburlaine! Tamb. Though Mars himself, the angry god of arms, And all the earthly potentates conspire To dispossess me of this diadem, Yet will I wear it in despite of them, As great commander of this eastern world, If you but say that Tamburlaine shall reign. All. Long live Tamburlaine and reign in Asia ! Tamb. So now it is more surer on my head, Than if the gods had held a Parliament, [ And all pronounced me king of Persia. [Exeunt. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Bajazet, the Kings of Fez, Morocco, and Argier, Tvith others in great Pomp. Baj. Great kings of Barbary and my pqfrtly bassoes, We hear the Tartars and the eastern thieves, Under the conduct of one Tamburlaine, Presume a bickering with your emperor, And think to rouse us from our dreadful siege Of the famous Grecian Constantinople. You know our army is invincible ; As many circumcised Turks we have, And warlike bands of Christians rehfed, As hath the ocean or the Terrene sea Small drops of water when the moon begins To join in one her semicircled horns. Yet would we not be braved with foreign power, Nor raise our siege before the Grecians yield, Or breathless lie before the city walls. K. of Fez. Renowned emperor, and mighty general, What, if you sent the bassoes of your guard To charge him to remain in Asia, Or else to threaten death and deadly arms As from the mouth of mighty Bajazet. Baj. Hie thee, my basso, fast to Persia, Tell him thy lord, the Turkish emperor, Dread lord of Afric, Europe, and Asia, Great king and conqueror of Groscia, The ocean Terrene, and the Coal-black sea, The high and highest monarch of the world Wills and commands (for say not I entreat), Not once to set his foot on Africa, Or spread his colours [forth] in Groecia, Lest he incur the fury of my wrath. Tell him I am content to take a truce, Because I hear he bears a valiant mind : But if, presuming on his silly power, He be so mad to manage arms with me, Then stay thou with him ; say, I bid thee so : And if, before the sun have measured heaven With triple circuit, thou regreet us not, We mean to take his morning's next arise For messenger he will not be reclaimed, And mean to fetch thee in despite of him. Das. Most great and puissant monarch of the earth, Your basso will accomplish your behest, And show your pleasure to the Persian, As fits the legate of the stately Turk. [Exit Bas. Arg. They say he is the king of Persia ; But, if he dare attempt to stir your siege, 'Twere requisite he should be ten times more, I SCENF. II.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. i? For all flesh quakes at your magnificence. Baj. True, Argier; and trembles at my looks. K. of Mor. The spring is hindered by your smothering host, For neither rain can fall upon the earth, Nor sun reflex his virtuous beams thereon, The ground is mantled with such multitudes. Baj. All this is true as holy Mahomet ; And all the trees are blasted with our breaths. K. of Fez. What thinks your greatness best to be achieved In pursuit of the city's overthrow? Baj. I will the captive pioneers of Argier Cut off the water that by leaden pipes Runs to the city from the mountain Carnon. Two thousand horse shall forage up and down, That no relief or succour come by land : And all the sea my gallies countermand. Then shall our footmen lie within the trench, And with their cannons mouthed like Orcus' gulf, Batter the walls, and we will enter in ; And thus the Grecians shall be conquered. \Extunt. SCENE II. Zenocrate, Agydas, Anippe, with others. Agyd. Madam Zenocrate, may I presume To know the cause of these unquiet fits, That work such trouble to your wonted rest? Tis more than pity such a heavenly face Should by heart's sorrow wax so wan and pale, When your offensive rape by Tamburlaine, (Which of your whole displeasures should be most) [Hath seemed to be digested long ago. . Zeno. Although it be digested long ago, A.s his exceeding favours have deserved, <\nd might content the Queen of Heaven, as well \s it hath changed my first conceived dis- dain, ifet since a farther passion feeds my thoughts >Vith ceaseless and disconsolate conceits, j^Vhich dye my looks so lifeless as they are, \nd might, if my extremes had full events, viake me the ghastly counterfeit of death. Agyd. Eternal heaven sooner be dis- solved, tnd all that pierceth Phoebus' silver eye, >efore such hap fall to Zenocrate ! Zeno. Ah, life and soul, still hover in his breast nd leave my body senseless as the earth. »r else unite you to his life and soul, hat I may live and die with Tamburlaine ! Enter behind Tamburlaine, Techelles, and others. Agyd. With Tamburlaine ! Ah, fair Zenocrate, Let not a man so vile and barbarous, That holds you from your father in despite,. And keeps you from the honours of a queen, (Being supposed his worthless concubine,) Be honoured with your love but for necessity. So now the mighty soldan hears of you, Your highness needs not doubt, but in short time, He will with Tamburlaine's destruction Redeem you from this deadly servitude. Zeno. Leave [Agydas] to wound me with these words, And speak of Tamburlaine as he deserves. The entertainment we have had of him Is far from villainy or servitude, And might in noble minds be counted princely. Agyd. How can you fancy one that looks so fierce, Only disposed to martial stratagems ? Who, when he shall embrace you in his arms, Will tell how many thousand men he slew ;. And when you look for amorous discourse, Will rattle forth his facts of war and blood, Too harsh a subject for your dainty ears. Zeno. As looks the Sun through Nilus" flowing stream, Or when the Morning holds him in her arms, So looks my lordly love, fair Tamburlaine ; His talk more sweeter than the Muses' song They sung for honour 'gainst Pierides ; Or when Minerva did with Neptune strive : And higher would I rear my estimate Than Juno, sister to the highest god, If I were matched with mighty Tambur- laine. Agyd. Yet be not so inconstant in your love; But let the young Arabian live in hope After your rescue to enjoy his choice. You see though first the king of Persia, Being a shepherd, seem'd to love you much. Now in his majesty he leaves those looks, Those words of favour, and those comfort- ings, And gives no more than common courtesies. Zeno. Thence rise the tears that so dis- tain my cheeks, Fearing his love through my unworthiness. — [Tamburlaine goes to her and takes her away lovingly by the hand, looking wrathfully on Agydas, and says nothing. Exeunt all but Agydas. M THE FIRST PART OF [act in. Agyd. Betrayed by fortune and suspicious love, Threatened with frowning wrath and jealousy, Surprised with fear of hideous revenge, I stand aghast ! but most astonied To see his choler shut in secret thoughts, And wrapt in silence of his angry soul ! Upon his brows was pourtrayed ugly death ; And in his eyes the furies of his heart That shine as comets, menacing revenge, And cast a pale complexion on his cheeks. As when the seaman sees the Hyades Gather an army of Cimmerian clouds, (Auster and Aquilon with winged steeds, All sweating, tilt about the watery heavens, With shivering spears enforcing thunder claps, And from their shields strike flames of lightning,) All-fearful folds his sails and sounds the main, Lifting his prayers to the Heavens for aid Against the terror of the winds and waves, So fares Agydas for the late-felt frowns, That sent a tempest to my daunted thoughts, And make my soul divine her overthrow. Enter Usumcasane, and Techelles -with a naked dagger. Tech. See you, Agydas, how the king salutes you ? He bids you prophesy what it imports. Agyd. I prophesied before, and now I prove The killing frowns of jealousy and love. He needed not with words confirm my fear, For words are vain where working tools present The naked action of my threatened end : It says, Agydas, thou shalt surely die, And of extremities elect the least ; More honour and less pain it may procure To die by this resolved hand of thine, Than stay the torments he and Heaven have sworn. Then haste, Agydas, and prevent the plagues Which thy prolonged fates may draw on thee. Go, wander, free from fear of tyrant's rage, Removed from the torments and the hell, Wherewith he may excruciate thy soul, And let Agydas by Agydas die, And with this stab slumber eternally. [Stabs himself. Tech. Usumcasane, see, how right the man Hath hit the meaning of my lord, the king. Usum. 'Faith, and Techelles, it was manly done ; And since he was so wise and honourable, Let us afford him now the bearing hence, And crave his triple-worthy burial. Tech. Agreed, Casane ; we will honour him. [Exeunt, bearing out the body. SCENE III. Enter Tamburlaine, Techelles, Usumca- sane, Theridamas, a Basso, Zenocrate, Anippe, with others. Tamb. Basso, by this thy lord and master knows I mean to meet him in Bithynia : See how he comes ! tush, Turks are full of brags, And menace more than they can well per- form. He meet me in the field, and fetch thee hence ! Alas ! poor Turk ! his fortune is too weak To encounter with the strength of Tambur- laine. View well my camp, and speak indifferently ; Do not my captains and my soldiers look As if they meant to conquer Africa. Bas. Your men are valiant, but their number few, And cannot terrify his mighty host. My lord, the great commander of the world, Besides fifteen contributory kings, Hath now in arms ten thousand Janisaries, Mounted on lusty Mauritanian steeds, Brought to the war by men of Tripoli ; Two hundred thousand footmen that have serv'd In two set battles fought in Grsecia ; And for the expedition of this war, If he think good, can from his garrisons Withdraw as many more to follow him. Tech. The more he brings, the greater is the spoil, For when they perish by our warlike hands, We mean to seat our footman on their steeds, And rifle all those stately Janisars. Tamb. But will those kings accompany your lord ? Bas. Such as his highness please ; but some must stay To rule the provinces he late subdued. Tamb. [To his Officers.] Then fight courageously : Their crowns are yours ; This hand shall set them on your conquer- ing heads, That made me emperor of Asia. SCENE III. TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT 15 Usum. Let him bring millions infinite of men, Unpeopling Western Africa and Greece, Yet we assure us of the victory. Ther. Even he that in a trice vanquished two kings, More mighty than the Turkish emperor, Shall rouse him out of Europe, and pursue His scattered army till they yield or die. Tamb. Well said, Theridamas ; speak in that mood ; For will and shall best fitteth Tamburlaine, Whose smiling stars give him assured hope Of martial triumph ere he meet his foes. I that am termed the scourge and wrath of God, The only fear and terror of the world, Will first subdue the Turk, and then en- large Those Christian captives, which you keep as slaves, Burthening their bodies with your heavy chains, And feeding them with thin and slender .fare, That naked row about the Terrene sea, And when they chance to rest or breathe a space, Are punished with bast ones so grievously, That they lie panting on the galley's side, And strive for life at every stroke they give. These are the cruel pirates of Argier, That damned train, the scum of Africa, Inhabited with straggling runagates, That make quick havock of the Christian blood ; But as I live that town shall curse the time That Tamburlaine set foot in Africa. Enter Bajazet with his Bassoes and contributory Kings. Baj. Bassoes and Janisaries of my guard, ttend upon the person of your lord, " e greatest potentate of Africa. Tamb. Techelles, and the rest, prepare your swords ; mean to encounter with that Bajazet. Baj. Kings of Fez, Morocco, and Argier, 3e calls me Bajazet, whom you call lord ! Sote the presumption of this Scythian slave ! tell thee, villain ; those that lead my horse, -iave to their names tides of dignity, >\.nd dar'st thou bluntly call me Bajazet ? Tamb. And know, thou Turk, that those which lead my horse, ' "... ihall lead thee captive thorough Africa ; k.nd dar'st thou bluntly call me Tambur- laine ? Baj. By Mahomet my kinsman's sepul- chre, And by the holy Alcoran I swear, He shall be made a chaste and lustless eunuch, And in my sarell tend my concubines ; And all his captains that thus stoutly stand, Shall draw the chariot of my emperess, Whom I have brought to see their over- throw. Tamb. By this my sword, that conquered Persia, Thy fall shall make me famous through the world. I will not tell thee how I'll handle thee, But every common soldier of my camp Shall smile to see thy miserable state. K. of Fez. What means the mighty Turkish emperor, To talk with one so base as Tamburlaine ? K. of Mor. Ye Moors and valiant men of Barbary, How can ye suffer these indignities ? K. of Arg. Leave words, and let them feel your lances' points Which glided through the bowels of the Greeks. Baj. Well said, my stout contributory kings : Your threefold army and my hugy host Shall swallow up these base-born Persians. Tech. Puissant, ' renowned, and mighty Tamburlaine, Why stay we thus prolonging of their lives ? Ther. I long to see those crowns won by our swords, That we may rule as kings of Africa. Usum. What coward would not fight for such a prize ? Tamb. Fight all courageously, and be you kings ; I speak it, and my words are oracles. Baj. Zabina, mother of three braver boys Than Hercules, that in his infancy Did pash the jaws of serpents venomous ; Who-.? hands are made to gripe a warlike lance, Their shoulders broad for complete armour fit — Their limbs more large, and of a bigger size, Than all the brats ysprung from Typhon's loins ; Who, when they come unto their father's Will batter turrets with their manly fists, Sit here upon this royal chair of state, And on thy head wear my imperial crown, i6 THE FIRST PART OF Lact m. Until I bring this sturdy Tamburlaine, And all his captains bound in captive chains. Zab. Such good success happen to Ba- jazet ! Tamb. Zenocrate, the loveliest maid alive, Fairer than rocks of pearl and precious stone, The only paragon of Tamburlaine, Whose eyes are brighter than the lamps of heaven, And speech more pleasant than sweet har- mony ; That with thy looks canst clear the darkened sky, And calm the rage of thundering Jupiter, Sit down by her, adorned with my crown, As if thou wert the empress of the world. Stir not, Zenocrate, until thou see Me march victoriously with all my men, Triumphing over him and these his kings, Which I will bring as vassals to thy feet ; Till then take thou my crown, vaunt of my worth, And manage words with her, as we will arms. Zcno. And may my love the king of Persia, Return with victory and free from wound ! Baj. Now shalt thou feel the force of Turkish arms, Which lately made all Europe quake for fear. I have of Turks, Arabians, Moors, and Jews, Enough to cover all Bithynia. Let thousands die ; their slaughtered car- cases Shall serve for walls and bulwarks to the rest ; And as the heads of Hydra, so my power, Subdued, shall stand as mighty as before. If they should yield their necks unto the sword, Thy soldiers' arms could not endure to strike So many blows as I have heads for thee. Thou know'st not, foolish, hardy Tambur- laine, What 'tis to meet me in the open field, That leave no ground for thee to march upon. Tamb. Our conquering swords shall mar- shal us the way We use to march upon the slaughter'd foe, Trampling their bowels with our horses' hoofs ; Brave horses bred on th' white Tartarian hills : My camp is like to Julius Caesar's host, That never fought but had the victory ; Nor in Pharsalia was there such hot war, As these, my followers, willingly would have. Legions of spirits fleeting in the air Direct our bullets and our weapons' points. And make your strokes to wound the sense- less light, And when she sees our bloody colours spread, Then Victory begins to take her flight, Resting herself upon my milk-white tent ? — But come, my lords, to weapons let us fall ; The field is ours, the Turk, his wife and all. [Exit, with his followers. Baj. Come kings and bassoes, let us glut our swords, That thirst to drink the feeble Persian's blood. [Exit, with his followers. Zab. Base concubine, must thou be placed by me, That am the empress of the mighty Turk ? Zeno. Disdainful Turkess and unreverend boss ! Callest thou me concubine, that am be- trothed Unto the great and mighty Tamburlaine? Zab. To Tamburlaine, the great Tar- tarian thief ! Zcno. Thou wilt repent these lavish words of thine, When thy great basso-master and thyself Must plead for mercy at his kingly feet, And sue to me to be your advocate. Zab. And sue to thee !— I tell thee, shame- less girl, Thou shalt be laundress to my waiting maid ! How lik'st thou her, Ebea? — Will she serve? Ebea. Madam, perhaps, she thinks she is too fine, But I shall turn her into other weeds, And make her dainty fingers fall to work. Zeno. Hear'st thou, Anippe, how thy drudge doth talk ? And how my slave, her mistress, menaceth? Both for their sauciness shall be emp'.i y.-d To dress the common soldiers' meat and drink, For we will scorn they should come near ourselves. A nip. Yet sometimes let your highness send for them, To do the work my chambermaid disdains. [They sound to the battle within. Zcno. Ye gods and powers that govern Persia, And made my lordly love her worthy king, SCENE III.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 17 Now strengthen him against the Turkish Bajazet, And let his foes, like flocks of fearful roes Pursued by hunters fly his angry looks, That I may see him issue conqueror ! Zab. Now, Mahomet, solicit God him- self, And make him rain down murdering shot from heaven To dash the Scythians' brains, and strike them dead, That dare to manage arms with him That offered jewels to thy sacred shrine, When first he warred against the Christians ! [To the battle again. Zcno. By this the Turks lie weltering in their blood, And Tamburlaine is lord of Africa. Zab. Thou art deceived. — I heard the trumpets sound, As when my emperor overthrew the Greeks, And led them captive into Africa. Straight will I use thee as thy pride de- serves,— Prepare thyself to live and die my slave. Zcno. If Mahomet should come from heaven and swear My royal lord is slain or conquered, Yet should he not persuade me otherwise But that he lives and will be conqueror. Enter Bajazet, who is pursued by Tam- burlaine, and overcome. Tamb. Now, king of bassoes, who is conqueror? Baj. Thou, by the fortune of this damned foil. Tamb. Where are your stout, contributory kings? Enter Techelles, Theridamas, and Usumcasane. Tech. We have their crowns — their bodies strow the field. Tamb. Each man a crown ! — Why kingly fought i' faith. Deliver them into my treasury. Zcno. Now let me offer to my gracious lord His royal crown again so highly won. Tamb. Nay, take the crown from her, Zenocrate, And crown me emperor of Africa. Zab. No, Tamburlaine : though now thou gat the best, Thou shalt not yet be lord of Africa. Thcr. Give her the crown, Turkess ; you were best. [He takes it from her. Zab. Injurious villains ! — thieves ! — run- agates ! How dare you thus abuse my majesty? Ther. Here, madam, you are empress ; she is none. [Gives it to Zenocrate. Tamb. Not now, Theridamas ; her time is past. The pillars that have bolstered up those j terms, Are fallen in clusters at my conquering feet. Zab. Though he be prisoner, he may be I ransomed. Tamb. Not all the world shall ransom \ Bajazet . Baj. Ah, fair Zabina ! we have lost ihe field; And never had the Turkish emperor So great a foil by any foreign foe. Now will the Christian miscreants be glad, Ringing with joy their superstitious bells, And making bonfires for my overthrow. But, ere I die, those foul idolaters Shall make me bonfires with their filthy bones. For though the glory of this day be lost, Afric and Greece have garrisons enough To make me sovereign of the earth again. Tamb. Those walled garrisons will I sub- due, And write myself great lord of Africa. So from the East unto the furthest West Shall Tamburlaine extend his puissant arm. The galleys and those pilling brigandines, That yearly sail to the Venetian gulf, And hover in the Straits for Christian wreck, Shall lie at anchor in the isle Asant, Until the Persian fleet and men of war, Sailing along the oriental sea, Have fetched about the Indian continent, Even from Persepolis to Mexico, And thence unto the straits of Jubalter ; Where they shall meet and join their force in one, Keeping in awe the bay of Portingale, And all the ocean by the British shore ; And by this means I'll win the world at last. Baj. Yet set a ransom on me, Tambur- laine. Tamb. What think'st thou Tamburlaine esteems thy gold ? I'll make the kings of India, ere I die, Offer their mines to sue for peace to me, And dig for treasure to appease my wrath. Come, bind them both, and one lead in the Turk; The Turkess let my love's maid lead away. [ They bind them. Baj. Ah, villains ! — dare ye touch my sacred arms ? THE FIRST PART OF [ACT IV. O Mahomet ! — O sleepy Mahomet ! Zab. O cursed Mahomet, that makes us thus The slaves to Scythians rude and barbarous ! Tamb. Come, bring them in ; and for this happy conquest, Triumph, and solemnize a martial feast. {Exeunt. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. Enter the Soldan 0/" Egypt, Capolin, Lords, and a Messenger. Sold. Awake, ye men of Memphis ! — hear the clang Of Scythian trumpets ! — hear the basilisks, That, roaring, shake Damascus' turrets down ! The rogue of Volga holds Zenocrate, The Soldan's daughter, for his concubine, And with a troop of thieves and vagabonds, Hath spread his colours to our high disgrace, While you, faint-hearted, base Egyptians, Lie slumbering on the flowery banks of Nile, As crocodiles that unaffrighted rest, While thundering cannons rattle on their skins. Mess. Nay, mighty Soldan, did your greatness see The frowning looks of fiery Tamburlaine, That with his terror and imperious eyes, Commands the hearts of his associates, It might amaze your royal majesty. Sold. Villain, I tell thee, were that Tam- burlaine As monstrous as Gorgon prince of hell, The Soldan would not start a foot from him. But speak, what power hath he? Mess. Mighty lord, Three hundred thousand men in armour clad, Upon their prancing steeds disdainfully, With wanton paces trampling on the ground : Five hundred thousand footmen threatening shot, Shaking their swords, their spears, and iron bills, Environing their standard round, that stood As bristle-pointed as a thorny wood : Their warlike engines and munition Exceed the forces of their martial men. Sold. Nay, could their numbers counter- vail the stars, Or ever-drizzling drops of April showers, Or withered leaves that Autumn shaketh down, Yet would the Soldan, by his conquering power So scatter and consume them in his rage, That not a man should live to rue their fall. Capo. So might your highness, had you time to sort Your fightingmen, and raise yourroyal host ; But Tamburlaine, by expedition, Advantage takes of your unreadiness. Sold. Let him take all the advantages he can. Were all the world conspired to fight for him, Nay, were he devil, as he is no man, Yet in revenge of fair Zenocrate, Whom he detaineth in despite of us, This arm should send him down to Erebus, To shroud his shame in darkness of the night. Mess. Pleaseth your Mightiness to under- stand, His resolution far exceedeth all. The first day when he pitcheth down his tents, White is their hue, and on his silver crest, A snowy feather spangled white he bears, To signify the mildness of his mind, That, satiate with spoil, refuseth blood. But when Aurora mounts the second time As red as scarlet is his furniture ; Then must his kindled wrath be quenched with blood, Not sparing any that can manage arms ; But if these threats move not submission, Black are his colours, black pavilion ; His spear, his shield, his horse, his armour, plumes, And jetty feathers, menace death and hell ; Without respect of sex, degree, or age, He razeth all his foes with fire and sword. Sold. Merciless villain! — peasant, ig- norant Of lawful arms or martial discipline ! Pillage and murder are his usual trades. The slave usurps the glorious name of war. See, Capolin, the fair Arabian king, That hath been disappointed by this slave Of my fair daughter, and his princely love, May have fresh warning to go war with us. And be revenged for her disparagement. \Excunt, SCENE II. Enter Tamburlaine, Techelles, Theridan- Usumcasane, Zenocrate, Anippe, tioo \ Moors drawing Bajazet in a cage, and his Wife following him. Tamb. Bring out my footstool. [Bajazet is taken out of the cagm TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 19 Baj. Ye holy priests of heavenly Mahcmet, That, sacrificing, slice and cut your flesh, Staining his altars with your purple blood ; Make Heaven to frown and every fixed star To suck up poison from the moorish fens, And pour it in this glorious tyrant's throat ! Tamb. The chiefest god, first mover of that sphere, Enchased with thousands ever-shining lamps, Will sooner burn the glorious frame of Heaven, Than it should so conspire my overthrow. But villain ! thou that wishest this to me, Fall prostrate on the low disdainful earth, And be the footstool of great Tamburlaine, That I may rise into my royal throne. Baj. First shalt thou rip my bowels with thy sword, And sacrifice my soul to death and hell, Before I yield to such a slavery. Tamb. Base villain, vassal, slave to Tam- burlaine ! Unworthy to embrace or touch the ground, That bears the honour of my royal weight ; Stoop, villain, stoop ! — Stoop ! for so he bids That may command thee piecemeal to be torn, Or scattered like the lofty cedar trees Struck with the voice of thundering Jupiter. Baj. When as I look down to the damned fiends, Fiends look on me ; and thou dread god of hell With ebon sceptre strike this hateful earth, And make it swallow both of us at once. [Tamburlaine gets up on him to his chair. Tamb. Now clear the triple region of the air, And let the Majesty of Heaven behold Their scourge and terror tread on emperors. Smile stars, that reigned at my nativity, And dim the brightness of your neighbour lamps ! Disdain to borrow light of Cynthia ! For I, the chiefest lamp of all the earth, First rising in the East with mild aspect, But fixed now in the Meridian line, Will send up fire to your turning spheres, And cause the sun to borrow light of you. My sword struck fire from his coat of steel 'Even in Bithynia, when I took this Turk ; As when a fiery exhalation, Wrapt in the bowels of a freezing cloud Fighting for passage, makes the welkin crack, A.nd casts a flash of lightning to the earth : But ere I march to wealthy Persia, p)r leave Damascus and the Egyptian fields, As was the fame of Clymene's brain-sick son, That almost brent the axle-tree of heaven, So shall our swords, our lances, and our shot Fill all the air with fiery meteors : Then when the sky shall wax as red as blood It shall be said I made it red myself, To make me think of nought but blood and war. Zab. Unworthy king, that by thy cruelty Unlawfully usurp'st the Persian seat, Dar'st thou that never saw an emperor, Before thou met my husband in the field, Being thy captive, thus abuse his state, Keeping his kingly body in a cage, That roofs of gold and sun-bright palaces Should have prepared to entertain his grace? And treading him beneath thy loathsome feet, Whose feet the kings of Africa have kissed. Tech. You must devise some torment worse, my lord, To make these captives rein their lavish tongues. Tamb. Zenocrate, look better to your slave. Zeno. She is my handmaid's slave, and she shall look That these abuses flow not from her tongue : Chide her, Anippe. Anip. Let these be warnings for you then, my slave, How you abuse the person of the king ; Or else I swear to have you whipt, stark- naked. Baj. Great Tamburlaine, great in my overthrow, Ambitious pride shall make thee fall as low, For treading on the back of Bajazet, That should be horsed on four mighty kings. Tamb. Thy names, and titles, and thy dignities Are fled from Bajazet and remain with me, That will maintain it 'gainst a world of kings. Put him in again. [They put him into the cage. Baj. Is this a place for mighty Bajazet ? Confusion light on him. that helps thee thus! Tamb. There, while he lives, shall Baja- zet be kept ; And, where I go, be thus in triumph drawn ; And thou, his wife, shalt feed him with the scraps My servitors shall bring thee from my board ; For he that gives him other food than this, Shall sit by him and starve to death himself; This is my mind and I will have it so. Not all the kings and emperors of the earth, [ c 2 : zo THE FIRST PART OF [act IV, If they would lay their crowns before my feet, Shall ransom him, or take him from his cage. The ages that shall talk of Tamburlaine, Even from this clay to Plato's wondrous year, Shall talk how I have handled Rajazet ; These Moors, that drew him from Bithynia, To fair Damascus, where we now remain, Shall lead him with us wheresoe'er we go. Techclles, and my loving followers, Now may we see Damascus' lofty towers, Like to the shadows of Pyramides, That with their beauties grace the Mem- phian fields : The golden statue of their feathered bird That spreads her wings upon the city's walls Shall not defend it from our battering shot : The townsmen mask in silk and cloth of gold, And every house is as a treasury : The men, the treasure, and the town are ours. Ther. Your tents of white now pitched before the gates, And gentle flags of amity displayed, I doubt not but the governor will yield, Offering Damascus to your majesty. Tamb. So shall he have his life and all the rest : But if he stay until the bloody flag Be once advanced on my vermilion tent, He dies, and those that kept us out so long. And when they see us march in black array, With mournful streamers hanging down their heads, Were in that city all the world contained, Not one should scape, but perish by our swords. Zeno. Yet would you have some pity for my sake, Because it is my country, and my father's. Tamb. Not for the world, Zenocrate; I've sworn. Come ; bring in the Turk. SCENE III. Enter Soldan, Arabia, Capolin, and Soldiers with streaming colours. Sold. Methinks we march as Meleager did, Environed with brave Argolian knights, To chase the savage Calydonian boar, Or Cephalus with lusty Theban youths Against the wolf that angry Themis sent To waste and spoil the sweet Aonian fields, A monster of five hundred thousand heads, Compact of rapine, piracy, and spoil. [Exeunt. The scum of men, the hate and scourge of God, Raves in ^Egyptia and annoyeth us. My lord, it is the bloody Tamburlaine, A sturdy felon and a base-bred thief, By murder raised to the Persian crown, That dares control us in our territories. To tame the pride of this presumptuous beast, Join your Arabians with the Soldan's power; Let us unite our royal bands in one, And hasten to remove Damascus' siege. It is a blemish to the majesty And high estate of mighty emperors, That such a base usurping vagabond Should brave a king, or wear a princely crown. Arab. Renowned Soldan, have ye lately heard The overthrow of mighty Bajazet About the confines ot Bithynia? The slavery wherewith he persecutes The noble Turk and his great emperess? Sold. I have, and sorrow for his bad suc- cess; But noble lord of great Arabia, Be so persuaded that the Soldan is No more dismayed with tidings of his fall, Than in the haven when the pilot stands, And views a stranger's ship rent in the winds, And shivered against a craggy rock ; Yet in compassion of his wretched state, A sacred vow to Heaven and him I make, Confirming it with Ibis' holy name, That Tamburlaine shall rue the day, the hour, Wherein he wrought such ignominious wrong Unto the hallowed person of a prince, Or kept the fair Zenocrate so long As concubine, I fear, to feed his lust. Arab. Let grief and fury hasten on venge ; Let Tamburlaine for his offences feel Such plagues as we and heaven can pour him. I long to break my spear upon his crest, And prove the weight of his victorious arm ; For Fame, I fear, hath been too prodigal In sounding through the world his partial praise. Sold. Capolin, hast thou surveyed oui powers ? Capol. Great emperors of Egypt and, Arabia, The number of your hosts united is A hundred and fifty thousand horse ; Two hundred thousand foot, brave men a SCENE IV.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. Courageous, and full of hardiness, As frolick as the hunters in the chase Of savage beasts amid the desert woods. Arab. My mind presageth fortunate suc- cess; And Tamburlaine, my spirit doth foresee The utter ruin of thy men and thee. Sold. Then rear your standards ; let your sounding drums Direct our soldiers to Damascus' walls. Now, Tamburlaine, the mighty Soldan comes, And leads with him the great Arabian king, To dim thy baseness and obscurity, Famous for nothing but for theft and spoil ; To raze and scatter thy inglorious crew Of Scythians and slavish Persians. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Banquet; and to it come Tamburlaine, all in scarlet, Theridamas, Techelles, Usumcasane, Bajazet [in his cage], Zabina, and others. Tamb. Now hang our bloody colours by Damascus, Reflexing hues of blood upon their heads, While they walk quivering on their city walls, Half dead for fear before they feel my wrath, Then let us freely banquet and carouse Full bowls of wine unto the god of war That means to fill your helmets full of gold, And make Damascus' spoils as rich to you, As was to Jason Colchos' golden fleece. [And now, Bajazet, hast thou any stomach? Baj. Aye, such a stomach, cruel Tamber- laine, as I could willingly feed upon thy |blood-raw heart. Tamb. Nay thine own is easier to come jby ; pluck out that ; and 'twill serve thee and thy wife: Well, Zenocrate, Techelles, and the rest, fall to your victuals. Baj. Fall to, and never may your meat digest ! Ye furies, that can mask invisible, Dive to the bottom of Avernus' pool, And in your hands bring hellish poison up \nd squeeze it in the cup of Tamburlaine ! )r, winged snakes of Lerna, cast your stings, \nd leave your venoms in this tyrant's dish ! , Zab. And may this banquet prove as omi- nous Ls Progne's to the adulterous Thracian king, "hat fed upon the substance of his child. Zeno. My lord,— how can you suffer these j)utrageous curses by these slaves of yours? I Tamb. To let them see, divine Zenocrate, L glory in the curses of my foes, laving the power from the empyreal heaven To turn them all upon their proper heads. Tech. I pray you give them leave, ma- dam ; this speech is a goodly refreshing to them. Ther. But if his highness would let them be fed, it would do them more good. Tamb. Sirrah, why fall you not to ? — are you so daintily brought up, you cannot eat your own flesh ? Baj. First, legions of devils shall tear thee in pieces. Usum. Villain, know'st thou to whom thou speakest ? Tamb. O, let him alone. Here ; eat sir ; take it from my sword's point, or I'll thrust it to thy heart. [Bajazet takes it and stamps upon it. Ther. He stamps it under his feet, my lord. Tamb. Take it up, villain, and eat it ; or I will make thee slice the brawns of thy arms into carbonades and eat them. Usti?n. Nay, 'twere better he killed his wife, and then he shall be sure not to be starved, and he be provided for a month's victual beforehand. Tamb. Here is my dagger : despatch her while she is fat, for if she live but a while longer, she will fall into a consumption with fretting, and then she will not be worth the eating. Ther. Dost thou think that Mahomet will suffer this? Tech. 'Tis like he will when he cannot let it. Tamb. Go to ; fall to your meat. — What, not a bit ! Belike he hath not been watered to-day ; give him some drink. \_T hey give hi?n water to drink, and he flings it on the ground. Tamb. Fast, and welcome, sir, while hunger make you eat. How now, Zeno- crate, do not the Turk and his wife make a goodly show at a banquet ? Zeno. Yes, my lord. Ther. Methinks 'tis a great deal better than a consort of musick. Tamb. Yet musick would do well to cheer up Zenocrate. Pray thee, tell, why thou art so sad ? — If thou wilt have a song, the Turk shall strain his voice. But why is it? Zeno. My lord, to see my father's town besieged, The country wasted where myself was born, How can it but afflict my very soul? If any love remain in you, my lord, Or if my love unto your majesty May merit favour at your highness' hands, THE FIRST PART OF [act v. Then raise your siege from fair Damascus' walls, And with my father take a friendly truce. Tamb. Zenocrate, were Egypt Jove's own land, Yet would I with my sword make Jove to stoop. I will confute those blind geographers That make a triple region in the world, Excluding regions which I mean to trace, And with this pen reduce them to a map, [Pointing to his sword. Calling the provinces cities and towns, After my name and thine, Zenocrate. Here at Damascus will I make the point That shall begin the perpendicular ; And would'st thou have me buy thy father's love With such a loss? — Tell me, Zenocrate. Zeno. Honour still wait on happy Tam- burlaine ; Yet give me leave to plead for him my lord. Tamb. Content thyself : his^person shall be safe And all the friends of fair Zenocrate, If with their lives they may be pleased to yield, Or maybe forced to make me emperor ; For Egypt and Arabia must be mine. — Feed you slave ; thou may'st think thyself happy to be fed from my trencher. Baj. My empty stomach, full of idle heat, Draws bloody humours from my feeble parts, Preserving life by hastening cruel death. My veins are pale ; my sinews hard and dry ; My joints benumbed ; unless I eat, I die. Zab. Eat, Bajazet : and let us live In spite of them, — looking some happypower Will pity and enlarge us. Tamb. Here, Turk ; wilt thou have a clean trencher ? Baj. Aye, tyrant, and more meat. Tamb. Soft, sir ; you must be dieted ; too much eating will make you surfeit. Ther. So it would, my lord, especially having so small a walk and so little exercise. [A second course is brought in 0/ crowns. Tamb. Theridamas, Techelles, and Ca- sane, here are the cates you desire to finger, are they not ? Ther. Aye my lord : but none save kings must feed with these. Tech. 'Tis enough for us to see them, and for Tamburlaine only to enjoy them. Tamb. Well ; here is now to the Soldan of Egypt, the King of Arabia, and the Gover- nor of Damascus. Now take these three crowns, and pledge me, my contributory kings. — I crown you here Theridamas, King of Argier; Techelles, King of Fez; and Usumcasane, King of Morocco. How say you to this, Turk ? These are not your con- tributory kings. Baj. Nor shall they long be thine, I warrant them. Tamb. Kings of Argier, Morocco, and of Fez, You that have marched with happy Tambur- laine As far as from the frozen plage of heaven, Unto the watery morning's ruddy bower, And thence by land unto the torrid zone, Deserve these titles I endow you with, By valour and by magnanimity. Your births shall be no blemish to your fame, For virtue is the fount whence honour springs, And they are worthy she investeth kings. Ther. And since your highness hath so well vouchsafed ; If we deserve them not with higher meeds Than erst our states and actions have re- tained j Take them away again and make us slaves. i Tamb. Well said, Theridamas ; when holy fates Shall stablish me in strong JEgyptia. We mean to travel to the antarctick pole, Conquering the people underneath our feet, And be renowned as never emperors were. Zenocrate, I will not crown thee yet, Until with greater honours I be graced. [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Enter the Governor 0/" Damascus, with three or four Citizens, and four Virgins, with branches of laurel in their hands. Gov. Still doth this man, or rather god of war, Batter our walls and beat our turrets down ; And to resist with longer stubbornness, Or hope of rescue from the Soldan's power, Were but to bring our wilful overthrow, And make us desperate of our threatened lives. We see his tents have now been altered With terrors to the last and cruellest hue. His coal-black colours every where advanced, Threaten our city with a general spoil ; And if we should with common rites of arms Offer our safeties to his clemency, I fear the custom, proper to his sword, Which he observes as parcel of his fame, Intending so to terrify the world, By any innovation or remorse SCENE II.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. ^3 Will never be dispensed with 'till our deaths ; Therefore, for these our harmless virgins' sakes, Whose honours and whose lives rely on him, Letus havehope that their unspotted prayers, Their blubbered cheeks, and hearty, humble moans, Will melt his fury into some remorse, And use us like a loving conqueror. 1 Virg. If humble suits or imprecations, (Uttered with tears of wretchedness and blood Shed from the heads and hearts of all our sex Some made your wives, and some your children) Might have entreated your obdurate breasts To entertain some care of our securities While only danger beat upon our walls, These more than dangerous warrants of our death Had never been erected as they be, Nor you depend on such weak helps as we. Gov. Well, lovely virgins, think our country's care, Our love of honour, loath to be inthralled I To foreign powers and rough imperious yokes, Would not with too much cowardice or fear, (Before all hope of rescue were denied) Submit yourselves and us to servitude. Therefore in that your safeties and our own, I Your honours, liberties, and lives were weighed \ In equal care and balance with our own, 1 Endure as we the malice of our stars, JThe wrath of Tamburlaine and power of wars ; ( Or be the means the overweighing heavens ; Have kept to qualify these hot extremes, \ And bring us pardon in your cheerful looks. 2 Virg. Then here before the Majesty of Heaven And holy patrons of ^gyptia, I With knees and hearts submissive we entreat ! Grace to our words and pity to our looks I That this device may prove propitious, ; And through the eyes and ears of Tambur- laine 'Convey events of mercy to his heart ; I Grant that these signs of victory we yield 1 May bind the temples of his conquering head, To hide the folded furrows of his brows, And shadow his displeased countenance ■With happy looks of ruth and lenity. Leave us, my lord, and loving countrymen ; What simple virgins may persuade, we will. Gov. Farewell, sweet virgins, on whose safe return Depends our city, liberty, and lives. \Exexmt. SCENE II. Enter Tamburlaine, Techelles, Thcridamas, Usumcasane, with others : Tamburlaine all in black and very melancholy. To them approach the Virgins • p and Morocc0m Usumcasane, J & ' Orcanes, King of Natolia. King of Jerusalem. King of Trebizond. King of Syria. Gazellus, Viceroy of Byro?i. Uribassa. Sigismund, King of Hungary. lck* I Lords ofBuda and Bohemia. Baldwin, Perdicas, Servant to Calyphas. Governor of Babylon. Maximus. Callapine, Son of Bajazet. Almeda, his Keeper. King of Amasia. Physician. Captain of Balscra. His son. Another Captain. Lords, Citizens, Soldiers, &c. Zenocrate, Tamburlaine's Queen. Olympia, the Captain's Wife. Turkish Concubines. PROLOGUE. The general welcomes Tamburlaine received, When he arrived last upon the stage, Hath made our poet pen his Second Part, Where death cuts off the progress of his pomp, And murderous fates throw all his triumphs down. But what became of fair Zenocrate, And with how many cities' sacrifice He celebrated her sad funeral, Himself in presence shall unfold at large. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Orcanes, King of Natolia, Gazellus,' Vice- roy of Byron, Uribassa, andtheir Train, with drums and trumpets. Ore. Egregious viceroys of these eastern parts, Placed by the issue of great Bajazet, And sacred lord, the mighty Callapine, Who lives in Egypt, prisoner to that slave Which kept his father in an iron cage ; — Now have we marched from fair Natolia Two hundred leagues, and on Danubius' banks Our warlike host, in complete armour, rest, Where Sigismund, the king of Hungary Should meet our person to conclude a truce. What ! Shall we parle with the Christian? Or cross the stream, and meet him in the field? Gaz. King of Natolia, let us treat oi peace ; We all are glutted with the Christians' blood And have a greater foe to fight against, — Proud Tamburlaine, that, now in Asia, Near Guyron's head doth set his conq'rinj feet, And means to fire Turkey as he goes. 'Gainst him, my lord, you must addres your power. Uri. Besides, King Sigismund hat) brought from Christendom, More than his camp of stout Hungarians,- j Sclavonians, Almains, Rutters, Muffes, an Danes. scene i.] THE SECOND PART OF TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 3* That with the halberd, lance, and murder- ing axe, Will hazard that we might with surety hold. Ore. Though from the shortest northern parallel, Vast Grantland, compassed with the Frozen Sea, (Inhabited with tall and sturdy men, Giants as big as hugy Polypheme, ) Millions of soldiers cut the arctick line, Bringing the strength of Europe to these arms, Our Turkey blades shall glide through all their throats, And make this champion mead a bloody fen. Danubius' stream, that runs to Trebizon, Shall carry, wrapt within his scarlet waves, As martial presents to our friends at home, The slaughtered bodies of these Christians. The Terrene Main, wherein Danubius falls, Shall, by this battle, be the Bloody Sea. The wandering sailors of proud Italy 'Shall meet those Christians, fleeting with the tide, Beating in heaps against their Argosies, And make fair Europe, mounted on her bull, ^Trapped with the wealth and riches of the world, Might, and wear a woeful mourning weed. Gaz. Yet, stout Orcanes, Prorex of the world, Since Tamburlaine hath mustered all his men, Marching from Cairo northward with his camp, To Alexandria, and the frontier towns, (•leaning to make a conquest of our land, Tis requisite to parle for a peace yith Sigismund, the king of Hungary, tnd save our forces for the hot assaults 'roud Tamburlaine intends Natolia. Ore. Viceroy of Byron, wisely hast thou said. • Iy realm, the centre of our empery, )nce lost, all Turkey would be overthrown, nd for that cause the Christians shall have peace, clavonians, Almains, R utters, Muffes, and Danes, ear not Orcanes, but great Tamburlaine ; 'or he, but fortune, that hath made him great. .re have revolted Grecians, Albanese, cilians, Jews, Arabians, Turks, and Moors, jatolians, Syrians, black Egyptians, ilyrians, Thracians, and Bithvnians, Enough to swallow forceless Sigismund, 1st scarce enough to encounter Tambur- laine. He brings a world of people to the field, From Scythia to the oriental plage Of India, where raging Lantchidol Beats on the regions with his boisterous blows, That never seaman yet discovered. All Asia is in arms with Tamburlaine, Even from the midst of fiery Cancer's tro- pick, To Amazonia under Capricorn ; And thence as far as Archipelago, All Afric is in arms with Tamburlaine ; Therefore, viceroy, the Christians must have peace. Enter Sigismund, Frederick, Baldwin, and their Train, with drums and trumpets. Sig. Orcanes, (as our legates promised thee,) We, with our peers, have crossed Danubius' stream, To treat of friendly peace or deadly war. Take which thou wilt, for as the Romans used, I here present thee with a naked sword ; Wilt thou have war, then shake this blade at me ; If peace, restore it to my hands again, And I will sheathe it, to confirm the same. Ore. Stay, Sigismund! forget'st thou I am he That with the cannon shook Vienna wall, And made it dance upon the continent, As when the massy substance of the earth Quivers about the axle-tree of heaven ? Forget'st thou that I sent a shower of darts. Mingled with powdered shot and feathered steel, So thick upon the blink-eyed burghers" heads, That thou thyself, then County Palatine, The King of Boheme, and the Austrick Duke, Sent heralds out, which basely on their knees In all your names desired a truce of me ? Forget'st thou, that to have me raise my siege, Waggons of gold were set before my tents, Stampt with the princely fowl, that in her wings, Carries the fearful thunderbolts of Jove? How canst thou think of this, and offer war? Sig. Vienna was besieged, and I was there, Then County Palatine, but now a king, And what we did was in extremity. But now, Orcanes, view my royal host, 3a THE SECOND PART OF [ACT r. That hides these plains, and seems as vast and wide, As doth the desert of Arabia To those that stand on Bagdad's lofty tower ; Or as the ocean, to the traveller That rests upon the snowy Apennines ; And tell me whether I should stoop so low, As treat of peace with the Narolian king. Gas. Kings of Natolia and of Hungary, We came from Turkey to confirm a league, And not to dare each other to the field. A friendly parle might become you both. Fred. And we from Europe, to the same intent, Which if your general refuse or scorn, Our tents are pitched, our men stand in array, Ready to charge you ere you stir your feet. | Ore. So prest are we; but yet, if Sigis- mund Speak as a friend, and stand not upon terms, Here is his sword, — let peace be ratified •On these conditions, specified before, Drawn with advice of our ambassadors. Sig. Then here I sheathe it, and give thee my hand, Never to draw it out, or manage arms Against thyself or thy confederates, But whilst I live will be at truce with thee. Ore. But, Sigismund, confirm it with an oath, And swear in sight of heaven and by thy Christ. Sig. By him that made the world and saved my soul, The Son of God and issue of a maid, Sweet Jesus Christ, I solemnly protest And vow to keep this peace inviolable. Ore. By sacred Mahomet, the friend of God, Whose holy Alcoran remains with us, Whose glorious body, when he left the world, •Closed in a coffin mounted up the air, And hung on stately Mecca's temple-roof, I swear to keep this truce inviolable ; Of whose conditions and our solemn oaths, Signed with our hands, each shall retain a scroll As memorable witness of our league. Now Sigismund, if any Christian king Encroach upon the confines of thy realm, Send word, Orcanes of Natolia Confirmed this league beyond Danubius' stream, And they will, trembling, sound a quick retreat ; So am I feared among all nations. Sig. If any heathen potentate or king Invade Natolia, Sigismund will send A hundred thousand horse trained to the war, And backed by stout lanciers of Germany, The strength and sinews of the Imperial seat. Ore. I thank thee, Sigismund ; but, when I war, All Asia Minor, Africa, and Greece, Follow my standard and my thundering drums. Come, let us go and banquet in our tents ; I will despatch chief of my army hence To fair Natolia and to Trebizon, To stay my coming 'gainst proud Tambur- laine. Friend Sigismund, and peers of Hungary. Come, banquet and carouse with us a while, And then depart we to our territories. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Callapine with Almeda, his Keeper, discovered. Call. Sweet Almeda, pity the ruthful plight Of Callapine, the son of Bajazet, Born to be monarch of the western world, Yet here detained by cruel Tamburlaine. Aim. My lord, I pity it, and with all my heart Wish your release ; but he whose wrath is death, My sovereign lord, renowned Tamburlaine, Forbids you farther liberty than this. Call. Ah, were I now but half so eloquen To paint in words what I'll perform in deeds I know thou would'st depart from henc with me. Aim. Not for all Afric: therefore mov me not. Call. Yet hear me speak, my gentl Almeda. Aim. No speech to that end, by yoi favour, sir. Call. By Cairo runs Aim. No talk of running, I tell you, sir Call. A little farther, gentle Almeda. Aim. Well, sir, what of this ? Call. By Cairo runs to Alexandria bay Darote's streams, wherein at anchor lies A Turkish galley of my royal fleet, Waiting my coming to the river side, Hoping by some means I shall be releasei Which, when I come aboard, will hoist sail, And soon put forth into the Terrene sea, Where, 'twixt the isles of Cyprus and Crete, SCENE III.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 33 We quickly may in Turkish seas arrive. Then shalt thou see a hundred kings and more, Upon their knees, all bid me welcome home. Amongst so many crowns of burnished gold, Choose which thou wilt, all are at thy com- mand ; A thousand galleys, manned with Christian slaves, I freely give thee, which shall cut the straits, And bring armados from the coasts of Spain Fraughted with gold of rich America ; The Grecian virgins shall attend on thee, Skilful in music and in amorous lays, As fair as was Pygmalion's ivory girl Or lovely Io metamorphosed. With naked negroes shall thy coach be drawn, And as thou rid'st in triumph through the streets The pavement underneath thy chariot wheels With Turkey carpets shall be covered, ^nd cloth of Arras hung about the walls, •Fit objects for thy princely eye to pierce. \\ hundred bassoes, clothed in crimson silk, Shall ride before thee on Barbarian steeds ; \nd when thou goest, a golden canopy ^nchased with precious stones, which shine as bright [\s that fair veil that covers all the world, frVhen Phoebus, leaping from the hemi- sphere, Oescendeth downward to the Antipodes, — knd more than this — for all I cannot tell. | Aim. How far hence lies the galley, say you? I I Call. Sweet Almeda, scarce half a league from hence. Aim. But need we not be spied going aboard ? Call. Betwixt the hollow hanging of a hill, Ipd crooked bending of a craggy rock, I he sails wrapt up, the mast and tacklings down, - so close that none can find her out. I like that well : but tell me, my nd, if I should let you go, would you be as od as your word ? Shall I be made a king i -it my labour ? \Call. As I am Callapine the emperor, Jid by the hand of Mahomet I swear 'iou shalt be crowned a king, and be my I mate. Mlm. Then here I swear, as I am Almeda ■.our keeper under Tamburlaine the Great, jJbr that's the style and title I have yet,) 4 hough he sent a thousand armed men To intercept this haughty enterprize, Yet would I venture to conduct your grace, And die before 1 brought you back again. Call. Thanks, gentle Almeda ; then let us haste, Lest time be past, and lingering let us both. Aim. When you will, my lord ; I am ready. Call. Even straight ; and farewell, cursed Tamburlaine. Now go I to revenge my father's death. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Tamburlaine, with Zenocrate and his three Sons, Calyphas, Amyras, and Celebinus, with Drums and Trumpets. Tamb. Now, bright Zenocrate, the world's fair eye, Whose beams illuminate the lamps of heaven, Whose cheerful looks do clear the cloudy air, And clothe it in a crystal livery ; Now rest thee here on fair Larissa plains, Where Egypt and the Turkish empire part Between thy sons, that shall be emperors, And every one commander of a world. Zeno. Sweet Tamburlaine, when wilt thou leave these arms, And save thy sacred person free from scathe, And dangerous chances of the wrathful war? Tamb. When heaven shall cease to move on both the poles, And when the ground, whereon my soldiers march, Shall rise aloft and touch the horned moon, And not before, my sweet Zenocrate. Sit up, and rest thee like a lovely queen ; So, now she sits in pomp and majesty, When these, my sons, more precious in mine eyes, Than all the wealthy kingdoms I subdued, Placed by her side, look on their mother's face : But yet methinks their looks are amorous, Not martial as the sons of Tamburlaine : Water and air, being symbolized in one, Argue their want of courage and of wit ; Their hair as white as milk and soft as down, (Which should be like the quills of porcu- pines As black as jet and hard as iron or steel) Bewrays they are too dainty for the wars ; Their fingers made to quaver on a lute, Their arms to hang about a lady's neck, Would make me think them bastards not my sons, But that I know they issued from thy womb 34 THE SECOND PART OF [act I. That never looked on man but Tambur- laine. Zeno. My gracious lord, they have their mother's looks, But, when they list, their conquering father's heart. This lovely boy, the youngest of the three, Not long ago bestrid a Scythian steed Trotting the ring, and tilting at a glove, Which, when he tainted with his slender rod, He reined him straight and made him so curvet, As I cried out for fear he should have fallen. Tamb. Well done, my boy, thou shalt have shield and lance, Armour of proof, horse, helm, and curtle axe, And I will teach thee how to charge thy foe, And harmless run among the deadly pikes. If thou wilt love the wars and follow me, Thou shalt be made a king and reign with me, Keeping in iron cages emperors. If thou exceed thy elder brothers' worth And shine in complete virtue more than they, Thou shalt be king before them, and thy seed Shall issue crowned from their mother's womb. Cel. Yes, father : you shall see me, if I live, Have under me as many kings as you, And march with such a multitude of men, As all the world shall tremble at their view. Tamb. These words assure me, boy, thou art my son. When I am old and cannot manage arms, Be thou the scourge and terror of the world. Amy. Whv may not I my lord, as well as he, Be termed the scourge and terror of the world ? Tamb. Be all a scourge and terror to the world, Or else you are not sons of Tamburlaine. Cal. But while my brothers follow arms, my lord. Let me accompany my gracious mother ; They are enough to conquer all the world, And you have won enough for me to keep. Tamb. Bastardly boy, sprung from some coward's loins, And not the issue of great Tamburlaine ; Of all the provinces I have subdued, Thou shalt not have a foot unless thou bear A mind courageous and invincible : For he shall wear the crown of Persia Whose head hath deepest scars, whose breast most wounds, Which being wroth sends lightning from his eyes, And in the furrows of his frowning brows Harbours revenge, war, death, and cruelty ; For in a field, whose superficies Is covered with a liquid purple veil And sprinkled with the brains of slaughtered men, My royal chair of state shall be advanced ; And he that means to place himself therein, Must armed wade up to the chin in blood. Zeno. My lord, such speeches to our princely sons Dismay their minds before they come to prove The wounding troubles angry war affords. Cel. No, madam, these are speeches fit for us, For if his chair were in a sea of blood I would prepare a ship and sail to it, Ere I would lose the title of a king. Amy. And I would strive to swim through pools of blood, Or make a bridge of murdered carcases, Whose arches should be framed with, bones of Turks, Ere I would lose the title of a king. Tamb. Well, lovely boys, ye shall be emperors both, Stretching your conquering arms from East to West ; And, sirrah, if you mean to wear a crown, When we shall meet the Turkish deputy And all his viceroys, snatch it from his head, j And cleave his pericranium with thy sword. ' Cal. If any man will hold him, I will strike And cleave him to the channel with my sword. Tamb. Hold him, and cleave him too, or I'll cleave thee, For we will march against them presently. Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane Promised to meet me on Larissa plains With hosts apiece against this Turkish crew ; For I have sworn by sacred Mahomet To make it parcel of my empery ; The trumpets sound, Zenocrate ; they come. Enter Theridamas, and his train, li'ith Drums and Trumpets. Tamb. Welcome, Theridamas, king o Argier. Ther. My lord, the great and might? Tamburlaine, — Arch-monarch of the world, I offer here My crown, myself, and all the power I have I In all affection at thy kingly feet. SCENE III.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 35 Tamb. Thanks, good Theridamas. Thcr. Under my colours march ten thou- sand Greeks ; And of Argier's and Afric's frontier towns Twice twenty thousand valiant men at arms, All which have sworn to sack Natolia. Five hundred brigantines are under sail, Meet for your service on the sea, my lord, That launching from Argier to Tripoli, Will quickly ride before Natolia, And batter down the castles on the shore. Tamb. Well said, Argier ; receive thy crown again. Enter Techelles and Usumcasane, together. Tamb. Kings of Morocco and of Fez, welcome. Usum. Magnificent and peerless Tam- burlaine ! I and my neighbour king of Fez have brought To aid thee in this Turkish expedition, A hundred thousand expert soldiers : From Azamor to Tunis near the sea Is Barbary unpeopled for thy sake, And all the men in armour under me, Which with my crown I gladly offer thee. Tamb. Thanks, king of Morocco, take your crown again. Tech. And, mighty Tamburlaine, our earthly god, Whose looks make this inferior world to quake, I here present thee with the crown of Fez, And with an host of Moors trained to the war, Whose coal-black faces make their foes retire, And quake for fear, as if infernal Jove Meaning to aid thee in these Turkish arms, Should pierce the black circumference of hell With ugly Furies bearing fiery flags, And millions of his strong tormenting spirits ; From strong Tesella unto Biledull All Barbary is unpeopled for thy sake. Tamb. Thanks, king of Fez ; take here thy crown again. Your presence, loving friends, and fellow kings, Makes me to surfeit in conceiving joy. If all the crystal gates of Jove's high court Were opened wide, and I might enter in To see the state and majesty of Heaven, It could not more delight me than your sight. Now will we banquet on these plains awhile, ^nd after march to Turkey with our camp, In number more than are the drops that fall, When Boreas rents a thousand swelling clouds ; And proud Orcanes of Natolia With all his viceroys shall be so afraid, That though the stones, as at Deucalion's flood, j Were turned to men, he should be over- j come. I Such lavish will I make of Turkish blood, • That Jove shall send his winged messenger \ To bid me sheathe my sword and leave the field; The sun unable to sustain the sight, j Shall hide his head in Thetis' watery lap, I And leave his steeds to fair Bootes' charge ; j For half the world shall perish in this fight. j But now, my friends, let me examine ye ; j How have ye spent your absent time from me? Usum. My lord, our men of Barbary have marched Four hundred miles with armour on their backs, And lain in leaguer fifteen months and more ; For since we left you at the Soldan's court, We have subdued the southern Guallatia, And all the land unto the coasts of Spain, We kept the narrow Strait of Jubalter, And made Canada call us kings and lords ; Yet never did they recreate themselves, Or cease one day from war and hot alarms, And therefore let them rest awhile, my lord. Tamb. They shall, Casane, and 'tis time i'faith. Tech. And I have marched along the river Nile To Machda, where the mighty Christian priest, Called John the Great, sits in a milk-white robe, Whose triple mitre I did take by force, And made him swear obedience to my crown, From thence unto Cazates did I march, Where Amazonians met me in the field, With whom, being women, I vouchsafed a league, And with my power did march to Zanzibar, The eastern part of Afric, where I viewed The Ethiopian sea, rivers and lakes, But neither man nor child in all the land ; Therefore I took my course to Manico, Where unresisted, I removed my camp ; And by the coast of Byather, at last I came to Cubar, where the Negroes dwell, And conquering that, made haste to Nubia. There, having sacked Borno the kingly seat, I took the king and led him bound in chains D 2 36 THE SECOND PART OF [act II. Unto Damascus, where I stayed before. Tamb. Well done, Techelles. Whatsaith Theridamas? T/ier. I left the confines and the bounds of Afric, And [thence I] made a voyage into Europe, Where by the river, Tyras, I subdued Stoka, Podolia, and Codemia ; Thence crossed the sea and came to Oblia, And Nigra Sylva, where the devils dance, Which in despite of them, I set on fire. From thence I crossed the gulf called by the name Mare Majore of the inhabitants. Yet shall my soldiers make no period, Until Natolia kneel before your feet. Tamb. Then will we triumph, banquet and carouse ; Cooks shall have pensions to provide us cates, And glut us with the dainties of the world ; Lachryma Christi and Calabrian wines Shall common soldiers drink in quaffing bowls, Aye, liquid gold (when we have conquered him) Mingled with coral and with orient pearl. Come, let us banquet and carouse the while. [Exeunt. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. Enter Sigismund, Frederick, Baldwin, and their Train. Sig. Now say, my lords of Buda and Bohemia, What motion is it that inflames your thoughts, And stirs your valours to such sudden arms? Fred. Your majesty remembers, I am sure, What cruel slaughter of our Christian bloods These heathenish Turks and Pagans lately made, Betwixt the city Zula and Danubius ; How through the midst of Varna and Bul- garia, And almost to the very walls of Rome, They have, not long since, massacred our camp. It resteth now then, that your majesty Take all advantages of time and power, And work revenge upon these infidels. Your highness knows for Tamburlaine's repair, That strikes a terror to all Turkish hearts, Natolia hath dismissed the greatest part Of all his army, pitched against our power, Betwixt Cutheia and Orminius' mount, And sent them marching up to Belgasar, Acantha, Antioch, and Caesarea, To aid the kings of Syria and Jerusalem. Now then, my lord, advantage take thereof. And issue suddenly upon the rest ; That in the fortune of their overthrow, We may discourage all the pagan troop, That dare attempt to war with Christians. Sig. But calls not then your grace to memory The league we lately made with king Or- canes, Confirmed by oath and articles of peace, And calling Christ for record of our truths ? This should be treachery and violence Against the grace of our profession. Bald. No whit, my lord, for with such infidels, In whom no faith nor true religion rests, We are not bound to those accomplish- ments, The holy laws of Christendom enjoin ; But as the faith, which they profanely plight, Is not by necessary policy To be esteemed assurance for ourselves, So that we vow to them, should not infringe Our liberty of arms or victory. Sig. Though I confess the oaths they undertake Breed little strength to our security, Yet those infirmities that thus defame Their faiths, their honours, and religion, Should not give us presumption to the like. Our faiths are sound, and must be con- summate, Religious, righteous, and inviolate. Fred. Assure your grace 'tis superstition To stand so strictly on dispensive faith ; And should we lose the opportunity That God hath given to avenge our Chris- tians' death, And scourge their foul blasphemous Pa- ganism, As fell to Saul, to Balaam, and the rest, That would not kill and curse at God's command, So surely will the vengeance of the Highest, And jealous anger of his fearful arm, Be poured with rigour on our sinful heads, If we neglect this offered victory. Sig. Then arm, my lords, and issue sud- denly, Giving commandment to our general host, With expedition to assail the Pagan, And take the victory our God hath given. [Exeunt. SCENE III.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 37 SCENE II. Enter Orcanes, Gazellus, and Uribassa, •with their Trains. Ore. Gazellus, Uribassa, and the rest, Now will we march from proud Orminius' mount, To fair Natolia, where our neighbour kings Expect our power and our royal presence, To encounter with the cruel Tamburlaine, That nigh Larissa sways a mighty host, And, with the thunder of his martial tools, Makes earthquakes in the hearts of men and heaven. Gaz. And now come we to make his sinews shake, With greater power than erst his pride hath felt. An hundred kings, by scores, will bid him arms, An hundred thousand subjects to each score, Which , if a shower of wounding thunderbolts Should break out of the bowels of the clouds, And fall as thick as hail upon our heads, In partial aid of that proud Scythian, Yet should our courages and steeled crests, And numbers, more than infinite, of men, Be able to withstand and conquer him. Uri. Methinks I see how glad the Chris- tian king Is made, for joy of your admitted truce, That could not but before be terrified With unacquainted power of our host. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Arm, dread sovereign, and my noble lords ! The treacherous army of the Christians, Taking advantage of your slender power, Comes marching on us, and determines straight To bid us battle for our dearest lives. Ore . Traitors ! villains ! damned Chris- tians ! Have I not here the articles of peace, And solemn covenants we've both confirmed, He by his Christ, and I by Mahomet ? Gaz. Hell and confusion light upon their heads, That with such treason seek our overthrow, And care so little for their prophet, Christ ! Ore. Can there be such deceit in Chris- tians, Or treason in the fleshly heart of man, Whose shape is figure of the highest God ! Then, if there be a Christ, as Christians say, But in their deeds deny him for their Christ, If he be son to everhving Jove, And hath the power of his outstretched arm ; | If he be jealous of his name and honour, As is our holy prophet, Mahomet ; — Take here these papers as our sacrifice And witness of thy servant's perjury. [He tears to pieces the articles of peace. Open, thou shining veil of Cynthia, And make a passage from the empyreal heaven, That he that sits on high and never sleeps, Nor in one place is circumscriptible, But everywhere fills every continent With strange infusion of his sacred vigour, May in his endless power and purity, Behold and 'venge this traitor's perjury ! Thou Christ, that art esteemed omnipotent, If thou wilt prove thyself a perfect God, Worthy the worship of all faithful hearts, Be now revenged upon this traitor's soul, And make the power I have left behind, (Too little to defend our guiltless lives), Sufficient to discomfit and confound The trustless force of those false Christians. To arms, my lords ! On Christ still let us cry ! If there be Christ, we shall have victory. SCENE III. Alarums of battle. — Enter Sigismund, wounded. Sig. Discomfited is all the Christian host, And God hath thundered vengeance from on high, For my accursed and hateful perjury. O, just and dreadful punisher of sin, Let the dishonour of the pains I feel, In this my mortal well-deserved wound, End all my penance in my sudden death ! And let this death, wherein to sin I die, Conceive a second life in endless mercy ! [He dies. Enter Orcanes, Gazellus, Uribassa, and others. Ore. Now lie the Christians bathing in their bloods, And Christ or Mahomet hath been my friend. Gaz. See here the perjured traitor, Hun- gary, Bloody and breathless for his villainy. Ore. Now shall his barbarous body be a prey To beasts and fowls, and all the winds shall breathe Through shady leaves of every senseless tree, Murmurs and hisses for his heinous sin. Now scalds his soul in the Tartarian streams, And feeds upon the baneful tree of hell, That Zoacum, that fruit of bitterness, 38 THE SECOND PART OF [ACT II. That in the midst of fire is ingrafted, Yet flourishes as Flora in her pride, With apples like the heads of damned fiends. The devils there, in chains of quenchless flame, Shall lead his soul through Orcus' burning gulph, From pain to pain, whose change shall never end. What say 'st thou yet, Gazelhis, to his foil Which we referred to justice of his Christ, And to his power, which here appears as full As rays of Cynthia to the clearest sight? Gaz. Tis but the fortune of the wars, my lord, Whose power is often proved a miracle. Ore. Yet in my thoughts shall Christ be honoured, Not doing Mahomet an injury, Whose power had share in this our victory ; And since this miscreant hath disgraced his faith, And died a traitor both to heaven and earth, We will, both watch and ward shall keep his trunk Amidst these plains for fowls to prey upon. Go, Uribassa, give it straight in charge. Uri. I will, my lord. [Exit. Ore. And now, Gazellus, let us haste and meet Our army, and our brothers, of Jerusalem, Of Syria, Trebizond, and Amasia, And happily with full Natolian bowls Of Greekish wine, now let us celebrate Our happy conquest, and his angry fate. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Zenocrate is discovered in her Bed of State ; Tamburlaine sitting by her ; three Phy- sicians about her bed, tenipering potions ; Theridamas, Techelles, Usumcasane, and the three Sons. Tamb. Black is the beauty of the bright- est day ; The golden ball of Heaven's eternal fire, That danced with glory on the silver waves, Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams ; And all with faintness, and for foul disgrace, He binds his temples with a frowning cloud, Ready to darken earth with endless night. Zenocrate, that gave him light and life, Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers, And tempered every soul with lively heat, Now by the malice of the angry skies, Whose jealousy admits no second mate, Draws in the comfort of her latest breath, All dazzled with the hellish mists of death. Now walk the angels on the walls of heaven, As sentinels to warn the immortal souls To entertain divine Zenocrate. Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps That gently looked upon this loathsome earth, Shine downward now no more, but deck the heavens, To entertain divine Zenocrate. The crystal springs, whose taste illuminates Refined eyes with an eternal sight, Like tried silver, run through Paradise, To entertain divine Zenocrate. The cherubins and holy seraphins, That sing and play before the King of Kings, Use all their voices and their instruments To entertain divine Zenocrate. And in this sweet and curious harmony, The God that tunes this music to our souls. Holds out his hand in highest majesty To entertain divine Zenocrate. Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts Up to the palace of the empyreal heaven, That this my life may be as short to me As are the days of sweet Zenocrate. Physicians, will no physic do her good? Phys. My lord, your majesty shall soon perceive : And if she pass this fit, the worst is past. Tamb. Tell me, how fares my fair Zeno- crate ? Zeno. I fare, my lord, as other empresses, That, when this frail and transitory flesh Hath sucked the measure of that vital air That feeds the body with his dated health, Wane with enforced and necessary change. Tamb. May never such a change trans- form my love, In whose sweet being I repose my life, Whose heavenly presence, beautified with health, Gives light to Phoebus and the fixed stars ! Whose absence makes the sun and moon as dark As when, opposed in one diameter, Their spheres are mounted on the serpent's head, Or else descended to his winding train. Live still, my love, and so conserve my life, Or, dying, be the author of my death ! Zeno. Live still, my lord ! Oh, let my sovereign live ! And sooner let the fiery element Dissolve and make your kingdom in the sky, Than this base earth should shroud your majesty : SCENE IV.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 39 For should I but suspect your death by mine, The comfort of my future happiness, And hope to meet your highness in the heavens, Turned to despair, would break my wretched breast, And fury would confound my present rest. But let me die, my love ; yet let me die ; With love and patience let your true love die! Your grief and fury hurts my second life. — Yet let me kiss my lord before I die, And let me die with kissing of my lord. But since my life is lengthened yet awhile, Let me take leave of these my loving sons, And of my lords, whose true nobility Have merited my latest memory. Sweet sons, farewell ! In death resemble me, And in your lives your father's excellence. Some music, and my fit will cease, my lord. [ They call for music. Tamb. Proud fury, and intolerable fit, That dares torment the body of my love, And scourge the scourge of the immortal God: Now are those spheres, where Cupid used to sit, Wounding the world with wonder and with love, Sadly supplied with pale and ghastly death, Whose darts do pierce the centre of my soul. Her sacred beauty hath enchanted heaven ; And had she lived before the siege of Troy, Helen (whose beauty summoned Greece to arms, And drew a thousand ships to Tenedos), Had not been named in Homer's Iliades ; Her name had been in every line he wrote. Or had those wanton poets, for whose birth Old Rome was proud, but gazed awhile on her, Nor Lesbia nor Corinna had been named ; Zenocrate had been the argument Of every epigram or elegy. [The music sounds. — Zenocrate dies. What ! is she dead ? Techelles, draw thy sword And wound the earth, that it may cleave in twain, And we descend into the infernal vaults, To hale the Fatal Sisters by the hair, And throw them in the triple moat of hell, For taking hence my fair Zenocrate. Casane and Theridamas, to arms ! Raise cavalieros higher than the clouds, And with the cannon break the frame of heaven ; Batter the shining palace of the sun, And shiver all the starry firmament, For amorous Jove hath snatched my love from hence, Meaning to make her stately queen of heaven. What God soever holds thee in his arms, Giving thee nectar and ambrosia, Behold me here, divine Zenocrate, Raving, impatient, desperate, and mad, Breaking my steeled lance, with which I burst The rusty beams of Janus' temple-doors, Letting out Death and tyrannizing War, To march with me under this bloody flag! And if thou pitiest Tamburlaine the Great, Come down from heaven, and live with me again. Ther. Ah, good my lord, be patient ; she is dead, And all this raging cannot make her live. If words might serve, our voice hath rent the air ; If tears, our eyes have watered all the earth ; If grief, our murdered hearts have strained forth blood ; Nothing prevails, for she is dead, my lord. Tamb. For she is dead ! Thy words do pierce my soul ! Ah, sweet Theridamas ! say so no more ; Though she be dead, yet let me think she lives, And feed my mind that dies for want of her. Where'er her soul be, thou [To the body] shalt stay with me, Embalmed with cassia, ambergris, and myrrh, Not lapt in lead, but in a sheet of gold, And till I die thou shalt not be interred. Then in as rich a tomb as Mausolus' We both will rest and have our epitaph Writ in as many several languages As I have conquered kingdoms with my sword. This cursed town will I consume with fire, Because this place bereaved me of my love : The houses, burnt, will look as if they mourned ; And here will I set up her statua, And march about it with my mourning camp Drooping and pining for Zenocrate. [ The scene closes. 40 THE SECOND PART OF LACT III. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter the Kings of Trebizond and Syria, one bearing a sword, and the other a sceptre; next Natolia and Jerusalem, with the imperial Crown ; after Calla- pine, and after him other Lords and Almeda. Orcanes and Jerusalem crown him, and the others give him the sceptre. Ore. Callapinus Cyricelibes, otherwise Cybelius, son and successive heir to the late mighty emperor, Bajazet, by the aid of God and his friend Mahomet, emperor of Na- tolia, Jerusalem, Trebizond, Syria, Amasia, Thracia, Illyria, Carmania, and all the hundred and thirty kingdoms late contribu- tory to his mighty father. Long live Calla- pinus, Emperor of Turkey. Call. Thrice worthy kings of Natolia, and the rest, I will requite your royal gratitudes With all the benefits my empire yields ; And were the sinews of the imperial seat So knit and strengthened as when Bajazet My royal lord and father filled the throne, Whose cursed fate hath so dismembered it, Then should you see this chief of Scythia, This proud, usurping king of Persia, Do us such honour and supremacy, Bearing the vengeance of our father's wrongs, As all the world should blot our dignities Out of the book of base-born infamies. And now I doubt not but your royal cares Have so provided for this cursed foe, That, since the heir of mighty Bajazet, (An emperor so honoured for his virtues,) Revives the spirits of all true Turkish hearts, In grievous memory of his father's shame, We shall not need to nourish any doubt, But that proud fortune, who hath followed long The martial sword of mighty Tamburlaine, Will now retain her old inconstancy, And raise our honours to as high a pitch, In this our strong and fortunate encounter ; For so hath heaven provided my escape, From all the cruelty my soul sustained, By this my friendly keeper's happy means, That Jove, surcharged with pity of our wrongs, Will pour it down in showers on our heads, Scourging the pride of cursed Tamburlaine. Ore. I have a hundred thousand men in arms : Some, that in conquest of the perjured Christian, Being a handful to a mighty host, Think them in number yet sufficient To drink the river Nile or Euphrates, And for their power enow to win the world. Jer. And I as many from Jerusalem, Judaea, Gaza, and Sclavonia's bounds, That on mount Sinai with their ensigns spread, Look like the parti-coloured clouds of heaven That show fair weather to the neighbour morn. Treb. And I as many bring from Trebi- zond, Chio, Famastro, and Amasia All bordering on the Mare Major sea, Riso, Sancina, and the bordering towns That touch the end of famous Euphrates, Whose courages are kindled with the flames, The cursed Scythian sets on all their towns, And vow to burn the villain's cruel heart. Syr. From Syria with seventy thousand strong Ta'en from Aleppo, Saldino, Tripoli, And so on to my city of Damascus, I march to meet and aid my neighbour kings ; All which will join against this Tambur- laine, And bring him captive to your highness' feet. Ore. Our battle then in martial manner pitched According to our ancient use, shall bear The figure of the semicircled moon, Whose horns shall sprinkle through the tainted air The poisoned brains of this proud Scythian. Call. Well then, my noble lords, for this my friend That freed me from the bondage of my foe, I think it requisite and honourable, To keep my promise and to make him king, That is a gentleman, I know, at least. Aim. That is no matter, sir, for being a king ; for Tamburlaine came up of no- thing. Jer. Your Majesty may choose some pointed time, Performing all your promise to the full ; 'Tis nought for your majesty to give a kingdom. Call. Then will I shortly keep my pro- mise, Almeda. Aim. Why, I thank your majesty. {Exeunt. SCENE II.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 4* SCENE II. Enter Tamburlaine with Usumcasane, and his three Sons ; four Attendants bear- ing the hearse of Zenocrate, and the drums sounding a doleful march ; the town burning. Tamb. So burn the turrets of this cursed town, Flame to the highest region of the air, And kindle heaps of exhalations, \ That being fiery meteors may presage Death and destruction to the inhabitants ! Over my Zenith hang a blazing star, That may endure till heaven be dissolved, Fed with the fresh supply of earthly dregs, Threatening a dearth and famine to this land ! Flying dragons, lightning, fearful thunder- claps, Singe these fair plains, and make them seem as black As is the island where the Furies mask, Compassed with Lethe, Styx, and Phlege- thon, Because my dear'st Zenocrate is dead. Cal. This pillar, placed in memory of her, Where in Arabian, Hebrew, Greek, is writ : — This town, being burnt by Tamhirlaine the Great, Forbids the world to build it up again. Amy. And here this mournful streamer shall be placed, Wrought with the Persian and the Egyptian arms, To signify she was a princess born, And wife unto the monarch of the East. Cel. And here this table as a register Of all her virtues and perfections. Tamb. And here the picture of Zeno- crate, To show her beauty which the world admired ; Sweet picture of divine Zenocrate, That, hanging here, will draw the gods from heaven, \nd cause the stars, fixed in the southern arc, Whose lovely faces never any viewed 7hat have not passed the centre's latitude) j 'is pilgrims, travel to our hemisphere, I )nly to gaze upon Zenocrate. I ,'bou shalt not beautify Larissa plains, : ut keep within the circle of mine arms. I !.t every town and castle I besiege, I ftiou shalt be set upon my royal tent ; 1 ind when I meet an army in the field, Those looks will shed such influence in my camps As if Bellona, goddess of the war, Threw naked swords and sulphur-balls of fire Upon the heads of all our enemies. And now, my lords, advance your spears again : Sorrow no more, my sweet Casane, now ; Boys, leave to mourn ! this town shall ever mourn, Being burnt to cinders for your mother's death. Cal. If I had wept a sea of tears for her, It would not ease the sorrows I sustain. Amy. As is that town, so is my heart con- sumed With grief and sorrow for my mother's death. Cel. My mother's death hath mortified my mind, And sorrow stops the passage of my speech. Tamb. But now, my boys, leave off and list to me, That mean to teach you rudiments of war ; I'll have you learn to sleep upon the ground, March in your armour thorough watery fens, Sustain the scorching heat and freezing cold, Hunger and thirst, right adjuncts of the war, And after this to scale a castle wall, Besiege a fort, to undermine a town, And make whole cities caper in the air. Then next the way to fortify your men ; In champion grounds, what figure serves you best, For which the quinque-angle form is meet, Because the corners there may fall more flat Whereas the fort may fittest be assailed, And sharpest where the assault is desperate. The ditches must be deep ; the counterscarps Narrow and steep ; the walls made high and broad ; The bulwarks and the rampires large and strong, With cavalieros and thick counterforts, And room within to lodge six thousand men. It must have privy ditches, countermines, And secret issuings to defend the ditch ; It must have high argins and covered ways, To keep the bulwark fronts from battery, And parapets to hide the musketeers ; Casemates to place the great artillery ; And store of ordnance, that from every flank May scour the outward curtains of the fort, Dismount the cannon of the adverse part, Murder the foe, and save the walls from breach. When this is learned for service on the land, 4* THE SECOND PART OF [act III. By plain and easy demonstration I'll teach you how to make the water mount, That you may dry-foot march through lakes and pools, Deep rivers, havens, creeks, and little seas, And make a fortress in the raging waves, Fenced with the concave of a monstrous rock, Invincible by nature of the place. When this is done, then are ye soldiers, And worthy sons of Tamburlaine the Great. Cal. My lord, but this is dangerous to be done ; We may be slain or wounded ere we learn. Tamb. Villain! Art thou the son of Tamburlaine, And fear'st to die, or with a curtle-axe To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound ? Hast thou beheld a peal of ordnance strike A ring of pikes, mingled with shot and horse, Whose shattered limbs, being tossed as high as heaven, Hang in the air as thick as sunny motes, And canst thou, coward, stand in fear of death? Hast thou not seen my horsemen charge the foe, Shot through the arms, cut overthwart the hands, Dyeing their lances with their streaming blood, And yet at night carouse within my tent, Filling their empty veins with airy wine, That, being concocted, turns to crimson blood, And wilt thou shun the field for fear of wounds ? View me, thy father, that hath conquered kings, And, with his host, marched round about the earth, Quite void of scars, and clear from any wound, That by the wars lost not a drop of blood, And see him lance his flesh to teach you all. \He cuts his arm. A wound is nothing, be it ne'er so deep ; Blood is the god of war's rich livery. Now look I like a soldier, and this wound As gre*at a grace and majesty to me, As if a chain of gold, enamelled, Enchased with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, And fairest pearl of wealthy India, Were mounted here under a canopy, And I sate down clothed with a massy robe, That late adorned the Afric potentate, Whom I brought bound unto Damascus' walls. Come, boys, and with your fingers search my wound, And in my blood wash all your hands at once, While I sit smiling to behold the sight. Now, my boys, what think ye of a wound ? Cal. I know not what I should think of it ; methinks it is a pitiful sight. Cel. This ? nothing : give me a wound, father. Amy. And me another, my lord. Tamb. Come, sirrah, give me your arm. Cel. Here, father, cut it bravely, as you did your own. Tamb. It shall suffice thou darest abide a wound ; My boy, thou shalt not lose a drop of blood Before we meet the army of the Turk ; But then run desperate through the thickest dregs, Dreadless of blows, of bloody wounds, and death ; And let the burning of Larissa walls, My speech of war, and this my wound you see, Teach you, my boys, to bear courageous minds, Fit for the followers of great Tamburlaine ! Usumcasane now come let us march Towards Techelles and Theridamas, That we have sent before to fire the towns, The towers and cities of these hateful Turks, And hunt that coward, faint-heart runaway, With that accursed traitor Almeda, Till fire and sword have found them at a bay. Usum. I long to pierce his bowels with my sword, That hath betrayed my gracious sovereign, — That cursed and damned traitor Almeda. Tamb. Then let us see if coward Callapine Dare levy arms against our puissance, That we may tread upon his captive neck, And treble all his father's slaveries. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Techelles, Theridamas, and their Train. Tamb. Thus have we marched north- ward from Tamburlaine, Unto the frontier port of Syria ; And this is Balsora, their cbiefest hold, Wherein is all the treasure of the land. Tech. Then let us bring our light artillery, Minions, falc'nets, and sakers, to the trench, Filling the ditches with the walls' wid( breach, SCENE IV.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 43 And enter in to seize upon the gold. How say you, soldiers, shall we not ? Sold. Yes, my lord, yes ; come, let's about it. Thcr. But stay awhile ; summon a parle, drum. It may be they will yield it quietly, Knowing two kings, the friends to Tambur- laine, Stand at the walls with such a mighty power. [A parte sounded. — Captain appears on the walls, with Olympia his wife and son. Capt. What require you, my masters? Ther. Captain, that thou yield up thy hold to us. Capt. To you ! Why, do you think me weary of it? Tech. Nay, captain, thou art weary of thy life, If thou withstand the friends of Tambur- laine! Ther. The pioners of Argier in Africa, Even in the cannon's face, shall raise a hill Of earth and faggots higher than the fort, ;\nd over thy argins and covered ways Shall play upon the bulwarks of thy hold Volleys of ordnance, till the breach be made That with his ruin fills up all the trench. \.nd when we enter in, not heaven itself shall ransom thee, thy wife, and family. Tech. Captain, these Moors shall cut the leaden pipes, Qiat bring fresh water to thy men and thee, Vnd lie in trench before thy castle walls, 7hat no supply of victual shall come in, ;Nor any issue forth but they shall die ; ^.nd, therefore, captain, yield it quietly. Capt. Were you, that are the friends of Tamburlaine, brothers to holy Mahomet himself, would not yield it ; therefore do your worst : liaise mounts, batter, intrench, and under- mine, 'ut off the water, all convoys you can, 'et I am resolute and so farewell. [Captain, Olympia, and their son, retire from the walls. | Ther. Pioners, away ! and where I stuck the stake, ! ltrench with those dimensions I pre- scribed. | ast up the earth towards the castle wall, ■'nich, till it may defend you, labour low, nd few or none shall perish by their shot. Pio. We will, my lord. \Exeunt Pioners. Tech. A hundred horse shall scout about the plains To spy what force comes to relieve the hold. Both we, Theridamas, will intrench our men, And with the Jacob's staff measure the height And distance of the castle from the trench, That we may know if our artillery Will carry full point blank unto their walls. Ther. Then see the bringing of our ordi- nance Along the trench into the battery, Where we will have gabions of six foot broad To save our cannoniers from musket shot. Betwixt which shall our ordnance thunder forth, And with the breach's fall, smoke, fire, and dust, The crack, the echo, and the soldier's cry, Make deaf the ear and dim the crystal sky. Tech. Trumpets and drums, alarum pre- sently ; And, soldiers, play the men; the hold is yours. \Exeunt. SCENE IV. Alarum within. Enter the Captain, with Olympia, and his Son. Olymp. Come, good, my lord, and let us haste from hence Along the cave that leads beyond the foe ; No hope is left to save this conquered hold. Capt. A deadly bullet, gliding through my side, Lies heavy on my heart ; I cannot live. I feel my liver pierced, and all my veins, That there begin and nourish every part, Mangled and torn, and all my entrails bathed In blood that straineth from their orifex. Farewell, sweet wife! sweet son, farewell! I die ! [He dies. Olymp. Death, whither art thou gone, that both we live? Come back again, sweet Death, and strike us both ! One minute end our days ! and one sepulchre Contain our bodies ! Death, why com'st thou not ? Well, this must be the messenger for thee : [Drawi?ig a dagger. Now, ugly Death, stretch out thy sable wings, And carry both our souls where his re- mains. Tell me, sweet boy, art thou content to die? These barbarous Scythians, full of cruelty, | And Moors, in whom was never pity founp. 44 THE SECOND PART OF [ACT III Will hew us piecemeal, put us to the wheel, Or else invent some torture worse than that ; Therefore die by thy loving mother's hand, Who gently now will lance thy ivory throat, And quickly rid thee both of pain and life. Son. Mother despatch me, or I'll kill my- self; For think you I can live and see him dead? Give me your knife, good mother, or strike home : The Scythians shall not tyrannize on me. Sweet mother, strike, that I may see my father. [She stabs him, and he dies. Olymp. Ah, sacred Mahomet, if thisbesin. Entreat a pardon of the God of heaven, And purge my soul before it come to thee. [She burns the bodies of her husband and son, and then attempts to kill herself. Enter Theridamas, Techelles, and all their Train. Ther. How now, madam, what are you doing ? Olymp. Killing myself, as I have done my son, Whose body, with his father's, I have burnt, Lest cruel Scythians should dismember him. Tech. 'Twas bravely done, and, like a soldier's wife. Thou shalt with us to Tamburlaine the Great, Who, when he hears how resolute thou art, Will match thee with a viceroy or a king. Olymp. My lord deceased was dearer unto me That any viceroy, king, or emperor ; And for his sake here will I end my days. Ther. But, lady, go with us to Tambur- laine, And thou shalt see a man, greater than Mahomet, In whose high looks is much more majesty, Than from the concave superficies Of Jove's vast palace, the empyreal orb, Unto the shining bower where Cynthia sits, Like lovely Thetis, in a crystal robe ; That treadeth Fortune underneath his feet, And makes the mighty god of arms his slave ; On whom Death and the Fatal Sisters wait With naked swords and scarlet liveries : Before whom, mounted on a lion's back, Rhamnusia bears a helmet full of blood, And strews the way with brains of slaugh- tered men ; By whose proud side the ugly Furies run, Hearkening when he shall bid them plague the world ; Over whose zenith, clothed in windy air, And eagle's wings joined to her feathered breast, Fame hovereth, sounding in her goldei trump, That to the adverse poles of that straight line, Which measureth the glorious frame o: heaven, The name of mighty Tamburlaine is spread, And him, fair lady, shall thy eyes behold. Come! Olymp. Take pity of a lady's ruthful tears That humbly craves upon her knees to staj And cast her body in the burning flame, That feeds upon her son's and husband'; flesh. Tech. Madam, sooner shall fire consum< us both, Than scorch a face so beautiful as this, In frame of which Nature hath showed mon skill Than when she gave eternal chaos form, Drawing from it the shining lamps of heaven Ther. Madam, I am so far in love witl you, That you must go with us — no remedy. Olymp. Then carry me, I care not, wher you will, And let the end of this my fatal journey Be likewise end to my accursed life. Tech. No, madam, but beginning of yo joy: Come willingly therefore. Ther. Soldiers, now let us meet general, Who by this time is at Natolia, Ready to charge the army of the Turk. The gold and silver, and the pearl, ye g Rifling this fort, divide in equal shares : This lady shall have twice as much agaii Out of the coffers of our treasury. [Exet SCENE V. Enter Callapine, Orcanes, Almeda, and i Kings of Jerusalem, Trebizond, Syria, with their Trains. — To th* enter a Messenger. Mes. Renowned emperor, mighty Cal pine, God's great lieutenant over all the world ! Here at Aleppo, with a host of men, Lies Tamburlaine, this king of Persia, (In numbers more than are the quiver leaves Of Ida's forest, where your highness' houn With open cry, pursue the wounded stag Who means to girt Natolia's walls v siege, Fire the town, and overrun the land. SCENE V.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 45 Call. My royal army is as great as his, That, from the bounds of Phrygia to the sea Which washeth Cyprus with his brinish waves, Covers the hills, the valleys, and the plains. Viceroys and peers of Turkey, play the men! Whet all your swords, to mangle Tambur- laine, His sons, his captains, and his followers; By Mahomet ! not one of them shall live ; The field wherein this battle shall be fought jFor ever term the Persians' sepulchre, .In memory of this our victory ! Ore. Now, he that calls himself the scourge of Jove, The emperor of the world, and earthly god, shall end the warlike progress he intends, \nd travel headlong to the lake of hell, Where legions of devils, (knowing he must die Tere, in Natolia, by your highness' hands,) \11 brandishing their brands of quenchless fire, >tretching their monstrous jaws grin with their teeth, Uid guard the gates to entertain his soul. Call. Tell me, viceroys, the number of your men, md what our army royal is esteemed. Jer. From Palestina and Jerusalem, »f Hebrews three score thousand fighting men re come since last we showed your majesty. Ore. So from Arabia Desert, and the bounds f that sweet land, whose brave metropolis e-edified the fair Semiramis, ame forty thousand warlike foot and horse, I nee last we numbered to your majesty. Treb. From Trebizond, in Asia the Less, aturalized Turks and stout Bithynians ame to my bands, full fifty thousand more That, fighting, know not what retreat doth mean, or e'er return but with the victory,) nee last we numbered to your majesty. Syr. Of Syrians from Halla is repaired, id neighbour cities of your highness' land, •n thousand horse, and thirty thousand vorli foot, last we numbered to your majesty ; ! that the royal army is esteemed !: hundred thousand valiant fighting men. Call. Then welcome, Tamburlaine, unto thy death. >ii>4(me, puissant viceroys, let us to the field, tails '(he Persians' sepulchre) and sacrifice fountains of breathless men to Mahomet & J Who now, with Jove, opens the firmament To see the slaughter of our enemies. Enter Tamburlaine and his three Sons, Usumcasane, &c. Tamb. How now, Casane? See a knot of kings, Sitting as if they were a telling riddles. Usum. My lord, your presence makes them pale and wan : Poor souls ! they look as if their death were near. Tamb. And so he is, Casane ; I am here ; But yet I'll save their lives, and make them slaves. Ye petty kings of Turkey, I am come, As Hector did into the Grecian camp, To overdare the pride of Graecia, And set his warlike person to the view Of fierce Achilles, rival of his fame : I do you honour in the simile ; For if I should, as Hector did Achilles, (The worthiest knight that ever brandished sword, ) Challenge in combat any of you all, I see how fearfully ye would refuse, And fly my glove as from a scorpion. Ore. Now thou art fearful of thy army's strength, Thou would'st with overmatch of person fight ; But shepherd's issue, base-born Tambur- laine, Think of thy end ! this sword shall lance thy throat. Tamb. Villain! the shepherd's issue (at whose birth Heaven did afford a gracious aspect, And joined those stars that shall be oppo- site, Even till the dissolution of the world, And never meant to make a conqueror So famous as is mighty Tamburlaine) Shall so torment thee and that Callapine, That, like a roguish runaway, suborned That villain there, that slave, that Turkisn dog, To false his service to his sovereign, As ye shall curse the birth of Tamburlaine. Call. Rail not, vile Scythian ! I shall now revenge My father's vile abuses, and mine own. Jer. By Mahomet! he shall be tied in chains, Rowing with Christians in a brigandine About the Grecian isles to rob and spoil, And turn him to his ancient trade again : Methinks the slave should make a lusty thief. 46 THE SECOND PART OF [act IV. Call. Nay, when the battle ends, all we will meet, And sit in council to invent some pain That most may vex his body and his soul. Tamb. Sirrah, Callapine! I'll hang a clog about your neck for running away ; again you shall not trouble me thus to come and fetch you ; But as for you, viceroys, you shall have bits, And, harnessed like my horses, draw my coach ; And when ye stay, be lashed with whips of wire. I'll have you learn to feed on provender And in a stable lie upon the planks. Ore. But, Tamburlaine, first thou shalt kneel to us, And humbly crave a pardon for thy life. Treb. The common soldiers of our mighty host Shall bring thee bound unto our general's tent. Syr. And all have jointly sworn thy cruel death, Or bind thee in eternal torments' wrath. Tamb. Well, sirs, diet yourselves ; you know I shall have occasion shortly to jour- ney you. Cel. See, father, how Almeda the jailor looks upon us. Tamb. Villain ! traitor ! damned fugitive ! I'll make thee wish the earth did swallow thee, See'st thou not death within my wrathful looks? Go, villain, cast thee headlong from a rock, Or rip thy bowels, and rent out thy heart To appease my wrath ! or else I'll torture thee, Searing thy hateful flesh with burning irons And drops of scalding lead, while all thy joints Be racked and beat asunder with the wheel; For, if thou liv'st, not any element Shall shroud thee from the wrath of Tam- burlaine. Call. Well, in despite of thee he shall be king. Come, Almeda ; receive this crown of me, I here invest thee king of Ariadan Bordering on Mare Roso, near to Mecca. Ore. What ! Take it, man. Aim. Good rny lord, let me take it. [To Tamb. Call. Dost thou ask him leave? Here; take it. Tamb. Go to, sirrah, take your crown, and make up the half dozen. So, sirrah, now you are a king, you must give arms. Ore. So he shall, and wear thy head in his scutcheon. Tamb. No ; let him hang a bunch of keys on his standard to put him in remembrance he was a jailor, that when I take him, I may knock out his brains with them, and lock you in the stable, when you shall come sweating from my chariot. Treb. Away ; let us to the field, that the villain may be slain. Tamb. Sirrah, prepare whips and bring my chariot to my tent, for as soon as the battle is done, I'll ride in triumph through the camp. Enter Theridamas, Techelles, and their Train. How now, ye petty kings? Lo, here are bugs Will make the hair stand upright on your heads, And cast your crowns in slavery at their feet Welcome, Theridamas and Techelles, both! See ye this rout, and know ye this same king? T/ier. Aye, my lord ; he was Callapine 's keeper. Tamb. Well, now ye see he is a king : look to him, Theridamas, when we are fighting, lest he hide his crown as the foolish king of Persia did. Syr. No, Tamburlaine ; he shall not be put to that exigent, I warrant thee. Tamb. You know not, sir — But now, my followers and my loving friends, Fight as you ever did, like conquerors, The glory of this happy day is yours. My stern aspect shall make fair victory, Hovering betwixt our armies, light on me ! Loaden with laurel wreaths to crown us all. Tech. I smile to think how, when this field is fought And rich Natolia ours, our men shall sweat With carrying pearl and treasure on their backs. Tamb. You shall be princes all, imme- diately ; Come, fight ye Turks, or yield us victory. Ore. No ; we will meet thee, slavish Tam- i burlaine. [Exeunt. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. Alarums. — Amyrus and Celebinus ism from the te?it where Calyphas sits asleep. Amy. Now in their glories shine fh< golden crowns SCENE II.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. Of these proud Turks, much like so many suns That half dismay the majesty of heaven. Now, brother, follow we our father's sword, That flies with fury swifter than our thoughts, And cuts down armies with his conquering wings. Ccl. Call forth our lazy brother from the tent, For if my father miss him in the field, Wrath, kindled in the furnace of his breast, Will send a deadly lightning to his heart. Amy. Brother! Ho! what given so much to sleep You cannot leave it, when our enemies' drums And rattling cannons thunder in our ears Our proper ruins and our father's foil? Cal. Away, ye fools ! my father needs not me, Nor you in faith, but that you will be thought More childish-valorous than manly-wise. If half our camp should sit and sleep with me, My father were enough to scare the foe. You do dishonour to his majesty, To think our helps will do him any good. Amy. What ! Dar'st thou then be ab- sent from the field, Knowing my father hates thy cowardice, d oft hath warned thee to be still in field, en he himself amidst the thickest troops ts down our foes, to flesh our taintless swords. Cal. I know, sir, what it is to kill a man ; It works remorse of conscience in me ; I take no pleasure to be murderous, Nor care for blood when wine will quench my thirst. Cel. O cowardly boy ! Fie ! for shame come forth ; jThou dost dishonour manhood and thy house. ( Cal. Go, go, tall stripling, fight you for us both, And take my other toward brother here, ror person like to prove a second Mars. Twill please my mind as well to hear you both lave won a heap of honour in the field \nd left your slender carcases behind, ..s if I lay with you for company. ; Amy. You will not go then? Cal. You say true. Amy. Were all the lofty mounts of Zona Mundi That fill the midst of farthest Tartary Turned into pearl and proffered for my stay, I would not bide the fury of my father, When, made a victor in these haughty arms, He comes and finds his sons have had no shares In all the honours he proposed for us. Cal. Take you the honour, I will take my ease ; My wisdom shall excuse my cowardice. I go into the field before I need ! [Alarums. — Amyras a?id Celebinus exeunt. The bullets fly at random where they list ; And should I go and kill a thousand men, I were as soon rewarded with a shot, And sooner far than he that never fights ; And should I go and do no harm nor good, I might have harm which all the good I have, Joined with my father's crown, would never cure. I will to cards. Perdicas. Perd. Here, my lord. Cal. Come thou and I will go away to cards to drive away the time. Perd. Content, my lord : but what shall we play for ? Cal. Who shall kiss the fairest of the Turk's concubines first, when my father hath conquered them. Perd. Agreed, i'faith. [They play. Cal. They say I am a coward, Perdicas, and I fear as little their taratantaras, their swords or their cannons as I do a naked lady in a net of gold, and, for fear I should be afraid, would put it off and come to bed with me. Perd. Such a fear, my lord, would never make ye retire. Cal. I would my father would let me be put in the front of such a battle once to try my valour. [Alarms.] What a coil they keep ! I believe there will be some hurt done anon amongst them. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter Tamburlaine, Theridamas, Techelles, Usumcasane, Amyras and Celebinus, leading the Turkish kings. Tamb. See now, ye slaves, my children stoop your pride, And lead your bodies sheeplike to the sword. Bring them my boys, and tell me if the wars Be not a life that may illustrate gods, 48 THE SECOND PART OF [act IV. And tickle not your spirits with desire Still to be trained in arms and chivalry? Amy. Shall we let go these kings again, my lord, To gather greater numbers 'gainst our power, That they may say it is not chance doth this, But matchless strength and magnanimity? Tamb. No, no, Amyras ; tempt not fortune so : Cherish thy valour still with fresh supplies, And glut it not with stale and daunted foes. But where's this coward villain, not my son, But traitor to my name and majesty ? [He goes in and brings him out. Image of sloth, and picture of a slave, The obloquy and scorn of my renown ! How may my heart, thus fired with mine eyes, Wounded with shame and killed with dis- content, Shroud any thought may hold my striving hands From martial justice on thy wretched soul ? Ther. Yet pardon him, I pray your ma- jesty. Tech. and Usum. Let all of us entreat your highness' pardon. Tamb. Stand up, ye base, unworthy soldiers ? Know ye not yet the argument of arms? Amy. Good my lord, let him be forgiven for once, And we will force him to the field here- after. Tamb. Stand up, my boys, and I will teach ye arms, And what the jealousy of wars must do. O Samarcanda (where I breathed first And joyed the fire of this martial flesh), Blush, blush, fair city, at thine honour's foil, And shame of nature, which Jaertis' stream, Embracing thee with deepest of his love, Can never wash from thy distained brows ! Here, Jove, receive his fainting soul again ; A form not meet to give that subject essence Whose matter is the flesh of Tamburlaine ; Wherein an incorporeal spirit moves, Made of the mould whereof thyself con- sists, Which makes me valiant, proud, ambitious, Ready to levy power against thy throne, That I might move the turning spheres of heaven ! For earth and all this airy region Cannot contain the state of Tamburlaine. By Mahomet ! thy mighty friend, I swear, In sending to my issue such a soul, Created of the massy dregs of earth, The scum and tartar of the elements, Wherein was neither courage, strength, or wit, But folly, sloth, and damned idleness, Thou hast procured a greater enemy Than he that darted mountains at thy head, Shaking the burthen mighty Atlas bears ; Whereat thou trembling hid'st thee in the air, Clothed with a pitchy cloud for being seen : And now, ye cankered curs of Asia, That will not see the strength of Tambur- laine, Although it shine as brightly as the sun ; Now you shall see the strength of Tambur- laine, And, by the state of his supremacy, [.Stabs Calyphas. Approve the difference 'twixt himself and you. Ore. Thou show'st the difference 'twixt ourselves and thee, In this thy barbarous damned tyranny. Jer. Thy victories are grown so violent, That shortly heaven, filled with the meteors Of blood and fire thy tyrannies have made, Will pour down blood and fire on thy head, Whose scalding drops will pierce thy seeth- ing brains, And, with our bloods, revenge our bloods on thee. Tamb. Villains ! these terrors and these tyrannies (If tyrannies, war's justice ye repute), I execute, enjoined me from above, To scourge the pride of such as Heaven abhors ; Nor am I made arch-monarch of the world. Crowned and invested by the hand of Jove For deeds of bounty and nobility ; But since I exercise a greater name, The scourge of God, and terror of the world, I must apply myself to fit those terms, In war, in blood, in death, in cruelty, And plague such peasants as resist in me, The power of Heaven's eternal majesty. Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane, Ransack the tents and the pavilions Of these proud Turks, and take their con- cubines, Making them bury this effeminate brat, For not a common soldier shall defile His manly fingers with so faint a boy. SCENE III.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. -19 Then bring those Turkish harlots to my tent, And I'll dispose them as it likes me best ; Meanwhile, take him in. Sold. We will, my lord. Jer. O damned monster ! Nay, a fiend of hell, Whose cruelties are not so harsh as thine, Nor yet imposed with such a bitter hate ! Ore. Revenge it, Rhadamanthand^Eacus, And let your hates, extended in his pains, Excel the hate wherewith he pains our souls. Treb. May never day give virtue to his eyes, Whose sight, composed of fury and of fire, Doth send such stern affections to his heart. Syr. May never spirit, vein, or artier, feed The cursed substance of that cruel heart ! But, wanting moisture and remorseful blood, Dry up with anger, and consume with heat. Tamb. Well, bark, ye dogs ; I'll bridle all your tongues, And bind them close with bits of burnished steel, Down to the channels of your hateful throats ; And, with the pains my rigour shall inflict, I'll make ye roar, that earth may echo forth The far-resounding torments ye sustain : As when an herd of lusty Cymbrian bulls Run mourning round about the females miss, And, stung with fury of their following, Fill all the air with troublous bellowing ; I will, with engines never exercised, Conquer, sack, and utterly consume Your cities and your golden palaces, And, with the flames that beat against the clouds, Incense the Heavens, and make the stars to melt, As if they were the tears of Mahomet, For hot consumption of his country's pride ; And, till by vision or by speech I hear Immortal Jove say "Cease, my Tambur- laine," I will persist, a terror to the world, Making the meteors (that, like armed men, iAre seen to march upon the towers of Heaven) iRun tilting round about the firmament, And break their burning lances in the air, For honour of my wondrous victories. 3ome, bring them in to our pavilion. [ Exeunt. SCENE III. Olympia discovered alone. Olym. Distressed Olympia, whose weep- ing eyes •ince thy arrival here behold no sun, But closed within the compass of the tent Have stained thy cheeks, and made thee look like death, Devise some means to rid thee of thy life, Rather than yield to his detested suit, Whose drift is only to dishonour thee ; And since this earth, dewed with thy brinish tears, Affords no herbs, whose taste may poison thee, Nor yet this air, beat often with thy sighs, Contagious smells and vapours to infect thee, Nor thy close cave a sword to murder thee ; Let this invention be the instrument. Enter Theridamas. Ther. Well met, Olympia ; I sought thee in my tent, But when I saw the place obscure and dark, Which with thy beauty thou wast wont to light, Enraged, I ran about the fields for thee, Supposing amorous Jove had sent his son, The winged Hermes, to convey thee hence ; But now I find thee, and that fear is past. Tell me, Olympia, wilt thou grant my suit ? Olym. My lord and husband's death, with my sweet son's, (With whom I buried all affections Save grief and sorrow, which torment my heart,) Forbid my mind to entertain a thought That tends to love, but meditate on death, A fitter subject for a pensive soul. Ther. Olympia, pity him, in whom thy looks Have greater operation and more force Than Cynthia's in the watery wilderness, For with thy view my joys are at the full, And ebb again as thou departest from me. Olym. Ah, pity me, my lord ! and draw your sword, Making a passage for my troubled soul, Which beats against this prison to get out, And meet my husband and my loving son. Ther. Nothing but still thy husband and thy son ! Leave this, my love, and listen more to me. Thou shalt be stately queen of fair Argier ; And clothed in costly cloth of massy gold, Upon the marble turrets of my court Sit like to Venus in her chair of state, Commanding all thy princely eye desires ; And I will cast off arms to sit with thee, Spending my life in sweet discourse of love. Olym. No such discourse is pleasant in mine ears, But that where every period ends with death, E 50 THE SECOND PART OF [act iv. And every line begins with death again. I cannot love, to be an emperess. Ther. Nay, lady, then, if nothing will prevail, I'll use some other means to make you yield : Such is the sudden fury of my love, I must and will be pleased, and you shall yield : Come to the tent again. Olym. Stay now, my lord ; and will you save my honour, I'll give your grace a present of such price, As all the world can not afford the like. Ther. What is it ? Olym. An ointment which a cunning alchymist, Distilled from the purest balsamum And simplest extracts of all minerals, In which the essential form of marble stone, Tempered by science metaphysical, And spells of magic from the mouths of spirits, With which if you but 'noint your tender skin, Nor pistols, sword, nor lance, can pierce your flesh. Ther. Why, madam, think you to mock me thus palpably ? Olym. To prove it, I will 'noint my naked throat, Which, when you stab, look on your weapon's point, And you shall see't rebated with the blow. Ther. Why gave you not your husband some of it, If you loved him, and it so precious ? Olym. My purpose was, my lord, to spend it so, But was prevented by his sudden end ; And for a present, easy proof thereof, That I dissemble not, try it on me. Ther. I will, Olympia, and I'll keep it for The richest present of this eastern world. [She anoints her throat. Olym. Now stab, my lord, and mark your weapon's point, That will be blunted if the blow be great. Ther. Here then, Olympia. [Stabs her. What, have I slain her ! Villain, stab thy- self; Cut off this arm that murdered thy love, In whom the learned Rabbis of this age Might find as many wondrous miracles As in the Theoria of the world. Now hell is fairer than Elysian ; A greater lamp than that bright eye of heaven, From whence the stars do borrow all their light, Wanders about the black circumference ; And now the damned souls are free from pain, For every Fury gazeth on her looks ; Infernal Dis is courting of my love, Inventing masks and stately shows for her, Opening the doors of his rich treasury To entertain this queen of chastity ; Whose body shall be tombed with all the pomp The treasure of my kingdom may afford. [Exit, with the body. SCENE IV. Enter Tamburlaine drawn in his Chariot by the Kings of Trezibond, and Syria, with bits in their mouths, reins in his left hand, and in his right hand a whip with which he scourgeth them, accom- panied with Techelles, Theridamas, Usumcasane, Amyras, Celebinus : Na- tolia and Jerusalem led by five or six co7nmon Soldiers. Tamb. Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia! What ! can ye draw but twenty miles a day, And have so proud a chariot at your heels, And such a coachman as great Tambur- laine, But from Asphaltis, where I conquered you, To Byron here, where thus I honour you ? The horse that guide the golden eye of Heaven, And blow the morning from their nosterils, Making their fiery gait above the clouds, Are not so honoured in their governor, As you, ye slaves, in mighty Tamburlaine. The headstrong jades of Thrace Alcides tamed, That King Egeus fed with human flesh, And made so wanton, that they knew their strengths, Were not subdued with valour more divine Than you by this unconquered arm of mine. To make you fierce, and fit my appetite, You shall be fed with flesh as raw as blood, And drink in pails the strongest muscadel ; If you can live with it, then live, and draw My chariot swifter than the racking clouds ; If not, then die like beasts, and fit for naught But perches for the black and fatal ravens. Thus am I right the scourge of highest Jove ; And see the figure of my dignity By which I hold my name and majesty ! Amy. Let me have coach, my lord, that I may ride, SCENE IV.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 5* And thus be drawn by these two idle kings. Tamb. Thy youth forbids such ease, my kingly boy ; They shall to-morrow draw my chariot, While these their fellow kings may be re- freshed. Ore. O thou that sway'st the region under earth, And art a king as absolute as Jove, Come as thou didst in fruitful Sicily, Surveying all the glories of the land, And as thou took'st the fair Proserpina, Joying the fruit of Ceres' garden-plot, For love, for honour, and to make her queen, So for just hate, for shame, and to subdue This proud contemner of thy dreadful power, Come once in fury and survey his pride, Haling him headlong to the lowest hell. Ther. Your majesty must get some bits for these, To bridle their contemptuous, cursing tongues, That, like unruly, never-broken jades, Break through the hedges of their hateful mouths, And pass their fixed bounds exceedingly. Tech. Nay, we will break the hedges of their mouths, And pull their kicking colts out of their pastures. Usum. Your majesty already hath devised \A mean, as fit as may be, to restrain These coltish coach-horse tongues from blasphemy. Cel. How like you that, sir king? why speak ye not ? Jer. Ah, cruel brat, sprung from a tyrant's loins ! How like his cursed father he begins To practise taunts and bitter tyrannies ! 1 Tamb. Aye, Turk, I tell thee, this same boy is he That must (advanced in higher pomp than this) •lifle the kingdoms I shall leave unsacked, f Jove, esteeming me too good for earth, iaise me to match the fair Aldeboran, Lbove the threefold astracism of heaven, Sefore I conquer all the triple world, tow, fetch me out the Turkish concubines ; will prefer them for the funeral hey have bestowed on my abortive son. {The Concubines are brought in. /Tiere are my common soldiers now, that fought ) lion-like upon Asphaltis' plains? Sold. Here, my lord. Tamb. Hold ye, tall soldiers, take ye queens apiece — I mean such queens as were king's concu- bines— Take them ; divide them, and their jewels too, And let them equally serve all your turns. Sold. We thank you. Tamb. Brawl not, I warn you, for your lechery : For every man that so offends shall die. Ore. Injurious tyrant, wilt thou so defame The hateful fortunes of thy victory, To exercise upon such guiltless dames The violence of thy common soldiers' lust ? Tamb. Live comment then, ye slaves, and meet not me With troops of harlots at your slothful heels. Ladies. O pity us, my lord, and save our honours. Tamb. Are ye not gone, ye villains, with your spoils ? [ They run away with the ladies. Jer. O merciless, infernal cruelty ! Tamb. Save your honours ! 'Twere but time indeed, Lost long before ye knew what honour meant. Ther. It seems they meant to conquer us, my lord, And make us jesting pageants for their trulls. Tamb. And now themselves shall make our pageants, And common soldiers jest with all their trulls. Let them take pleasure soundly in their spoils, Till we prepare our march to Babylon, Whither we next make expedition. Tech. Let us not be idle then, my lord, But presently be prest to conquer it. Tamb. We will, Techelles. Forward then, ye jades. Now crouch, ye kings of greatest Asia, And tremble, when ye hear this scourge will come That whips down cities and controuleth crowns, Adding their wealth and treasure to my store. The Euxine sea, north to Natolia ; The Terrene, west ; the Caspian, north north-east ; And on the south, Sinus Arabicus ; Shall all be laden with the martial spoils, We will convey with us to Persia. Then shall my native city, Samarcanda, 52 THE SECOND PART OF [act v. And crystal waves of fresh Jaertis' stream, The pride and beauty of her princely seat, Be famous through the farthest continents, For there my palace-royal shall be placed, "Whose shining turrets shall dismay the heavens, And cast the fame of Ilion's tower to hell. Thorough the streets with troops of con- quered kings, I'll ride in golden armour like the sun ; And in my helm a triple plume shall spring, Spangled with diamonds, dancing in the air, To note me emperor of the three-fold world, Like to an almond tree y-mounted high Upon the lofty and celestial mount Of ever green Selinus quaintly decked With blooms more white than Erycina's brows, Whose tender blossoms tremble every one, At every little breath through heaven is blown. Then in my coach, like Saturn's royal son Mounted, his shining chariot gilt with fire, And drawn with princely eagles through the path, Paved with bright crystal, and enchased with stars, When all the gods stand gazing at his pomp, So will I ride through Samarcanda streets, Until my soul, dissevered from this flesh, Shall mount the milk-white way, and meet him there. To Babylon, my lords ; to Babylon. [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Enter the Governor of Babylon, Maximus, atid others, upon the walls. Gov. What saith Maximus ? Max. My lord, the breach the enemy hath made Gives such assurance of our overthrow, That little hope is left to save our lives, Or hold our city from the conqueror's hands. Then hang out flags, my lord, of humble truce, And satisfy the people's general prayers, That Tamburlaine's intolerable wrath May be suppressed by our submission. Gov. Villain, respect'st thou more thy slavish life Than honour of thy country or thy name? Are not my life and state as dear to me, The city and my native country's weal As any thing of price in thy conceit ? Have we not hope, for all our battered walls, To live secure and keep his forces out, When this our famous lake of Limnasphaltis Makes walls afresh with every thins: that falls Into the liquid substance of his stream More strong than are the gates of death or hell? What faintness should dismay our courages When we are thus defenced against our foes, And have no terror but his threatening look. Enter afiother Citizen, who kneels to the Governor. Cit. My lord, if ever you did deed of ruth, And now will work a refuge for our lives, Offer submission, hang up flags of truce, That Tamburlaine may pity our distress, And use us like a loving conqueror. Though this be held his last day's dreadful siege, Wherein he spareth neither man nor child, Yet are there Christians of Georgia here, Whose state was ever pitied and relieved, Would get his pardon if your grace would send. Gov. How is my soul environed ! And this eternized city, Babylon, Filled with a pack of faint-heart fugitives That thus entreat their shame and servitude Cit. My lord, if ever ye will win our hearts, Yield up the town and save our wives an children ; For I will cast myself from off these walls Or die some death of quickest violence Before I bide the wrath of Tamburlaine. Gov. Villains, cowards, traitors to our state ! Fall to the earth, and pierce the pit of hell, That legions of tormenting spirits may vex Your slavish bosoms with continual pains! I care not, nor the town will ever yield, As long as any life is in my breast. Enter Theridamas, Techelles, and Soldiers, without the walls. Ther. Thou desperate governor of Ba- bylon, To save thy life, and us a little labour, Yield speedily the city to our hands, Or else be sure thou shalt be forced with pains, More exquisite than ever traitor felt. Gov. Tyrant! I turn the traitor in thy throat, ■ SCENE I.] TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 53 And will defend it in despite of thee. Call up the soldiers to defend these walls. Tech. Yield, foolish governor; we offer more Than ever yet we did to such proud slaves As durst resist us till our third day's siege. Thou seest us prest to give the last assault, And that shall bide no more regard of parle. Gov. Assault and spare not ; we will never yield. [Alarms: and they scale the walls. Enter Tamburlaine, {drawn in his chariot as before by the Kings 0/"Trebizond and Syria,) Usumcasane, Amyras, and Celebinus, with the "two spare kings" of Natolia and Jerusalem. Tamb. The stately buildings of fair Ba- bylon, Whose lofty pillars, higher than the clouds, Were wont to guide the seaman in the deep, Being carried thither by the cannon's force, Now fill the mouth of Limnasphaltis' lake And make a bridge unto the battered walls. Where Belus, Ninus, and great Alexander Have rode in triumph, triumphs Tambur- laine, Whose chariot wheels have burst the Assy- rians' bones Drawn with these kings on heaps of car- cases. Now in the place, where fair Semiramis, Courted by kings and peers of Asia, Hath trod the measures, do my soldiers march ; And in the streets, where brave Assyrian dames Have rid in pomp like rich Saturnia, With furious words and frowning visages My horsemen brandish their unruly blades. Re-enter Theridamas and Techelles, bring- ing in the Governor of Babylon. 10 have ye there, my lords ? Tker. The sturdy governor of Babylon, lat made us all the labour for the town, id used such slender reckoning of your majesty. Tamb. Go, bind the villain; he shall hang in chains ok here, my boys; see what a world of ground p westward from the midst of Cancer's ' line, t^ito the rising of this earthly globe ; Whereas the sun, declining from our sight, Begins the day with our Antipodes ! And shall I die, and this unconquered ? Lo, here, my sons, are all the golden mines, Inestimable drugs and precious stones, More worth than Asia and the world be- side ; And from the Antarctic Pole eastward be- hold As much more land, which never was de scried, Wherein are rocks of pearl that shine as bright As all the lamps that beautify the sky ! And shall I die, and this unconquered ? Here, lovely boys ; what death forbids my life, That let your lives command in spite of death. Amy. Alas, my lord, how should our bleeding hearts Wounded and broken with your highness' grief, Retain a thought of joy or spark of life ? Your soul gives essence to our wretched subjects, Whose matter is incorporate in your flesh. Cel. Your pains do pierce our souls ; no hope survives, For by your life we entertain our lives. Tamb. But, sons, this subject, not of force enough To hold the fiery spirit it contains, Must part, imparting his impressions By equal portions into both your breasts ; My flesh, divided in your precious shapes, Shall still retain my spirit, though I die, And live in all your seeds immortally. Then now remove me, that I may resign My place and proper title to my son. First, take my scourge and my imperial crown, And mount my royal chariot of estate, That I may see thee crowned before I die. Help me, my lords, to make my last re- move. [They lift him down. Ther. A woful change, my lords ; that daunts our thoughts, More than the ruin of our proper souls ! Tamb. Sit up, my son, [and] let me see how well Thou wilt become thy father's majesty. Amy. With what a flinty bosom should I joy The breath of life and burthen of my soul, If not resolved into resolved pains, My body's mortified lineaments Should exercise the motions of my heart, Pierced with the joy of any dignity! S3 THE SECOND PART OF TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [act v. O father ! if the unrelenting ears Of death and hell be shut against my prayers, And that the spiteful influence of Heaven, Deny my soul fruition of her joy ; How should I step, or stir my hateful feet Against the inward powers of my heart, Leading a life that only strives to die, And plead in vain unpleasing sovereignty. Tamb. Let not thy love exceed thine honour, son, Nor bar thy mind that magnanimity That nobly must admit necessity. Sit up, my boy, and with these silken reins Bridle the steeled stomachs of these jades. Ther. My lord, you must obey his majesty, Since fate commands and proud necessity. Amy. Heavens witness me with what a broken heart And damned spirit I ascend this seat, And send my soul before my father die, His anguish and his burning agony ! [ They crown Amyras. Tamb. Now fetch the hearse of fair Zeno- crate ; Let it be placed by this my fatal chair, And serve as parcel of my funeral. C/sum. Then feels your majesty no sove- reign ease, Nor may our hearts, all drowned in tears of blood, Joy any hope of your recovery ? Tamb. Casane, no ; the monarch of the earth, And eyeless monster that torments my soul, Can not behold the tears ye shed for me, And therefore still augments his cruelty. Tech. Then let some God oppose his holy power Against the wrath and tyranny of death, That his tear-thirsty and unquenched hate May be upon himself reverberate ! [They bring in the hearse of Zenocrate. Tamb. Now eyes enjoy your latest benefit And when my soul hath virtue of your sight Pierce through the coffin and the sheet of gold, And glut your longings with a heaven of joy- So reign, my son ; scourge and controul those slaves, Guiding thy chariot with thy father's hand. As precious is the charge thou undertakest As that which Clymene's brainsick son did guide, When wandering Phoebe's ivory cheeks were scorched, And all the earth, like yEtna, breathing fire ; Be warned by him, then ; learn with awful eye To sway a throne as dangerous as his ; For if thy body thrive not full of thoughts As pure and fiery as Phyteus' beams, The nature of these proud rebelling jades Will take occasion by the slenderest hair, And draw thee piecemeal like Hippolitus, Through rocks more steep and sharp than Caspian cliffs. The nature of thy chariot will not bear A guide of baser temper than myself, More than Heaven's coach the pride of Phaeton. Farewell, my boys ; my dearest friends farewell ! My body feels, my soul doth weep to see Your sweet desires deprived my company, For Tambuxlaine, the scourge of God, must die. [He dies. Amy. Meet heaven and earth, and here let all things end, For earth hath spent the pride of all her fruit, And Heaven consumedhis choicest living fire. Let Earth and Heaven his timeless death deplore, For both their worths will equal him no more. I The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, PERSONS REPRESENTED. Faustus. Mephistophilis. The Pope. Raymond, King of Hungary. Bruno. Emperor of Germany. Duke of Saxony. Duke and Duchess Cart. Aye, marry, can I, we are under heaven. Serv. Aye ; but, Sir Saucebox, know you in what place? Horse-C. Aye, aye, the house is good enough to drink in ; zounds ! fill us some beer, or we'll break all the barrels in the house, and dash out all your brains with your bottles. Faust. Be not so furious ; come, you shall have beer. My lord, beseech you give me leave awhile, I'll gage my credit 'twill content your grace. Duke. With all my heart, kind Doctor, please thyself, Our servants and our court's at thy com- mand. Faust. I humbly thank your grace ; then fetch some beer. Horse-C. Ah, marry! there spake a doc- tor, indeed ! and 'faith, I'll drink a health to thy wooden leg for that word. Faust. My wooden leg! what dost thou mean by that ? Cart. Ha, ha, ha ! dost hear him, Dick ? he has forgot his leg. Horse-C. Aye, aye, he does not stand much upon that. Faust. No, 'faith, not much upon a wooden leg. Cart. Good Lord ! that flesh and blood should be so frail with your worship ! Do not you remember a horse-courser you sold a horse to? Fatist. Yes, I remember I sold one a horse. Cart. And do you remember you bid he should not ride him into the water? Faust. Yes, I do very well remember that. Cart. And do you remember nothing of your leg. Faust. No, in good sooth. Cart. Then, I pray, remember your cour- tesy. Faust. I thank you, sir. Cart. 'Tis not so much worth : I pray you tell me one thing. Faust. What's that ? Cart. Be both your legs bedfellows every night together? Faust. Would'st thou make a Colossus of me, that thou askest me such a question? Cart. No, truly, sir, I would make nothing of you ; but I would fain know that. Enter Hostess, with drink. Faust. Then I assure thee, certainly they are. Cart. I thank you, I am fully satisfied. Faust. But wherefore dost thou ask ? Cart. For nothing, sir ; but methinks you should have a wooden bedfellow of one of 'em. Horse-C. Why, do you hear, sir, did not I pull off one of your legs when you were asleep ? Faust. But I have it again now I am awake ? look you here, sir. All. O horrible ! had the Doctor three legs? Cart. Do you remember, sir, how you cozened me, and eat up my load of [Faustus charms him dumb, and each of the others, in the middle of his speech. Dick. Do you remember how you made me wear an ape's Horse-C. You whoreson conjuring scab ! do you remember how you cozened with a ho Clown. Ha' you forgotten me? You think to carry it away with your hey-passe and repasse : do you remember the dog's fa [Exeunt Clowns. Host. Who pays for the ale? Hear you, Master Doctor ; now you have sent away my guests, I pray you who shall pay me for my a [Exit Hostess. Lady. My lord, We are much beholding to this learned man. SCENE III.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. Duke. So are we, madam ; which we will recompense With all the love and kindness that we may ; His artful sport drives all sad thoughts away. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Thunder and Lightning. Enter Devils with covered dishes; Mephistophilis leads them into Faustus's Study : then enter Wagner. Wag. I think my master means to die shortly ; he has made his will, and given me his wealth, his house, his goods, and store of golden plate ; besides two thousand ducats ready coined : I wonder what he means ! If death were nigh, he would not frolic thus : he's now at supper with the scholars ; where there's such belly-cheer, as Wagner in his life ne'er saw the like ; and see where they come, belike the feast is done. [Exit. SCENE III. Enter Faustus, Mephistophilis, and two or three Scholars, i Scho. Mister Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifullest in all the world, we have de- termined with ourselves, that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived : therefore, Mister Doctor, if you will do us so much favour as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much beholding unto you. Faust. Gentlemen, For that I know your friendship is un- feigned, It is not Faustus's custom to deny The just request of those that wish him well : You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece, No otherwise for pomp or majesty, Than when Sir Paris crossed the seas with her, And brought the spoils to rich Dardania : Be silent then, for danger is in words. [Music sounds. Mephistophilis brings in Helen ; she passeth over the stage. 2 Scho. Was this fair Helen, whose admired worth ade Greece with ten years' war afflict poor Troy? 3 Scho. Too simple is my wit to tell her worth, Whom all the world admires for majesty, i Scho. Now we have seen the pride of Nature's work, We'll take our leave ; and for this blessed sight, Happy and blessed be Faustus evermore. [Exeunt Scholars. Faust. Gentlemen, farewell ; the same wish I to you. Enter an Old Man. Old Man. O, gentle Faustus ! leave this damned art, This magic, that will charm thy soul to hell; And quite bereave thee of salvation. Though thou hast now offended like a man, Do not persever in it like a devil : Yet, yet, thou hast an amiable soul, If sin by custom grow not into nature ; Then, Faustus, will repentance come too late; Then thou art banished from the sight of heaven ; No mortal can express the pains of hell. It may be this my exhortation Seems harsh, and all unpleasant ; let it not ; For, gentle son, I speak it not in wrath, Or envy of thee, but in tender love And pity of thy future misery ; And so have hope that this my kind rebuke, Checking thy body, may amend thy soul. Faust. Where art thou, Faustus ? wretch ! what hast thou done ? [Mephistophilis gives him a dagger. Hell claims his right, and with a roaring voice Says, ' ' Faustus, come, thine hour is almost come;" And Faustus now will come to do thee right. Old Man. Oh ! stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps ; I see an angel hover o'er thy head, And, with a vial full of precious grace, Offers to pour the same into thy soul ; Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. Faust. Oh friend ! I feel Thy words to comfort my distressed soul ; Leave me awhile to ponder on my sins. Old Man. Faustus, I leave thee, but with grief of heart, . Fearing the enemy of thy hapless soul. [Exit. Faust. Accursed Faustus ! wretch ! what hast thou done ? I do repent, and yet I do despair ; Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast, What shall I do to shun the snares of death? G 8a THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [act v. Meph. Thou traitor, Faustus ! I arrest thy soul, For disobedience to my sovereign lord ; Revolt, or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh. Faust. I do repent I e'er offended him ; Sweet Mephistophilis, intreat thy lord To pardon my unjust presumption, And with my blood again I will confirm The former vow I made to Lucifer. Meph. Do it then, Faustus, with unfeigned heart, Lest greater dangers do attend thy drift. Faust. Torment, sweet friend, that base and aged man, That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer, With greatest torments that our hell affords. Meph. His faith is great ; I cannot touch his soul ; But what I may afflict his body with I will attempt, which is but little worth. Faust. One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee, To glut the longing of my heart's desire : That I may have unto my paramour, That heavenly Plelen which I saw of late, Whose sweet embraces may extinguish clean Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, And keep my oath I made to Lucifer. Meph. This, or what else my Faustus shall desire, Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye. Enter Helen again, passing over between two Cupids. Faust. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium ! Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. [Kisses her. Her lips suck forth my soul ! see where it flies; Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy shall Wittenberg be sacked ; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest : Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. Oh ! thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars ; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter, When he appeared to hapless Semele ; More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azure arms ; And none but thou shalt be my paramour ! [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Thunder. Enter Lucifer, Belzebub, and Mephistophilis. Luci. Thus from infernal Dis do we ascend, To view the subjects of our monarchy ; Those souls, which sin seals the black sons of Hell, 'Mong which, as chief, Faustus, we come to thee; Bringing with us lasting damnation To wait upon thy soul ; the time is come Which makes it forfeit. Meph. And this gloomy night, Here, in this room, will wretched Faustus be. Belz. And here we'll stay, To mark him how he doth demean himself. Meph. How should he but in desperate lunacy ? Fond worldling ; now his heart-blood dries with grief ; His conscience kills it, and his labouring brain Begets a world of idle phantasies, To overreach the Devil, but all in vain ; His store of pleasures must be sauced with pain. He, and his sen-ant Wagner, are at hand ; Both come from drawing Faustus' latest will. See where they come. Enter Faustus and Wagner. Faust. Say, Wagner, thou hast perused my will ; How dost thou like it ? Wag. Sir, so wondrous well, As in all humble duty I do yield My life and lasting service for your love. Faust. Gramarcy, Wagner ! Enter the Scholars. Welcome, gentlemen. i Sr.ho. Now, worthy Faustus, methinks your looks are changed. Faust. Oh ! gentlemen. 2 Scho. What ails Faustus ? Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee Then had I lived still ! but now must die eternally. Look, sirs, comes he not? Comes he not ? i Scho. O, my dear Faustus, what im- ports this fear? 2 Scho. Is all our pleasure turned to melancholy ? 3 Scho. He is not well with being over solitary. SCENE IV.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS 83 2 Scho. If it be so, we'll have physicians, And Faust us shall be cured. 3 Scho. Tis but a surfeit, sir ; fear nothing. Faust. A surfeit of a deadly sin, that hath damned both body and soul. 2 Scho. Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven, and remember mercy is infinite. Faust. But Faustus' offence can ne'er be pardoned ; the serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. Oh, gentle- men ! hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches. Though my heart pant and quiver to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years ; oh ! would I had never seen Wittenberg, never read book ! And what wonders I have done ail Germany can witness, yea, all the world : for which, Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world ; yea, Heaven itself ; Heaven, the seat of God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy, and must remain in Hell for ever. Hell ! O Hell, for ever ! Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus, being in Hell for ever ? 2 Scho. Yet, Faustus, call on God. Faust. On God, whom Faustus hath abjured? On God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed ? Oh, my God, I would weep, ; but the devil draws in my tears ! Gush forth blood instead of tears ! yea, life and \ soul. — Oh ! he stays my tongue ! — I would ?" 1 up my hands ; but see, they hold 'em ! ey hold 'em ! All. Who, Faustus? Faust. Why, Lucifer and Mephistophilis. h, gentlemen ! I gave them my soul for y cunning. All. Oh ! God forbid ! Faust. God forbad it, indeed ; but Faustus Uh done it ; for the vain pleasure of four- ind-twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal oy and felicity. I writ them a bill with ine own blood ; the date is expired ; this the time, and he will fetch me. 1 Scho. Why did not Faustus tell us of is before, that divines might have prayed or thee ? Faust. Oft have I thought to have done 3 ; but the devil threatened to tear me in ieces if I named God ; to fetch me body nd soul if I once gave ear to divinity ; and ow 'tis too late. Gentlemen, away, lest du perish with me. 2 Scho. Oh ! what may we do to save austus ? Faust. Talk not of me, but save your- lves and depart. 3 Scho. God will strengthen me ; I will iy with Faustus. 1 Scho. Tempt not God, sweet friend, but let us into the next room and pray for him. Faust. Aye, pray for me, pray for me ; and what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. 2 Scho. Pray thou, and we will pray that God have mercy upon thee. Faust. Gentlemen, farewell ; if I live till morning, I'll visit you : if not, Faustus is gone to hell. All. Faustus, farewell. [Exeunt Scholars. Meph. Ah, Faustus, now thou hast no hope of heaven, Therefore despair ; think only upon hell ; For that must be thy mansion there to dwell. Faust. Oh, thou bewitching fiend ! 'twas thy temptation Hath robbed me of eternal happiness. Meph. I do confess it, Faustus, and rejoice 'Twas I, that when thou wert i' the way to heaven, Dammed up thy passage ; when thou took'st the book To view the scriptures, then I turned the •leaves, And led thine eye What, weep'st thou ! 'tis too late, despair ! — Farewell ! Fools that will laugh on earth must weep in hell. [Exit. Enter the Good and Bad Angels, at several doors. Good Ang. Oh ! Faustus, if thou hadst given ear to me, Innumerable joys had followed thee ; But thou didst love the world. Bad Ang. Gave ear to me, And now must taste hell's pains perpetu- ally. Good Ang. Oh ! what will all thy riches, pleasures, pomps Avail thee now ? Bad Ang. Nothing but vex thee more, To want in hell that had on earth such store. [Music, while a throne descends. Good Ang. Oh, thou hast lost celestial happiness, Pleasures unspeakable, bliss without end ! Had'st thou affected sweet Divinity, Hell or the Devil had had no power on thee : Had'st thou kept on that way, Faustus, be- hold [Music, while a throne descends. G 3 84 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [act v. In what resplendent glory thou hadst sat In yonder throne, like those bright shining saints, And triumphed over hell ; that hast thou lost: And now, poor soul ! must thy good angel leave thee ; The jaws of hell are open to receive thee. [Exit, throne ascends. [Hell is discovered.] Bad Ang. Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with horror stare Into that vast perpetual torture-house : There are the furies tossing damned souls On burnings forks ; their bodies boil in lead : There are live quarters broiling on the coals, That ne'er can die ; this ever-burning chair Is for o'er-tortured souls to rest them in ; These that are fed with sops of flaming fire Were gluttons, and loved only delicates, And laughed to see the poor starve at their gates ; But yet all these are nothing ; thou shalt see Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be. Faust. Oh ! I have seen enough to tor- ture me. Bad Ang. Nay, thou must feel them, taste the smart of all ; He that loves pleasure, must for pleasure fall: And so I leave thee, Faustus, till anon ; Then wilt thou tremble in confusion. [Exit. [The clock strikes eleven.] Faust. Oh, Faustus! Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damned perpetu- ally. Stand still you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come. Fair nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day ; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul. O lente lente currite noctis equi / The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned. Oh, I'll leap up to heaven ! — Who pulls me down ? See where Christ's blood streams in the firmament : One drop of blood will save me: oh, my Christ ! Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ ; Yet will I call on him. Oh, spare me Lu- cifer ! — Where is it now? — 'tis gone ! And see, a threatening arm, an angry brow! Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven ! No! Then will I headlong run into the earth : Gape, earth ! — O no, it will not harbour me. You stars that reigned at my nativity, Whose influence hath allotted death and hell, Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist, Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud ; That, when ye vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths ; But let my soul mount and ascend to heaven. [The clock strikes the half hour. Oh, half the hour is past, 'twill all be past anon. Oh ! if my soul must suffer for my sin, Impose some end to my incessant pain. Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years — A hundred thousand — and at last be saved : No end is limited to damned souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or why is this immortal that thou hast ? Oh ! Pythagoras' Metempsychosis ! Were that [but] true ; this soul should fly from me, And I be changed into some brutish beast. All beasts are happy, for when they die Their souls are soon dissolved in elements ; But mine must live still to be plagued in hell. Cursed be the parents that engendered me ! No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, That hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven. [ The clock strikes twelve. It strikes, it strikes ! now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell. [Thunder and rain. O soul ! be changed into small water-drops, And fall into the ocean ; ne'er be found. Enter the Devils. Oh! mercy, heaven, look not so fierce on me! Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile ! — Ugly hell, gape not ! — Come not, Lucifer! Ill burn my books !— Oh, Mephistophilis ! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. Enter the Scholars. i Scho. Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faust us, For such a dreadful night was never seen Since first the world's creation did begin ; Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard ; Pray heaven the Doctor have escaped the danger. 2 Scho. Oh, help us, heavens ! see, here are Faustus' limbs, All torn asunder by the hand of death. 3 Scho. The devils whom Faustus served have torn him thus ; For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, me- thought I heard him shriek and cry aloud for help ; At which selftime the house seemed all on fire, With dreadful horror of these damned fiends. 2 Scho. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be such As every Christian heart laments to think on; Yet, for he was a scholar once admired For wondrous knowledge in our German schools, We'll give his mangled limbs due burial ; And all the students, clothed in mourning black, Shall wait upon his heavy funeral. {Exeunt. Enter Chorus. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man: Faustus is gone : regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise Only to wonder at unlawful things ; Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits, To practise more than heavenly power per- mits. Tcrminat hora diem, terminat auctor opus. The Jew of Malta. TO MY WORTHY FRIEND, Mr. THOMAS HAMMON, Of Gray's Inn, &c. This play, composed by so worthy an author as Mr. Marlowe, and the part of the Jew presented by so unimitable an actor as Mr. Alleyn, being in this later age commended to the stage ; as I ushered it unto the Court, and presented it to the Cock-pit, with these pro- logues and epilogues here inserted, so now being newly brought to the press, I was loth it should be published without the ornament of an Epistle ; making choice of you unto whom to devote it ; than whom (of all those gentlemen and acquaintance, within the com- pass of my long knowledge) there is none more able to tax ignorance, or attribute right to merit. Sir, you have been pleased to grace some of mine own works with your courteous patronage ; I hope this will not be the worse accepted, because commended by me ; over whom, none can claim more power or. privilege than yourself. I had no better a new- year's gift to present you with ; receive it therefore as a continuance of that inviolable ©bligement, by which, he rests still engaged ; who as he ever hath, shall always remain, Tuissimus : Tho. HEYWOOD. THE PROLOGUE SPOKEN AT COURT. Gracious and Great, that we so boldly dare, ('Mongst other plays that now in fashion are) To present this ; writ many years agone, And in that age thought second unto none, We humbly crave your pardon : We pursue The story of a rich and famous Jew Who lived in Malta : you shall find him still, In all his projects, a sound Machiavill ; And that's his character. He that hath past So many censures, is now come at last To have your princely ears : grace you him ; then You crown the action, and renown the pen. EPILOGUE. It is our fear (dread sovereign) we have bin Too tedious ; neither can't be less than sin To wrong your princely patience : If we have, (Thus low dejected) we your pardon crave : And if aught here offend your ear or sight, We only act and speak what others write. THE JEW OF MALTA. 87 THE PROLOGUE TO THE STAGE, AT THE COCK-PIT. We know not how our play may pass this stage, But by the best of poets in that age The Malta Jew had being, and was made ; And he, then by the best of actors played : In Hero and Leander, one did gain A lasting memory : in Tamburlaine, This Jew, with others many, th' other wan The attribute of peerless, being a man Whom we may rank with (doing no one wrong) Proteus for shapes, and Roscius for a tongue, So could he speak, so vary ; nor is't hate To merit, in him who doth personate Our Jew this day ; nor is it his ambition To exceed or equal, being of condition More modest ; this is all that he intends, (And that too, at the urgence of some friends) To prove his best, and if none here gainsay it, The part he hath studied, and intends to play it. EPILOGUE. In graving, with Pygmalion to contend ; Or painting, with Apelles ; doubtless the end Must be disgrace : our actor did not so, He only aimed to go, but not out-go. Nor think that this day any prize was played Here were no bets at all, no wagers laid ; All the ambition that his mind doth swell, Is but to hear from you (by me), 'twas well. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Machiavel, the Prologue. [ Barnardino, 1 *? . Barabas, the Jew. Ijacomo, j Fnar5' Ferneze, Governor of Malta. Selim Calymath, Son of the Grand Seignior. Don Lodowick, the Governor s Son, in love with Abigail. Don Mathias, also in love with her. Martin del Bosco, Vice-Admiral of Spain. Ithamore, Barabas Slave. Pilia-borsa, a Bully. Two Merchants. Three Jews.. Bashaws, Knights, Officers, Reader, &c. Abigail, the Jews' Daughter. Abbess. Two Nuns. Bellamira, a Courtesan. Scene — Malta. Enter Machiavel. Machiavel. Albeit the world thinks Ma- chiavel is dead, Yet was his soul but flown beyond the Alps ; And now the Guise is dead, is come from France, To view this land, and frolic with his friends. To some perhaps my name is odious, But such as love me guard me from their tongues, And let them know that I am Machiavel, And weigh not men, and therefore not men's words. Admired I am of those that hate me most. Though some speak openly against my books, Yet they will read me, and thereby attain To Peter's chair : and when they cast me off, Are poisoned by my climbing followers. I count religion but a childish toy, And hold there is no sin but ignorance. Birds of the air will tell of murders past ; I am ashamed to hear such fooleries : Many will talk of title to a crown. What right had Caesar to the empire ? Might first made kings, and laws were then most sure When like the Draco's they were writ in blood. Hence comes it that a strong built citadel Commands much more than letters can import ; Which maxim had [but] Phalaris observed, He had never bellowed in a brazen bull, Of great one's envy; of the poor petty wights, Let me be envied and not pitied ! But whither am I bound ? I come not, I, To read a lecture here in Britain, But to present the tragedy of a Jew, Who smiles to see how full his bags are crammed, Which money was not got without my means. I crave but this — grace him as he deserves, And let him not be entertained the worse Because he favours me. {Exit. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Enter Barabas in his counting house, with heaps of gold be/ore him. Bar. So that of thus much that return was made : And of the third part of the Persian ships, There was the venture summed and satisfied. As for those Samnites, and the men of Uz, That bought my Spanish oils, and wines of Greece, Here have I purst their paltry silverlings. Fie ; what a trouble 'tis to count this trash. Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay The things they traffic for with wedge of gold, Whereof a man may easily in a day Tell that which may maintain him all bis life. The needy groom that never fingered groat, Would make a miracle of thus much coin : But he whose steel-barred coffers are crammed full, And all his lifetime hath been tired, Weaning his fingers' ends with telling it, Would in his age be loth to labour so, And for a pound to sweat himself to death. Give me the merchants of the Indian mines, That trade in metal of the purest mould ; The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks Without controul can pick his riches up, And in his house heap pearl like pebble stones, Receive them free, and sell them by the weight ; Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts, Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds, Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds, And seld-seen costly stones of so great price, As one of them indifferendy rated, And of a carat of this quantity, May serve in peril of calamity To ransom great kings from captivity. This is the ware wherein consists my wealth ; And thus methinks should men of judgment frame Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade, And as their wealth increaseth, so inclose Infinite riches in a little room. But now how stands the wind ? Into what corner peers my halcyon's bill? Ha ! to the east ? yes : see how stand the vanes ? East and by south : why then I hope my ships I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles Are gotten up by Xilus winding banks : Mine argosy from Alexandria, Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail, Are smoothly gliding down by Candy shore To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea. But who comes here ? How now. Enter a Merchant. Merck. Barabas, thy ships are safe, Riding in Maita Road : and all the merchants With other merchandise are safe arrived, SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. And have sent me to know whether yourself Will come and custom them. Bar. The ships are safe thou say'st, and richly fraught. Merch. They are. Bar. Why then go bid them come ashore, And bring with them their bills of entry : I hope our credit in the custom-house Will serve as well as I were present there. Go send 'em threescore camels, thirty mules, And twenty waggons to bring up the ware. But art thou master in a ship of mine, And is thy credit not enough for that ? Merch. The very custom barely comes to more Than many merchants of the town are worth, And therefore far exceeds my credit, sir. Bar. Go tell 'em the Jew of Malta sent thee, man : Tush ! who amongst 'em knows not Barabas? Merch. I go. Bar. So then, there's somewhat come. Sirrah, which of my ships art thou master of? Merch. Of the Speranza, sir. Bar. And saw'st thou not Mine argosy at Alexandria? Thou could 'st not come from Egypt, or by Caire But at the entry there into the sea, Where Nilus pays his tribute to the main. Thou needs must sail by Alexandria. Merch. I neither saw them, nor inquired of them : But this we heard some of our seamen say, They wondered how you durst with so much wealth Trust such a crazed vessel, and so far. Bar. Tush, they are wise ! I know her and her strength. But go, go thou thy ways, discharge thy ship, And bid my factor bring his loading in. [Exit Merch. And yet I wonder at this argosy. Enter a second Merchant. 2 Merch. Thine argosy from Alexandria, Know Barabas doth ride in Malta Road, Laden with riches, and exceeding store Of Persian silks, of gold, and orient pearl. Bar. How chance you came not with those other ships That sailed by Egypt ? 2 Merch. Sir, we saw 'em not. Bar. Belike they coasted round by Candy shore About their oils, or other businesses. But 'twas ill done of you to come so far Without the aid or conduct of their ships. 2 Merch. Sir, we were wafted by a Spanish fleet, That never left us till within a league, That had the galleys of the Turk in chase. Bar. Oh ! — they were going up to Sicily : — Well, go, And bid the merchants and my men des- patch And come ashore, and see the fraught dis- charged. 2 Merch. I go. [Exit. Bar. Thus trowls our fortune in by land and sea, And thus are we on every side enriched : These are the blessings promised to the Jews, And herein was old Abram's happiness : What more may heaven do for earthly man Than thus to pour out plenty in their laps, Ripping the bowels of the earth for them, Making the seas their servants, and the winds To drive their substance with successful blasts ? Who hateth me but for my happiness ? Or who is honoured now but for his wealth? Rather had I a Jew be hated thus, Than pitied in a Christian poverty : For I can see no fruits in all their faith, But malice, falsehood, and excessive pride, Which methinks fits not their profession. Haply some hapless man hath conscience, And for his conscience lives in beggary. They say we are a scattered nation : I cannot tell, but we have scrambled up More wealth by far than those that brag of faith. There's Kirriah Jairim, the great Jew of Greece, Obed in Bairseth, Nones in Portugal, Myself in Malta, some in Italy, Many in France, and wealthy every one ; Aye, wealthier far than any Christian. I must confess we come not to be kings ; That's not our fault : Alas, our number's few, And crowns come either by succession, Or urged by force ; and nothing violent, Oft have I heard tell, can be permanent. Give us a peaceful rule, make Christians kings, That thirst so much for principality. I have no charge, nor many children, But one sole daughter, whom I hold as dear As Agamemnon did his Iphigene : And all I have is hers. But who comes here? 90 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act I. Enter three Jews. i Jew. Tush, tell not me 'twas done of policy. 2 Jew. Come therefore let us go to Barabas, For he can counsel best in these affairs ; And here he comes. Bar. Why how now, countrymen ! Why flock you thus to me in multitudes? What accident's betided to the Jews? i Jew. A fleet of warlike galleys, Barabas, Are come from Turkey, and lie in our road : And they this day sit in the council-house To entertain them and their embassy. Bar. Why let 'em come, so they come not to war ; Or let 'em war, so we be conquerors : Nay, let 'em combat, conquer, and kill all ! So they spare me, my daughter, and my wealth. {Aside. i Jew. Were it for confirmation of a league, They would not come in warlike manner thus. 2 Jew. I fear their coming will afflict us all. Bar. Fond men ! what dream you of their multitudes, What need they treat of peace that are in league ? The Turks and those of Malta are in league. Tut, tut, there's some other matter in't. i Jew. Why, Barabas, they come for peace or war. Bar. Haply for neither, but to pass along Towards Venice by the Adriatic Sea ; With whom they have attempted many times, But never could effect their stratagem. 3 Jew. And very wisely said. It may be so. 2 Jew. But there's a meeting in the senate-house, And all the Jews in Malta must be there. Bar. Hum ; all the Jews in Malta must be there ? Aye, like enough, why then let every man Provide him, and be there for fashion-sake. If any thing shall there concern our state Assure yourselves I'll look unto — myself. [Aside. I Jc7o. I know you will ; well, brethren, let us go. z Jew. Let's take our leaves; farewell, good Barabas. Bar. Farewell, Zaareth, farewell Te- mainte. [Exeunt Jews. And Barabas now search this secret out. Summon thy senses, call thy wits together : These silly men mistake the matter clean. Long to the Turk did Malta contribute ; Which tribute, all in policy I fear, The Turk has let increase to such a sum As all the wealth in Malta cannot pay ; And now by that advantage thinks belike To seize upon the town : Aye, that he seeks. Howe'er the world go, I'll make sure for one, And seek in time to intercept the worst, Warily guarding that which I have got. Ego mihimet sum semper proximus. VVhy let 'em enter, let 'em take the town. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter Governor of Malta, Knights, met by Bassoes of the Turk, Calymath, and Officers. Gov. Now, Bassoes, what demand you at our hands ? Bas. Know, Knights of Malta, that we come from Rhodes, From Cyprus, Candy, and those other Isles That lie betwixt the Mediterranean seas. Gov. WTiat's Cyprus, Candy, and those other Isles To us, or Malta? What at our hands de- mand ye? Cal. The ten years' tribute that remains unpaid. Gov. Alas ! my lord, the sum is over great, I hope your highness will consider us. Cal. I wish, grave governors, 'twere in my power To favour you, but 'tis my father's cause, Wherein I may not, nay I dare not dally. Gov. Then give us leave, great Selim Calymath. [Consults apart. Cal. Stand all aside, and let the Knights determine, And send to keep our galleys under sail, For happily we shall not tarry here ; Now, governors ; how are you resolved ? Gov. Thus : since your hard conditions are such That you will needs have ten years' tribute past, We may have time to make collection Amongst the inhabitants of Malta for 't. Cal. That's more than is in our com- mission. Bass. What, Callapine ! a little courtesy. Let's know their time, perhaps it is not long; And 'tis more kingly to obtain by peace Than to enforce conditions by constraint. What respite ask you, governors ? Gov. But a month. Cal. We grant a month, but see you keep your promise. SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 9i Now launch our galleys back again, to sea, Where we'll attend the respite you have ta'en, And for the money send our messenger. Farewell, great Governor and brave Knights of Malta. Gov. And all good fortune wait on Caly- math ! [Exeunt CaXyma.th.atid'BassoQS. Go one and call those Jews of Malta hither : Were they not summoned to appear to-day? Off. They were, my lord, and here they come. Enter Barabas, and three Jews. 1 Knight. Have you determined what to say to them ? Gov. Yes, give me leave : — and Hebrews now come near. From the Emperor of Turkey is arrived Great Selim Calymath, his highness' son, To levy of us ten years' tribute past, Now then, here know that it concerneth us — Bar. Then, good my lord, to keep your quiet still, Your lordship shall do well to let them have it. Gov. Soft, Barabas, there's more 'longs to't than so. To what this ten years' tribute will amount That we have cast, but cannot compass it By reason of the wars that robbed our store ; And therefore are we to request your aid. Bar. Alas, my lord, we are no soldiers : And what's our aid against so great a prince? 1 Knight. Tut, Jew, we know thou art no soldier ; Thou art a merchant and a moneyed man, And 'tis thy money, Barabas, we seek. Bar. How, my lord, my money? Gov. Thine and the rest. For, to be short, 'mongst you it must be had. Bar. Alas, my lord, the most of us are poor. Gov. Then let the rich increase your por- tions. Bar. Are strangers with your tribute to be taxed ? 2 Knight. Have strangers leave with us to get their wealth ? Then let them with us contribute. Bar. How ; equally ? Gov. No, Jew, like infidels. For through our sufferance of your hateful lives, Who stand accursed in the sight of heaven, These taxes and afflictions have befallen, And therefore thus we are determined. Read there the articles of our decrees. Reader. First, the tribute money of the Turks shall all be levied amongst the Jews, and each of them to pay one half of his estate. Bar. How, half his estate ? I hope you mean not mine. [Aside. Gov. Read on. Reader. Secondly, he that denies to pay shall straight become a Christian. Bar. How! a Christian? Hum, what's here to do ? [Aside. Reader. Lastly, he that denies this shall absolutely lose all he has. All 3 Jews. Oh, my lord, we will give half. Bar. O earth-mettled villains, and no Hebrews born ! And will you basely thus submit yourselves To leave your goods to their arbitrament? Gov. Why, Barabas, wilt thou be chris- tened ? Bar. No, Governor, I will be no con- vertite. Gov. Then pay thy half. Bar. Why know you what you did by this device? Half of my substance is a city's wealth. Governor, it was not got so easily ; Nor will I part so slightly therewithal. Gov. Sir, half is the penalty of our decree, Either pay that, or we will seize on all. Bar. Corpo di Dio / stay ! you shall have half; Let me be used but as my brethren are. Gov. No, Jew, thou hast denied the ar- ticles, And now it cannot be recalled. Bar. Will you then steal my goods ! Is theft the ground of your religion ? Gov. No, Jew, we take particularly thine To save the ruin of a multitude : And better one want for a common good Than many perish for a private man : Yet Barabas, we will not banish thee, But here in Malta, where thou got'st thy wealth, Live still ; and if thou canst, get more. Bar. Christians, what, or how can I multiply? Of naught is nothing made. 1 Knight. From naught at first thou cam'st to little wealth, From little unto more, from more to most : If your first curse fall heavy on thy head, And make thee poor and scorned of all the world, 'Tis not our fault, but thy inherent sin. Bar. What, bring you scripture to con- firm your wrongs ? Preach me not out of my possessions. 92 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act i. Some Jews are wicked, as all Christians are: But say the tribe that I descended of Were all in general cast away for sin, Shall I be tried by their transgression ? The man that dealeth righteously shall live: And which of you can charge me otherwise? Gov. Out, wretched Barabas ! Sham 'st thou not thus to justify thyself, As if we knew not thy profession ? If thou rely upon thy righteousness, Be patient and thy riches will increase. Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness : And covetousness, oh, 'tis a monstrous sin. Bar. Aye, but theft is worse : tush ! take not from me then For that is theft ! and if you rob me thus I must be forced to steal and compass more. i Knight. Grave Governor, listen not to his exclaims. Convert his mansion to a nunnery ; His house will harbour many holy nuns. Gov. It shall be so. Enter Officers. Now, officers, have you done? Off. Aye, my lord, we have seized upon the goods And wares of Barabas, which being valued Amount to more than all the wealth in Malta. And of the other we have seized half. Gov. Then we'll take order for the re- sidue. Bar. Well then, my lord, say, are you satisfied ? You have my goods, my money, and my wealth, My ships, my store, and all that I enjoyed ; And, having all, you can request no more ; Unless your unrelenting flinty hearts Suppress all pity in your stony breasts, And now shall move you to bereave my life. Gov. No, Barabas, to stain our hands with blood Is far from us and our profession. Bar. Why, I esteem the injury far less To take the lives of miserable men Than be the causes of their misery. You have my wealth, the labour of my life, The comfort of mine age, my children's hope, And therefore ne'er distinguish of the wrong. Gov. Content thee, Barabas, thou hast naught but right. Bar. Your extreme right does me exceed- ing wrong: But take it to you, i' the devil's name. Gov. Come, let us in, and gather of these goods The money for this tribute of the Turk, i Knight. 'Tis necessary that be looked unto: For if we break our day, we break the league, And that will prove but simple policy. [Exeunt, except the jews. Bar. Aye, policy ! that's their profession, And not simplicity, as they suggest. The plagues of Egypt, and the curse of heaven, Earth's barrenness, and all men's hatred Inflict upon them, thou great Primus Motor! And here upon my knees, striking the earth, I ban their souls to everlasting pains And extreme tortures of the fiery deep, That thus have dealt with me in my dis- tress, i Jew. Oh yet be patient, gentle Barabas. Bar. O silly brethren, born to see this day; Why stand you thus unmoved with my laments? Why weep you not to think upon my wrongs ? Why pine not I, and die in this distress? i Jew . Why, Barabas, as hardly can we brook The cruel handling of ourselves in this ; Thou seest they have taken half our goods. Bar. Why did you yield to their extor- tion? You were a multitude, and I but one : And of me only have they taken all. i Jew. Yet, brother Barabas, remember Job. Bar. What tell you me of Job? I wot his wealth Was written thus : he had seven thousand sheep, Three thousand camels, and two hundred yoke Of labouring oxen, and five hundred She-asses : but for every one of those, Had they been valued at indifferent rate, I had at home, and in mine argosy, And other ships that came from Egypt last, As much as would have bought his beasts and him, And yet have kept enough to live upon ; So that not he, but I may curse the day, Thy fatal birth-day, forlorn Barabas ; And henceforth wish for an eternal nigh That clouds of darkness may inclose my flesh, SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 93 And hide these extreme sorrows from mine eyes: For only I have toiled to inherit here The months of vanity and loss of time, And painful nights, have been appointed me. 2 Jew. Good Barabas, be patient. Bar. Aye, I pray leave me in my patience. You that were ne'er possessed of wealth, are pleased with want ; But give him liberty at least to mourn, That in a field amidst his enemies Doth see his soldiers slain, himself dis- armed, And knows no means of his recovery : Aye, let me sorrow for this sudden chance ; *Tis in the trouble of my spirit I speak ; Great injuries are not so soon forgot. i Jew. Come, let us leave him in his ireful mood, Our words will but increase his ecstasy. 2 Jew. On, then; but trust me 'tis a misery To see a man in such affliction : Farewell Barabas ! [Exeunt. Bar. Aye, fare you well. See the simplicity of these base slaves, Who, for the villains have no wit them- selves, Think me to be a senseless lump of clay That will with every water wash to dirt : No, Barabas is born to better chance, And framed of finer mould than common men, That measure naught but by the present time. A reaching thought will search his deepest wits, And cast with cunning for the time to come : For evils are apt to happen every day — But whither wends my beauteous Abigail ? Enter Abigail, the Jew's daughter. Oh ! what has made my lovely daughter sad? What, woman, moan not for a little loss : Thy father hath enough in store for thee. Abig. Not for myself, but aged Barabas : Father, for thee lamenteth Abigail : But I will learn to leave these fruitless tears, And, urged thereto with my afflictions, With fierce exclaims run to the senate- house, And in the senate reprehend them all, And rent their hearts with tearing of my hair, Till they reduce the wrongs done to my father. Bar. No, Abigail, things past recovery Are hardly cured with exclamations. Be silent, daughter, sufferance breeds ease, And time may yield us an occasion Which on the sudden cannot serve the turn. Besides, my girl, think me not all so fond As negligently to forego so much Without provision for thyself and me. Ten thousand portagues, besides great pearls, Rich costly jewels, and stones infinite, Fearing the worst of this before it fell, I closely hid. Abig. Where, father? Bar. In my house, my girl. Abig. Then shall they ne'er be seen of Barabas : For they have seized upon thy house and wares. Bar. But they will give me leave once more, I trow, To go into my house. Abig. That may they not : For there I left the Governor placing nuns, Displacing me ; and of thy house they mean To make a nunnery, where none but their own sect Must enter in ; men generally barred. Bar. My gold ! my gold ! and all my wealth is gone. You partial heavens, have I deserved this plague ? What will you thus oppose me, luckless stars, To make me desperate in my poverty ? And knowing me impatient in distress, Think me so mad as I will hang myself, That I may vanish o'er the earth in air, And leave no memory that e'er I was. No, I will live ; nor loathe I this my life : And, since you leave me in the ocean thus To sink or swim, and put me to my shifts, I'll rouse my senses and awake myself. Daughter ! I have it : thou perceiv'st the plight Wherein these Christians have oppressed me : Be ruled by me, for in extremity | We ought to make bar of no policy. A big. Father, whate'er it be to injure them That have so manifestly wronged us, What will not Abigail attempt? Bar. Why, so ; Then thus, thou told'st me they have turned my house Into a nunnery, and some nuns are there. Abig. I did. Bar. Then, Abigail, there must my girl Intreat the abbess to be entertained. 91 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. Abig. How, as a nun? Bar. Aye, daughter, for religion Hides many mischiefs from suspicion. Abig. Aye, but father they will suspect me there. Bar. Let 'em suspect, but be thou so precise As they may think it done of holiness. Intreat 'em fair, and give them friendly speech, And seem to them as if thy sins were great, Till thou hast gotten to be entertained. Abig. Thus father shall I much dissemble. Bar. Tush ! as good dissemble that thou never meant'st, As first mean truth and then dissemble it, — A counterfeit profession is better Than unforeseen hypocrisy. Abig. Well father, say I be entertained, What then shall follow ? Bar. This shall follow then ; There have I hid, close underneath the plank That runs along the upper chamber floor, The gold and jewels which I kept for thee. But here they come ; be cunning, Abigail. Abig. Then father, go with me. Bar. No, Abigail, in this It is not necessary I be seen : For I will seem offended with thee for 't : Be close, my girl, for this must fetch my gold. {They draw back. Enter two Friars and two Nuns. i Fri. Sisters, we now are almost at the new-made nunnery, i Nun. The better ; for we love not to be seen : 'Tis thirty winters long since some of us Did stray so far amongst the multitude. i Fri. But, madam, this house And waters of this new-made nunnery Will much delight you. Nun. It may be so ; but who comes here ? [Abigail comes forward. Abig. Grave abbess, and you, happy vir- gins' guide, Pity the state of a distressed maid. Abb. What art thou, daughter? Abig. The hopeless daughter of a hapless Jew, The Jew of Malta, wretched Barabas ; Sometime the owner of a goodly house, Which they have now turned to a nunnery. Abb. Well, daughter, say, what is thy suit with us? Abig. Fearing the afflictions which my father feels, Proceed from sin, or want of faith in us, I'd pass away my life in penitence, And be a novice in your nunnery, To make atonement for my labouring soul, i Fri. No doubt, brother, but this pro- ceedeth of the spirit. 2 Fri. Aye, and of a moving spirit too, brother ; but come, Let us intreat she may be entertained. Abb. Well, daughter, we admit you for a nun. Abig. First let me as a novice learn to frame My solitary life to your strait laws, And let me lodge where I was wont to lie, I do not doubt, by your divine precepts And mine own industry, but to profit much. Bar. As much, I hope, as all I hid is worth. {Aside. Abb. Come, daughter, follow us. Bar. Why how now, Abigail, What makest thou amongst these hateful Christians ? i Fri. Hinder her not, thou man of little faith, For she has mortified herself. Bar. How mortified ! i Fri. And is admitted to the sister- hood. Bar. Child of perdition, and thy father's shame ! What wilt thou do among these hateful fiends ? I charge thee on my blessing that thou leave These devils, and their damned heresy. Abig. Father, give me — {She goes to him. Bar. Nay, back, Abigail, [ Whispers to her.] (And think upon the jewels and the gold, The board is marked thus that covers it.) Away, accursed, from thy father's sight, i Fri. Barabas, although thou art in mis- belief, And wilt not see thine own afflictions, Yet let thy daughter be no longer blind. Bar. Blind friar, I reck not thy persua- sions, ( The board is marked thus that covers it.) For I had rather die, than see her thus. Wilt thou forsake me too in my distress, Seduced daughter ? (Go, forget not.) Becomes it Jews to be so credulous ? ( To-morrow early I'll be at the door.) No, come not at me ; if thou wilt be damned, Forget me, see me not, and so be gone. (Farewell, remember to-morrow morning.) SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 95 Enter Mathias. Math. Who's this ? fair Abigail, the rich Jew's daughter Become a nun ; her father's sudden fall Has humbled her and brought her down to this: Tut, she were fitter for a tale of love, Than to be tired out with orisons : And better would she far become a bed, Embraced in a friendly lover's arms, Than rise at midnight to a solemn mass. Enter Lodowick. Lod. Why, how now, Don Mathias in a dump? Math. Believe me, noble Lodowick, I have seen The strangest sight, in my opinion, That ever I beheld. Lod. What was't, I prythee ? Math. A fair young maid, scarce four- teen years of age, The sweetest flower in Cytherea's field, Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitful earth, And strangely metamorphosed a nun. Lod. But say, what was she ? Math. Why, the rich Jew's daughter. Lod. What, Barabas, whose goods were lately seized ? Is she so fair ? Math. And matchless beautiful ; As had you seen her 'twould have moved your heart, Though countermined with walls of brass, to love, Or at the least to pity. Lod. And if she be so fair as you report, 'Twere time well spent to go and visit her : How say you, shall we ? Math. I must and will, sir, there's no remedy. Lod. And so will I too, or it shall go hard. Farewell, Mathias. Math. Farewell, Lodowick. [Exeunt. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. Enter Barabas, with a light. Bar. Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls IThe sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night [Doth shake contagion from her sable wings ; Vexed and tormented runs poor Barabas With fatal curses towards these Christians. The uncertain pleasures of swift-footed time Have ta'en their flight, and left me in de- spair ; And of my former riches rests no more But bare remembrance, like a soldier's scar, That hath no further comfort for his maim. Oh thou, that with a fiery pillar led'st The sons of Israel through the dismal shades, Light Abraham's offspring ; and direct the hand Of Abigail this night ; or let the day Turn to eternal darkness after this : No sleep can fasten on my watchful eyes, Nor quiet enter my distempered thoughts, Till I have answer of my Abigail. Enter Abigail, above. A big. Now have I happily espied a time To search the plank my father did appoint ; And here behold, unseen, where I have found The gold, the pearls, and jewels, which he hid. Bar. Now I remember those old women's words, Who in my wealth would tell me winter's tales, And speak of spirits and ghosts that glide by night About the place where treasure hath been hid: And now methinks that I am one of those : For whilst I live, here lives my soul's sole hope, And when I die, here shall my spirit walk. A big. Now that my father's fortune were so good As but to be about this happy place ; 'Tis not so happy : yet when we parted last, He said he would attend me in the morn. Then, gentle sleep, where'er his body rests, Give charge to Morpheus that he may dream A golden dream, and of the sudden wake, Come and receive the treasure I have found. Bar. Bueno para todos mi ganado no era : As good go on, as sit so sadly thus. But stay, what star shines yonder in the east? The loadstar of my life, if Abigail. Who's there ? A big. Who's that? Bar. Peace, Abigail, 'tis I. A big. Then, father, here receive thy hap- piness, f Throws down bags. 9« THE JEW OF MALTA. [act II. Bar. Hast thou't? Ab:g. Here, {throws down the bags] hast thou't? There s more, and more, and more. Bar. Oh, my girl, My gold, my fortune, my felicity ! Strength to my soul, death to mine enemy ! Welcome the first beginner of my bliss ! Oh, Abigail, Abigail, that I had thee here too ! Then my desires were fully satisfied : But I will practice thy enlargement thence : Oh girl ! oh gold ! oh beauty ! oh my bliss ! {Hugs his bags. Abig. Father, it draweth towards mid- night now, And 'bout this time the nuns begin to wake ; To shun suspicion, therefore, let us pan. Bar. Farewell my joy, and by my fingers take A kiss from him that sends it from his soul. [Exit Abigail above. Now Phcebus ope the eyelids of the day, And for the raven wake the morning lark, That I may hover with her in the air ; Singing o'er these, as she does o'er her young. Hcrmoso placer de los dineros. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter Governor, Martin del Bosco, and Knights. Gov. Now captain tell us whither thou art bound ? Whence is thy ship that anchors in our road ? And why thou cam'st ashore without our leave ? Base. Governor of Malta, hither am I bound ; My ship, the Flying Dragon, is of Spain, And so am I : Del Bosco is my name ; Vice-admiral unto the Catholic King. i Kni. 'Tis true, my lord, therefore in- treat him well. Bosc. Our fraught is Grecians, Turks, and Afric Moors. For late upon the coast of Corsica, Because we vailed not to the Turkish fleet, Their creeping galleys had us in the chase : But suddenly the wind began to rise, And then we luffed, and tacked, and fought at ease : Some have we fired, and many have we sunk ; But one amongst the rest became our prize ; The captain's slain, the rest remain our slaves, Of whom we would make sale in Malta here. Gov. Martin del Bosco, I have heard of thee ; Welcome to Malta, and to all of us ; But to admit a sale of these thy Turks We may not, nay we dare not give consent By reason of a tributary league. i Kni. Del Bosco, as thou lov'st and honour "st us, Persuade our Governor against the Turk ; This truce we have is but in hope of gold, And with that sum he craves might we wage war. Bosc. Will Knights of Malta be in league with Turks, And buy it basely too for sums of gold ? My lord, remember that, to Europe's shame, The Christian Isle of Rhodes, from whence you came, Was lately lost, and you were stated here To be at deadly enmity with Turks. Gov. Captaiu we know it, but our force is small. Bosc. What is the sum that Calymath re- quires ? Gov. A hundred thousand crowns. Bosc. My lord and king hath title to this Isle, And he means quickly to expel you hence ; Therefore be ruled by me, and keep the gold : 111 write unto his majesty for aid, And not depart until I see you free. Gov. On this condition shall thy Turks be sold: Go officers, and set them straight in show. Bosco, thou shalt be Malta's general ; We and our warlike Knights will follow thee Against these barb'rous misbelieving Turks. Bosc. So shall you imitate those you suc- ceed: For when their hideous force environed Rhodes, Small though the number was that kept the town, They fought it out, and not a man survived To bring the hapless news to Christendom. Gov. So will we fight it out ; come, let's away : Proud daring Calymath, instead of gold, We'll send thee bullets wrapt in smoke and fire: Claim tribute where thou wilt, we are re- solved, Honour is bought with blood and not with gold. [Exeunt. Enter Officers with Ithamore and other slaves. i Of. This is the market-place, here let 'em stand : SCENE II. THE JEW OF MALTA. 97 Fear not their sale, for they'll be quickly bought. 2 Off. Every one's price is written on his back, And so much must they yield or not be sold, i Off. Here comes the Jew ; had not his goods been seized, He'd given us present money for them all. Enter Barabas. Bar. In spite of these swine-eating Chris- tians, (Unchosen nation, never circumcised ; Poor villains such as were ne'er thought upon Till Titus and Vespasian conquered us,) Am I become as wealthy as I was : They hoped my daughter would have been a nun ; But she's at home, and I have bought a house As great and fair as is the Governor's ; And there in spite of Malta will I dwell : Having Ferneze's hand, whose heart I'll have ; Aye, and his son's too, or it shall.go hard. I am not of the tribe of Levi, I, That can so soon forget an injury. We Jews can fawn like spaniels when we please : And when we grin we bite, yet are our looks As innocent and harmless as a lamb's. I learned in Florence how to kiss my hand, Heave up my shoulders when they call me dog, And duck as low as any barefoot friar, Hoping to see them starve upon a stall, Or else be gathered for in our Synagogue ; That, when the offering-basin comes to me, Even for charity I may spit into it. Here comes Don Lodowick, the Governor's son, \ One that I love for his good father's sake. Enter Lodowick. Lod. I hear the wealthy Jew walked this way : , I'll seek him out, and so insinuate, : That I may have a sight of Abigail ; For Don Mathias tells me she is fair. Bar. Now will I show myself To have more of the serpent than the dove ; That is — more knave than fool. Lod. Yond' walks the Jew ; now for fair Abigail. Bar. Aye, aye, no doubt but she's at your command. [Aside. Lod. Barabas, thou know'st I am the Governor's son. Bar. I would you were his father too, sir ; That's all the harm I wish you. The slave looks Like a hog's-cheek, new singed. [Aside. Lod. Whither walk'st thou, Barabas ? Bar. Nofurther: 'tisacustom held with us, That when we speak with Gentiles like to you, We turn into the air to purge ourselves : For unto us the promise doth belong. Lod. Well, Barabas, canst help me to a diamond? Bar. Oh, sir, your father had my diamonds. Yet I have one left that will serve your turn : I mean my daughter : — but ere he shall have her I'll sacrifice her on a pile of wood. I have the poison of the city for him, And the white leprosy. [Aside. Lod. What sparkle does it give without a foil? Bar. The diamond that I talk of ne'er was foiled : But when he touches it, he will be foiled : [Aside. Lord Lodowick, it sparkles bright and fair. Lod. Is it square or pointed, pray let me know. Bar. Pointed it is, good sir — but not for you. [Aside. Lod. I like it much the better. Bar. So do I too. Lod. How shows it by night? Bar. Outshines Cynthia's rays : You'll like it better far o' nights than days. [Aside. Lod. And what's the price ? Bar. Your life an' if you have it. [Aside.] Oh, my Lord, We will not jar about the price ; come to my house And I will give't your honour — with a ven- geance. [Aside. Lod. No, Barabas, I will deserve it first. Bar. Good sir, Your father has deserved it at my hands, Who, of mere charity and Christian truth, To bring me to religious purity, And as it were in catechising sort, To make me mindful of my mortal sins, Against my will, and whether I would or no, Seized all I had, and thrust me out o' doors, And made my house a place for nuns most chaste. Lod. No doubt your soul shall reap the fruit of it. Bar. Aye, but, my lord, the harvest is far off: II THE JEW OF MALTA. [act ii. And yet I know the prayers of those nuns And holy friars, having money for their pains, Are wondrous ; and indeed do no man good : [Aside. And seeing they are not idle, but still doing, 'Tis likely they in time may reap some fruit, I mean in fulness of perfection. Lod. Good Barabas, glance not at our holy nuns. Bar. No, but I do it through a burning zeal, Hoping ere long to set the house afire ; For though they do a while increase and multiply, I'll have a saying to that nunnery. [Aside. As for the diamond, sir, I told you of, Come home and there's no price shall make us part, Even for your honourable father's sake. — It shall go hard but I will see your death, [Aside. But now I must be gone to buy a slave. Lod. And, Barabas, I'll bear thee company. Bar. Come then — here's the market-place. What price is on this slave ? Two hundred crowns ! Do the Turks weigh so much ? Off. Sir, that's his price. Bar. What, can he steal that you demand so much ? Belike he has some new trick for a purse ; And if he has, he is worth three hundred plates. So that, being bought, the town-seal might be got To keep him for his lifetime from the gallows. The sessions day is critical to thieves, And few or none scape but by being purged. Lod. Rat'st thou this Moor but at two hundred plates ? i Off. No more, my lord. Bar. Why should this Turk be dearer than that Moor? Off. Because he's young and has more qualities. Bar. What, hast the philosopher's stone ? an' thou hast, break my head with it, I'll forgive thee. Slave. No, sir ; I can cut and shave. Bar. Let me see, sirrah, are you not an old shaver ? Slave. Alas, sir ! I am a very youth. Bar. A youth? I'll buy you, and marry you to Lady Vanity, if you do well. Slave. I will serve you, sir. Bar. Some wicked trick or other. It may be, under colour of shaving, thou'lt cut my throat for my goods. Tell me, hast thou thy health well ? Slave. Aye, passing well. Bar. So much the worse ; I must have one that's sickly, and be but for sparing victuals : 'tis not a stone of beef a day will maintain you in these chops ; let me see one that's somewhat leaner. i Off. Here's a leaner, how like you him ? Bar. Where wast thou born ? Itha. In Thrace ; brought up in Arabia. Bar. So much the better, thou art for my turn, An hundred crowns, I'll have him ; there's the coin, i Off. Then mark him, sir, and take him hence. Bar. Aye, mark him, you were best, for this is he That by my help shall do much villainv. [Aside. My lord, farewell : Come, sirrah, you are mine. As for the diamond it shall be yours ; I pray, sir, be no stranger at my house, All that I have shall be at your command. Enter Mathias and his Mother. Math. What makes the Jew and Lodo- wick so private ? I fear me 'tis about fair Abigail. Bar. Yonder comes Don Mathias, let us stay; He loves my daughter, and she holds him dear: But I have sworn to frustrate both their hopes, And be revenged upon the Governor. Moth. This Moor is comeliest, is he not ? speak, son. Math. No, this is the better, mother ; view this well. Bar. Seem not to know me here before your mother, Lest she mistrust the match that is in hand : When you have brought her home, come to my house ; Think of me as thy father; son, farewell. Math. But wherefore talked Don Lodo- wick with you ? Bar. Tush ! man, we talked of diamonds, not of Abigail. Moth. Tell me, Mathias, is not that the Jew? Bar. As for the comment on the Macca- bees, I have it, sir, and 'tis at your command. Math. Yes, madam, and my talk with him was SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 99 About the borrowing of a book or two. Moth. Converse not with him, he's cast off from heaven. Thou hast thy crowns, fellow; come, let's away. Math. Sirrah, Jew, remember the book. Bar. Marry will I, sir. {Exeunt Mathias and his Mother. Off. Come, I have made A reasonable market, let's away. Bar. Now let me know thy name, and therewithal Thy birth, condition, and profession. Itha. Faith, sir, my birth is but mean : my name's Ithamore, my profession what you please. Bar. Hast thou no trade ? then listen to my words, And I will teach thee that shall stick by thee : I First be thou void of these affections, i Compassion, love, vain hope, and heartless fear, i Be moved at nothing, see thou pity none, But to thyself smile when the Christians moan. Itha. O brave, master, I worship your nose for this. Bar. As for myself, I walk abroad o' nights And kill sick people groaning under walls : Sometimes I go about and poison wells ; And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves, I am content to lose some of my crowns, That I may, walking in my gallery, See 'em go pinioned along by my door. Being young, I studied physic, and began To practise first upon the Italian ; There I enriched the priests with burials, And always kept the sextons' arms in use With digging graves and ringing dead men's knells : And after that was I an engineer, And in the wars 'twixt France and Germany, Under pretence of helping Charles tli3 Fifth, Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems. Then after that was I an usurer, And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting, And tricks belonging unto brokery, I filled the jails with bankrupts in a year, And with young orphans planted hospitals, And every moon made some or other mad, And now and then one hung himself for grief, Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll How I with interest tormented him. But mark how I am blest for plaguing them, I have as much coin as will buy the town. But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time? Itha. 'Faith, master, In setting Christian villages on fire, Chaining of eunuchs, binding galley-slaves. One time I was an hostler in an inn, And, in the night time secretly, would steal To travellers' chambers, and there cut their throats : Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneeled, I strewed powder on the marble stones, And therewithal their knees would rankle so That I have laughed agood to see the crip- ples Go limping home to Christendom on stilts. Bar. Why this is something : make ac- count of me As of thy fellow ; we are villains both : Both circumcised, we hate Christians both : Be true and secret, thou shalt want no gold. But stand aside, here comes Don Lodowick. Enter Lodowick. Lod. Oh, Barabas, well met ; Where is the diamond you told me of? Bar. I have it for you, sir; please you walk in with me : What ho, Abigail ; open the door, I say. Enter Abigail. A big. In good time, father, here are letters come From Ormus, and the post stays here within. Bar. Give me the letters. Daughter, do you hear, Entertain Lodowick the Governor's son With all the courtesy you can afford ; Provided that you keep your maidenhead. Use him as if he were a Philistine. Dissemble, swear, protest, vow to love him, He is not of the seed of Abraham. [Aside. I am a little busy, sir, pray pardon me. Abigail, bid him welcome for my sake. Abig. For your sake and his own he's welcome hither. Bar. Daughter, a word more ; kiss him, speak him fair, [Aside. And like a cunning Jew so cast about, That ye be both made sure ere you come out. Abig. Oh, father ! Don Matthias is my love. Bar. I know it : yet I say, make love to him ; Do, it is requisite it should be so — Nay, on my life, it is my factor's hand — But go you in, I'll think upon the account. [Exeunt Abigail and Lodowick. H 2 THE JEW OF MALTA. The account is made, for Lodowick [he] dies. My factor sends me word a merchant's fled That owes me for a hundred tun of wine : I weigh it thus much [snapping his fingers] ; I have wealth enough. For now by this has he kissed Abigail ; And she vows love to him, and he to her. As sure as heaven rained manna for the Jews, So sure shall he and Don Mathias die : His father was my chiefest enemy. Enter Mathias. Whither goes Don Mathias? stay awhile. Math. Whither, but to my fair love Abigail ? Bar. Thou know'st, and heaven can wit- ness this is true, That I intend my daughter shall be thine. Math. Aye, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much. Bar. Oh, heaven forbid I should have such a thought. Pardon me though I weep : the Governor's son Will, whether I will or no, have Abigail : He sends her letters, bracelets, jewels, rings. Math. Does she receive them ? Bar. She ? No, Mathias, no, but sends them back, And when he comes, she locks herself up fast; Yet through the keyhole will he talk to her, While she runs to the window looking out, When you should come and hale him from the door. Math. O treacherous Lodowick ! Bar. Even now as I came home, he slipt me in, And I am sure he is with Abigail. Math. I'll rouse him thence. Bar. Not for all Malta, therefore sheathe your sword ; If you love me, no quarrels in my house ; But steal you in, and seem to see him not ; I'll give him such a warning ere he goes As he shall have small hopes of Abigail. Away, for here they come. Enter Lodowick, Abigail. Math. What hand in hand, I cannot suffer this. Bar. Mathias, as thou lovest me, not a word. Math. Well, let it pass, another time shall serve. [Exit. Lod. Barabas, is not that the widow's son ? Bar. Aye, and take heed, for he hath sworn your death. Lod. My death? what, is the baseborn peasant mad ? Bar. No, no, but happily he stands in fear Of that which you, I think, ne'er dream upon, My daughter here, a paltry silly girl. Lod. Why, loves she Don Mathias ? Bar. Doth she not with her smiling answer you? Abig. He has my heart, I smile against my will. {Aside. Lod. Barabas, thou know'st I've loved thy daughter long. Bar. And so has she done you, even from a child. Lod. And now I can no longer hold my mind. Bar. Nor I the affection that I bear to you. Lod. This is thy diamond, tell me shall I have it ? Bar. Win it, and wear it, it is yet un- soiled. Oh ! but I know your lordship would dis- dain To marry with the daughter of a Jew : And yet I'll give her many a golden cross With Christian posies round about the ring. Lod. "lis not thy wealth, but her that I esteem, Yet crave I thy consent. Bar. And mine you have, yet let me talk to her ; This offspring of Cain, this Jebusite, That never tasted of the Passover, Nor e'er shall see the land of Canaan, Nor our Messias that is yet to come, This gentle maggot, Lodowick, I mean, Must be deluded : let him have thy hand, But keep thy heart till Don Mathias comes. [Aside, Abig. What, shall I be betrothed to Lodowick ? Bar. It's no sin to deceive a Christian ; For they themselves hold it a principle, Faith is not to be held with heretics ; But all are heretics that are not Jews ; This follows well, and therefore, daughter, fear not. [Aside. I have entreated her, and she will grant. [To Lodowick. Lod. Then, gentle Abigail, plight thy faith to me. Abig. I cannot clause, seeing my father bids : — Nothing but death shall part my love and me. [Aside. Lod. Now have I that for which my soul hath longed. SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. Bar. So have not I, but yet I hope I shall. {Aside. A big. Oh wretched Abigail, what hast thou clone ? [Aside. Lod. Why on the sudden is your colour changed ? Abig. I know not, but farewell, I must be gone. Bar. Stay her, but let her not speak one word more. Lod. Mute o' the sudden ; here's a sudden change. Bar. Oh. muse not at it, 'tis the Hebrew's guise, That maidens new betrothed should weep awhile : Trouble her not ; sweet Lodowick depart : She is thy wife, and thou shalt be mine heir. Lod. Oh, is't the custom, then I am re- solved : But rather let the brightsome heavens be dim, And nature's beauty choke with stifling clouds, Than my fair Abigail should frown on me. There comes the villain, now I'll be re- venged. Enter Mathias. Bar. Be quiet, Lodowick, it is enough That I have made thee sure to Abigail. Lod. Well, let him go. [Exit. Bar. Well, but for me, as you went in at doors You had been stabbed, but not a word on't now; Here must no speeches pass, nor swords be drawn. Math. Suffer me, Barabas, but to follow him. Bar. No ; so shall I if any hurt be done, Be made an accessory of your deeds ; Revenge it on him when you meet him next. Math. For this I'll have his heart. Bar. Do so ; lo here I give thee Abigail. Math. What greater gift can poor Mathias have ? Shall Lodowick rob me of so fair a love ? My life is not so dear as Abigail. Bar. My heart misgives me, that, to cross your love, He's with your mother, therefore after him. Math. What, is he gone unto my mother? Bar. Nay, if you will, stay till she comes herself. Math. I cannot stay; for if my mother come, She'll die with grief. [Exit. Abig. I cannot take my leave of him for tears: Father, why have you thus incensed them both ? Bar. What's that to thee ? Abig. I'll make 'em friends again. Bar. You'll make 'em friends ! Are there not Jews enough in Malta, But thou must doat upon a Christian ? Abig. I will have Don Mathias, he is my love. Bar. Yes, you shall have him : go put her in. Itha. Aye, I'll put her in. [Puts her in. Bar. Now tell me, Ithamore, how lik'st thou this ? Itha. Faith, master, I think by this You purchase both their lives ; is it not so ? Bar. True ; and it shall be cunningly performed. Itha. Oh, master, that I might have a hand in this. Bar. Aye, so thou shalt, 'tis thou must do the deed : Take this, and bear it to Mathias straight, [Gives a letter. And tell him that it comes from Lodowick. Itha. 'Tis poisoned, is it not ? Bar. No, no, and yet it might be done that way : It is a challenge feigned from Lodowick. Itha. Fear not; I will so set his heart afire, That he shall verily think it comes from him. Bar. I cannot choose but like thy readi- ness : Yet be not rash, but do it cunningly. Itha. As I behave myself in this, employ me hereafter. Bar. Away then. [Exit. So, now will I go unto Lodowick, And, like a cunning spirit, feign some lie, Till I have set them both at enmity. [Exit. : ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter Bellamira, a Courtesan. Bell. Since this town was besieged, my gain grows cold : The time has been that, but for one bare night, A hundred ducats have been freely given : But now against my will I must be chaste ; And yet I know my beauty doth not fail. THE JEW OF MALTA. [act hi. From Venice merchants, and from Padua Were wont to come rare-witted gentlemen, Scholars I mean, learned and liberal ; And now, save Pilia-Borza, comes there none, And he is very seldom from my house ; And here he comes. Enter Pilia-Borza. Pilia. Hold thee, wench, there's some- thing for thee to spend. Bell. "Pis silver. I disdain it. Pilia. Aye, but the Jew has gold, And I will have it, or it shall go hard. Court. Tell me, how cam'st thou by this? Pilia. 'Faith, walking the back lanes, ! through the gardens, I chanced to cast mine eye up to the Jew's counting-house where I saw some bags of money, and in the night I clambered up with my hooks, and as I was taking my choice, I heard a rumbling in the house ; so I took only this, and run i my way: but here's the Jew's man. Bell. Hide the bag. Enter Ithamore. Pilia. Look not towards him, let's away: zoon's, what a looking thou keep'st, thou'lt betray us anon. [Exeunt Courtesan and Pilia-Borza. Itha. O the sweetest face that ever I be- held ! I know she is a courtesan by her attire : now would I give a hundred of the Jew's crowns that I had such a concubine. Well, I have delivered the challenge in such sort, As meet they will, and fighting die ; brave sport. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter Mathias. Math. This is the place, now Abigail shall see WThether Mathias holds her dear or no. Enter Lodowick, reading. Lod. What, dares the villain write in such base terms ? [Reading a letter. Math. I did it ; and revenge it if thou dar'st. [They fight. Enter Barabas, above. Bar. Oh ! bravely fought ; and yet they thrust not home. Now Lodowick ! and now Mathias ! So [Both fall. So now they have shewed themselves to be tall fellows. [Cries within]. Part 'cm, part 'em. Bar. Aye, part 'cm now they are dead : Farewell, farewell. [Exit. Enter Governor and Mathias's Mother. Gov. What sight is this ? — my Lodowick slain ! These arms of mine shall be thy sepulchre. Mother. Who is this? my son Mathias slain ! Gov. Oh, Lodowick ! had'st thou perished by the Turk, Wretched Ferneze might have venged thy death. Mother. Thy son slew mine, and I'll re- venge his death. Gov. Look, Katherine, look !— thy son gave mine these wounds. Mother. O leave to grieve me, I am grieved enough. Gov. Oh ! that my sighs could turn to lively breath ; And these my tears to blood, that he might live. Mother. Who made them enemies? Gov. I know not, and that grieves me most of all. Mother. My son loved thine. Gov. And so did Lodowick him. Mother. Lend me that weapon that did kill my son, And it shall murder me. Gov. Nay, madam, stay ; that weapon was my son's, And on that rather should Ferneze die. Mother. Hold, let's inquire the causers of their deaths, That we may 'venge their blood upon their heads. Gov. Then take them up, and let them be interred Within one sacred monument of stone ; Upon which altar I will offer up My daily sacrifice of sighs and tears, And with my prayers pierce impartial heavens, Till they [reveal] the causers of our smarts, Which forced their hands divide united hearts : Come, Katherine, our losses equal are, Then of true grief let us take equal share. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Ithamore. there ever seen such Itha. Why, was villainy, So neatly plotted, and so well performed ? Both held in hand, and flatly both beguiled? SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 103 Enter Abigail. Abig. Why, how now, Ithamore, why- laugh 'st thou so? Itha. Oh, mistress, ha ! ha ! ha ! Abig. Why, what ail'st thou? Itha. Oh, my master ! Abig. Ha! Itha. Oh, mistress ! I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtle, bottle-nosed knave to my master, that ever gentleman had. Abig. Say, knave, why rail'st upon my father thus ? Itha. Oh, my master has the bravest policy. Abig. Wherein? Itha. Why, know you not? Abig. Why, no. Itha. Know you not of Mathias and Don Lodowick's disaster? Abig. No, what was it? Itha. Why, the devil invented a challenge, my master writ it, and I carried it, first to Lodowick, and impri?nis to Mathias. And then they met, and, as the story says, In doleful wise they ended both their days. Abig. And was my father furtherer of their deaths ? Itha. Am I Ithamore? Abig. Yes. Itha. So sure did your father write, and I carry the challenge. Abig. Well, Ithamore, let me request thee this, Go to the new-made nunnery, and inquire For any of the friars of St. Jaques, And say, I pray them come and speak with me. Itha. I pray, mistress, will you answer me but one question ? Abig. Well, sirrah, what is't? Itha. A very feeling one ; have not the nuns fine sport with the friars now and then ? Abig. Go to, sirrah sauce, is this your question ? get ye gone. Itha. I will, forsooth, mistress. {Exit. Abig. Hard-hearted father, unkind Ba- rabas, Was this the pursuit of thy policy ! To make me show them favour severally, That by my favour they should both be slain ? Admit thou lov'dst not Lodowick for his sire, Yet Don Mathias ne'er offended thee : But thou wert set upon extreme revenge, Because the Governor dispossessed thee once, And could'st not 'venge it, but upon his son ; Nor on his son, but by Mathias' means ; Nor on Mathias, but by murdering me. But I perceive there is no love on earth, Pity in Jews, or piety in Turks. But here comes cursed Ithamore, with the friar. Enter Ithamore and Friar Jacomo. E. Jac. Virgo, salve. Itha. When duck you? Abig. Welcome, grave friar ; Ithamore begone. [Exit Ithamore. Know, holy sir, I am bold to solicit thee. F. jac. Wherein? Abig. To get me be admitted for a nun. F. Jac. Why, Abigail, it is not yet long since That I did labour thy admission, And then thou didst not like that holy life. Abig. Then were my thoughts so frail and unconfirmed, And I' was chained to follies of the world : But now experience, purchased with grief, Has made me see the difference of things. My sinful soul, alas, hath paced too long The fatal labyrinth of misbelief, Far from the sun that gives eternal life. F. Jac. Who taught thee this ? Abig. The abbess of the house, Whose zealous admonition I embrace : Oh, therefore, Jacomo, let me be one, Although unworthy, of that sisterhood. F.Jac. Abigail, I will, but see thou change no more, For that will be most heavy to thy soul. Abig. That was my father's fault. F. jac. Thy father's! how? Abig. Nay, you shall pardon me. Oh, Barabas, Though thou deservest hardly at my hands, Yet never shall these lips bewray thy life. [Aside. F. Jac. Come, shall we go ? Abig. My duty waits on you. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter Barabas, reading a letter. Bar. What, Abigail become a nun again ! False and unkind ; what, hast thou lost thy father ? And all unknown, and unconstrained of me, Art thou again got to the nunnery? Now here she writes, and wills me to repent. Repentance I Spurca ! what pretendeth this ? I fear she knows — 'tis so — of my device In Don Mathias's and Lodowick's deaths : If so, 'tis time that it be seen into : io4 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act III. For she that varies from me in belief, Gives great presumption that she loves me not ; Or loving, doth dislike of something done. But who comes here ? Enter Ithamore. Oh, Ithamore, come near ; Come near, my love ; come near, thy master's life, My trusty servant, nay, my second self; For I have now no hope but even in thee : And on that hope my happiness is built ; When saw'st thou Abigail ? Itha. To-day. Bar. With whom ? Itha. A friar. Bar. A friar ! false villain, he hath done the deed. Itha. How, sir? Bar. Why, made mine Abigail a nun. Itha. That's no lie, for she sent me for him. Bar. Oh, unhappy day ! False, credulous, inconstant Abigail ! But let 'em go : And, Ithamore, from hence Ne'er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace ; Ne'er shall she live to inherit aught of mine, Be blest of me, nor come within my gates, But perish underneath my bitter curse, Like Cain by Adam, for his brother's death. Itha. Oh, master ! Bar. Ithamore, entreat not for her, I am moved, And she is hateful to my soul and me : And 'less thou yield to this that I entreat, I cannot think but that thou hat'st my life. Itha. Who, I, master? Why, I'll run to some [huge] rock, And throw myself headlong into the sea ; Why, I'll do anything for your sweet sake. Bar. Oh, trusty Ithamore ! no servant, but my friend ; I here adopt thee for mine only heir, All that I have is thine when I am dead, And whilst I live use half; spend as myself; Here take my keys, I'll give 'em thee anon : Go buy thee garments : but thou shalt not want : Only know this, that thus thou art to do : But first go fetch me in the pot of rice That for our supper stands upon the fire. Itha. I hold my head my master's hungry. I go, sir. [Exit. Bar. Thus every villain ambles after wealth. Although he ne'er be richer than in hope : But, husht ! Enter Ithamore, with the pot. Itha. Here 'tis, master. Bar. Well said, Ithamore ; what, hast thou brought The ladle with thee too? Itha. Yes, sir, the proverb says, he that eats with the devil had need of a long spoon. I have brought you a ladle. Bar. Very well, Ithamore, then now be secret ; And for thy sake, whom I so dearly love, Now shalt thou see the death of Abigail, That thou may'st freely live to be my heir. Itha. Why, master, will you poison her with a mess of rice porridge, that will pre- serve life, make her round and plump, and batten more than you are aware. Bar. Aye, but Ithamore seest thou this ? It is a precious powder that I bought Of an Italian, in Ancona, once, Whose operation is to bind, infect, And poison deeply ? yet not appear In forty hours after it is ta'en. Itha. How, master? Bar. Thus, Ithamore? This even they use in -Malta here, 'tis called Saint Jaques' Even, and then I say they use To send their alms unto the nunneries : Among the rest bear this, and set it there ; There's a dark entry where they take it in Where they must neither see the messenger, Nor make inquiry who hath sent it them. Itha. How so? Bar. Belike there is some ceremony in't. There, Ithamore, must thou go place this pot: Stay, let me spice it first. Itha. Pray do, and let me help you, master. Pray let me taste first. Bar. Pry 'thee do : what say'st thou now ? Itha. Troth, master, I'm loth such a pot of pottage should be spoiled. Bar. Peace, Ithamore, 'tis better so than spared. Assure thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye. My purse, my coffer, and myself is thine. Itha. Well, master, I go. Bar. Stay, first let me stir it, Ithamore. As fatal be it to her as the draught Of which great Alexander drunk, and died : And with her let it work like Borgia's wine, Whereof his sire, the Pope, was poisoned. In few, the blood of Hydra, Lerna's bane : The juice of Hebon, and Cocytus' breath, scene v.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 105 1 And all the poisons of the Stygian pool Break from the fiery kingdom ; and in this Vomit your venom and invenom her That like a fiend hath left her father thus. Iiha. What a blessing has he given 't ! was ever pot of rice porridge so sauced ! What shall I do with it? Bar. Oh, my sweet Ithamore, go set it down, And come again so soon as thou hast done, For I have other business for thee. Itha. Here's a drench to poison a whole stable of Flanders mares : I'll carry 't to the nuns with a powder. Bar. And the horse pestilence to boot ; away. Itha. I am gone. Pay me my wages, for my work is done. [Exit. Bar. I'll pay thee with a vengeance, Ithamore. [Exit. Enter Governor, Del Bosco, Knights, Basso. Gov. Welcome, great Basso; how fares Calymath, What wind thus drives you intoMalta Road? Bas. The wind that bloweth all the world besides, Desire of gold. Gov. Desire of gold, great sir? That's to be gotten in the Western Ind : In Malta are no golden minerals. Bas. To you of Malta thus saith Caly- math : The time you took for respite is at hand, For the performance of your promise passed, And for the tribute-money I am sent. Gov. Basso, in brief, 'shalt have no tribute here, Nor shall the heathens live upon our spoil : First will we raze the city walls ourselves, Lay waste the island, hew the temples down, And, shipping off our goods to Sicily, Open an entrance for the wasteful sea, Whose billows beating the resistless banks, Shall overflow it with their refluence. Bas. Well, Governor, since thou hast broke the league By flat denial of the promised tribute, Talk not of razing down your city walls, You shall not need trouble yourselves so far, For Selim Calymath shall come himself, And with brass bullets batter down your towers, And turn proud Malta to a wilderness For these intolerable wrongs of yours ; And so farewell. Gov . Farewell : And now you men of Malta look about, And let's provide to welcome Calymath : Close your portcullis, charge your basilisks, And as you profitably take up arms, So now courageously encounter them ; For by this answer, broken is the league, And naught is to be looked for now but wars, And naught to us more welcome is than wars. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Enter Friar Jacomo and Friar Barnardine. F. Jac. Oh, brother, brother, all the nuns are sick, And physic will not help them : they must die. F. Bam. The abbess sent for me to be confessed : Oh, what a sad confession will there be ! F. Jac. And so did fair Maria send for me : I'll to her lodging : hereabouts she lies. [Exit. Enter Abigail. F. Barn. What, all dead, save only Abigail? A big. And I shall die too, for I feel death coming. Where is the Friar that conversed with me. F. Bam. Oh, he is gone to see the other nuns. Abig. I sent for him, but seeing you are come, Be you my ghostly father : and first know, That in this house I lived religiously, Chaste, and devout, much sorrowing for my sins, But ere I came F. Barn. What them Abig. I did offend high heaven so grie- vously, As I am almost desperate for my sins : And one offence torments me more than all. You knew Mathias and Don Lodowick ? F. Barn. Yes, what of them ? Abig. My father did contract me to 'em both : First to Don Lodowick, him I never loved ; . Mathias was the man that I held dear, ' And for his sake did I become a nun. F. Barn. So, say how was their end? Abig. Both jealous of my love, envied each other And by my father's practice, which is there [Gives a paper. Set down at large, the gallants were both slain. F. Bam. Oh monstrous villainy ! io6 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT IV. A big. To work my peace, this I confess to thee ; Reveal it not, for then my father dies. F. Barn. Know that confession must not be revealed, The canon law forbids it, and the priest That makes it known, being degraded first, Shall be condemned, and then sent to the fire. A big. So I have heard ; pray, therefore keep it close, Death seizeth on my heart, ah gentle Friar ! Convert my father that he may be saved, And witness that I die a Christian. [Dies. F. Barn. Aye, and a virgin too, that grieves me most : But I must to the Jew and exclaim on him, And make him stand in fear of me. Enter Friar Jacomo. F. Jac. Oh, brother, all the nuns are dead, let's bury them. F. Barn. First help to bury this, then go with me And help me to exclaim against the Jew. F. Jac. Why ? what has he done ? F. Barn. A thing that makes me tremble to unfold. F. Jac. What, has he crucified a child? F. Barn. No, but a worse thing : 'twas told me in shrift, Thou know'st 'tis death an if it be re- vealed. Come, let's away. [Exeunt. Bells ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. Enter Barabas and Ithamore. within. Bar. There is no music to a Christian's knell : How sweet the bells ring now the nuns are dead That sound at other times like tinkers' pans? I was afraid the poison had not wrought ; Or, though it wrought, it would have done no good, For every year they swell, and yet they live ; Now all are dead, not one remains alive. Itha. That's brave, master, but think you it will not be known ? Bar. How can it, if we two be secret ? Itha. For my part fear you not. Bar. I'd cut thy throat 'if I did. Itha. And reason too. But here's a royal monastery hard by, Good master let me poison all the monks. Bar. Thou shalt not need, for now the nuns are dead They'll die with grief. Itha. Do you not sorrow for ycur daughter's death ? Bar. No, but I grieve because she lived so long An Hebrew born, and would become a Christian. Cazzo diabolo. Enter the two Friars. Itha. Look, look, master, here come two religious caterpillars. Bar. I smelt 'em ere they came. Itha. God-a-mercy, nose ; come, let's be- gone. F. Barn. Stay, wicked Jew, repent I say, and stay. F. Jac. Thou hast offended, therefore must be damned. Bar. I fear they know we sent the poisoned broth. Itha. And so do I, master, therefore speak 'em fair. F. Barn. Barabas thou hast F. Jac. Aye, that thou hast Bar. True, I have money, what though I have? F. Barn. Thou art a F. Jar. Aye, that thou art a Bar. What needs all this ? I know I am a Jew. F. Barn. Thy daughter F. Jac. Aye, thy daughter Bar. Oh speak not of her, then I die with grief. F. Barn. Remember that F. Jac. Aye, remember that Bar. I must needs say that I have been a great usurer. F. Barn. Thou hast committed Bar. Fornication — but that Was in another country : and besides, The wench is dead. F. Barn. Aye, but Barabas, Remember Mathias, and Don Lodovvick. Bar. Why, what of them ? F. Barn. I will not say that by a forged challenge they met. Bar. She has confest, and we are both undone ; My bosom inmate ! (but I must dissemble.) [Aside. O holy Friars, the burthen of my sins Lie heavy on my soul ; then pray you tell me, scent: ii.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 107 Is't not too late now to turn Christian ? I have been zealous in the Jewish faith, Hard hearted to the poor, a covetous wretch, That would for lucre's sake have sold my soul. A hundred for a hundred I have ta'en ; And now for store of wealth may I compare With all the Jews in Malta ; but what is wealth ? I am a Jew, and therefore am I lost. Would [any] penance serve for this my sin ? I could afford to whip myself to death Itha. And so could I ; but penance will not serve. Bar. To fast, to pray, and wear a shirt of hair, And on my knees creep to Jerusalem, Cellars of wine, and sollars full of wheat, Warehouses stuft with spices and with drugs. Whole chests of gold, in bullion, and in coin, Besides I know not how much weight in pearl, Orient and round, have I within my house ; At Alexandria, merchandise unsold : But yesterday two ships went from this town, Their voyage will be worth ten thousand crowns. In Florence, Venice, Antwerp, London, Seville, Frankfort, Lubeck, Moscow, and where not, Have I debts owing ; and in most of these, Great sums of money lying in the banco ; All this I'll give to some religious house So I may be baptized, and live therein. F. Jac. Oh good Barabas, come to our house. F. Barn. Oh no, good Barabas, come to our house ; And Barabas, you know Bar. I know that I have highly sinned. You shall convert me, you shall have all my wealth. F. Jac. Oh Barabas, their laws are strict. Bar. I know they are, and I will be with you. [To F. Jac. F. Barn. They wear no shirts, and they go barefoot too. Bar. Then 'tis not for me ; and I am re- solved [To F. Barn. You shall confess me, and have all my goods. F. Jac. Good Barabas, come to me. Bar. You see I answer him, and yet he stays; [ToY. Barn. Rid him away, and go you home with me. F. Jac. I'll be with you to-night. Bar. Come to my house at one o'clock this night. [ToF. Jac. F. Jac. You hear your answer, and you may be gone. F. Barn. Why, go get you away. F. Jac. I will not go for thee. F. Barn. Not ! then I'll make thee go. F. Jac. How, dost call me rogue ? [They fight. Itha. Part 'em, master, part 'em. Bar. This is mere frailty, brethren, be content. Friar Barnard ine, go you with Ithamore, You know my mind, let me alone with him. [Aside to F. Barn. F. Jac. Why does he go to thy house, let him begone. Bar. I'll give him something and so stop his mouth. [Exit Ithamore, with F. Barn. I never heard of any man but he Maligned the order of the Jacobins : But do you think that I believe his words ? Why, brother, you converted Abigail ; And I am bound in charity to requite it, And so I will. Oh Jacomo, fail not but come. F. Jac. But, Barabas, who shall be your godfathers, For presently you shall be shrived. Bar. Marry, the Turk shall be one of my godfathers, But not a word to any of your convent. F. Jac. I warrant thee, Barabas. [Exit. Bar. So, now the fear is past, and I am safe : For he that shrived her is within my house, What if I murdered him ere Jacomo comes ? Now I have such a plot for both their lives, As never Jew nor Christian knew the like : One turned my daughter, therefore he shall die; The other knows enough to have my life, Therefore 'tis not requisite he should live. But are not both these wise men to suppose That I will leave my house, my goods, and all, To fast and be well whipt; I'll none of that. Now Friar Barnardine I come to you, I'll feast you, lodge you, give you fair words, And after that, I and my trusty Turk — No more but so : it must and shall be done. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter Barabas and Ithamore. Bar. Ithamore, tell me, is the friar asleep ? io8 THE JEW OE MALTA. [act rv. Jtlni. Yes ; and I know not what the reason is, Do what I can he will not strip himself, Nor go to bed, but sleeps in his own clothes ; I fear me he mistrusts what we intend. Bar. No, 'tis an order which the friars use: I Yet, if he knew our meanings, could he 'scape ? Itha. No, none can hear him, cry he ne'er so loud. Bar. Why true, therefore did I place him there : The other chambers open towards the street. Itha. You loiter, master, wherefore stay we thus ? Oh how I long to see him shake his heels. Bar. Come on, sirrah. Off with your girdle, make a handsome noose ; [Ithamore makes a noose in his girdle. They put it rou,7id the Friar's neck. Friar, awake ! F. Barn. What, do you mean to strangle me? Itha. Yes, 'cause you use to confess. Bar. Blame not us but the proverb, con- fess and be hanged ; pull hard. F. Barn. What, will you have my life ? Bar. Pull hard, I say, you would have had my goods. Itha. Aye, and our lives too, therefore pull amain. [They strangle him. 'Tis neatly done, sir, here's no print at all. Bar. Then it is as it should be ; take him up. Itha. Nay, master, be ruled by me a little [Stands tip the body] ; so, let him lean upon ; his staff ; excellent, he stands as if he were : begging of bacon. Bar. Who would not think but that this friar lived ? What time o' night is't now, sweet Itha- more ? Itha. Towards one. Bar. Then will not Jacomo be long from hence. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Friar Jacomo. F. Jac. This is the hour wherein I shall proceed ; O happy hour, wherein I shall convert An infidel, and bring his gold into our treasury. But soft, is not this Barnardine? it is ; And, understanding I should come this way, Stands here a purpose, meaning me some wrong, And intercept my going to the Jew ; Barnardine ! Wilt thou not speak ? thou think'st I see thee not ; Away, I'd wish thee, and let me go by: No, wilt thou not? nay then, I'll force my way; And see, a staff stands ready for the purpose : As thou lik'st that, stop me another time. [Strikes him, and he falls. Enter Barabas and Ithamore. Bar. Why, how now, Jacomo, what hast thou done ? F. Jac. Why stricken him that would have struck at me. Bar. Who is it ? Barnardine? now out, alas, he's slain. Itha. Aye, master, he's slain ; look how his brains drop out on's nose. F. Jac. Good sirs, I have done't, but nobody knows it but you two — I may escape. Bar. So might my man and I hang with you for company. Itha. No, let us bear him to the magis- trates. F. Jac. Good Barabas, let me go. Bar. No, pardon me ; the law must have its course. I must be forced to give in evidence, That being importuned by this Barnardine To be a Christian, I shut him out, And there he sat : now I to keep my word, And give my goods and substance to your house, Was up thus early ; with intent to go Unto your friary, because you stayed. Itha. Fie upon 'em, master, will you turn Christian, when holy friars turn devils and murder one another. Bar. No, for this example I'll remain a Jew : Heaven bless me ; what ! a friar a murderer? When shall you see a Jew commit the like? Itha. Why, a Turk could have done no more. Bar. To-morrow is the sessions ; you shall to it. Come, Ithamore, let's help to take him hence. F. Jac. Villains, I am a sacred person ; touch me not. Bar. The law shall touch you, we'll but lead you, we : 'Las I could weep at your calamity. SCENE TV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 109 Take in the staff too, for that must be shown : Law wills that each particular be known. [Exeunt SCENE IV. Enter Bellamira and Pilia-Borsa. Bell. Pilia-Borsa, did'st thou meet with Ithamore? Pilia. I did. Bell. And didst thou deliver my letter? Pilia. I did. Bell. And what think'st thou, will he come? Pilia. I think so, and yet I cannot tell ; for at the reading of the letter, he look'd like a man of another world. Bell. Why so? Pilia. That such a base slave as he should be saluted by such a tall man as I am, from such a beautiful dame as you. Bell. And what said he ? Pilia. Not a wise word, only gave me a : nod, as who should say, "Is it even so ;" and so I left him, being driven to a non-plus 1 at the critical aspect of my terrible coun- , tenance. Bell. And where didst meet him ? Pilia. Upon mine own freehold, within forty foot of the gallows, conning his neck- - verse I take it, looking of a friar's execution, . whom I saluted with an old hempen pro- verb, Hodie tibi, eras mi hi, and so I left him to the mercy of the hangman : but the exercise being done, see where he comes. Enter Ithamore. Itha. I never knew a man take his death so patiently as this Friar ; he was ready to 1 leap off ere the halter was about his neck ; and when the hangman had put on his hempen tippet, he made such haste to his prayers, as if he had had another cure to serve ; well, go whither he will, I'll be none I of his followers in haste : And, now I think I on't, going to the execution, a fellow met me witli mustachios like a raven's wing, and I . a dagger with a hilt like a warming-pan, and I ,he gave me a letter from one Madam Bella- 1 mira, saluting me in such sort as if he had meant to make clean my boots with his lips ; I the effect was, that I should come to her I house ; I wonder what the reason is ; it may I be she sees more in me than I can find in I myself: for she writes further, that she loves me ever since she saw me, and who would not requite such love? Here's her house, and here she comes, and now would I were gone ; I am not worthy to look upon her. Pilia. This is the gentleman you writ to. Itha. Gentleman, he flouts me ; what gentry can be in a poor Turk of tenpence ? I'll be gone. Bell. Is't not. a sweet faced youth, Pilia ? Itha. Again, "sweet youth;" [Aside] — did not you, sir, bring the sweet youth a letter ? Pilia. I did, sir, and from this gentle- woman, who as myself, and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your service. Bell. Though woman's modesty should hale me back, I can withhold no longer ; welcome, sweet love. Itha. Now am I clean, or rather foully out of the way. Bell. Whither so soon ? Itha. I'll go steal some money from my master to make me handsome [Aside] : Pray pardon me, I must go and see a ship discharged. Bell. Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus? Pilia. An ye did but know how she loves you, sir. Itha. Nay, I care not how much she loves me. Sweet Bellamira, would I had my master's wealth for thy sake. Pilia. And you can have it, sir, an if you please. Itha. If 'twere above ground I could, and would have it : but he hides and buries it up, as partridges do their eggs, under the earth. Pilia. And is't not possible to find it out? Itha. By no means possible. Bell. What shall we do with this base villain then ? [Aside to Pilia Borsa. Pilia. Let me alone ; do you but speak him fair : [Aside to her. But [sir], you know some secrets of the Jew, Which, if they were revealed, would do him harm. Itha. Aye, and such as — Go to, no more. I'll make him send me half he has, and glad he scapes so too. [Pen and inh. I'll write unto him ; we'll have money straight. Pilia. Send for a hundred crowns at least. [He icrites. Itha. Ten hundred thousand crowns — Master Bar abas. [ Writing. Pilia. Write not so submissively, but. threatening him. no THE JEW OF MALTA. [act IV. Itha. Sirrah, Darabas, send me a hundred crowns. Pilia. Put in two hundred at least. Itlia. I charge thee send me three hundred by this bearer, a?id this shall be your ■warrant ; if you do not, no more, but so. Pilia. Tell him you will confess. Itha. Otherwise I'll confess all — Vanish, and return in a twinkle. Pilia. Let me alone, I'll use him in his kind. [Exit Pilia-Borsa. Itha. Hang him, Jew. Dell. Now, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap. Where are my maids ? provide a cunning banquet ; Send to the merchant, bid him bring me silks, Shall Ithamore, my love, go in such rags? Itha. And bid the jeweller come hither too. Dell. I have no husband, sweet ; I'll marry thee. Itha. Content, but we will leave this paltry land, And sail from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece, I'll be thy Jason, thou my golden fleece ; Where painted carpets o'er the meads are hurled, And Bacchus' vineyards overspread the world ; Where woods and forests go in goodly green, I'll be Adonis, thou shalt be Love's Queen. The meads, the orchards, aod the primrose lanes, Instead of sedge and reed, bear sugar- canes : Thou in those groves, by Dis above, Shalt live with me and be my love. Dell. Whither will I not go with gentle Ithamore? Enter Pilia-Borsa. Itha. How now ! hast thou the eold ? Pilia. Yes. Itha. But came it freely? did the cow give down her milk freely ? Pilia. At reading of the letter, he stared and stamped, and turned aside. I took him by the beard, and looked upon him I thus ; told him he were best to send it ; then he hugged and embraced me. Itha. Rather for fear than love. Pilia. Then, like a Jew, he laughed and jeered, and told me he loved me for your sake, and said what a faithful servant you had been. Itha. The more villain he to keep me thus ; here's goodly 'parel, is there not? Pilia. To conclude, he gave me ten crowns. Itha. But ten? I'll not leave him worth a grey groat. Give me a ream of paper, we'll have a kingdom of gold for 't. Pilia. Write for five hundred crowns. Itha. [Writing]. Sirrah, Jew, as yoti love your life send me five hundred crowns, and give the bearer one hundred. Tell him I must have 't. Pilia. I warrant your worship shall have 't. Itha. And if he ask why I demand so much, tell him I scorn to write a line under a hundred crowns. Pilia. You'd make a rich poet, sir. I am gone. [Exit. I Itha. Take thou the money ; spend it for j my sake. Dell. 'Tis not thy money, but thyself I weigh : [See] thus Bellamira esteems of gold. [ Throws it on the floor. But thus of thee. [Kisses him. Itha. That kiss again ; she runs division of my lips. What an eye she casts on me ? It twinkles like a star. Dell. Come, my dear love, let's in and sleep together. Itha. Oh, that ten thousand nights were put in one, that we might sleep seven years together afore we wake. Dell. Come, amorous wag, first banquet, and then sleep. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Enter Barabas, reading a letter. Dar. " Barabas, send me three hundred crowns." Plain Barabas : oh, that wicked courtesan ! He was not wont to call me Barabas. "Or else I will confess:" Aye, there it goes: But if I get him, coupe de gorge, for that. He sent a shaggy tottered staring slave, That when he speaks draws out his grisly beard, And winds it twice or thrice about his ear ; Whose face has been a grindstone for men's swords ; His hands are hacked, some fingers cut quite off; Who, when he speaks, grunts like a hog, and looks Like one that is employed in catzerie, And crossbiting — such a [sort of] rogue SCENE V.] THE JEW OF MALTA. As is the husband to a hundred whores : And I by him must send three hundred crowns ! Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still ; And when he comes : Oh, that he were but here ! Enter Pilia-Borsa. Pilia. Jew, I must have more gold. Bar. Why, want'st thou any of thy tale ? Pilia. No ; but three hundred will not serve his turn. Bar. Not serve his turn, sir? Pilia. No, sir ; and, therefore, I must have five hundred more. Bar. I'll rather Pilia. Oh, good words, sir, and send it you were best ; see, there's his letter. [Gives letter. Bar. Might he not as well come as send ; pray bid him come and fetch it, what he writes for you, ye shall have straight. Pilia. Aye, and the rest too, or else Bar. I must make this villain away [Aside. Please you dine with me, sir, — and you shall be most heartily poisoned. [Aside. Pilia. No, God-a-mercy. Shall I have these crowns ? Bar. I cannot do it, I have lost my keys. Pilia. Oh, if that be all, I can pick ope your locks. Bar. Or climb up to my counting-house window : you know my meaning. Pilia. I know enough, and therefore talk not to me of your counting-house. The gold, or know, Jew, it is in my power to hang thee. Bar. I am betrayed. 'Tis not five hundred crowns that I esteem, I am not moved at that : this angers me, That he who knows I love him as myself, Should write in this imperious vein. Why, sir, You know I have no child, and unto whom Should I leave all, but unto Ithamore? Pilia. Here's many words, but no crowns : the crowns. Bar. Commend me to him, sir, most humbly, And unto your good mistress, as unknown. Pilia. Speak, shall I have 'em, sir? Bar. Sir, here they are. Oh, that I should part with so much gold ! ;; Here, take 'em, fellow, with as good a will . As I would see thee hang'd [Aside] ; oh, love stops my breath : Never loved man servant as I do Ithamore. : Pilia. I know it, sir. Bar. Pray, when, sir, shall I see you at my house ? Pilia. Soon enough, to your cost, sir. Fare you well. [Exit. Bar. Nay, to thine own cost, villain, if thou com'st. Was ever Jew tormented as I am ? To have a shag-rag knave to come, — Three hundred crowns, — and then five hundred crowns ! Well : I must seek a means to rid 'em all, And presently ; for m his villainy He will tell all he knows, and I shall die for it. I have it : — I will in some disguise go see the slave, And how the villain revels with my gold. [Exit. Enter Bellamira, Ithamore, and Pilia-Borsa. Bell. I'll pledge thee, love, and therefore drink it off. Itha. Say'st thou me so? have at it ; and do you hear ? [ Whispers. Bell. Go to, it shall be so. Itha. Of that condition I will drink it up. Here's to thee. Bell. Nay, I'll have all or none. Itha. There, if thoulov'st me do not leave a drop. Bell. Love thee ; fill me three glasses. Itha. Three and fifty dozen, I'll pledge thee. Pilia. Knavely spoke, and like a knight at arms. Itha. Hey, Rivo Castilia?io/a.maris aman. Bell. Now to the Jew. Itha. Ha ! to the Jew, and send me money he were best. Pilia. What would'st thou do if he should send thee none ? Itha. Do nothing ; but I know what I know ; he's a murderer. Bell. I had not thought he had been so brave a man. Itha. You knew Mathias and the Governor's son ; he and 1 killed 'em both, and yet never touched 'em. Pilia. Oh, bravely done. Itha. I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns; and he and I, snicle hand too fast, strangled a friar. Bell. You two alone. Itha. We two, and 'twas never known, nor never shall be for me. Pilia. This shall with me unto the Governor. [Aside to Bellamira. THE JEW OF MALTA. [act v. Bell. And fit it should : but first let's have more gold. [Aside. Come, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap. Itha. Love me little, love me long ; let music rumble, Whilst I in thy incony lap do tumble. Enter Barabas, with a lute, disguised. Bell. A French musician ; come, let's hear your skill? Bar. Must tuna my lute for sound, twang, twang, first. Itha. Wilt drink, Frenchman? here's to thee with a Pox on this drunken hiccup ! Bar. Gramercv, monsieur. Bell. Pr'ythee,' Pilia-Borsa, bid the fiddler give me the posy in his hat there. Pilia. Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy. Bar. A voire commandment, madame. Bell. How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell. Itha. Like thy breath, sweetheart, no \iolet like 'em. Pilia. Foh ! methinks they stink like a hollyhock. Bar. So, now I am revenged upon 'em all. The scertt thereof was death ; I poisoned it. [Aside. Itha. Play, fiddler, or I'll cut your cat's guts into chitterlings. Bar. Pardonnez moi, be no in tune yet ; so now, now all be in. Itha. Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine. Pilia. There's two crowns for thee, play. Bar. How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold. [Aside. Pilia. Methinks he fingers very well. Bar. So did you when you stole my gold. [Aside. Pilia. How swift he runs. Bar. You run swifter when you threw my gold out of my window. [Aside. Bell. Musician, hast been in Malta long? Bar. Two, three, four month, madam. Itha. Dost not know a Jew, one Ba- 1 rabas? Bar. Very mush ; monsieur, you no be his man? Pilia. His man ? Itha. I scorn the peasant : tell him so. Bar. He knows it already. [Aside. Itha. 'Tis a strange thing of that jew, he lives upon pickled grasshoppers and sauced ; mushrooms. Bat . What a slave's this ? the Governor I feeds not as I do. [Aside. » Itha. He never put on clean shirt since he was circumcised. Bar. Oh, rascal ! I change myself twice a day. Itha. The hat he wears, Judas left under the elder when he hanged himself. Bar. 'Twas sent me for a present from the great Cham. [Aside. Pilia. A nasty slave he is ; whither now, fiddler? Bar. Pardonnez met, monsieur, me be no well. [Exit. Pilia. Farewell, fiddler : one letter more to the Jew. Bell. Pr'ythee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp. Itha. No, I'll send by word of mouth now ; bid him deliver thee a thousand crowns, by the same token, that the nuns loved rice, — that Friar Barnardine slept in his own clothes ; any of 'em will do it. Pilia. Let me alone to urge it, now I know the meaning. Itha. The meaning has a meaning ; come let's in : To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin. [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Enter Governor, Knights, and Martin Del Bosco. Gov. Now, gentlemen, betake you to your arms, And see that Malta be well fortified ; And it behoves you to be resolute ; For Calymath, having hovered here so long, Will win the town, or die before the walls. Knights. And die he shall, for we will never yield. Enter Bellamira and Pilia-Borsa. Bell. Oh, bring us to the Governor. Gov. Away with her, she is a courtesan. Bell. Whate'er I am, yet, Governor, hear me speak ; I bring thee news by whom thy son was slain : Mathias did i: not, it was the Jew. Pilia. Who, besides the slaughter of these gentlemen, Poisoned his own daughter and the nuns. Strangled a friar, and I know not what Mischief besides. Gov. Had we but proof of this Bell. Strong proof, my lord ; his man's now at my lodging, That was his agent, he'll confess it alL SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 113 Gov. Go fetch him straight [Exeunt Officers] ; I always feared that Jew. Enter Officers with Barabas and Ithamore. Bar. I'll go alone ; dogs, do not hale me thus. Itha. Nor me neither, I cannot out-run you, constable : oh, my belly ! Bar. One dram ot powder more had made all sure ; What a damned slave was I ! Gov. Make fires, heat irons, let the rack be fetched. Knights. Nay, stay, my lord, 't may be he will confess ? Bar. Confess ! what mean you, lords, who should confess ? Gov. Thou and thyTuik ; 'twas you that slew my son. Itha. Guilty, my lord, I confess : your son and Mathias were both contracted unto 1 Abigail ; he forged a counterfeit challenge. Bar. Who carried that challenge? Itha. I carried it, I confess ; but who writ it ? Marry, even he that strangled Barnardine, poisoned the nuns, and his own daughter. Gov. Away with him, his sight is death to me. Bar. For what, you men of Malta? hear me speak : She is a courtesan, and he a thief, And he my bondman. Let me have law, For none of this can prejudice my life. Gov. Once more, away with him ; you shall have law. Bar. Devils do your worst, I live in spite of you. {Aside. s these have spoke, so be it to their souls : hope the poisoned flowers will work anon. {Aside. Exeunt. Enter the Mother of Mathias. Mother. Was my Mathias murdered by the Jew ? ;7erneze, 'twas thy son that murdered him. Be patient, gentle madam, it was he. Sle forged the daring challenge made them fight. Mother. Where is the Jew ? where is that murderer? In prison till the law has past on him. Enter Officer. Off. My lord, the courtesan and her man are dead : I b is the Turk and Barabas the Jew. Gov. Dead ! Off. Dead, my lord, and here they bring his body. Bosco. This sudden death of his is very strange. Re-enter Officers carrying Barabas as dead. Gov. Wonder not at it, sir, the heavens are just. Their deaths were like their lives, then think not of 'em ; Since they are dead, let them be buried. For the Jew's body, throw that o'er the walls, To be a prey for vultures and wild beasts. So now away, and fortify the town. [Exeunt, beai'ing body of 'Barabas, which is to be supposed flung outside the fortress. Bar. [Rising']. What, all alone? well fare, sleepy drink. I'll be revenged on this accursed town ; For by my means Calymath shall enter in. I'll help to slay their children and their wives, To fire the churches, pull their houses down, Take my goods too, and seize upon my lands : I hope to see the Governor a slave, And, rowing in a galley, whipt to death. Enter Calymath, Bassoes, and Turks. Caly. Whom have we there, a spy? Bar. Yes, my good lord, one that can spy a place Where you may enter, and surprise the town : My name is Barabas : I am a Jew. Caly. Art thou that Jew whose goods we heard were sold For tribute-money? Bar. The very same, my lord : And since that time they have hired a slave, my man, To accuse me of a thousand villainies : I was imprisoned, but escaped their hands. Caly. Didst break prison ? Bar. No, no ; I drank of poppy and cold mandrake juice : And being asleep, belike they thought me dead, And threw me o'er the walls : so, or how else, The Jew is here, and rests at your command. Caly. 'Twas bravely done : but tell me, Barabas, Canst thou, as thou report'st, make Malta ours ? I H4 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT V. Bar. Fear not, my lord, for here against the sluice, The rock is hollow, and of purpose digged, To make a passage for the running streams And common channels of the city. Now, whilst you give assault unto the walls, I'll lead five hundred soldiers through the vault, And rise with them i' the middle of the town, Open the gates for you to enter in, And by this means the city is your own. Caly. If this be true, I'll make thee governor. Bar. And if it be not true, then let me die. Caly. Thou'st doomed thyself. Assault it presently. {Exeunt. SCENE II. Alarms. Enter Turks, Barabas, &c. ; Governor and Knights prisoners. Caly. Now vail your pride you captive Christians, And kneel for mercy to your conquering foe : Now where's the hope you had of haughty Spain ? Ferneze, speak, had it not been much better To [*ve] kept thy promise than be thus sur- prised ? Gov. What should I say? We are cap- tives and must yield. Caly. Aye, villains, you must yield, and under Turkish yokes Shall groaning bear the burden of our ire ; And Barabas, as erst we promised thee, For thy desert we make thee governor ; Use them at thy discretion. Bar. Thanks, my lord. Gov. Oh fatal day, to fall into the hands Of such a traitor and unhallowed Jew ! What greater misery could heaven inflict? Caly. 'Tis our command : and Barabas, we give To guard thy person, these our janizaries : Intreat them well, as we have used thee. And now, brave bassoes, come, we'll walk about The mined town, and see the wreck we made : Farewell, brave Jew, farewell great Barabas ! {Exeunt. Bar. May all good fortune follow Caly- math. And now, as entrance to our safety, To prison with the Governor and these Captains, his consorts and confederates. Gov. Oh villain, heaven will be revenged on thee. [Exeunt. Bar. Away, no more, let him not trouble me. Thus hast thou gotten, by thy policy, No simple place, no small authority, I now am governor of Malta ; true, But Malta hates me, and in hating me My life's in danger, and what boots it thee, Poor Barabas, to be the governor, Whenas thy life shall be at their command? No, Barabas, this must be looked into ; And since by wrong thou got'st authority, Maintain it bravely by firm policy. At least unprofitably lose it not : For he that liveth in authority, And neither gets him friends, nor fills his bags, Lives like the ass that ^Esop speaketh of, That labours with a load of bread and wine, And leaves it off to snap on thistle tops : But Barabas will be more circumspect. Begin betimes ; occasion's bald behind, Slip not thine opportunity, for fear too late Thou seek'st for much, but canst not com- pass it. Within here ! Enter Governor, with a Guard. Gov. My lord? Bar. Aye, lord, thus slaves will learn. Now, Governor, stand by there : — wait within, [Exit Guard. This is the reason that I sent for thee ; Thou seest thy life, and Malta's happiness, Are at my arbitrement ; and Barabas At his discretion may dispose of both : Now tell me, Governor, and plainly too, What think'st thou shall become of it and thee ? Gov. This, Barabas ; since things are in thy power, I see no reason but of Malta's wreck, Nor hope of thee but extreme cruelty ; Nor fear I death, nor will I flatter thee. Bar. Governor, good words ; be not so furious. 'Tis not thy life which can avail me aught, Yet you do live, and live for me you shall : And, as for Malta's ruin, think you not 'Tvvere slender policy for Barabas To disposses himself of such a place ? For sith, as once you said, 'tis in this isle, In Malta here, that I have got my goods, And in this city still have had success, And now at length am grown your governor. Yourselves shall see it shall not be forgot : For as a friend not known, but in distress, I'll rear up Malta, now remediless. SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. "5 Gov. Will Barabas recover Malta's loss ? Will Barabas be good to Christians? Bar. What wilt thou give me, Governor, to procure A dissolution of the slavish bands Wherein the Turk hath yoked your land and you ? What will you give me if I render you The life of Calymath, surprise* his men, And in an out-house of the city shut His soldiers, till I have consumed 'em all with fire? What will you give him that procureth this ? Gov. Do but bring this to pass which thou pretend'st, Deal truly with us as thou intimatest, And I will send amongst the citizens ; And by my letters privately procure Great sums of money for thy recompense : Nay more, do this, and live thou governor still. Bar. Nay, do thou this, Ferneze, and be free; Governor, I enlarge thee ; live with me, Go walk about the city, see thy friends : Tush, send not letters to 'em, go thyself, And let me see what money thou canst make; Here is my hand that I'll set Malta free : And thus we cast it : To a solemn feast I will invite young Selim Calymath, Where be thou present only to perform ■ One stratagem that I'll impart to thee, Wherein no danger shall betide thy life, And I will warrant Malta free for ever. Gt v. Here is my hand, believe me, Ba- rabas, I will be there, and do as thou desirest ; When is the time? Bar. Governor, presently. For Calymath, when he hath viewed the town, Will take his leave and sail toward Otto- man. , Gov. Then will I, Barabas, about this coin, \nd bring it with me to thee in the everting. I Bar. Do so, but fail not ; now farewell Ferneze : [Exit Governor. \nd thus far roundly goes the business : Thus loving neither, will I live with both, Inking a profit of my policy ; he from whom my most advantage comes, ' }hall be my friend. jfi'his is the life we Jews are used to lead ; I nd reason too, for Christians do the like. Ml/ell, now about effecting this device : First to surprise great Selim 's soldiers, And then to make provision for the feast, That at one instant all things may be done, My policy detests prevention : To what event my secret purpose drives, I know ; and they shall witness with their lives. [Exit. SCENE III. Enter Calymath and Bassoes. Caly. Thus have we viewed the city, seen the sack, And caused the ruins to be new repaired, Which with our bombard's shot and basi- lisks, We rent in sunder at our entry : And now I see the situation, And how secure this conquered island stands Environed with the Mediterranean sea, Strong countermined with other petty isles ; And, toward Calabria, backed by Sicily, (Where Syracusian Dionysius reigned,) Two lofty turrets that command the town ; I wonder how it could be conquered thus ? Enter a Messenger. Mess. From Barabas, Malta's governor, I bring A message unto mighty Calymath ; Hearing his sovereign was bound for sea, To sail to Turkey, to great Ottoman, He humbly would entreat your majesty To come and see his homely citadel, And banquet with him ere thou leav'st the isle. Caly. To banquet with him in his citadel ? I fear me, messenger, to feast my train Within a town of war so lately pillaged, Will be too costly and too troublesome : Yet would I gladly visit Barabas, For well has Barabas deserved of us. Mess. Selim, for that, thus saith the Governor, That he hath in store a pearl so big, So precious, and withal so orient, As, be it valued but indifferently, The price thereof will serve to entertain Selim and all his soldiers for a month ; Therefore he humbly would entreat your highness Not to depart till he has feasted you. Caly. I cannot feast my men in Malta walls, Except he place his tables in the streets. Mess. Know, Selim, that there is a mo- nastery Which standeth as an out-house to the town : I 2 i6 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT v. There will he banquet them, but thee at home, With all thy bassoes and brave followers. Caly. Well, tell the Governor we grant his suit, We'll in this summer evening feast with him. Mess. I shall, my lord, [Exit. Caly. And now, bold bassoes, let us to our tents, And meditate how we may grace us best To solemnize our Governor's great feast. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter Governor, Knights, Del Bosco. Gov. In this, my countrymen, be ruled by me, Have special care that no man sally forth Till you shall hear a culverin discharged By him that bears the linstock, kindled thus ; Then issue out and come to rescue me, For haply I shall be in distress, Or you released of this servitude. Knight. Rather than thus to live as Turkish thralls What will we not adventure ? Gov. On then, begone. Knight. Farewell, grave Governor ! [Exeunt. Enter Barabas, with a hammer, above, very busy ; and Carpenters. Bar. How stand the cords ? How hang these hinges ? fast ? Are all the cranes and pulleys sure? First Carp. All fast. Bar. Leave nothing loose, all levelled to my mind. Why now I see that you have art indeed. There, carpenters, divide that gold amongst you: Go swill in bowls of sack and muscadine ! Down to the cellar, taste of all my wines. Carp. We shall, my lord, and thank you : [Exeunt. Bar. And, if you like them, drink your fill and die : For so I live, perish may all the world. Now Selim Calymath return me word That thou wilt come, and I am satisfied. Now sirrah, what, will he come ? Enter Messenger. Mes. He will ; and has commanded all his men To come ashore, and march through Malta streets, That thou mayest feast them in thy citadel. Bar. Then now are all things as my wish would have 'em, There wanteth nothing but the Governor's pelf, And see, he brings it. Enter Governor. Now, Governor, the sum. Gov. With free consent, a hundred thou- sand pounds. Bar. Pounds say'st thou, Governor ? well, since it is no more I'll satisfy myself with that; nay, keep it still, For if I keep not promise, trust not me. And Governor, now take my policy : First, for his army, they are sent before, Entered the monastery, and underneath In several places are field pieces pitched, Bombards, whole barrels full of gunpowder, That on the sudden shall dissever it, And batter all the stones about their ears, Whence none can possibly escape alive : Now as for Calymath and his consorts, Here have I made a dainty gallery, The floor whereof, this cable being cut, Doth fall asunder ; so that it doth sink Into a deep pit past recovery. Here, hold that knife, and when thou seest he comes, And with his bassoes shall be blithely set, A warning-piece shall be shot off from the tower, To give thee knowledge when to cut the cord, And fire the house; say, will not this be brave? Gov. Oh excellent! here, hold thee, Ba- rabas, I trust thy word, take what I promised thee. Bar. No, Governor, I'll satisfy thee first, Thou shalt not live in doubt of any thing. Stand close, for here they come [Governor retires] : why, is not this A kingly kind of trade to purchase towns By treachery, and sell 'em by deceit ? Now tell me, worldlings, underneath the sun If greater falsehood ever has been done ? Enter Calymath and Bassoes. Caly. Come, my companion bassoes, see I pray How busy Barabas is there above To entertain us in his gallery ; Let us salute him. Save thee, Barabas! Bar. Welcome, great Calymath ! Gov. How the slave jeers at him. [Aside. SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 117 Bar. Will 't please thee, mighty Selim Calymath, To ascend our homely stairs ? Caly. Aye, Barabas ; come, bassoes, at- tend. Gov. Stay, Calymath! For I will show thee greater courtesy Than Barabas would have afforded thee. Knight \ii'ithin\ Sound a charge there! \A charge, the cable cut, a caldron dis- covered into which Barabas falls. Enter Calymath and Bassoes. Caly. How now, what means this ! Bar. Help, help me, Christians, help. Gov. See, Calymath, this was devised for thee. Caly. Treason ! treason ! bassoes, fly ! Gov. No, Selim, do not fly; See his end first, and fly then if thou canst. Bar. Oh help me, Selim, help me, Chris- tians ! Governor, why stand you all so pitiless? Gov. Should I in pity of thy plaints or thee, Accursed Barabas, base Jew, relent? No, thus I'll see thy treachery repaid, But wish thou hadst behaved thee other- wise. Bar. You will not help me, then ? Gov. No, villain, no. Bar. And villains, know you cannot help me now — Then Barabas breathe forth thy latest hate, And in the fury of thy torments strive To end thy life with resolution : Know, Governor, 'twas I that slew thy son ; I framed the challenge that did make them meet : Know, Calymath, I aimed thy overthrow, And had I but escaped this stratagem, II would have brought confusion on you all, ■Damned Christian dogs, and Turkish in- fidels ; But now begins the extremity of heat ;To pinch me with intolerable pangs : L.Die life, fly soul, tongue curse thy fill, and die ! [Dies. Caly. Tell me, you Christians, what doth this portend? Gov. This train he laid to have entrapped thy life ; Now, Selim, note the unhallowed deeds of Jews : Thus he determined to have handled thee, But I have rather chose to save thy life. Caly. Was this the banquet he prepared for us ? Let's hence, lest further mischief be pre- tended. Gov. Nay, Selim, stay, for since we have thee here, We will not let thee part so suddenly : Besides, if we should let thee go, all's one, For with thy galleys could'st thou not get hence, Without fresh men to rig and furnish them. Caly. Tush, Governor, take thou no care for that, My men are all aboard. And do attend my coming there by this. Gov. Why, heard'st thou not the trumpet sound a charge ? Caly. Yes, what of that ? Gov. Why then the house was fired, Blown up, and all thy soldiers massacred. Caly. Oh monstrous treason ! Gov. A Jew's courtesy : For he that did by treason work our fall, By treason hath delivered thee to us : Know, therefore, till thy father hath made good The ruins done to Malta and to us, Thou canst not part : for Malta shall be freed, Or Selim ne'er return to Ottoman. Caly. Nay rather, Christians, let me go to Turkey, In person there to mediate your peace ; To keep me here will naught advantage you. Gov. Content thee, Calymath, here thou must stay, And live in Malta prisoner ; for come all the world To rescue thee, so will we guard us now, As sooner shall they drink the ocean dry Than conquer Malta, or endanger us. So march away, and let due praise be given Neither to fate nor fortune, but to heaven. {Exeunt* Edward the Second. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Edward II. Beaumont. Edward III. Trussel. Gaveston. Sir John Hainault. Old Spencer. Levune. Young Spencer. Baldock. Earl Mortimer. Matrevis. Young Mortimer. Gurney. Berkeley. Rice ap Howel. Lancaster. Lightborn. Leicester. Abbot. Edmund, Earl of Kent. Lords, Messengers, Monks, James, Arundel. b>c, &c. Warwick. Pembroke. Queen Isabella. Archbishop ^Canterbury. Niece to Edward II. Bishop gf Winchester. Ladies. Bishop ^Coventry. ACT THE FIRST. Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers ! My knee shall bow to none but to the king. SCENE I. As for the multitude, they are but sparks, Enter Gaveston, reading a letter from the king. Raked up in embers of their poverty ; — Tanti ; I'll fawn first on the wind That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away. Gav. My father is deceased! Come, But how now, what are these ? Gaveston, A fid share the kingdom with thy dearest Enter three poor Men. friend. Men. Such as desire your worship's ser- Ah ! words that make me surfeit with de- vice. light ! Gav. What canst thou do? What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston, i Man. I can ride. Than live and be the favourite of a king ! Gav. But I have no horse. What art Sweet prince, I come ; these, these thy thou ? amorous lines 2 Man. A traveller. Might have enforced me to have swum from Gav. Let me see — thou would'st do well 1 France, To wait at my trencher, and tell me lies at And like Leander, gasped upon the sand, dinner-time ; So thou would'st smile, and take me in thine And as I like your discoursing, I'll have you. arms. And what art thou ? The sight of London to my exiled eyes 3 Man. A soldier, that hath served against Is as Elysium to a new-come soul ; the Scot. Not that I love the city, or the men, Gav. Why there are hospitals for such as But that it harbours him I hold so dear— you ; The king, upon whose bosom let me lie, I have no war ; and therefore, sir, be gone. And with the world be still at enmity. 3 Man. Farewell, and perish by a What need the arctic people love starlight, soldier's hand, To whom the sun shines both by day and That would'st reward them with an hos- night ? pital. 1 SCENE I.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 119 I Gav. Aye, aye, these words of his move me as much As if a goose would play the porcupine, And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my breast. But yet it is no pain to speak men fair ; I'll flatter these, and make them live in hope. [Aside. You know that I came lately out of France, And yet I have not viewed my lord the king ; If I speed well, I'll entertain you all. Omnes. We thank your worship. Gav. I have some business. Leave me to myself. Omnes. We will wait here about the court. [Exeunt. Gav. Do ; these are not men for me ; I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits, Musicians, that with touching of a string May draw the pliant king which way I please. Music and poetry are his delight ; Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows ; And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad ; My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay. Sometimes a lovely boy in Dian's shape, With hair that gilds the water as it glides, Crownets of pearl about his naked arms, And in his sportful hands an olive-tree, To hide those parts which men delight to see, Shall bathe him in a spring ; and there hard by, One like Actceon peeping through the grove, Shall by the angry goddess be transformed, And running in the likeness of an hart (By yelping hounds pulled down, shall seem to die ; — tSuch things as these best please his majesty. By'r lord ! here comes the king and the nobles From the parliament. I'll stand aside. Enter the King, Lancaster, Mortimer, senior, Mortimer, junior, Edmund Earl of Kent, Guy Earl of Warwick, &c. Edw. Lancaster ! Lan. My lord. Gav. That earl of Lancaster do I abhor. \ Aside. Edw. Will you not grant me this ? In spite of them '11 have my will ; and these two Mortimers, That cross me thus, shall know I am dis- pleased. E. Mor. If you love us, my lord, hate Gaveston. Gav. That villain Mortimer, I'll be his death ! [Aside. Y. Mor. Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself, Were sworn unto your father at his death, That he should ne'er return into the realm : I And know, my lord, ere I will break my oath, \ This sword of mine, that should offend your i foes, Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need, l And underneath thy banners march who will, For Mortimer will hang his armour up. Gav. Mortdieu! [Aside. Edw. Well, Mortimer, I'll make thee rue these words. Beseems it thee to contradict thy king? Frown'st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster? The sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows, And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff. I will have Gaveston ; and you shall know What danger 'tis to stand against your king. Gav. Well done, Ned ! [Aside. Lan. My lord, why do you thus incense your peers, That naturally would love and honour you But for that base and obscure Gaveston? J Four earldoms have I, besides Lancaster — . Derby, Salisbury, Lincoln, Leicester, | These will I sell, to give my soldiers pay, ! Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realm ; j Therefore, if he be come, expel him straight. Edw. Barons and earls, your pride hath made me mute ; ! But now I'll speak, and to the proof, I hope. } I do remember, in my father's days, : Lord Piercy of the North, being highly moved, ' Braved Moubery in presence of the king ; For which, had not his highness loved him well, : He should have lost his head ; but with his look The undaunted spirit of Piercy was ap- peased, And Moubery and he were reconciled. Yet dare you brave the king unto his face ; Brother, revenge it, and let these their heads, Preach upon poles, for trespass of their tongues. War. Oh, our heads ! EDWARD THE SECOND. [act r. Edtv. Aye, yours ; and therefore I would wish you grant. — War. Bridle thy anger, gentle Mortimer. Y. Mor. I cannot, nor 1 will not ; I must speak. Cousin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads, And strike off his that makes you threaten us. Come, uncle, let us leave the brainsick king, And henceforth parley with our naked swords. E. Mor. Wiltshire hath men enough to save our heads. War. All Warwickshire will leave him for my sake. Lan. And northward Lancaster hath many friends. Adieu, my lord ; and either change your mind, Or look to see the throne, where you should sit, To float in blood ; and at thy wanton head, The glozing head of thy base minion thrown. [Exeunt Nobles. Echo. I cannot brook these haughty menaces ; Am I a king, and must be over-ruled ? Brother, display my ensigns in the field ; I'll bandy with the barons and the earls, And either die or live with Gaveston. Gav. I can no longer keep me from my lord. [Comes fonvard. Edw. What, Gaveston ! welcome — Kiss not my hand — Embrace me, Gaveston, as I do thee. Why should'st thou kneel ? know'st thou not who I am ? Thy friend, thyself, another Gaveston ! Not Hylas was more mourned of Hercules, Than thou hast been of me since thy exile. Gav. And since I went from hence, no soul in hell Hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston. Edw. I know it — Brother, welcome home my friend. Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire, And that high-minded Earl of Lancaster: I have my wish, in that I 'joy thy sight ; And sooner shall the sea o'erwhelm my land, Than bear the ship that shall transport thee hence. I here create thee Lord High Chamberlain, Chief Secretary to the state and me, Earl of Cornwall, King and Lord of Man. Gav. My lord, these titles far exceed my worth. Kent. Brother, the least of these may well suffice For one of greater birth than Gaveston. Ed7o. Cease, brother : for I cannot brook these words. Thy worth, sweet friend, is far above my gifts, Therefore, to equal it, receive my heart ; If for these dignities thou be envied, I'll give thee more ; for, but to honour thee, Is Edward pleased with kingly regiment. Fear'st thou thy person ? thou shalt have a guard. Wantest thou gold ? go to my treasury. Wouldst thou be loved and feared ? receive my seals ; Save or condemn, and in our name command Whatso thy mind affects, or fancy likes. Gav. It shall suffice me to enjoy your love, Which whiles I have, I think myself as great As Coesar riding in the Roman street, With captive kings at his triumphant car. Enter the Bishop 0/" Coventry. Edw. Whither goes my lord of Coventry so fast ? Bisk. To celebrate your father's exequies. But is that wicked Gaveston returned ? Edw. Aye, priest, and lives to be re- venged on thee, That wert the only cause of his exile. Gav. Tis true ; and but for reverence of these robes, Thou should'st not plod one foot beyond this place. Dish. I did no more than I was bound to do; And, Gaveston, unless thou be reclaimed, As then I did incense the parliament, So will I now, and thou shalt back to France. Gav. Saving your reverence, you must pardon me. Edw. Throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole, And in the channel christen him anew. Kent. Ah, brother, lay not violent hands on him, For he'll complain unto the see of Rome. Gav. Let him complain unto the see of hell, I'll be revenged on him for my exile. Edw. No, spare his life, but seize upon his goods : Be thou lord bishop and receive his rents, And make him serve thee as thy chaplain : I give him thee — here, use him as thou wilt. Gav. He shall to prison, and there die in bolts. Edw. Aye, to the Tower, the Fleet, or where thou wilt. Dish. For this offence, be thou accurst of ' God! SCENE II.] EDWARD THE SECOND. Edw. Who's there? Convey this priest to the Tower. Bish. True, true. Edw. But in the mean time, Gaveston, away, And take possession of his house and goods. Come, follow me, and thou shalt have my guard To see it done, and bring thee safe again. Gav. What should a priest do with so fair a house ? A prison may best beseem his holiness. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter both the Mortimers, Warwick, and Lancaster. War. 'Tis true, the bishop is in the Tower, And goods and body given to Gaveston. Lan. What ! will they tyrannize upon the church ? Ah, wicked king ! accursed Gaveston ! ! This ground, which is corrupted with their I steps, Shall be their timeless sepulchre or mine. Y. A/or. Well, let that peevish French- man guard him sure ; Unless his breast be sword-proof he shall die. E. A/or. How now, why droops the earl of Lancaster ? Y. A/or. Wherefore is Guy of Warwick discontent ? Lan. That villain Gaveston is made an earl. E. Mor. An earl ! War. Aye, and besides Lord Chamber- lain of the realm, And Secretary too, and Lord of Man. /:. A/or. We may not, nor we will not suffer this. Y. A/or. Why post we not from hence to levy men ? Lan. "My Lord of Cornwall," now at every word ! And happy is the man whom he vouchsafes, For vailing of his bonnet, one good look. Thus, arm in arm, the king and he doth march : Nay more, the guard upon his lordship waits ; And all the court begins to flatter him. War. Thus leaning on the shoulder of the king, He nods and scorns, and smiles at those that pass. E. Mor. Doth no man take exceptions at the slave ? Lan. All stomach him, but none dare speak a word. F. Mor. Aye, that bewrays their base- ness, Lancaster. Were all the earls and barons of my mind, We'd hale him from the bosom of the king, And at the court-gate hang the peasant up ; Who, swoln with venom of ambitious pride, Will be the ruin of the realm and us. Enter the Archbishop ^Canterbury, and a Messenger. War. Here comes my Lord of Canter- bury's grace. Lan. His countenance bewrays he is dis- pleased. Archblsh. First were his sacred garments rent and torn, Then laid they violent hands upon him ; next Himself imprisoned, and his goods asseized : This certify the pope ; — away, take horse. [Exit Messenger. Lan. My lord, will you take arms against the king ? Archbish. What need I ? God himself is up in arms, When violence is offered to the church. Y. Mor. Then will you join with us, that be his peers, To banish or behead that Gaveston ? Archbish. What else, my lords ? for it concerns me near ; — The bishoprick of Coventry is his. Enter Queen Isabella. Y. Mor. Madam, whither walks your majesty so fast ? Queen. Unto the forest, gentle Mortimer, To live in grief and baleful discontent ; For now, my lord, the king regards me not,. But doats upon the love of Gaveston. He claps his cheek, and hangs about his neck, Smiles in his face, and whispers in his ears : And when I come he frowns, as who should say, "Go whither thou wilt, seeing I have Gaveston." E. A/or. Is it not strange, that he is thus bewitched? Y. A/or. Madam, return unto the court again : That sly inveigling Frenchman we'll exile, Or lose our lives ; and yet ere that day come The king shall lose his crown ; for we have power, | And courage too, to be revenged at full. Archbish. But yet lift not your swords against the king. EDWARD THE SECOND. [act i. L in. No ; but we will lift Gaveston from hence. War. And war must be the means, or he'll stay still. Queen. Then let him stay ; for rather than my lord Shall be oppressed with civil mutinies, I will endure a melancholy life, And let him frolic with his minion. Archbish. My lords, to ease all this, but hear me speak : — We and the rest, that are his counsellors, Will meet, and with a general consent Confirm his banishment with our hands and seals. Lan. What we confirm the king will frus- trate. Y. Mor. Then may we lawfully revolt from him. War. But say, my lord, where shall this meeting be? Archbish. At the New Temple. Y. Mor. Content. Archbish. And, in the mean time, I'll entreat you all To cross to Lambeth, and there stay with me. Lan. Come then, let's away. Y. Mor. Madam, farewell'! Quec7i. Farewell, sweet Mortimer ; and, for my sake Forbear to levy arms against the king. Y. Mor. Aye, if words will serve, if not, I must. [Exeunt. SCENE IH. Enter Gaveston and AfoEarl of Kent. Gav. Edmund, the mighty prince of Lan- caster, That hath more earldoms than an ass can bear, And both the Mortimers, two goodly men, With Guy of Warwick, that redoubted knight, Are gone toward London — there let them remain. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter Nobles, and the Archbishop of Canterbury. Lan. Here is the form of Gaveston 's exile : May it please your lordship to subscribe your name. Archbish. Give me the paper. [He subscribes, as the others do after him. Lan. Quick, quick, my lord ; I long to write my name. 1 1 'ar. But I long more tosee him banished hence. Y. Mor. The name of Mortimer shall fright the king, Unless he be declined from that base pea- sant. Enter the King, Gaveston, and Kent. Edw. What, are you moved that Gaveston sits here ? It is our pleasure, and we will have it so. Lan. Your grace doth well to place him by your side, For no where else the new earl is so safe. E. Mor. What man of noble birth can brook this sight ? Quam male coineniunt ! See what a scornful look the peasant casts ! Pern. Can kingly lions fawn on creeping ants ? War. Ignoble vassal, that like Phaeton Aspir'st unto the guidance of the sun. 1 '. Mor. Their downfall is at hand, their forces down : We will not thus be faced and over-peered. Edzv. Lay hands on that traitor Mor- timer ! E. Mor. Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston ! Kent. Is this the duty that vou owe vour king? 1 1 ar. We know our duties — let him know his peers. Edw. Whither will you bear him ? Stay, or ye shall die. E. Mor. We are no traitors ; therefore threaten not. Gav. No, threaten not, my lord, but pay them home ! Were I a king 1". Mor. Thou villain, wherefore talk'st thou of a king, That hardly art a gentleman by birth? Edw. Were he a peasant, being my minion, I'll make the proudest of you stoop to him. Lan. My lord, you may not thus dis- parage us. Away, I say, with hateful Gaveston. B. Mor. And with the Earl of Kent that favours him. [Attendants remove Kent <7;/tfGaveston. Law. Nay, then, lay violent hands upon your king, Here, Mortimer, sit thou in Edward's throne: Warwick and Lancaster, wear you my crown : Was ever king thus over-ruled as I ? SCENE IV.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 123 La if.. Learn then to rule us better, and the realm. Y. Mor. What we have done, our heart- blood shall maintain. War. Think you that we can brook this upstart pride? Edw. Anger and wrathful fury stops my speech. Archbish. Why are you moved? be patient, my lord, And see what we your counsellors have done. Y. Mor. My lords, now let us all be reso- lute, And either have our wills or lose our lives. Edw. Meet you for this? proud over- daring peers ! Ere my sweet Gaveston shall part from me, This isle shall fleet upon the ocean, And wander to the unfrequented Inde. Archbish. You know that I am legate to the pope ; On your allegiance to the see of Rome, Subscribe, as we have done, to his exile. Y. Mor. Curse him, if he refuse; and then may we Depose him and elect another king. Edw. Aye, there it goes — but yet I will not yield : Curse me, depose me, do the worst you can. Lan. Then linger not, my lord, but do it straight. Archbish. Remember how the bishop was abused ! Either banish him that was the cause thereof, Or I will presently discharge these lords Of duty and allegiance due to thee. Edw. It boots me not to threat — I must speak fair : {Aside. The legate of the pope will be obeyed. My lord, you shall be Chancellor of the realm ; Thou, Lancaster, High Admiral of the fleet; Young Mortimer and his uncle shall be earls ; And you, Lord Warwick, President of the North ; And thou of Wales. If this content you not, Make several kingdoms of this monarchy, And share it equally amongst you all, So I may have some nook or corner left, To frolic with my dearest Gaveston. Archbish. Nothing shall alter us — we are resolved. Lan. Come, come, subscribe. Y. Mor. Why should you love him whom the world hates so ? Edw. Because he loves me more than all the world. All, none but rude and savage-minded men Would seek the ruin of my Gaveston ; You that are noble born should pity him. War. You that are princely born should shake him off: For shame, subscribe, and let the lown de- part. E. Mor. Urge him, my lord. Archbish. Are you content to banish him the realm? Edw. I see I must, and therefore am con- tent: Instead of ink I'll write it with my tears. [Subscribes. Y. Mor. The king is love-sick for his minion. Edw. 'Tisdone — and now, accursed hand! fall off! Lan. Give it me — I'll have it published in the streets. Y. Mor. I'll see him presently despatched away. Archbish. Now is my heart at ease. War. And so is mine. Pern. This will be good news to the com- mon sort. E. Mor. Be it or no, he shall not linger here. [Exeunt Nobles. Edw. How fast they run to banish him I love! They would not stir, were it to do me good. Why should a king be subject to a priest ? Proud Rome ! that hatchest such imperial grooms, With these thy superstitious taper-lights, Wherewith thy antichristian churches blaze, I'll fire thy crazed buildings, and enforce The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground ! With slaughtered priests make Tiber's chan- nel swell, And banks rise higher with their sepulchres ! As for the peers, that back the clergy thus, If I be king, not one of them shall live. Enter Gaveston. Gav. My lord, I hear it whispered every- where, That I am banished, and must fly the land. Edw. 'Tis true, sweet Gaveston — Oh ! were it false ! The legate of the Pope will have it so, And thou must hence, or I shall be deposed. But I will reign to be revenged of them ; And therefore, sweet friend, take it patiently. Live where thou wilt, I'll send thee gold enough ; I24 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act r. And long thou shalt not stay, or if thou dost, I'll come to thee; my love shall ne'er de- cline. Gav. Is all my hope turned to this hell of grief? Echo. Rend not my heart with thy too- piercing words : Thou from this land, I from myself am banished. Gav. To go from hence grieves not poor Gaveston ; Rut to forsake you, in whose gracious looks The blessedness of Gaveston remains ; For no where else seeks he felicity. Edu>. And only this torments my wretched soul, That, whether I will or no, thou must depart. Be governor of Ireland in my stead, And there abide till fortune call thee home. Here take my picture, and let me wear thine ; [ They exchange pictures. O, might I keep thee here as I do this, Happy were I ! but now most miserable ! Gav. 'Tis something to be pitied of a king. Edw. Thou shalt not hence — I'll hide thee, Gaveston. Gav. I shall be found, and then 'twill grieve me more. Edw. Kind words, and mutual talk makes our grief greater : Therefore, with dumb embracement, let us part — Stay, Gaveston, I cannot leave thee thus. Gav. For every look, my love drops down a tear : Seeing I must go, do not .renew my sorrow. Edw. The time is little that thou hast to stay, And, therefore, give me leave to look my fill; But come, sweet friend, I'll bear thee on thy way. Gav. The peers will frown. Edw. I pass not for their anger — Come, let's go ; 0 that we might as well return as go. Enter Kent and Queen Isabel. Queen. Whither goes my lord? Edw. Fawn not on me, French strumpet! get thee gone. Queen. On whom but on my husband should I fawn? Gav. On Mortimer! with whom, ungentle queen — 1 say no more — judge you the rest, my lord. Queen. In saying this, thou wrong'st me, Gaveston ; Is't not enough that thou corrupt'st my lord, And art a bawd to his affections, But thou must call mine honour thus in question ? Gav. I mean not so; your grace must pardon me. Edw. Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer, And by thy means is Gaveston exiled ; But I would wish thee reconcile the lords, Or thou shalt ne'er be reconciled to me. Queen. Your highness knows it lies not in my power. Edw. Away then ! touch me not — Come, Gaveston. Queen. Villain ! 'tis thou that robb'st me of my lord. Gav. Madam, 'tis you that rob me of my lord. Edw. Speak not unto her ; let her droop and pine. Queen. Wherein, my lord, have I deserved these words ? Witness the tears that Isabella sheds, Witness this heart, that sighing for thee, breaks, How dear my lord is to poor Isabel. Edw. And witness heaven how dear thou art to me ! There weep : for till my Gaveston be re- pealed, Assure thyself thou com'st not in my sight. [Exeunt Edward and Gaveston. Queen. O miserable and distressed queen ! Would, when I left sweet France and was embarked, That charming Circe, walking on the waves, Had changed my shape, or that the marriage day The cup of Hymen had been full of poison, Or with those arms that twined about my neck I had been stifled, and not lived to see The king my lord thus to abandon me ! Dike frantic Juno will I fill the earth With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries ; For never doated Jove on Ganymede So much as he on cursed Gaveston : But that will more exasperate his wrath : I must entreat him, I must speak him fair, And be a means to call home Gaveston : And yet he'll ever doat on Gaveston : And so am I for ever miserable. Enter the Nobles. Lan. Eook where the sister of the king of France SCENE IV.] EDWARD THE SECOND. Sits wringing of her hands, and beats her breast ! War. The king, I fear, hath ill-entreated her. . Pern. Hard is the heart that injures such a saint. Y. Mor. I know 'tis 'long of Gaveston she weeps. E. Mor. Why, he is gone. Y. Mor. Madam, how fares your grace ? Queen. Ah, Mortimer ! now breaks the king's hate forth, And he confesseth that he loves me not. Y. Mor. Cry quittance, madam, then ; and love not him. Queen. Xo, rather will I die a thousand deaths : And yet I love in vain — he'll ne'er love me. Lan. Fear ye not, madam; now his minion's gone, His wanton humour will be quickly left. Queen. Oh never, Lancaster ! I am en- joined To sue upon you all for his repeal ; This wills my lord, and this must I perform, Or else be banished from his highness' pre- sence. Lan. For his repeal, madam ! he comes not back, Unless the sea cast up his shipwrecked body. War. And to behold so sweet a sight as that, There's none here but would run his horse to death. V. Mor. But madam would you have us call him home? Queen. Aye, Mortimer, for till he be re- stored, The angry king hath banished me the court ; And, therefore, as thou lov'st and tender'st me, Be thou my advocate upon the peers. Y. Mor. What ! would you have me plead for Gaveston ? E. Mor. Plead for him that will, I am resolved. Lan. And so am I, my lord ! dissuade the queen. Queen. O Lancaster ! let him dissuade the king, For 'tis against my will he should return. War. Then speak not for him, let the peasant go. I Queen. 'Tis for myself I speak, and not for him. Pern. No speaking will prevail, and there- fore cease. Y. Mor. Fair queen, forbear to angle for the fis* Which, being caught, strikes him that takes it dead ; I mean that vile torpedo, Gaveston, That now I hope floats on the Irish seas. Queen. Sweet Mortimer, sit down by me awhile, And I will tell thee reasons of such weight, As thou wilt soon subscribe to his repeal. Y. Mor. It is impossible ; but speak your mind. Queen. Then thus, but none shall hear it but ourselves. [Talks to Y. Mor. apart. Lan. My lords, albeit the queen win Mortimer, Will you be resolute, and hold with me? E. Mor. Not I, against my nephew. Pern. Fear not, the queen's words cannot alter him. War. No, do but mark how earnestly she pleads. Lan. And see how coldly his looks make I denial. War. She smiles, now for my life his mind is changed. Lan. I'll rather lose his friendship I, than grant. Y. Mor. Well, of necessity it must be so. My lords, that I abhor base Gaveston I hope your honours make no question, And therefore, though I plead for his re- peal, 'Tis not for his sake, but for our avail ! Nay, for the realm's behoof, and for the king's. Lan. Fie, Mortimer, dishonour not thy- self! Can this be true, 'twas good to banish him? And is this true, to call him home again ? Such reasons make white black, and dark night day. Y. Mor. My lord of Lancaster, mark the respect. Lan. In no respect can contraries be true. Queen. Yet, good my lord, hear what he can allege. War. All that he speaks is nothing, we are resolved. Y. Mor. Do you not wish that Gaveston were dead ? Pern. I would he were. Y. Mor. WThy then, my lord, give me but leave to speak. E. Mor. But, nephew, do not play the sophister. Y. Mor. This which I urge is of a burning zeal I 126 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act r. To mend the king, and do our country good. Know you not Gaveston hath store of gold, Which may in Ireland purchase him such friends, As he will front the mightiest of us all ? And whereas he shall live and be beloved, 'Tis hard for us to work his overthrow. War. Mark you but that, my lord of Lancaster. Y. A/or. But were he here, detested as he is, How eas'ly might some base slave be sub- orned To greet his lordship with a poniard, And none so much as blame the murderer, But rather praise him for that brave at- tempt, And in the chronicle enrol his name For purging of the realm of such a plague ? Pern. He saith true. Lan. Aye, but how chance this was not done before ? Y. A/or. Because, my lords, it was not thought upon : Nay, more, when he shall know it lies in us To banish him, and then to call him home, 'Twill make him vail the top-flag of his pride, And fear to offend the meanest nobleman. E. A/or. But how if he do not, nephew ? Y. A/or. Then may we with some colour rise in arms? For howsoever we have borne it out, 'Tis treason to be up against the king ; So we shall have the people of our side, Which for his father's sake lean to the king, But cannot brook a night-grown mushroom, Such a one as my lord of Cornwall is, Should bear us down of the nobility. And when the commons and the nobles join, 'Tis not the king can buckler Gaveston : We'll pull him from the strongest hold he hath. My lords, if to perform this I be slack, Think me as base a groom as Gaveston. Lan. On that condition, Lancaster will grant. War. And so will Pembroke and I. E. A/or. And I. Y. A for. In this I count me highly gratified, And Mortimer will rest at your command. Queen. And when this favour Isabel for- gets, Then let her live abandoned and forlorn. But sec, in happy time, my lord the king, Having brought the Earl of Cornwall on his way, Is new returned ; this news will glad him much ; Yet not so much as me ; I love him more Then he can Gaveston ; would he loved me But half so much, then were I treble- blessed ! Enter King Edward, mourning. Edw. He's gone, and for his absence thus I I mourn. Did never sorrow go so near my heart, As doth the want of my sweet Gaveston ! And could my crown's revenue bring him | back, I would freely give it to his enemies, And think I gained, having bought so dear j a friend. Queen. Hark ! how he harps upon his I minion. Edw. My heart is as an anvil unto j sorrow, Winch beats upon it like the Cyclops' [ hammers, And with the noise turns up my giddy brain, I And makes me frantic for my Gaveston. Ah ! had some bloodless fury rose from hell, And with my kingly sceptre struck me dead, j When T ^as forced to leave my Gaveston ! Lan. Diablo ! what passions call you these? Queen. My gracious lord, I come to bring j you news. Edw. That you have parled with your Mortimer? Queen. That Gaveston, my lord, shall be repealed. Edw. Repealed ! the news is too sweet to be true ! Queen. But will you love me, if you find it so? Edw. If it be so, what will not Edward do? Queen. For Gaveston, but not for Isabel. Edw. For thee, fair queen, if thou lov'st Gaveston, I'll hang a golden tongue about thy neck, Seeing thou hast pleaded with so good success. Queen. No other jewels hang about my neck Than these, my lord ; nor let me have more wealth Than I may fetch from this rich treasury — O how a kiss revives poor Isabel ! Edw. Once more receive my hand ; and let this be A second marriage 'twixt thyself and me. SCENE IV.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 127 Queen. And may it prove more happy than the first ! My gentle lord, bespeak these nobles fair, That wait attendance for a gracious look, And on their knees salute your majesty. Edw. Courageous Lancaster, embrace thy king ; And, as gross vapours perish by the sun, Even so let hatred with thy sovereign's smile. Live thou with me as my companion. Lan. This salutation overjoys my heart. Edw. Warwick shall be my chiefest coun- sellor : These silver hairs will more adorn my court Than gaudy silks, or rich embroidery. Chide me, sweet Warwick, if I go astray. War. Slay me, my lord, when I offend your grace. Edtu. In solemn triumphs, and in public shows, Pembroke shall bear the sword before the king. Pan. And with this sword Pembroke will fight for you. Edw. But wherefore walks young Morti- mer aside ? Be thou commander of our royal fleet ; Or if that lofty office like thee not, I make thee here Lord Marshal of the realm. Y. Mor. My lord, I'll marshal so your enemies, As England shall be quiet, and you safe. Edw. And as for you, Lord Mortimer of Chirke, Whose great achievements in our foreign war Deserve no common place, nor mean re- ward Be you the general of the levied troops That now are ready to assail the Scots E. Mor. In this your grace hath highly honoured me, For with my nature war doth best agree Queen. Now is the king of England rich and strong, Having the love of his renowned peers Edw. Ave, Isabel, ne'er was my heart so light. ' Clerk of the crown, direct our warrant forth For Gaveston to Ireland : [Enter Beaumont 'with warrant.] Beaumont, fly, As fast as Iris, or Jove's Mercury. Bea. It shall be done, my gracious lord. Edw. Lord Mortimer, we leave you to your charge. [Now let us in, and feast it royally. Against our friend the Earl of Cornwall comes We II have a general tilt and tournament And then his marriage shall be solemnized For wot you not that I have made him sure Unto our cousin, the Earl of Gloucester's heir ? Lan. Such news we hear, my lord. Edw. That day, if not for him, yet for my sake, Who in the triumph will be challenger, Spare for no cost ; we will requite your love. War. In this, or aught your highness shall command us. Edw. Thanks, gentle Warwick : come, let's in and revel. [Exeunt. Manent the Mortimers. E. Mor. Nephew, I must to Scotland ; thou stayest here. Leave now t' oppose thyself against the king. Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm, And, seeing his mind so doats on Gaveston, Let him without controlment have his will. The mightiest kings have had their minions : Great Alexander loved Hephestion ; The conquering Hercules for his Hylas wept ; And for Patroclus stern Achilles drooped. And not kings only, but the wisest men : The Roman Tully loved Octavius ; Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades. Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible, And promiseth as much as we can wish, Freely enjoy that vain, light-headed earl ; For riper years will wean him from such toys. Y. Mor. Uncle, his wanton humour grieves not me ; But this I scorn, that one so basely born Should by his sovereign's favour grow so pert, And riot it with the treasure of the realm. While soldiers mutiny for want of pay, He wears a lord's revenue on his back. And Midas-like, he jets it in the court, With base outlandish cullions at his heels, Whose proud fantastic liveries make such show, As if that Proteus, god of shapes, appeared. I have not seen a dapper Jack so brisk ; He wears a short Italian hooded cloak, Larded with pearl, and, in his Tuscan cap, A jewel of more value than the crown. While others walk below, the king and he From out a window laugh at such as we, And flout our train, and jest at our attire. Uncle, 'tis this makes me impatient. E. Mor. But, nephew, now you see the king is changed. Y. Mor. Then so am I, and live to do him service : But whilst I have a sword, a hand, a heart, I will not yield to any such upstart.. You know my mind ; come, uncle, let's away. [Exeunt. 323 EDWARD THE SECOND. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. Enter Young Spencer and Baldock. Bald. Spencer, Seeing that our lord the Earl of Gloucester's dead, Which of the nobles dost thou mean to serve ? Y. Spen. Not Mortimer, nor any of his side ; Because the king and he are enemies. Baldock, learn this of me, a factious lord Shall hardly do himself good, much less us ; But he that hath the favour of a king, May with one word advance us while we live : The liberal Earl of Cornwall is the man On whose good fortune Spencer's hope de- pends. Bald. What, mean you then to be his follower ? Y. Spcn. No, his companion ; for he loves me well, And would have once preferred me to the king. Bald. But he is banished ; there's small hope of him. Y. Spen. Aye, for a while ; but, Baldock, mark the end. A friend of mine told me in secresy That he's repealed, and sent for back again ; And even now a post came from the court With letters to our lady from the king ; And as she read she smiled, which makes me think It is about her lover Gaveston. Bald. 'Tis like enough ; for since he was exiled She neither walks abroad, nor comes in sight. But I had thought the match had been broke off, And that his banishment had changed her mind. Y. Spen. Our lady's first love is not wavering ; My life for thine she will have Gaveston. Bald. Then hope I by her means to be preferred, Having read unto her since she was a child. Y. Spcn. Then, Baldock, you must cast the scholar off, And learn to court it like a gentleman. 'Tis not a black coat and a little band, A velvet caped cloak, faced before with serge, And smelling to a nosegay all the day, Or holding of a napkin in your hand, Or saying a long grace at a table's end, Or making low legs to a nobleman, Or looking downward with your eyelids close, And saying, "Truly, an't may please your honour," Can get you any favour with great men : You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute, And now and then stab, as occasion serves. Bald. Spencer, thou know'st I hate such formal toys, And use them but of mere hypocrisy. Mine old lord while he lived was so' precise, That he would take exceptions at my buttons, And being like pins' heads, blame me for the bigness ; Which made me curate-like in mine attire, Though inwardly licentious enough, And apt for any kind of villainy. I am none of these common pedants, I, That cannot speak without propterea quod. Y. Spcn. But one of those that saith, quayidoquidem, And hath a special gift to form a verb. Bald. Leave off this jesting, here my lady comes. Enter the Lady. Lady. The grief for his exile was not so much, As is the joy of his returning home. This letter came from my sweet Gaveston : What need'st thou, love, thus to excuse thyself? I know thou couldst not come and visit me : / will not long be front thee, though I die. [Reads. This argues the entire love of my lord ; I I 'hen I forsake thee, death seize on my heart : [Reads. But stay thee here where Gaveston shall sleep. Now to the letter of my lord the king. — He wills me to repair unto the court, And meet my Gaveston? why do I stay, Seeing that he talks thus of my marriage- day? Who's there ? Baldock ! See that my coach be ready, I must hence. Bald. It shall be done, madam. Exit. Lady. And meet me at the park-pale presently. Spencer, stay you and bear me company, For I have joyful news to tell thee of ; My lord of Cornwall is a coming over, And will be at the court as soon as we. Spen. I knew the king would have hirr home aqain. SCENE II.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 129 Lady. If all things sort out, as I hope they will, Thy service, Spencer, shall be thought upon. Spen. I humbly thank your ladyship. Lady. Come, lead the way ; I long till I am there. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter Edward, the Queen, Lancaster, Young Mortimer, Warwick, Pembroke, Kent, and Attendants. Edw. The wind is good, I wonder why he stays : I fear me he is wrecked upon the sea. Queen. Look, Lancaster, how passionate he is, And still his mind runs on his minion ! Lan. My lord. Edw. How now ! what news? is Gaveston arrived ? Y. Mor. Nothing but Gaveston ! what means your grace ? You have matters of more weight to think upon ; > The King of France sets foot in Normandy. j Edw. A trifle ! we'll expel him when we please. But tell me, Mortimer, what's thy device Against the stately triumph we decreed? Y. Mor. A homely one, my lord, not worth the telling. Edw. Pray thee let me know it. Y. Mor. But, seeing you are so desirous, thus it is : A lofty cedar-tree, fair flourishing, Dn whose top-branches kingly eagles perch, And by the bark a canker creeps me up, \nd gets into the highest bough of all : The motto, sEque tandem. 1 Edw. And what is yours, my lord of Lan- caster ? Lan. My lord, mine's more obscure than Mortimer's, 'liny reports there is a flying fish Vhich all the other fishes deadly hate, ,nd therefore, being pursued, it takes the '. air: j'o sooner is it up, but there's a fowl jhat s^izeth it : this fish, my lord, I bear, Ihe motto this : Undique mors est. j Kent. Proud Mortimer ! ungentle Lan- l caster ! this the love you bear your sovereign ? j this the fruit your reconcilement bears? in you in words make show of amity, id in your shields display your rancorous minds! hat call you this but private libelling ainst the Earl of Cornwall and my brother ? Queen. Sweet husband, be content, they all love you. Edw. They love me not that hate my Gaveston. I am that cedar, shake me not too much ; And you the eagles ; soar ye ne'er so high, I have the jesses that will pull you down ; And sEque tandem shall that canker cry Unto the proudest peer of Britainy. Though thou compar'st him to a flying fish, And threatenest death whether he rise or fall, 'Tis not the hugest monster of the sea, Nor foulest harpy that shall swallow him. Y. Mor. If in his absence thus he favours him, What will he do whenas he shall be present ? Lan. That shall we see ; look where his lordship comes. Enter Gaveston. Edw. My Gaveston ! welcome to Tyne- mouth ! welcome to thy friend ! Thy absence made me droop and pine away; For, as the lovers of fair Danae, When she was locked up in a brazen tower, Desired her more, and waxed outrageous, So did it fare with me : and now thy sight Is sweeter far than was thy parting hence Bitter and irksome to my sobbing heart. Gav. Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth mine, Yet have I words left to express my joy : The shepherd nipt with biting winter's rage Frolics not more to see the painted spring, Than I do to behold your majesty. Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaves- ton? Lan. Salute him? yes; welcome, Lord Chamberlain ! Y. Mor. Welcome is the good Earl of Cornwall ! War. Welcome, Lord Governor of the Isle of Man ! Pern. Welcome, Master Secretary ! Kent. Brother, do you hear them ? Edw. Still will these earls and barons use me thus. Gav. My lord, I cannot brook these in- juries. Queen. Ah me! poor soul, when these begin to jar. [Aside. Edw. Return it to their throats, I'll be thy warrant . Gav. Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth, Go sit at home and eat your tenants' beef; And come not here to scoff at Gaveston, K 130 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act ir. Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low As to bestow a look on such as you. Lan. Yet I disdain not to do this for you. [Draws. Edw. Treason ! treason ! where 's the traitor? Pern. Here! here! king: Convey hence Gaveston; they'll murder him. Gov. The life of thee shall salve this foul disgrace. Y. Mor. Villain ! thy life, unless I miss mine aim. [Offets to stab him. Queen. Ah ! furious Mortimer, what hast thou done ? Y. Mor. No more than I would answer, were he slain. [Exit Gaveston, with Attendants. Edw. Yes, more than thou canst answer, though he live ; Dear shall you both abide this riotous deed. Out of my presence! come not near the court. Y. Mor. I'll not be barred the court for Gaveston. Lan. We'll hale him by the ears unto the block. Edw. Look to your heads ; his is sure enough. War. Look to your own crown, if you back him thus. Kent. Warwick, these words do ill be- seem thy years. Edw . Nay, all of them conspire to cross me thus ; But if I live, I'll tread upon their heads That think with high looks thus to tread me down. Come, Edmund, let's away and levy men, Tis war that must abate these barons' pride. [Exeunt the King, Queen, and Kent. War. Let's to our castles, for the king is moved. Y. Mor. Moved may he be, and perish in his wrath ! Lan. Cousin, it is no dealing with him now, He means to make us stoop by force of arms; And therefore let us jointly here protest, To prosecute that Gaveston to the death. Y. Mor. By heaven, the abject villain shall not live ! War. I'll have his blood, or die in seek- ing it. Pern. The like oath Pembroke takes. Lan. And so doth Lancaster. Now send our heralds to defy the king ; And make the people swear to put him down. Enter Messenger. Y. Mor. Letters ! from whence ? Mess. From Scotland, my lord. [Giving letters to Mortimer. Lan. Why, how now, cousin, how fare all our friends ? Y. Mor. My uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. Lan. We'll have him ransomed, man ; be of good cheer. Y. Mor. They rate his ransom at five thousand pound. Who should defray the money but the king, Seeing he is taken prisoner in his wars ? I'll to the king. Lan. Do, cousin, and I'll bear thee com- pany. War. Meantime, my lord of Pembroke and myself Will to Newcastle here, and gather head. Y. Mor. About it then, and we will follow you. Lan. Be resolute and full of secresy. War. I warrant you. [Exit with Pembroke. Y. Mor. Cousin, and if he will not ran- som him, I'll thunder such a peal into his ears, As never subject did unto his king. Lan. Content, I'll bear my part — Holloa! who's there ? [Guard appears. Enter Guard. Y. Mor. Aye, marry, such a guard as thi doth well. Lan. Lead on the way. Guard. Whither will your lordships? Y. Mor. Whither else but to the king. Guard. His highness is disposed to b alone. Lan. Why, so he may, but we will spea to him. Guard. You may not in, my lord. Y. Mor. May we not? Enter Edward and Kent. Edw. How now ! what noise is this Who have we there, is't you? [G Y. Mor. Nay, stay, my lord, I come bring you news ; Mine uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. Ed-cO. Then ransom him. Lan. 'Twas in your wars; you shou ransom him. Y. Mar. And you shall ransom him, else ,1 \ in SCENE II.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 131 Kent. What! Mortimer, you will not threaten him ? Edw. Quiet yourself, you shall have the broad seal, To gather for him thoroughout the realm. Lan. Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this. Y. A/or. My lord, the family of the Mor- timers Are not so poor, but, would they sell their land, 'Twould levy men enough to anger you. We never beg, but use such prayers as these. Edw. Shall I still be haunted thus? Y. Mor. Nay, now you're here alone, I'll speak my mind. Lan. And so will I, and then, my lord, farewell. Y. Mor. The idle triumphs, masks, las- civious shows, And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaveston, Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak ; The murmuring commons, overstretched, break. Lan. Look for rebellion, look to be de- posed ; JThy garrisons are beaten out of France, \nd, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates. The wild Oneyl, with swarms of Irish kerns, Jves uncontrolled within the English pale. Jnto the walls of York the Scots make road, Ynd unresisted drive away rich spoils. Y. Mor. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas, iVhile in the harbour ride thy ships un- rigged. Lan. What foreign prince sends thee am- bassadors ? Y. Mor. Who loves thee, but a sort of flatterers ? Lan. Thy gentle queen, sole sister to Valois, omplains that thou hast left her all forlorn. V. A for. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those lat make a king seem glorious to the world ; .mean the peers, whom thou should'st [ dearly love : Ibels are cast against thee in the street : Iliads and rhymes made of thy overthrow. Lan. The Northern borderers seeing their J houses burnt, I eir wives and children slain, run up and ■ down, Qsing the name of thee and Gaveston. Y. Mor. When wert thou in the field with banners spread ? But once : and then thy soldiers marched like players, With garish robes, not armour; and thy- self, Bedaubed with gold, rode laughing at the rest, Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, Where women's favours hung like labels down. Lan. And thereof came it, that the fleer- ing Scots, To England's high disgrace, have made this jig; Maids of England, sore may you mourn, For your lemans yoti have lost at Bannocks- bourn, With a heave and a ho. What weeneth the King of England, So soon to have won Scotland, With a rombelow f Y. Mor. Wigmore shall fly, to set my uncle free. Lan. And when 'tis gone, our swords shall purchase more. If ye be moved, revenge it if you can ; Look next to see us with our ensigns spread. [Exeunt Nobles. Edzv. My swelling heart for very anger breaks ! How oft have I been baited by these peers, And dare not be revenged, for their power is great ! Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels Affright a lion? Edward, unfold thy paws, And let their lives' blood slake thy fury's hunger. If I be cruel and grow tyrannous, Now let. them thank themselves, and rue too late. Kent. My lord, I see your love for Gaveston Will be the ruin of the realm and you, For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars, And therefore, brother, banish him for ever. Edw. Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston? Kent. Aye, and it grieves me that I favoured him. Edw. Traitor, begone ! whine thou with Mortimer. Kent. So will I, rather than with Gaveston. Edw. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more ! Kent. No marvel though thou scorn thy noble peers, When I thy brother am rejected thus. [Exit. K 2 t32 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act rr. Edw. Away ! Poor Gaveston, that has no friend but me, Do what they can, we'll live in Tynemouth here, And, so I walk with him about the walls, What care I though the Earls begirt us round — Here cometh she that's cause of all these jars. Enter the Queen, with King's Niece, two Ladies, Gaveston, Baldock, and Young Spencer. Queen. My lord, 'tis thought the Earls are up in arms. Edw. Aye, and 'tis likewise thought you favour them. Queen. Thus do you still suspect me with- out cause? Lady. Sweet uncle ! speak more kindly to the queen. Gav. My lord, dissemble with her, speak her fair. Edw. Pardon me, sweet, I had forgot myself. Queen. Your pardon is quickly got of Isabel. Edw. The younger Mortimer is grown so brave, That to my face he threatens civil wars. Gav. Why do you not commit him to the Tower ? Edw. I dare not, for the people love him well. Gav. Why then we'll have him privily made away. Edw. Would Lancaster and he had both caroused A bowl of poison to each other's health ! But let them go, and tell me what are these. Lady. Two of my father's servants whilst he liv'd, — May't please your grace to entertain them now. Edw. Tell me, where wast thou born? What is thine arms? Bald. My name is Baldock, and my gentry I fetch from Oxford, not from heraldry. Edw. The fitter art thou, Baldock, for my turn. Wait on me, and I'll see thou shalt not want. Bald. I humbly thank your majesty. Edw. Knowest thou him, Gaveston? Gav. Aye, my lord ; his name is Spencer, he is well allied ; For my sake, let him wait upon your grace ; Scarce shall you find a man of more desert. Edw. Then, Spencer, wait upon me, for his sake I'll grace thee with a higher style ere long. Y. Spen. No greater titles happen unto me, Than to be favoured of your majesty. Edw. Cousin, this day shall be your marriage feast. And, Gaveston, think that I love thee well. To wed thee to our niece, the only heir Unto the Earl of Gloucester late deceased. Gav. I know, my lord, many will stomach me, But I respect neither their love nor hate. Edw. The headstrong barons shall not limit me ; He that I list to favour shall be great. Come, let's away ; and when the marriage ends, Have at the rebels, and their 'complices ! [Exeunt omnes. SCENE III. Enter Lancaster, Young Mortimer, War- wick, Pembroke, and Kent. Kent. My lords, of love to this our native land I come to join with you and leave the king ; And in your quarrel and the realm's behoof Will be the first that shall adventure life. Lan. I fear me, you are sent of policy, To undermine us with a show of love. War. He is your brother, therefore have we cause To cast the worst, and doubt of your revolt Kent. Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth : If that will not suffice, farewell, my lords. Y. A/or. Stay, Edmund ; never was Plantagenet False of his word, and therefore trust we thee. Pern. But what's the reason you should leave him now ? Kent. I have informed the Earl of Lan- caster. Lan. And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know this, That Gaveston is secretly arrived, And here in Tynemouth frolics with the king. Let us with these our followers scale the walls, And suddenly surprise them unawares. Y. Mor. I'll give the onset. War. And I'll follow thee. F. Mor. This tottered ensign of my an- cestors, Which swept the desert shore of that deac sea, SCENE IV.] EDWARD THE SECOND. i33 Whereof we got the name of Mortimer, Will I advance upon this castle's walls. Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport, And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston ! Lan.. None be so hardy as to touch the king ; But neither spare you Gaveston nor his friends. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter the King and Spencer, to them Gaveston, &=c. Edw. O tell me, Spencer, where is Gaveston ? Spen. I fear me, he is slain, my gracious lord. Edw. No, here he comes ; now let them spoil and kill. Enter Queen, King's Niece, Gaveston, and Nobles. Fly, fly, my lords, the earls have got the hold, Take shipping and away to Scarborough, Spencer and I will post away by land. Gav. O stay, my lord, they will not injure you. Edw. I will not trust them; Gaveston, away ! Gav. Farewell, my lord. Edw. Lady, farewell. Lady. Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again. Edw. Farewell, sweet Gaveston ; and fare- well, niece. Queen. No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen ? ■ Edw. Yes, yes, for Mortimer, your lover's sake. [Exeunt all but Isabel. • Queen. Heaven can witness I love none but you : From my embracements thus he breaks away. O that mine arms could close this isle about, That I might pull him to me where I would ! Dr that these tears, that drizzle from mine eyes, Had power to mollify his stony heart, That when I had him we might never part. Enter the Barons. Alarums. Lan. I wonder how he scaped ! Y. Mor. Who's this, the queen? Queen. Aye, Mortimer, the miserable queen, Tiose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted. And body with continual mourning wasted : These hands are tired with haling of my lord From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston, And all in vain ; for, when I speak him fair, He turns away, and smiles upon his minion. Y. Mor. Cease to lament, and tell us where's the king ? Queen. What would you with the king? is't him you seek ? Lan. No, madam, but that cursed Gaves- ton. Far be it from the thought of Lancaster, To offer violence to his sovereign. We would but rid the realm of Gaveston : Tell us where he remains, and he shall die. Queen. He's gone by water unto Scar- borough ; Pursue him quickly, and he cannot scape ; The king hath left him, and his train is small. War. Forslow no time, sweet Lancaster, let's march. Y. Mor. How comes it that the king and he is parted ? Queen. That thus your army, going several ways, Might be of lesser force : and with the power That he intendeth presently to raise, Be easily suppressed ; therefore be gone. Y. Mor. Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy; Let's all aboard, and follow him amain. Lan. The wind that bears him hence will fill our sails : Come, come aboard, 'tis but an hour's sailing. Y. Mor. Madam, stay you within this castle here. Queen. No, Mortimer, I'll to my lord the king. Y. Mor. Nay, rather sail with us to Scar- borough. Queen. You know the king is so sus- picious, As if he hear I have but talked with you, Mine honour will be called in question ; And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone. Y. Mor. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you, But think of Mortimer as he deserves. [Exeunt Barons. Queen. So well hast thou deserved, sweet Mortimer, As Isabel could live with thee for ever. In vain I look for love at Edward's hand, Whose eyes are fixed on none but Gaveston : Yet once more I'll importune him with prayer, 134 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act n. If he be strange and not regard my words, My son and I will over into France, And to the king my brother there com- plain, How Gaveston hath robbed me of his love : But yet I hope my sorrows will have end, And Gaveston this blessed day be slain. [Exit. SCENE V. Enter Gaveston, pursued. Gav. Yet, lusty lords, I have escaped your hands, Your threats, your larums, and your hot pursuits ; And though divorced from King Edward's eyes. Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprised, Breathing, in hope (malgrado all your beards, That muster rebels thus against your king) To see his royal sovereign once again. Enter the Nobles. War. Upon him, soldiers, take away his weapons. Y. Mor. Thou proud disturber of thy country's peace, Corrupter of thy king, cause of these broils, Base flatterer, yield ! and were it not for shame, Shame and dishonour to a soldier's name, Upon my weapon's point here should'st thou fall, And welter in thy gore. Lan. Monster of men ! That, like the Greekish strumpet, trained to arms And bloody wars so many valiant knights ; Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death ! King Edward is not here to buckler thee. War. Lancaster, why talk'st thou to the slave? Go soldiers, take him hence, for by my sword His head shall off: Gaveston, short warning Shall serve thy turn. It is our country's cause, That here severely we will execute Upon thy person : hang him at a bough. Gav. My lords ! — War. Soldiers, have him away ; — But for thou wert the favourite of a king, Thou shalt have so much honour at our hands. Gav. I thank you all, my lords : then I perceive, That heading is one, and hanging is the other, And death is all. Enter Earl of Arundel. Lan. How now, my lord of Arundel? Arun. My lords, King Edward greets you all by me. War. Arundel, say your message. Arun. His majesty, hearing you had taken Gaveston, Intreateth you by me, but that he may See him before he dies ; for why, he says, And sends you word, he knows that die he shall ; And if you gratify his grace so far, He will be mindful of the courtesy. War. How now ? Gav. Renowned Edward, how thy name Revives poor Gaveston ! War. No, it needeth not ; Arundel, we will gratify the king In other matters ; he must pardon us in this. Soldiers, away with him ! Gav. Why, my lord of Warwick, Will not these delays beget my hopes? I know it, lords, it is this life you aim at, Yet grant King Edward this. Y. Mor. Shalt thou appoint What we shall grant ? Soldiers, away wit him : Thus we will gratify the king, We'll send his head by thee ; let him bestow His tears on that, for that is all he gets Of Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk Lan. Not so, my lords, lest he bestow more cost In burying him, than he hath ever earned, Arun. My lords, it is his majesty's re- quest, And on the honour of a king he swears, He will but talk with him, and send him back. War. When, can you tell? Arundel, no; we wot, He that the care of his re-alm remits, And drives his nobles to these exigents For Gaveston, will, if he sees him once, Violate any promise to possess him. Arun. Then if you will not trust his grace in keep, My lords, I will be pledge for his return. Y. Mor. 'Tis honourable in thee to offer this : ■ EDWARD THE SECOND. 13: But for we know thou art a noble gentleman, We will not wrong thee so, to make away A true man for a thief. Gav. How mean'st thou, Mortimer? this is over-base. Y. Mor. Away, base groom, robber of king's renown, Question with thy companions and mates. Pern. My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each one, To gratify the king's request therein, Touching the sending of this Gaveston, Because his majesty so earnestly Desires to see the man before his death, I will upon mine honour undertake To carry him, and bring him back again ; Provided this, that you my lord of Arundel, Will join with me. War. Pembroke, what wilt thou do ? Cause yet more bloodshed ? is it not enough That we have taken him, but must we now Leave him on" had I wist, " and let him go ? Pern. My lords, I will not over-woo your honours, But if you dare trust Pembroke with the prisoner, Upon mine oath, I will return him back. A run. My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this ? Lan. Why I say, let him go on Pem- broke's word. Pern. And you Lord Mortimer? Y. Mor. How say you, my lord of Warwick ? War. Nay, do your pleasures, I know how 'twill prove. Pern. Then give him me. Gav. Sweet sovereign, yet I come To see thee ere I die. War. Not yet perhaps, ;If Warwick's wit and policy prevail. [Aside. > Y. Mor. My lord of Pembroke, we de- liver him to you ; Return him on your honour. Sound, away. [Exeunt all but Pembroke, Arundel, Gaveston, and Pembroke's men. Pern. My lord [of Arundel], you shall go with me. .Iy house is not far hence ; out of the way L little, but our men shall go along, Ve that have pretty wenches to our wives, ir, must not come so near to baulk their lips. A run. 'Tis very kindly spoke, my lord of Pembroke ; our honour hath an adamant of power o draw a prince, I Pern. So, my lord. Come hither James : do commit this Gaveston to thee, Be thou this night his keeper, in the morning We will discharge thee of thy charge ; be gone. Gav. Unhappy Gaveston, whither goest thou now ? [Exit with Pembroke's men. Horse-boy. My lord, we'll quickly be at Cobham. [Exeunt. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter Gaveston mourning, and the Earl of Pembroke's Men. Gav. O treacherous Warwick ! thus to wrong thy friend. James. I see it is your life these arms pursue. Gav. Weaponless must I fall, and die in bands ? Oh ! must this day be period of my life ? Centre of all my bliss ! An ye be men, Speed to the king. Enter Warwick and his company. War. My lord of Pembroke's men, Strive you no more — I will have that Gaveston. James. Your lordship doth dishonour to yourself, And wrong our lord, your honourable friend. War. No, James, it is my country's cause I follow. Go, take the villain ; soldiers, come away, We'll make quick work. Commend me to your master, My friend, and tell him that I watched it well. Come, let thy shadow parley with King Edward. Gav. Treacherous earl, shall I not see the king? War. The king of heaven perhaps, no other king. Away ! [Exeunt Warwick and his Men with Gaveston. James. Come, fellows, it booted not for us to strive, We will in haste go certify our lord. [Exeunt. SCENE II. E?iter King Edward and Young Spencer, Baldock, and Nobles of the king's side, with drums and fifes. Edw. I long to hear an answer from the barons, 136 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act nr. Touching my friend, my dearest Gaveston. Ah ! Spencer, not the riches of my realm Can ransom him ! ah, he is marked to die ! I know the malice of the younger Mortimer, Warwick I know is rough, and Lancaster Inexorable, and I shall never see My lovely Pierce of Gaveston again ! The barons overbear me with their pride. Y. Spen. Were I King Edward, England's sovereign, Son to the lovely Eleanor of Spain, Great Edward Longshanks' issue, would I bear These braves, this rage, and suffer uncon- trolled These barons thus to beard me in my land, In mine own realm ? My lord, pardon my speech, Did you retain your father's magnanimity, Did you regard the honour of your name, You would not suffer thus your majesty Be counterbuft of your nobility. Strike off their heads, and let them preach on poles ! No doubt, such lessons they will teach the rest, As by their preachments they will profit much, And learn obedience to their lawful king. Edw. Yea, gentle Spencer, we have been too mild, Too kind to them ; but now have drawn our sword, And if they send me not my Gaveston, We'll steel it on their crest, and poll their tops. Bald. This haught resolve becomes your majesty Not to be tied to their affection, As though your highness were a schoolboy still, And must be awed and governed like a child. Enter Hugh Spencer, father to the Young Spencer, with his truncheon and Soldiers. O. Spen. Long live my sovereign, the noble Edward — In peace triumphant, fortunate in wars ! Edw. Welcome, old man, com'st thou in Edward's aid ? Then tell thy prince of whence, and what thou art. O. Spen. Lo, with a band of bowmen and of pikes, Brown bills and targeteers, four hundred strong, Sworn to defend King Edward's royal right, I come in person to your majesty, Spencer, the father of Hugh Spencer there, Bound to your highness everlastingly, For favour done, in him, unto us all. Edw . Thy father, Spencer ? Y. Spen. True, an it like your grace, That pours, in lieu of all your goodness shown, His life, my lord, before your princely feet. Edw. Welcome ten thousand times, old man, again. Spencer, this love, this kindness to thy king, Argues thy noble mind and disposition. Spencer, I here create thee Earl of Wiltshire, And daily will enrich thee with our favour, That, as the sunshine, shall reflect o'er thee. Besides, the more to manifest our love, Because we hear Lord Bruce doth sell his land, And that the Mortimers are in hand withal, Thou shalt have crowns of us t' outbid the barons : And, Spencer, spare them not, [but] lay it on. Soldiers, a largess, and thrice welcome all ! Y. Spen. My lord, here comes the queen. Enter the Queen and her Son, and Levune, a Erenchman. Edw. Madam, what news? Queen. News of dishonour, lord, and dis- content. Our friend Levune, faithful and full of trust, Informeth us, by letters and by words, That Lord Valois our brother, King of France, Because your highness hath been slack in homage, Hath seized Normandy into his hands. These be the letters, this the messenger. Edw. Welcome, Levune. Tush, Sib, if this be all, Valois and I will soon be friends again. But to my Gaveston : shall I never see, Never behold thee more? Madam, in this matter, We will employ you and your little son ; You shall go parley with the King of France. I Boy, see you bear you bravely to the king, ' And do your message with a majesty. Prince. Commit not to my youth things of more weight That fits a prince so young as I to bear, And fear not, lord and father, heaven's great beams On Atlas' shoulder shall not lie more safe, Than shall your charge committed to my trust. Queen. Ah, boy ! this toward ness makes thy mother fear SCENE I.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 137 Thou art not marked to many days on earth. Edw. Madam, we will that you with speed be shipped, And this our son ; Levune shall follow you With all the haste we can despatch him hence. Chuse of our lords to bear you company ; And go in peace, leave us in wars at home. Queen. Unnatural wars, where subjects brave their king ; God end them once. My lord, I take my leave, To make my preparation for France. [Exit with Prince. Enter Arundel. Edw. What, Lord Arundel, dost thou come alone ? Atun. Yea, my good lord, for Gaveston is dead. Edw. Ah, traitors ! have they put my friend to death ? Tell me, Arundel, died he ere thou cam'st, Or didst thou see my friend to take his death ? 4run. Neither, my lord ; for as he was surprised, Begirt with weapons and with enemies round, I did your highness' message to them all ; Demanding him of them, entreating rather, And said, upon the honour of my name, That I would undertake to carry him Unto your highness, and to bring him back. Edw. And tell me, would the rebels deny me that ? Y. Spen. Proud recreants ! Edw. Yea, Spencer, traitors all. Arun. I found them at first inexorable ; The Earl of Warwick would not bide the hearing, Mortimer hardly, Pembroke and Lancaster i Spake least : and when they flatly had denied, Refusing to receive me pledge for him, The Earl of Pembroke mildly thus bespake ; [ ' ' My lords, because our sovereign sends for him, And promiseth he shall be safe returned, I will this undertake to have him hence, And see him re-delivered to your hands." Edw. Well, and how fortunes [it] that he came not ? Y. Spen. Some treason, or some villainy was the cause. run. The Earl of Warwick seized him on his way ; For being delivered unto Pembroke's men, " eir lord rode home thinking his prisoner safe ; 3ut ere he came, Warwick in ambush lay, And bare him to his death ; and in a trench Strake off his head, and marched unto the camp. Y. Spen. A bloody part, flatly 'gainst law of arms. Edw. O shall I speak, or shall I sigh and die! Y. Spen. My lord, refer your vengeance to the sword Upon these barons ; hearten up your men ; Let them not unrevenged murder your friends ! Advance your standard, Edward, in the field, And march to fire them from their starting holes. [Edward kneels. Edw. By earth, the common mother of us all ! By heaven, and all the moving orbs thereof ! By this right hand ! and by my father's sword ! And all the honours 'longing to my crown ! I will have heads, and lives for him, as many As I have manors, castles, towns, and towers. [Rises. Treacherous Warwick ! traitorous Mortimer! If I be England's king, in lakes of gore Your headless trunks, your bodies will I trail, That you may drink your fill, and quaff in blood, And stain my royal standard with the same, That so my bloody colours may suggest Remembrance of revenge immortally On your accursed traitorous progeny, You villains, that have slain my Gaveston ! And in his place of honour and of trust, Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee here : And merely of our love we do create thee Earl of Gloucester, and Lord Chamberlain, Despite of times, despite of enemies. Y. Spen. My lord, here's a messenger from the barons Desires access unto your majesty. Edw. Admit him near. Enter the Herald from the Barons, with his coat of arms. Her. Long live King Edward, England's lawful lord ! Edw. So wish not they I wis that sent thee hither. Thou com'st from Mortimer and his com- plices, A ranker rout of rebels never was. Well, say thy message. Her. The barons up in arms, by me salute Your highness with long life and happiness ; 138 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act in. And bid me say, as plainer to your grace, That if without effusion of blood, You will this grief have ease and remedy, That from your princely person you remove This Spencer, as a putrefying branch, That deads the royal vine, whose golden leaves Empale your princely head, your diadem, Whose brightness such pernicious upstarts dim, Say they ; and lovingly advise your grace, To cherish virtue and nobility, And have old servitors in high esteem, And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers : This granted, they, their honours, and their lives, Are to your highness vowed and consecrate. Y. Spen. Ah, traitors ! will they still dis- play their pride ? Edw. Away, tarry no answer, but be gone ! Rebels, will they appoint their sovereign His sports, his pleasures, and his company? Yet, ere thou go, see how I do divorce [Embraces Spencer. Spencer from me. — Now get thee to thy lords, And tell them I will come to chastise them For murthering Gaveston; hie thee, get thee gone ! Edward with fire and sword follows at thy heels. My lords, perceive you how these rebels swell ? Soldiers, good hearts, defend your sove- reign's right, For now, even now, we march to make them stoop. Away ! [Exeunt. Alarums, excursions, a great fight, and a retreat. SCENE III. Enter the King, Old Spencer, Young Spencer, and the Noblemen of the King's side. Edw. Why do we sound retreat ? upon them, lords ! This day I shall pour vengeance with my sword On those proud rebels that are up in arms, And do confront and countermand their king. Y. Spcn. I doubt it not, my lord, right will prevail. O. Spcn. 'Tis not amiss, my liege, for either part To breathe awhile; our men, with sweat and dust All choked well near, begin to faint for heat; And this retire refresheth horse and man. Y. Spen. Here come the rebels. Enter the Barons, Mortimer, Lancaster, Warwick, Pembroke, cV^. E. Mor. Look, Lancaster, yonder is Edward among his flatterers. Lan. And there let him be Till he pay dearly for their company. War. And shall, or Warwick's sword shall smite in vain. Edw. What, rebels, do you shrink and sound retreat ? Y. Mor. No, Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and fly. Lan. They'd best betimes forsake thee, and their trains, For they'll betray thee, traitors as they are. Y. Spcn. Traitor on thy face, rebellious Lancaster ! Pern. Away, base upstart, bravest thou nobles thus ? 0. Spen. A noble attempt, and honourable deed, Is it not, trow ye, to assemble aid, And levy arms against your lawful king ! Edw. For which ere long their heads shall satisfy, To appease the wrath of their offended king. Y. Mor. Then, Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last, And rather bathe thy sword in subjects' blood, Than banish that pernicious company? Edw. Aye, traitors all, rather than thus be braved, Make England's civil towns huge heaps of stones, And ploughs to go about our palace-gates. War. A desperate and unnatural reso- lution ! Alarum ! — to the fight ! St. George for England, and the barons' right. Edw. St. George for England, and King Edward's right. [Alarums. Exeunt. Re-enter Edward and his followers, with the Barons and Kent, captives. Edw. Now, lusty lords, now, not by chance of war, But justice of the quarrel and the cause, Vailed is your pride ; methinks you hang the heads, But we'll advance them, traitors ; now 'tis time To be avenged on you for all your braves, SCENE I.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 139 And for the murder of my dearest friend. To whom right well you knew our soul was knit, Good Pierce of Gaveston, my sweet favou- rite. Ah, rebels ! recreants ! you made him away. Kent. Brother, in regard of thee, and of thy land, Did they remove that flatterer from thy throne. Edw. So, sir, you have spoke; away, avoid our presence ! [Exit Kent. Accursed wretches, was't in regard of us, When we had sent our messenger to request He might be spared to come to speak with us, And Pembroke undertook for his return, That thou, proud Warwick, watched the prisoner, Poor Pierce, and headed him 'gainst law of arms; For which thy head shall overlook the rest, As much as thou in rage outwent'st the rest. War. Tyrant, I scorn thy threats and menaces, It is but temporal that thou canst inflict. Lan. The worst is death, and better die to live Than live in infamy under such a king. Edw. Away with them, my lord of Win- chester ! These lusty leaders, Warwick and Lan- caster, I charge you roundly— off with both their heads; Away ! War. Farewell, vain world ! Lan. Sweet Mortimer, farewell. Y. A for. England, unkind to thy nobility, Groan for this grief, behold how thou art maimed ! Edw. Go, take that haughty Mortimer to the Tower, There see him safe bestowed ; and for the rest, Do speedy execution on them all. Begone ! Y. Mor. What, Mortimer ! can ragged stony walls ilmmure thy virtue that aspires to heaven ? No, Edward, England's scourge, it may not be, Mortimer's hope surmounts his fortune far. [ The captive Barons are led off. Edw. Sound drums and trumpets! March with me, my friends, Edward this day hath crowned him king anew. [Exeunt all except Young Spencer, Levune, and Bal- dock. Y. Spen. Levune, the trust that we repose in thee, Begets the quiet of King Edward's land. Therefore begone in haste, and with advice Bestow that treasure on the lords of France, That, therewith all enchanted, like the guard That suffered Jove to pass in showers of gold To Danae, all aid may be denied To Isabel, the queen, that now in France Makes friends, to cross the seas with her young son, And step into his father's regiment. Levune. That's it these barons and the subtle queen Long levelled at. Bal. Yea, but, Levune, thou seest, These barons lay their heads on blocks to- gether ; What they intend, the hangman frustrates clean. Levune. Have you no doubt, my lords, I'll clap so close Among the lords of France with England's gold, That Isabel shall make her plaints in vain, And France shall be obdurate with her tears. Y. Spen. Then make for France, amain — Levune, away ! Proclaim King Edward's wars and victories. {Exeunt omncs. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. Enter Kent. Kent. Fair blows the wind for France ; blow gentle gale, Till Edmund be arrived for England's good ! Nature, yield to my country's cause in this. A brother ? no, a butcher of thy friends ! Proud Edward, dost thou banish me thy presence? But I'll to France, and cheer the wronged queen, And certify what Edward's looseness is. Unnatural king ! to slaughter noble men And cherish flatterers ! Mortimer, I stay Thy sweet escape ; stand gracious, gloomy night, to his device. Enter Young Mortimer, disguised. Y. Mor. Holloa ! who walketh there? Is't you, my lord? Kent. Mortimer, 'tis I ; But hath thy potion wrought so happily? 140 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act IV. Y. Mor. It hath, my lord ; the warders all asleep, I thank them, gave meleave to pass in peace. But hath your grace got shipping unto France ? Kent. Fear it not, {Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter the Queen and her Son. Queen. Ah, boy! our friends do fail us all in France ; The lords are cruel, and the king unkind ; What shall we do ? Prince. Madam, return to England, And please my father well, and then a fig For all my uncle's friendship here in France. I warrant you, I'll win his highness quickly ; He loves me better than a thousand Spencers. Queen. Ah, boy, thou art deceived, at least in this, To think that we can yet be tuned together ; No, no, we jar too far. Unkind Valois ! Unhappy Isabel ! when France rejects, Whither, oh ! whither dost thou bend thy steps? Enter Sir John t/Henault. Sir J. Madam, what cheer? Queen. Ah ! good Sir John of Henault, Never so cheerless, nor so far distrest. Sir J. I hear, sweet lady, of the king's unkindness ; But droop not, madam, noble minds contemn Despair : will your grace with me to Henault, And there stay time's advantage with your son? How say you, my lord, will you go with your friends, And shake off all our fortunes equally? Prince. So pleaseth the queen, my mother, me it likes : The king of England, nor the court of France, Shall have me from my gracious mother's side, Till I be strong enough to break a staff ; And then have at the proudest Spencer's head ! Sir y. Well said, my lord. Queen. Oh, my sweet heart, how do I moan thy wrongs, Yet triumph in the hope of thee, my joy ! Ah, sweet Sir John ! even to the utmost verge Of Europe, or the shore of Tanais, We will with thee to Henault— so we will :— The marquis is a noble gentleman ; His grace, I dare presume, will welcome me. But who are these? Etiter Kent and Young Mortimer. Kent. Madam, long may you live, Much happier than your friends in England do! Queen. Lord Edmund and Lord Mortimer alive ! Welcome to France ! the news was here, my lord, That you were dead, orvery nearyour death. Y. Mor. Lady, the last was truest of the twain : But Mortimer, reserved for better hap, Hath shaken off the thraldom of the Tower, And lives t' advance your standard, good my lord. Prince. How mean you an the king, my father, lives ! No, my Lord Mortimer, not I, I trow. Queen. Not, son ; why not? I would it were no worse. But, gentle lords, friendless we are in France. Y. Mor. Monsieur le Grand, a noble friend of yours, Told us, at our arrival, all the news ; How hard the nobles, how unkind the king Hath showed himself: but, madam, right makes room Where weapons wont : and, though so many friends Are made away, as Warwick, Lancaster, And others of our part and faction ; Yet have we friends, assure your grace, in England Would cast up caps, and clap their hands for joy, To see us there, appointed for our foes. Kent. Would all were well, and Edward well reclaimed, For England's honour, peace, and quietness. Y. Mor. But by the sword, my lord, 't must be deserved ; The king will ne'er forsake his flatterers. Sir y. My lords of England, sith th' un- gentle king Of France refuseth to give aid of arms To this distressed queen his sister here, Go you with her to Henault ; doubt ye not, We will find comfort, money, men and friends Ere long, to bid the English king a base. Now say, young prince, what think you of the match ? Prince. I think King Edward will outrun us all. Queen. Nay, son, not so; and you must not discourage Your friends, that are so forward in your aid. SCENE IV.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 141 Kent. Sir John of Renault, pardon us, I pray; These comforts that you give our woful queen Bind us in kindness all at your command. Queen. Yea, gentle brother ; and the God of heaven Prosper your happy motion, good Sir John. Y. Mor. This noble gentleman, forward in arms, Was born, I see, to be our anchor-hold. Sir John of Henault, be it thy renown, That England's queen, and nobles in distress, Have been by thee restored and comforted. Sir J. Madam, along, and you my lord, with me, That England's peers may Henault's wel- come see. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter the King, Arundel, the two Spencers, with others. Edw. Thus after many threats of wrathful war, Triumpheth England's Edward with his friends ; And triumph, Edward, with friends uncon- trolled ! My lord of Gloucester, do you hear the news ? Y. Spen. What news, my lord ? Edw. Why man, they say there is great execution Done through the realm ; my lord of Arundel, You have the note, have you not ? A run. From the lieutenant of the Tower, my lord. Edw. I pray let us see it. What have we there ? Read it, Spencer. [Spencer reads their names. Why so ; they barked apace a month ago : [Now, on my life, they'll neither bark nor bite, Now, sirs, the news from France? Gloucester, I trow, The lords of France love England's gold so well, \s Isabella gets no aid from thence. What now remains ; have you proclaimed, my lord, ileward for them can bring in Mortimer? Y. Spen. My lord, we have ; and if he be in England, le will be had ere long, I doubt it not. J 1 Edw. If, dost thou say ? Spencer, as true as death, He is in England's ground ; our portmasters Are not so careless of their king's command. Enter a Messenger. How now, what news with thee? from whence come these ? Mes. Letters, my lord, and tidings forth of France, To you, my lord of Gloucester, from Levune. Edw. Read. [Spencer reads the letter.] "My duty to your honour premised, &c. I have, according to instructions in that behalf, dealt with the King of France his lords, and effected, that the queen, all dis- contented and discomforted, is gone. Whither, if you ask, with Sir John of Henault, brother to the marquis, into Flanders : with them are gone Lord Edmund, and the Lord Mor- timer, having in their company divers of your nation, and others ; and, as constant report goeth, they intend to give King Edward battle in England, sooner than he can look for them : this is all the news of import. Your honour s in all service, Levune." Edw. Ah, villains ! hath that Mortimer escaped ? With him is Edmund gone associate ? And will Sir John of Henault lead the round ? Welcome, a God's name, madam, and your son; England shall welcome you and all your rout. Gallop, apace, bright Phoebus, through the sky, And dusty night, in rusty iron car, Between you both shorten the time, I pray, That I may see that most desired day, When we may meet those traitors in the field. Ah, nothing grieves me, but my little boy Is thus misled to countenance their ills. Come, friends, to Bristow, there to make us strong ; And, winds, as equal be to bring them in, As you injurious were to bear them forth ! [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter the Queen, her Son, Kent, Mortimer, and Sir John. Queen. Now, lords, our loving friends and countrymen, Welcome to England all, with prosperous winds ; Our kindest friends in Belgia have we left, — ,.. — ^ 142 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act IV. To cope with friends at home ; a heavy case When force to force is knit, and sword and glaive In civil broils make kin and countrymen Slaughter themselves in others, and their sides With their own weapons gore ! But what's the help? Misgoverned kings are cause of all this wreck ; And, Edward, thou art one among them all, Whose looseness hath betrayed thy land to spoil, Who made the channel overflow with blood Of thine own people ; patron shouldst thou be, But thou Y. Mor. Nay, madam, if you be a warrior, Ye must not grow so passionate in speeches. Lords, sith we are by sufferance of heaven, Arrived, and armed in this prince's right, Here for our country's cause swear we to him All homage, fealty, and forwardness ; And for the open wrongs and injuries Edward hath done to us, his queen and land, We come in arms to wreak it with the sword ; That England's queen in peace may re- possess Her dignities and honours : and withal We may remove those flatterers from the king, That havoc England's wealth and treasury. Sir J. Sound trumpets, my lord, and for- ward let us march. Edward will think we come to flatter him. Kent. I would he never had been flattered more ! [Exeunt, SCENE V. Enter the King, Baldock, and Young Spencer, flying about the stage. Y. Spen. Fly, fly, my lord ! the queen is over-strong ; Her friends do multiply, and yours do fail. Shape we our course to Ireland, there to breathe. Edw. What ! was I born to fly and run away, And leave the Mortimers conquerors behind ? Give me my horse, let's reinforce our troops : And in this bed of honour die with fame. Bald. O no, my lord, this princely reso- lution Fits not the time ; away, we are pursued. {Exeunt. Enter Kent alone, with his sword and target. Kent. This way he fled, but I am come too late. Edward, alas ! my heart relents for thee. Proud traitor, Mortimer, why dost thou chase Thy lawful king, thy sovereign, with thy sword ? Vile wretch ! and why hast thou, of all un- kind, Borne arms against thy brother and thy king? Rain showers of vengeance on thy cursed head, Thou God, to whom in justice it belongs To punish this unnatural revolt ! Edward, this Mortimer aims at thy life : O fly him then! but Edmund calm this rage, Dissemble, or thou diest ; for Mortimer And Isabel do kiss, while they conspire : And yet she bears a face of love forsooth. Fie on that love that hatcheth death and hate! Edmund, away; Bristow to Longshanks blood Is false ; be not found single for suspect : Proud Mortimer pries near into thy walks. Enter the Queen, Mortimer, the Young Prince, and Sir John of Henault. Queen. Successful battle gives the God of kings To them that fight in right, and fear his wrath. Since then successfully we have prevailed, Thanked be heaven's great architect, and you. Ere farther we proceed, my noble lords, We here create our well-beloved son, Of love and care unto his royal person, Lord Warden of the realm, and sith the fates Have made his father so infortunate, Deal you, my lords, in this, my loving lords, As to your wisdoms fittest seems in all. Kent. Madam, without offence, if I may ask, How will you deal with Edward in his fall? Prince. Tell me, good uncle, what Ed- ward do you mean ? Kent. Nephew, your father ; I dare not call him king. Mor. My lord of Kent, what needs these questions? Tis not in her controlment, nor in ours, SCENE VI.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 143 But as the realm and parliament shall please, So shall your brother be disposed of. I like not this relenting mood in Edmund. Madam, 'tis good to look to him betimes. {Aside to the Queen. Queen. My lord, the mayor of Bristow knows our mind. Y. Mor. Yea, madam, and they scape not easily That fled the field. Queen. Baldock is with the king. A goodly chancellor is he not, my lord ? Sir J. So are the Spencers, the father and the son. Kent. This Edward is the ruin of the realm. Enter Rice ap Howell, and the Mayor of Bristow, with Old Spencer prisoner. Rice. God save queen Isabel, and her princely son ! Madam, the mayor and citizens of Bristow, In sign of love and duty to this presence, Present by me this traitor to the state, Spencer, the father to that wanton Spencer, That, like the lawless Catiline of Rome, Revelled in England's wealth and treasury. Queen. We thank you all. Y. Mor. Your loving care in this Deserveth princely favours and rewards. But where's the king and the other Spencer fled? Rice. Spencer the son, created Earl of Gloucester, Is with that smooth-tongued scholar Bal- dock gone, And shipped but late for Ireland with the king. Y. Mor. Some whirlwind fetch them back or sink them all ! [Aside. They shall be started thence, I doubt it not. Prince. Shall I not see the king my father yet? Kent. Unhappy Edward, chased from England's bounds. Sir J. Madam, what resteth, why stand you in a muse ? Queen. I rue my lord's ill-fortune; but alas ! are of my country "called me to this war. Y. Mor. Madam, have done with care and sad complaint ; Dur king hath wronged your country and himself, id we must seek to right it as we may. eanwhile, have hence this rebel to the block. O. Spcn. Rebel is he that fights against the prince ; So fought not they that fought in Edward's right. Y. Mor. Take him away, he prates ; you, Rice ap Howell, Shall do good service to her majesty, Being of countenance in your country here, To follow these rebellious runagates. We in meanwhile, madam, must take ad- vice, How Baldock, Spencer, and their complices, May in their fall be followed to their end. \Excu?it otnnes. SCENE VI. Enter the Abbot, Monks, Edward, Spencer, and Baldock. Abbot. Have you no doubt, my lord ; have you no fear ; As silent and as careful we will be, To keep your royal person safe with us, Free from suspect, and fell invasion Of such as have your majesty in chase, Yourself, and those your chosen company, As danger of this stormy time requires. Edw. Father, thy face should harbour no deceit. O ! hadst thou ever been a king, thy heart, Pierced deeply with a sense of my distress, Could not but take compassion of my state. Stately and proud, in riches and in train, Whilom I was, powerful, and full of pomp : But what is he whom rule and empery Have not in life or death made miserable ? Come Spencer, Baldock come, sit down by me ; Make trial now of thy philosophy, That in our famous nurseries of arts Thou suck'dst from Plato and from Aristotle. Father, this life contemplative is heaven. O that I might this life in quiet lead ! But we, alas ! are chased ; and you, my friends, Your lives and my dishonour they pursue. Yet, gentle monks, for treasure, gold nor fee, Do you betray us and our company. Monk. Your grace may sit secure, if none but we Do wot of your abode. Y. Spcn. Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect A gloomy fellow in a mead below. He gave a long look after us, my lord, And all the land I know is up in arms, Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate. Bald. We were embarked for Ireland, wretched we 1 "— 144 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act IV. With awkward winds and sore tempests driven To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear Of Mortimer and his confederates. Edw. Mortimer ! who talks of Mortimer? Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer? That bloody man I Good father, on thy lap Lay I this head, laden with mickle care. O might I never ope these eyes again ! Never again lift up this drooping head ! 0 never more lift up this dying heart ! Y. Spen. Look up, my lord. — Baldock, this drowsiness Betides no good ; even here we are betrayed. Enter, with Welsh hooks, Rice ap Howell, a Mower, and the Earl of Leicester. Mow. Upon my life, these be the men ye seek. Rice. Fellow, enough. My lord, I pray be short, A fair commission warrants what we do. Leices. The queen's commission, urged by Mortimer : What cannot gallant Mortimer with the queen ? Alas ! see where he sits, and hopes unseen To escape their hands that seek to reave his life. Too true it is, quern dies vidit veniens superb um, Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem. But, Leicester, leave to grow so passionate. Spencer and Baldock, by no other names, 1 do arrest you of high treason here. Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest, 'Tis in the name of Isabel the queen. My lord, why droop you thus? Edw. O day the last of all my bliss on earth ! Centre of all misfortune ! O my stars Why do you lour unkindly on a king? Comes Leicester then in Isabella's name, To take my life, my company from me? Here man, rip up this panting breast of mine, And take my heart in rescue of my friends. Rice. Away with them ! Y. Spen. It may become thee yet, To let us take our farewell of his grace. Abbot. My heart with pity yearns to see this sight, A king to bear these words and proud com- mands. Edw. Spencer, sweet Spencer, thus then must we part ? Y. Spen. We must, my lord, so will the angry heavens. X.iysowillhell and cruel Mortimer ; The gentle heavens have not to do in this. Bald. My lord, it is in vain to grieve or storm. Here humbly of your grace we take our leaves ; Our lots are cast, I fear me, so is thine. Edw. In heaven we may, in earth ne'er shall we meet : And, Leicester, say. what shall become of us? Leices. Your majesty must go to Killing- worth. Edw. Must ! it is somewhat hard, when kings must go. Leices. Here isalitter ready for your grace, That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old. Rice. As good be gone, as stay and be benighted. Edw. A litter hast thou? lay me on a hearse, And to the gates of hell convey me hence ; Let Pluto's bells ring out my fatal knell, And hags howl for my death at Charon's shore, For friend hath [hapless] Edward none, but these ; And these must die under a tyrant's sword. Rice. My lord, be going ; care not for these, For we shall see them shorter by the heads. Edw. Well, that shall be, shall be : part we must ! Sweet Spencer, gentle Baldock, part we must ! Hence feigned weeds ! unfeigned are my woes ; [Casts off his disguise. Father, farewell ! Leicester, thou stay'st for me, And go I must. Life, farewell, with my friends. [Exeunt Edward and Leicester. Y. Spen. Oh, is he gone ! is noble Edward gone ! Parted from hence? never to see us more? Rent, sphere of heaven ! and, fire, forsake thy orb ! Earth, melt to air ! gone is my sovereign, Gone, gone, alas ! never to make return. Bald. Spencer, I see our souls are fleeting hence ; We are deprived the sunshine of our life : Make for a new life, man ; throw up thy eyes, And heart and hands to heaven's immortal throne ; Pay nature's debt with cheerful countenance ; Reduce we all our lessons unto this, To die, sweet Spencer, therefore live we all ; Spencer, all live to die, and rise to fall. Rice. Come, come, keep these preach- ments till you come to the place appointed. SCENE I.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 145 You, and such as you ore, have made wise work in England ; will your lordships away? Mow. Your lordship I trust will remember me? Rice. Remember thee, fellow ! what else? Follow me to the town. [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Enter the King, Leicester, the Bishop of Winchester, and Trussel. Leices. Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament, Imagine Killingworth castle were your court, And that you lay for pleasure here a space, Not of compulsion or necessity. Edw. Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me, Thy speeches long ago had eased my sorrows ; For kind and loving hast thou always been. The griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings. The forest deer, being struck, Runs to an herb that closeth up the wounds ; But, when the imperial lion's flesh is gored, He rends and tears it with his wrathful paw, And highly scorning that the lowly earth Should drink his blood, mounts up to the air. (And so it fares with me, whose dauntless mind The ambitious Mortimer would seek to curb, And that unnatural queen, false Isabel, That thus hath pent and mewed me in a prison ; For such outrageous passions cloy my soul, As with the wings of rancour and disdain, Full often am I soaring up to heaven, To plain me to the gods against them both. But when I call to mind I am a king, Methinks I should revenge me of my wrongs, That Mortimer and Isabel have done. But what are kings, when regiment is gone, But perfect shadows in a sunshine day? vly nobles rule, I bear the name of king ; wear the crown but am controlled by them, 5y Mortimer, and my unconstant queen, Yho spots my nuptial bed with infamy ; Whilst I am lodged within this cave of care, Where sorrow at my elbow still attends, To company my heart with sad laments, That bleeds within me for this strange exchange. But tell me, must I now resign my crown, To make usurping Mortimer a king? Winch. Your grace mistakes, it is for England's good, And princely Edward's right we crave the crown. Edw. No, 'tis for Mortimer, not Edward's head ; For he's a lamb, encompassed by wolves, Which in a moment will abridge his life. But if proud Mortimer do wear this crown, Heaven turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire ! Or like the snaky wreath of Tisiphon, Engirt the temples of his hateful head ; So shall not England's vine be perished, But Edward's name survive, though Edward dies. Leices. My lord, why waste you thus the time away ? They stay your answer ; will you yield your crown ? Edw. Ah, Leicester, weigh how hardly I can brook To lose my crown and kingdom without cause ; To give ambitious Mortimer my right, That like a mountain overwhelms my bliss, In which extremes my mind here mur- thered is. But what the heavens appoint, I must obey! Here, take my crown ; the life of Edward too ; [ Taking off the crown . Two kings in England cannot reign at once. But stay awhile, let me be king till night, That I may gaze upon this glittering crown ; So shall my eyes receive their last content, My head, the latest honour due to it, And jointly both yield up their wished right. Continue ever thou celestial sun ; Let never silent night possess this clime : Stand still you watches of the element ; All times and seasons, rest you at a stay, That Edward may be still fair England's king; But day's bright beam doth vanish fast away, And needs I must resign my wished crown. Inhuman creatures! nursed with tiger's milk ! Why gape you for your sovereign's over- throw ! My diadem I mean, and guiltless life. 146 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT V. See, monsters, see, I'll wear my crown again ! [He puts on the crown. What, fear you not the fury of your king ? But, hapless Edward, thou art fondly led, They pass not for thy frowns as late they did, But seek to make a new-elected king ; Which fills my mind with strange despair- ing thoughts, Which thoughts are martyred with endless torments, And in this torment comfort find I none, But that I feel the crown upon my head, And therefore let me wear it yet awhile. Trus. My lord, the parliament must have present news, And therefore say will you resign or no ? [The King rageth. Edw. I'll not resign ! not whilst I live! Traitors, be gone ! join you with Mortimer ! Elect, conspire, install, do what you will : — Their blood and yours shall seal these trea- cheries ! Winch, This answer we'll return, and so farewell. Leiccs. Call them again, my lord, and speak them fair ; For if they go, the prince shall lose his right. Edw. Call thou them back, I have no power to speak. Leices. My lord, the king is willing to re- sign. Winch. If he be not, let him choose. Edw. O would I might ! but heavens and earth conspire To make me miserable! Here receive my crown ; Receive it? no, these innocent hands of mine Shall not be guilty of so foul a crime. He of you all that most desires my blood, And will be cailed the murtherer of a king, Take it. What, are you moved ? pity you me? Then send for unrelenting Mortimer, And Isabel, whose eyes, being turned to steel, Will sooner sparkle fire than shed a tear. Yet stay, for rather than I'll look on them, Here, here! Now, sweet God of heaven, [He gives them the crown. Make me despise this transitory pomp, And sit for ever enthronized in heaven ! Come, death, and with thy fingers close my eyes, Or if I I've, let me forget myself. Winch. My lord. Edw. Call me not lord ; away — out of my sight : Ah, pardon me : grief makes me lunatic i Let not that Mortimer protect my son ; More safety is there in a tiger's jaws, Than his embracements — bear this to the queen, Wet with my tears, and dried again with sighs ; [Gives a handkerchief. If with the sight thereof she be not moved; Return it back and dip it in my blood. Commend me to my son, and bid him rule Better than I. Yet how have I transgrest, Unless it be with too much clemency? Trus. And thus most humbly do we take our leave. [Exeunt Bishop and Attendants. Edw. Farewell; I know the next news that they bring Will be my death ; and welcome shall it be ; To wretched men, death is felicity. Enter Berkeley, who gives a paper to Leicester. Leiccs. Another post! what news brings he? Edw. Such news as I expect — come, Berkeley, come And tell thy message to my naked breast. Berk. My lord, think not a thought so villainous Can harbour in a man of noble birth. To do your highness service and devoir, And save you from your foes, Berkeley would die. Leices. My lord, the council of the queen commands That I resign my charge. EdzL\ And who must keep me now? Must you, my lord ? Berk. Aye, my most gracious lord — so 'tis decreed. Edw. [taking the paper}. By Mortimer, whose name is written here ! Well may I rent his name that rends my heart ! [ Tears it. This poor revenge hath something eased mj mind. So may his limbs be torn, as is this paper! Hear me, immortal Jove, and grant it too! Berk. Your grace must hence with m< to Berkeley straight. Edtv. Whither you will, all places ar alike, And every earth is fit for burial. Leices. Favour him, my lord, as much a lieth in you. Berk. Even so betide my soul as I use hin Ediv. Mine enemy hath pitied my estat< And that's the cause that I am now r moved. CENEII.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 147 Berk. And thinks your grace that Berkeley will be cruel ? Edw. I know not ; but of this am I as- sured, rhat death ends all, and I can die but once. Leicester, farewell ! Leices. Not yet, my lord ; I'll bear you on your way. [Exeunt omnes. SCENE II. Enter Mortimer and Queen Isabel. Y. Mor. Fair Isabel, now have we our desire, rhe proud corrupters of the light-brained king lave done their homage to the lofty gal- lows, \nd he himself lies in captivity. ie ruled by me, and we will rule the realm, n any case take heed of childish fear, 'or now we hold an old wolf by the ears, hat if he slip will seize upon us both, .nd gripe the sorer, being gript himself, hink therefore, madam, it imports us much o erect your son with all the speed we may, ,nd that I be protector over him ; or our behoof, 'twill bear the greater sway /henas a king's name shall be under writ. Queen. Sweet Mortimer, the life of j 'Isabel, ip thou persuaded that I love thee well, jnd therefore, so the prince my son be safe, fhom I esteem as dear as these mine eyes, pnclude against his father what thou wilt, id I myself will willingly subscribe. Y. Mor. First would I hear news [that] he were deposed, .id then let me alone to handle him. Enter Messenger, tters ! from whence ? Mess. From Killingworth, my lord. ^Queen. How fares my lord the king ? Mess. In health, madam, but full ofpen- siveness. htecn. Alas, poor soul, would I could ease his grief ! Enter Winchester with the Crown. inks, gentle Winchester, [To the Mes- senger.'] Sirrah, be gone. [Exit Messenger. Vinch. The king hath willingly resigned his crown. 'ueen. O happy news ! send for the prince, my son. Winch. Further, ere this was sealed, Lord Berkeley came, So that he now is gone from Killingworth ; And we have heard that Edmund laid a plot To set his brother free ; no more but so. The lord of Berkeley is as pitiful As Leicester that had charge of him before. Queen. Then let some other be his guardian. Y. Mor. Let me alone, here is the privy seal. Who's there ? — call hither Gurney and Ma- trevis. To dash the heavy-headed Edmund's drift, Berkeley shall be discharged, the king re- moved, And none but we shall know where he lieth. Queen. But, Mortimer, as long as he sur- vives, What safety rests for us, or for my son ? Y. Mor. Speak, shall he presently be de- spatched and die ? Queen. I would he were, so't were not by my means. Enter Matrevis and Gurney. Y. Mor. Enough ; Matrevis, write a letter presently Unto the lord of Berkeley from ourself That he resign the king to thee and Gurney ; * And when 'tis done, we will subscribe our name. Mat. It shall be done, my lord. Y. Mor. Gurney. Gitr. My lord. Y. Mor. As thou intend'st to rise by Mortimer, Who now makes Fortune's wheel turn as he please, Seek all the means thou canst to make him droop, And neither give him kind word nor good look. Gur. I warrant you, my lord. Y. Mor. And this above the resfj because we hear That Edmund casts to work his liberty, Remove him still from place to place by night, Till at the last he come to Killingworth, And then from thence to Berkeley back again? And by the way, to make him fret the more, Speak curstly to him ; and in any case L 2 148 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act v. Let no man comfort him if he chance to weep, But amplify his grief with bitter words. Mat. Fear not, my lord, we'll do as you command. Y. Mor. So now away ; post thitherwards amain. Queen. Whither goes this letter? to my lord the king ? Commend me humbly to his majesty, And tell him that I labour all in vain To ease his grief, and work his liberty ; And bear him this as witness of my love. [Gives a ring.] Mat. I will, madam. [Exeunt all but Isabel and Mortimer. Enter the Young Prince, and the Earl of Kent talking -with him. Y. Mor. Finely dissembled ? Do so still, sweet queen. Here comes the young prince, with the Earl of Kent. Queen. Something he whispers in his childish ears. Y. Mor. If he have such access unto the prince, Our plots and stratagems will soon be dashed. Queen. Use Edmund friendly as if all were well. Y. Mor. How fares my honourable lord of Kent? Kent. In health, sweet Mortimer: how fares your grace ? Queen. Well, if my lord your brother were enlarged. Kent. I hear of late he hath deposed himself. Queen. The more my grief. Y. Mor. And mine. Kent. Ah, they do dissemble ? [Aside. Queen. Sweet son, come hither, I must talk with thee. Y. Mor. You being his uncle, and the next of blood, Do look to be protector o'er the prince. Kent. J\Tot I, my lord; who should pro- tect the son, But she that gave him life ; I mean the queen ? Prince. Mother, persuade me not to wear the crown : Let him be king — I am too young to reign. Queen. But be content, seeing 't is his highness' pleasure. Prince. Let me but see him first, and then I will. Kent. Ay, do, sweet nephew. Queen. Brother, you know it is impossible. Ptince. Why, is he dead ? Queen. No, God forbid. Kent. I would those words proceeded from your heart. Y. Mor. Inconstant Edmund, dost thou favour him, That wast a cause of his imprisonment ? ' Kent. The more cause have I now to make amends. Y. Mor. I tell thee, 'tis not meet that one so false Should come about the person of a prince. My lord, he hath betrayed the king his brother, And therefore trust him not. Prince. But he repents, and sorrows for it now, Queen. Come son, and go with this gentle lord and me. Prince. With you I will, but not with Mortimer. Y. Mor. Why, youngling, 'sdain'st tho.u so of Mortimer? Then I will carry thee by force away. Prince. Help, uncle Kent, Mortimer will wrong me. Queen. Brother Edmund, strive not ; we are his friends ; Isabel is nearer than the Earl of Kent Kent. Sister, Edward is my charge, re- deem him. Queen. Edward is my son, and I keep him. Kent. Mortimer shall know that he h wronged me ! — Hence will I haste to Killingworth castle And rescue aged Edward from his foes, To be revenged on Mortimer and thee. [Aside. Exeunt omnes, SCENE III. Enter Matrevis and Gurney, with the King Mat. My lord, be not pensive, we ar your friends ; Men are ordained to live in misery, Therefore come, — dalliance dangereth 01 lives. Edw. Friends, whither must unhapf Edward go ? Will hateful Mortimer appoint no rest? Must I be vexed like the nightly bird, j Whose sight is loathsome to all wing fowls? J When will the fury of his mind assuage? When will his heart be satisfied with bloo ■ If mine will serve, unbowel straight t ; breast, , re- :: CENE IV.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 149 ^.nd give my heart to Isabel and him ; t is the chiefest mark they level at. Gur. Not so, my liege, the queen hath given this charge Only] to keep your grace in safety : four passions make your dolours to in- crease. Edw. This usage makes my misery in- crease, kit can my air of life continue long iVhen all my senses are annoyed with stench? Within a dungeon England's king is kept, Where I am starved for want of sustenance. Vly daily diet is heart-breaking sobs, rhat almost rent the closet of my heart ; rhus lives old Edward not relieved by any, \nd so must die, though pitied my many. Dh, water, gentle friends, to cool my thirst, \nd clear my body from foul excrements ! Mat. Here's channel water, as our charge is given ; ?it down, for we'll be barbers to your grace. I Edw. Traitors, away ! what, will you murder me, )r choke your sovereign with puddle water? j| Gur. No, but wash your face, and shave away your beard, f^est you be known, and so be rescued. . Mat. Why strive you thus? your labour is in vain ? L Edw. The wren may strive against the lion's strength, [hit all in vain : so vainly do I strive To seek for mercy at a tyrant's hand. [They wash him with puddle water, and shave his beard away. immortal powers ! that know the painful cares "hat wait upon my poor distressed soul ! ) level your looks upon these daring men, hat wrong their liege and sovereign, Eng- land's king. » Gaveston, 'tis for thee that I am wronged, or me, both thou and both the Spencers died ! bid for your sakes a thousand wrongs I'll take, he Spencers' ghosts, wherever they re- main, /ish well to mine ; then tush, for them I'll die. Mat. 'Twixt theirs and yours shall be no enmity, ome, come away ; now put the torches out, L'e'll enter in by darkness to Killingworth. Enter Kent. Gur. How now, who comes there? Mat. Guard the king sure : it is the Earl of Kent. Edw. O, gentle brother, help to rescue me ! Mat. Keep them asunder ; thrust in the king. Kent. Soldiers, let me but talk to him one word. Gur. Lay hands upon the earl for his assault. Kent. Lay down your weapons, traitors ; yield the king. Mat. Edmund, yield thou thyself, or thou shalt die. Kent. Base villains, wherefore do you gripe me thus ! Gur. Bind him and so convey him to the court. Kent. Where is the court but here ? here is the king, And I will visit him ; why stay you me ? Mat. The court is where Lord Mortimer remains ; Thither shall your honour go ; and so fare- well. [Exeunt Matrevis and Gurney, with the King. Kent and the Soldiers remain. Kent. O miserable is that commonweal, Where lords keep courts, and kings are locked in prison ! Sol. Wherefore stay we? on, sirs, to the court. Kent. Aye, lead me whither you will, even to my death, Seeing that my brother cannot be released. [Exeunt omnes. SCENE IV. Enter Young Mortimer. I Y. Mor. The king must die, or Mortimer goes down. I The commons now begin to pity him. Yet he that is the cause of Edward's death, i Is sure to pay for it when his son's of age ; ■ And therefore will I do it cunningly. I This letter, written by a friend of ours, j Contains his death, yet bids them save his life. [Reads. I Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est 1 Fear not to kill the king 'tis good he die. I But read it thus, and that's another sense : I Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est l Kill not the king 'tis good to fear the worst. j Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go, i That, being dead, if it chance to be found, 150 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT V Matrevis and the rest may bear the blame, And we be quit that caused it to be done. Within this room is locked the messenger, That shall convey it, and perform the rest : And by a secret token that he bears, Shall he be murdered when the deed is done. Lightborn, come forth ; Etitcr Lightborn. Art thou so resolute as thou wast ? Light. What else, my lord? and far more resolute. Y. Mor. And hast thou cast how to ac- complish it ? Light. Aye, aye, and none shall know which way he died. Y. Mor. But at his looks, Lightborn, thou wilt relent. Light. Relent ! ha, ha ! I use much to relent. Y. Mor. Well, do it bravely, and be secret. Light. You shall not need to give instruc- tions ; 'Tis not the first time I have killed a man. I learned in Naples how to poison flowers ; To strangle with a lawn thrust down the throat ; To pierce the windpipe with a needle's point ; Or whilst one is asleep, to take a quill And blow a little powder in his ears ; Or open his mouth, and pour quicksilver down. But yet I have a braver way than these. Y. Mor. What's that? Light. Nay, you shall pardon me ; none shall know my tricks. Y. Mor. I care not how it is, so it be not spied. Deliver this to Gurney and Matrevis. At every ten mile end thou hast a horse. Take this, away, and never see me more. Light. No! Y. Mor. No ; unless thou bring me news of Edward's death. Light. That will I quickly do ; farewell, my lord. [Exit. Y. Slor. The prince I rule, the queen do I command, And with a lowly conge to the ground, The proudest lords salute me as I pass : I seal, I cancel, I do what I will ; Feared am I more than loved — let me be feared ; And when I frown, make all the court look pale. I view the prince with Aristarchus' eyes, Whose looks were as a breeching to a boy. They thrust upon me the protectorship, And sue to me for that that 1 desire. While at the council-table, grave enough, And not unlike a bashful puritan, First I complain of imbecility, Saying it is onus qua?n gravissimum ; Till being interrupted by my friends, Suscepi that provinciam as they term it ; And to conclude, I am Protector now. Now is all sure, the queen and Mortimer Shall rule the realm, the king ; and none rule us. Mine enemies will I plague, my friends ad- vance ; And what I list command who dare control? Major sum quam cui possit fortuna nocere. And that this be the coronation-day, It pleaseth me, and Isabel the queen. [ Trumpets within. The trumpets sound, I must go take my place. Enter the Young King, Archbishop, Champion, Nobles, Queen. Archbishop. Long live King Edward, by the grace of God, King of England, and Lord of Ireland ! Cham. If any Christian, Heathen, Turk, or Jew, Dare but affirm, that Edward's not true king, And will avouch his saying with the sword, I am the champion that will combat him. Y. Mor. None comes, sound trumpets. King. Champion, here's to thee. [Gives a purse, Queen. Lord Mortimer, now take him tc your charge. Enter Soldiers with the Earl of Kent, prisoner. Y. Mor. What traitor have we there wit" blades and bills ? Sol. Edmund, the Earl of Kent. King. What hath he done ? Sol. He would have taken the king awa perforce, As we were bringing him to Killingworth. Y. Mor. Did you attempt his rescu Edmund? speak. Kent. Mortimer, I did ; he is our king, And thou compell'st this prince to wear tl crown. Y. Mor. Strike off his head, he shall ha martial law. Kent. Strike off my head ! base traitor defy thee. King. My lord, he is my uncle, and sh live. SCENE V.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 151 Y. Mor. My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die. Kent. Stay, villains ! King. Sweet mother, if I cannot pardon him, Entreat my Lord Protector for his life. Queen. Son, be content ; I dare not speak a word. King. Nor I, and yet methinks I should command ; But, seeing I cannot, I'll entreat for him — My lord, if you will let my uncle live, I will requite it when I come to age. Y. Mor. Tis for your highness' good, and for the realm's. How often shall I bid you bear him hence? Kent. Art thou king ? must I die at thy command ? Y. Mor. At our command ! once more, away with him. Kent. Let me but stay and speak ; I will not go. 1 Either my brother or his son is king, "And none of both them thirst for Edmund's blood. And therefore, soldiers, whither will you hale me? [They hale Kent away, and carry him to be beheaded. King. What safety may I look for at his hands, If that my uncle shall be murdered thus? Queen. Fear not, sweet boy, I'll guard thee from thy foes ; :Had Edmund lived, he would have sought thy death. Come, son, we'll ride a hunting in the park. King. And shall my uncle Edmund ride with us? Queen. He is a traitor, think not on him ; come. [Exeunt omnes. SCENE V. Enter Matrevis and Gurney. Mat. Gurney, I wonder the king dies not, Being in a vault up to the knees in water, |To which the channels of the castle run, ^rom whence a damp continually ari'setb, That were enough to poison any man, kfuch more a king, brought up so tenderly. Gur. And so do I, Matrevis : yesternight \ opened but the door to throw him meat, ind I was almost stifled with the savour. Mat. He hath a body able to endure 'lore than we can inflict: and therefore now -et us assail his mind another while. Gur. Send for him out thence, and I will anger him. Mat. But stay, who's this ? Enter Lightborn. Light. My Lord Protector greets you. Gur. What's here ? I know not how to construe it. Mat. Gurney, it was left unpointed for the nonce ; Edwardum occidere nolite titnerc, That's his meaning. Light. Know ye this token ? I must have the king. Mat. Ay, stay awhile, thou shalt have answer straight. This villain's sent to make away the king. Gur. I thought as much. Mat. And, when the murder's done, See how he must be handled for his labour. Pereat iste ! Let him have the king. What else ? here is the keys, this is the lake, Do as you are commanded by my lord. Light. I know what I must do ; get you away. Yet be not far off, I shall need your help ; See that in the next room I have a fire, And get me a spit, and let it be red hot. Mat. Very well. Gur. Need you anything besides? Light. A table and a feather-bed. Gur. That's all? Light. Aye, aye; so, when I call you, bring it in. Mat. Fear not thou that. Gur. Here's a light; go into the dungeon. [Gives light, and exit with Matrevis. Light. So now Must I about this gear ; ne'er was there any So finely handled as this king shall be. Foh, here's a place indeed, with all my heart ! Edw. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore com'st thou? Light. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks. Villain, I know thou com'st to murder me. Li%ht. To murder you, my most gracious lord ! Far is it from my heart to do you harm. The queen sent me to see how you were used, For she relents at this your misery : And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, To see a king in this most piteous state? Edw. Weep'st thou already? list awhile to me. 152 EDWARD THE SECOND. ACT V, And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is, Or as Matrevis', hewn from the Caucasus, Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale. This dungeon where they keep me is the sink Wherein the filth of all the castle falls. Light. O villains ! Edw. And there, in mire and puddle have I stood This ten days' space ; and, lest that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a drum. They give me bread and water, being a king; So that, for want of sleep and sustenance, My mind's distempered, and my body's numbed, And whether I have limbs or no I know not. O, would my blood dropped out from every vein, As doth this water from my tattered robes. Tell Isabel, the queen, I looked not thus, When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, And there unhorsed the Duke of Cleremont. Light. O speak no more, my lord! this breaks my heart. Lie on this bed and rest yourself awhile. Edw. These looks of thine can harbour nought but death : I see my tragedy written in thy brows. Yet stay ; awhile forbear thy bloody hand, And let me see the stroke before it comes, That even then when I shall lose my life, My mind may be more steadfast on my God. Light. What means your highness to mis- trust me thus ? Edw. What mean'st thou to dissemble with me thus ? Light. These hands were never stained with innocent blood, Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's. Edw. Forgive my thought for having such a thought. One jewel have I left, receive thou this. [Giving jewel. Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause, But every joint shakes as I give it thee. Oh, if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart, Let this gift change thy mind, and save thy soul! Know, that I am a king : oh ! at that name I feel a hell of grief; where is my crown ? Gone, gone; and do I remain? Light. You're overwatched, my lord ; lie down and rest. Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep ; For not these ten days have these eyelids closed. Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear Open again. O wherefore sitt'st thou here? Light. If you mistrust me, I'll begone, my lord. Edw. No, no, for if thou mean'st to murder me, Thou wilt return again, and therefore stay. [Sleeps. Light. He sleeps. Edw. [awakes]. O let me not die; yet stay, oh stay a while. Light. How now, my lord ? Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, And tells me, if I sleep I never wake ; This fear is that which makes me tremble thus. And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come? Light. To rid thee of thy life; Matrevis, come. Enter Matrevis and Gurney. Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist : Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul. Light. Run for the table. Edw. O spare me, or despatch me in a trice. Light. So, lay the table down, and stamp on it, But not too hard, lest thou bruise his body. [King Edward is murdered. Mat. I fear me that this cry will raise the town, And therefore let us take horse and away. Light. Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done? Gur. Excellent well ; take this for thy re- ward. [Gurney stabs Lightborn. Come, let us cast the body in the moat, And bear the king's to Mortimer our lord: Away ! [Exeunt with the bodies. SCENE VI. Enter Mortimer and Matrevis. Y. Mor. Is't done, Matrevis, and th murderer dead ? Mat. Aye, my good lord ; I would it wer undone. Y. Mor. Matrevis, if thou now growe penitent I'll be thy ghostly father; therefore chuse, Whether thou wilt be secret in this, Or else die by the hand of Mortimer. Mat. Gurney, my lord, is fled, and will fear, Betray us both, therefore let me fly. SCENE VI.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 153 Y. Mor. Fly to the savages. Mat. I humbly thank your honour. Y. Mor. As for myself, I stand as Jove's huge tree ; And others are but shrubs compared to me. All tremble at my name, and I fear none ; Let's see who dare impeach me for his death. Enter the Queen. Queen. Ah, Mortimer, the king my son hath news His father's dead, and we have murdered him. Y. Mor. What if he have ? the king is yet a child. Queen. Aye, but he tears his hair, and wrings his hands, And vows to be revenged upon us both. Into the council-chamber he is gone, To crave the aid and succour of his peers. iAh me ! see where he comes, and they with him ; jNow, Mortimer, begins our tragedy. Enter the King, with the Lords. First Lord. Fear not, my lord, know that you are a king. King. Villain! Y. Mor. How now, my lord ? King. Think not that I am frighted with thy words ! My father's murdered through thy treachery; And thou shalt die, and on his mournful hearse Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie, To witness to the world, that by thy means His kingly body was too soon interred. ! Queen. Weep not, sweet son ! King. Forbid not me to weep, he was my father ; And, had you loved him half so well as I, you could not bear his death thus patiently. But you, I fear, conspired with Mortimer. Lords. Why speak you not unto my lord the king ? Y. Mor. Because I think scorn to be accused. Who is the man dare say I murdered him ? King. Traitor! in me my loving father speaks, \nd plainly saith, 'twas thou that murder'dst him. Y. Mor. But hath your grace no other proof than this ? King. Yes, if this be the hand of Mor- timer. Y. Mor. False Gurney hath betrayed me and himself. [Aside. Queen. I feared as much ; murder cannot be hid. [Aside. Y. Mor. 'Tis my hand ; what gather you by this ? King. That thither thou didst send a murderer. Y. Mor. What murderer? Bring forth the man I sent. King. Aye, Mortimer, thou know'st that he is slain ; And so shalt thou be too. Why stays he here? Bring him unto a hurdle, drag him forth, Hang him I say, and set his quarters up. But bring his head back presently to me. Queen. For my sake, sweet son, pity Mortimer. Y. Mor. Madam, entreat not, I will rather die, Than sue for life unto a paltry boy. King. Hence with the traitor ! with the murderer ! Y. Mor. Base Fortune, now I see, that in thy wheel There is a point, to which when men aspire, They tumble headlong down : that point I touched, And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher, Why should I grieve at my declining fall ? Farewell, fair queen; weep not for Mor- timer, That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, Goes to discover countries yet unknown. King. What ! suffer you the traitor to delay? [Mortimer is taken away. Queen. As thou receivedest thy life from me, Spill not the blood of gentle Mortimer. King. This argues that you spilt my father's blood, Else would you not entreat for Mortimer. Queen. I spill his blood ? no. King. Aye, madam, you; for so the rumour runs. Queen. That rumour is untrue ; for loving thee, Is this report raised on poor Isabel ? King. I do not think her so unnatural. Second Lord. My lord, I fear me it will prove too true. King. Mother, you are suspected for his death, And therefore we commit you to the Tower, Till farther trial may be made thereof; If you be guilty, though I be your son, Think not to find me slack or pitiful. 154 EDWARD THE SECOND. [act v. Queen. Nay, to my death, for too long have I lived, Whenas my son thinks to abridge my days. King. Away with her, her words enforce these tears, And I shall pity her if she speak again. Queen. Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord, And with the rest accompany him to his grave ? Lord. Thus, madam, 'tis the king's will you shall hence. Queen. He hath forgotten me ; stay, I am his mother. Lord. That boots not ; therefore, gentle madam, go. Queen. Then come, sweet death, and rid me of this grief. [Exit. Re-enter a Lord, with the head of Mortimer. Lord. My lord, here is the head of Mortimer. King. Go fetch my father's hearse, where it shall lie ; And bring my funeral robes. Accursed head, Could I have ruled thee then, as I do now, Thou had'st not hatched this monstrous treachery. Here comes the hearse ; help me to mourn, my lords. Sweet father, here unto thy murdered ghost I offer up this wicked traitor's head ; And let these tears, distilling from mine eyes, Be witness of my grief and innocency. {Exeunt. The Massacre at Paris. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Charles IX. King of France. Talasus. Duke of Anjou. Loreine. King of Navarre. Seroune. Prince of Conde". The Cut-purse. Duke Joyeux. Friar. Duke of Guise. Surgeon. Duke Dumaine, English Agent. Son to the Duke of Guise. Apothecary. Cardinal of Lorraine. Captain of the Guard. The Lord High Admiral. Soldiers, Protestants, Schoolmasters, Epernoune. Mugeron. Pleshe. Attendants, Murderers, &c. Catherine, the Queen Mother of France. Bartus. Old Queen of Navarre. Gonzago. Margaret le Valois, Sister to Charles IX. Retes. Duchess of Guise. Mountsorrell. Seroune's Wife. Ramus. Maid to the Duchess of Guise. ACT THE FIRST. And, as you know, our difference in re- ligion SCENE I. Might be a means to cross you in your Enter Charles, the French King; the love Char. Well, madam, let that rest. — Queen Mother ; King of Navarre ; Margaret ; the Prince of Conde" ; the And now, my lords, the marriage rites performed, We think it good to go and consummate Lord High Admiral ; the Old Queen 0/" Navarre, and others. The rest with hearing of an holy mass. Char. Prince of Navarre, my honourable Sister, I think yourself will bear us company. brother, Mar. I will, my good lord. Prince Conde, and my good Lord Admiral, Char. The rest that will not go, my lords, [ wish this union and religious league, may stay. — hilip and Parma, I am slain for you ! r'ope, excommunicate, Philip, depose iIThe wicked branch of curst Valois his line ! Vive la messe! perish Huguenots ! Thus Csesar did go forth, and thus he dies- [Dies Enter the Captain of the Guard. 1 Cap. What, have you done? 1'hen stay awhile, and I'll go call the king ; ut see where he comes. — Enter King and Epernoune. y lord, see where the Guise is slain. King. Ah ! this sweet sight is physic to my soul ; j>, fetch his son for to behold his death. — ircharged with guilt of thousand mas- sacres, 1 >nsieur of Lorraine, sink away to hell ! 1 just remembrance of those bloody broils, I which thou didst allure me, being alive. £ 1 here, in presence of you all, I swear I ne'er was King of France until this hour. This is the traitor that hath spent my gold, In making foreign wars, and cruel broils. Did he not draw a sort of English priests, From Douay to the seminary at Rheims, To hatch forth treason 'gainst their natural queen ? Did he not cause the King of Spain's huge fleet To threaten England, and to menace me ? Did he not injure Monsieur that's deceas'd? Hath he not made me, in the Pope's defence, To spend the treasure that should strength my land, In civil broils between Navarre and me? Tush ! to be short, he meant to make me monk ; Or else to murder me, and so be king. Let Christian princes, that shall hear of this, (As all the world shall know our Guise is dead,) Rest satisfied with this, that here I swear, Ne'er was there King of France so yoked as I! Eper. My lord, here is his son. Enter Guise's Son. King. Boy, look where your father lies. Boy. My father slain ! Who hath done this deed ? King. Sirrah, 'twas I that slew him, and will slay Thee too, an thou prove such a traitor. Boy. Art thou king, and hast done this bloody deed ? I'll be revenged. [He offers to throw his dagger. King. Away to prison with him ! I'll clip his wings Or e'er he pass my hands. Away with him. [ The Attendants bear off the Boy. But what availeth that this traitor's dead, When Duke Dumaine, his brother, is alive, And that young cardinal that's grown so proud ? Go to the governor of Orleans, And will him, in my name, to kill the duke. [To the Captain of the Guard, Get you away, and strangle the cardinal. [To the Murderers. [Exeunt Captain of the Guard, and Murderers. These two will make one entire Duke of Guise ; Especially with our old mother's help. Eper. My lord, see where she comes, as if she drooped To hear the news. 170 THE MASSACRE AT PARIS. [act hi- Ki?ig. And let her droop ; my heart is light enough. Enter the Queen Mother and Attendants. Mother, how like you this device of mine? I slew the Guise, because I would be king. Q. Mo. King ! why so thou wert before ; Pray God thou be a king now this is done ! King. Nay, he was king, and counter- manded me ; But now I will be king, and rule myself, And make the Guisians stoop that are alive. Q. Mo. I cannot speak for grief. — When thou wast born, I would that I had murdered thee, my son ! My son ! — Thou art a changeling — not my son! I curse thee, and exclaim thee miscreant, Traitor to God, and to the realm of France. King. Cry out, exclaim, howl till thy throat be hoarse ! The Guise is slain, and I rejoice therefore. And now will I to arms. Come, Eper- noune, And let her grieve her heart out if she will. [Exeunt King and Epernoune. Q. Mo. Away! leave me alone to me- ditate ! {Exeunt Attendants. Sweet Guise, would he had died, so thou wert here ! To whom shall I bewray my secrets now, Or who will help to build religion ? The Protestants will glory and insult ; Wicked Navarre will get the crown of France ; The Popedom cannot stand ; all goes to wrack ; And all for thee my Guise ; what may I do ? But sorrow seize upon my toiling soul ! For since the Guise is dead, I will not live. [Exit. SCENE III. Enter two Murderers, dragging in the Cardinal. Card. Murder me not, I am a Cardinal. 1 Murd. Wert thou the Pope, thou might'st not scape from us. Card. What, will you 'file your hands with churchmen's blood ? 2 Murd. Shed your blood ? O Lord no ; for we intend to strangle you. Card. Then there's no remedy but I must die. 1 Murd. No remedy ; therefore prepare yourself. Card. Yet lives my brother Duke Du- mainc, and many more, To revenge our death upon that cursed king; Upon whose heart may all the Furies gripe, And with their paws drench his black soul in hell. 1 Murd. Yours, my lord Cardinal, you should have said. [They strangle him. So pluck amain: he is hard-hearted ; there- fore pull with violence! Come, take him away. • [Exeunt. Enter Dumaine, reading a letter ; with others. Dum. My noble brother murdered by the king! Oh ! what may I do to revenge thy death ? The king's alone, it cannot satisfy. Sweet Duke of Guise, our prop to lean upon, Now thou art dead, here is no stay for us. I am thy brother, and I'll revenge thy death, And root Valois his line from forth of France ; And beat proud Bourbon to his native home, That basely seeks to join with such a king, Whose murderous thoughts will be his overthrow. He willed the governor of Orleans, in his name, That I with speed should have been put to death ; But that's prevented for to end his life, And all those traitors to the church of Rome, That durst attempt to murder noble Guise. Enter a Friar. Fri. My lord, I come to bring you news that your brother the cardinal of Lorraine, by the king's consent, is lately strangled unto death. Dum. My brother the Cardinal slain, and I alive ! 0 words of power to kill a thousand men ! Come, let us [straight] away, and levy men , 'Tis war that must assuage this tyrant's pride. Fri. My lord, hear me but speak — I ar A Friar of the order of the Jacobins That for my conscience' sake will kill the king. Dum. But what Doth move thee, 'bove the rest to do th deed ? Fri. Oh, my lord, 1 have been a great sinner in my days ; And the deed is meritorious. SCENE IV.] THE MASSACRE AT PARIS. 171 Dum. But how wilt thou get oppor- tunity ? Fri. Tush, my lord, let me alone for that. Dum. Friar, come with me ; We will go talk more of this within. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter the Kings of France and Navarre, Epernoune, Bartus, Pleshe\ and Sol- diers. Drums and Trumpets. King. Brother of Navarre, I sorrow much, That ever I was proved your enemy ; And that the sweet and princely mind you bear, Was ever troubled with injurious wars. I vow, as I am lawful King of France, To recompense your reconciled love With all the honours and affections That ever I vouchsafed my dearest friends. Nav. It is enough if that Navarre may be Esteemed faithful to the King of France, Whose service he may still command to death. '" King. Thanks to my kingly brother of Navarre ! Then there we'll lie before Lutetia's walls, jirting this strumpet city with our siege, Till, surfeiting with our afflicting arms, She cast her hateful stomach to the earth. Enter a Messenger. Mes. An it please your majesty, here is a iar of the order of the Jacobins, sent from he President of Paris, that craves access to your grace. King. Let him come in. Enter the Friar, with a letter. Eper. I like not this friar's look ; 'twere not amiss, . v lord, if he were searched. fCing. Sweet Epernoune, our friars are holy men, t d will not offer violence to their king, lr all the wealth and treasure of the world. I ar, thou dost acknowledge me thy king ! •>/. Ay, my good lord, and will die therein. 'ing. Then come thou near, and tell what news thou bring'st. \ri. My lord, The President of Paris greets your grace, And sends his duty by these speedy lines, Humbly craving your gracious reply. King. I'll read them, friar, and then I'll answer thee. Fri. Sancte Jacobe, now have mercy on me ! [He stabs the king with a knife as he reads the letter ; and then the king gets the knife, and kills him. Eper. Oh, my lord, let him live awhile ! King. No, let the villain die, and feel in hell Just torments for his treachery. Nav. What, is your highness hurt ? King. Yes, Navarre, but not to death, I hope. Nav. God shield your grace from such a sudden death ! Go, call a surgeon hither straight. [Exit an Attendant. King. What irreligious pagans' parts be these, Of such as hold them of the holy church ! Take hence that damned villain from my sight. [Attendants carry out the Friar's body. Eper. Ah ! had your highness let him live, We might have punished him for his deserts. King. Sweet Epernoune, all rebels under heaven Shall take example by his punishment, How they bear arms against their sove- reign. Go, call the English agent hither straight ; I'll send my sister England news of this, And give her warning of her treacherous foes. Enter a Surgeon. Nav. Pleaseth your grace to let the surgeon search your wound? King. The wound, I warrant you, is deep, my lord : Search, surgeon, and resolve me what thou see'st. [The Surgeon searches. Enter the English Agent. Agent for England, send thy mistress word What this detested Jacobin hath done. Tell her, for all this, that I hope to live ; Which, if I do, the papal monarch goes To wrack, and th" antichristian kingdom falls. These bloody hands shall tear his triple crown, And fire accursed Rome about his ears ; 172 THE MASSACRE AT PARIS. [act III. I'll fire his crazed buildings, and enforce The papal towers to kiss the lowly earth. Navarre, give me thy hand ; I here do swear To ruinate this wicked Church of Rome, That hatcheth up such bloody practices : And here protest eternal love to thee, And to the Queen of England specially, Whom God hath blest for hating popery. Nav. These words revive my thoughts, and comfort me, To see your highness in this virtuous mind. King. Tell me, surgeon, shall I live? Sicrg. Alas, my lord, the wound is dan- gerous, For you are stricken with a poisoned knife. King. A poisoned knife ! — What, shall the French king die, Wounded and poisoned both at once ? Eper. O that That damned villain were alive again, That we might torture him with some new- found death ! Bar. He died a death too good ; The devil of hell torture his wicked soul ! King. Oh! curse him not, sith he is dead. Oh, the fatal poisonworks within my breast. Tell me, surgeon, and flatter not — may I live? Surg. Alas ! my lord, your highness cannot live. Nav. Surgeon, why say'st thou so ? The king may live. King. Oh no, Navarre, thou must be King of France. Nav. Long may you live, and still be King of France. Eper. Or else, die Epernoune. King. Sweet Epernoune, thy king must die. My lords, Fight in the quarrel of this valiant prince, For he's your lawful king, and my next heir ; Valois's line ends in my tragedy. Now let the House of Bourbon wear the crown, And may't ne'er end in blood, as mine hath done. Weep not, sweet Navarre, but revenge my death. Ah ! Epernoune, is this thy love to me ? Henry, thy king, wipes off these childish tears, And bids thee whet thy sword on Sextus' bones, That it may keenly slice the Catholics. He loves me not the most that sheds most tears, But he that makes most lavish of his blood. Fire Paris, where these treacherous rebels lurk. I die, Navarre ! come bear me to my sepul- chre : Salute the Queen of England in my name, And tell her Henry dies her faithful friend. [Dies. Nav. Come, lords, take up the body of the king, That we may see it honourably interred : And then I vow so to revenge his death, As Rome, and all those popish prelates there, Shall curse the time that e'er Navarre was king, And ruled in France by Henry's fatal death. [They march out, with the body of the king lying on four mens shoulders, with a dead marcht drawing weapons on the ground* Dido, Queen of Carthage, PERSONS REPRESENTED. Jupiter. Ganymede. Hermes. Cupid. Juno. Venus. ./Eneas. Ascanius. Achates. Ilioneus. Cloanthus. Sergestus. Other Trojans. Iarbas. Carthaginian Lords. Dido. Anna. Nurse. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Here the curtains draw : — there is discovered Jupiter dandling Ganymede upon his knee, and Hermes lying asleep. Jup. Come, gentle Ganymede, and play with me ; tlove thee well, say Juno what she will. Gan. I am much better for your worthless love, ;ITiat will not shield me from her shrewish \ blows : To-day, whenas I filled into your cups, Vnd held the cloth of pleasance whiles you i drank, '.he reached me such a rap for that I spilled, k.s made the blood run down about mine Jup. What ! dares she strike the darling of my thoughts? y Saturn's soul, and this earth threatening hair, hat, shaken thrice, makes nature's build- ings quake, row, if she but once frown on thee more, ) hang her, meteor-like, 'twixt heaven and earth, d bind her hand and foot with golden cords, once I did for harming Hercules ! 7a;t. Might I but see that pretty sport afoot, low would I with Helen's brother laugh, 1 bring the Gods to wonder at the game : ;et Jupiter ! if e'er I pleased thine eye, c Or seemed fair, walled in with eagle's wings, Grace my immortal beauty with this boon, And I will spend my time in thy bright arms. Jup. What is't, sweet wag, I should deny thy youth ? Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes, As I, exhaled with thy fire-darting beams, Have oft driven back the horses of the night. Whenas they would have haled thee from my sight. Sit on my knee, and call for thy content, Control proud Fate, and cut the thread of Time: Why, are not all the gods at thy command, And heaven and earth the bounds of thy delight? Vulcan shall dance to make thee laughing sport, And my nine daughters sing when thou art sad; From Juno's bird I'll pluck her spotted pride, To make thee fans wherewith to cool thy face; And Venus' swans shall shed their silver down, To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed : Hermes no more shall show the world his wings, If that thy fancy in his feathers dwell, But as this one I'll tear them all from him, [Plucks a feather from Hermes' wing. Do thou but say, "their colour pleaseth me." 174 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. [ACT I. Hold here, my little love, these linked gems, My Juno ware upon her marriage day, [Gives jewels. Put thou about thy neck, my own sweet heart, And trick thy arms and shoulders with my theft. Gan. I would have a jewel for mine ear, And a fine brooch to put into my hat, And then I'll hug with you a hundred times. J up. And shalt have, Ganymede, if thou wilt be my love. Enter Venus. Ven. Aye, this is it ; you can sit toying there, And playing with that female wanton boy, Whiles my /Eneas wanders on the seas, And rests a prey to every billow's pride. Juno, false Juno, in her chariot's pomp, Drawn through the heavens by steeds of Boreas' brood, Made Hebe to direct her airy wheels Into the windy country of the clouds ; Where, finding /Eolus entrenched with storms, And guarded with a thousand grisly ghosts, She humbly did beseech him for our bane, And charged him drown my son with all his train. Then 'gan the winds break ope their brazen doors, And all /Eolia to be up in arms ; Poor Troy must now be sacked upon the sea, And Neptune's waves be envious men of war ; Epeus' horse to /Etna's hill transformed, Prepared stands to wreck their wooden walls ; And ^Eolus, like Agamemnon, sounds The surges, his fierce soldiers, to the spoil : See how the night, Ulysses-like, comes forth, And intercepts the day as Dolon erst ! Ah me ! the stars surprised, like Rhesus' steeds, Are drawn by darkness forth Astroea's tents. What shall I do to save thee, my sweet boy? Whenas the waves do threat our crystal world, And Proteus, raising hills of floods on high, Intends, ere long, to sport him in the sky. False Jupiter ! reward'st thou virtue so ? What ! is not piety exempt from woe ? Then die, ^Eneas, in thy innocence, Since that religion hath no recompense. J up. Content thee, Cytherea, in thy care, Since thy /Eneas' wandering fate is firm, Whose weary limbs shall shortly make repose In those fair walls I promised him of yore : But first in blood must his good fortune bud, Before he be the lord of Turnus' town, Or force her smile, that hitherto hath frowned : Three winters shall he with the Rutiles war, And, in the end, subdue them with his sword ; And full three summers likewise shall he waste, In managing those fierce barbarian minds ; Which once performed, poor Troy, so long suppressed, From forth her ashes shall advance her head, And flourish once again, that erst was dead: But bright Ascanius, beauty's better work, Who with the sun divides one radiant shape, Shall build his throne amidst those starry towers, That earth-born Atlas, groaning, underprops: No bounds, but heaven, shall bound his empery, Whose azured gates, enchased with his name, Shall make the morning haste her grey uprise, To feed her eyes with his engraven fame. Thus, in stout Hector's race, three hundred years The Roman sceptre royal shall remain, Till that a princess-priest conceived by Mars, Shall yield to dignity a double birth, Who will eternise Troy in their attempts. Ven. How may I credit these thy flatter- ing terms, When yet both sea and sands beset their ships, And Phoebus, as in Stygian pools, refrains To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhene main? J up. I will take order for that pre- sently : — Hermes, awake ! and haste to Neptune's realm ; Whereas the wind-gods, warring now with fate, Besiege the offspring of our kingly loins, Charge him from me to turn his stormy powers, And fetter them in Vulcan's sturdy brass, That durst thus proudly wrong our kins- man's peace. [Exit Hermes. Venus, farewell ! thy son shall be our care ; Come, Ganymede, we must about this gear. [Exeunt Jupiter and Ganymede. Ven. Disquiet seas, lay down your swell- ing looks, And court /Eneas with your calmy cheer, Whose beauteous burden well might makt you proud, Had not the heavens, conceived with hell born clouds, Veiled his resplendent glory from your view For my sake, pity him, Oceanus, SCENE I.] DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 175 That erst-while issued from thy wat'ry loins, And had my being from thy bubbling froth : Triton, I know, hath filled his trump with Troy, And, therefore, will take pity on his toil, And call both Thetis and Cymodoce, To succour him in this extremity. Enter ^Eneas, Ascanius, Achates, and one or two more. What do I see? my son now come on shore? Venus, how art thou compassed with content, The while thine eyes attract their sought-for joys : Great Jupiter ! still honoured may'st thou be, For this so friendly aid in time of need ! Here in this bush disguised will I stand, Whiles my yEneas spends himself in plaints, And heaven and earth with his unrest acquaints. sE7i. You sons of care, companions of my course, Priam's misfortune follows us by sea, And Helen's rape doth haunt ye at the heels. How many dangers have we overpast ? Both barking Scylla, and the sounding rocks, The Cyclops' shelves, and grim Ceraunia's seat, Have you o'ergone, and yet remain alive. Pluck up your hearts, since fate still rests our friend, And changing heavens may those good days return, Which Pergama did vaunt in all her pride. , Acha. Brave Prince of Troy, thou only art our god, That, by thy virtues, freest us from annoy, ,\nd mak'st our hopessurvive to coming joys ! po thou but smile, and cloudy heaven will clear, Vhose night and day descendeth from thy brows : hough we be now in extreme misery, nd rest the map of weather-beaten woe, et shall the aged sun shed forth his hair, p make us live unto our former heat, jnd every beast the forest doth send forth, bqueath her young ones to our scanted i food. Asca. Father, I faint ; good father, give ' me meat. /En. Alas ! sweet boy, thou must be still J awhile, I 1 we have fire to dress the meat we killed ; (Me Achates, reach the tinder-box, 7at we may make a fire to warm us with, ^d roast our new found victuals on this i shore. Ven. See what strange arts necessity finds out ; How near, my sweet ^Eneas, art thou driven. [Aside. s£fi. Hold ; take this candle, and go light a fire ; You shall have leaves and windfall boughs enow Near to these woods, to roast your meat withal : Ascanius, go and dry thy drenched limbs, While I with my Achates roam abroad, To know what coast the wind hath driven us on, Or whether men or beasts inhabit it. Acha. The air is pleasant, and the soil most fit For cities, and society's supports ; Yet much I marvel that I cannot find No steps of men imprinted in the earth. Ven. Now is the time for me to play my part : [Aside. Ho, young men ! saw you, as you came [alongj, Any of all my sisters wandering here, Having a quiver girded to her side, And clothed in a spotted leopard's skin ? AZn. I neither saw nor heard of any such ; But what may I, fair virgin, call your name? Whose looks set forth no mortal form to view, Nor speech betrays aught human in thy birth ; Thou art a goddess that delud'st our eyes, And shroud 'st thy beauty in this borrowed shape ; But whether thou the Sun's bright sister be, Or one of chaste Diana's fellow nymphs, Live happy in the height of all content, And lighten our extremes with this one boon, As to instruct us under what good heaven We breathe as now, and what this world is called On which, by tempests' fury, we are cast ? Tell us, O tell us, that are ignorant ; And this right hand shall make thy altars crack With mountain heaps of milk-white sacrifice. Ven. Such honour, stranger, do I not affect ; It is the use for Tyrian maids to wear Their bow and quiver in this modest sort, And suit themselves in purple for the nonce, That they may trip more lightly o'er the lawns, And overtake the tusked boar in chase. But for the land whereof thou dost inquire, It is the Punic kingdom, rich and strong, Adjoining on Agenor's stately town, 176 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. [act r. The kingly seat of Southern Libya, Whereas Sidonian Dido rules as queen. But what are you that ask of me these things ? Whence may you come, or whither will you go? ALn. Of Troy am I, ^Eneas is my name ; Who, driven by war from forth my native world, Put sails to sea to seek out Italy ; And my divine descent, from sceptered Jove : With twice twelve Phrygian ships I ploughed the deep, And made that way my mother Venus led ; But of them all scarce seven do anchor safe, And they so wracked and weltered by the waves, As every tide tilts 'twixt their oaken sides ; And all of them, unburthened of their load, Are ballassed with billows' watery weight. But hapless I, God wot, poor and unknown, Do trace these Libyan deserts all despised, Exiled forth Europe and wide Asia both, And have not any coverture but heaven. Ven. Fortune hath favoured thee, what- e'er thou be, In sending thee unto this courteous coast : In God's name, on ! and haste thee to the court, Where Dido will receive ye with her smiles ; And for thy ships, which thou supposest lost, Not one of them hath perished in the storm, But are arrived safe, not far from hence ; And so I leave thee to thy fortune's lot, Wishing good luck unto thy wandering steps. [Exit. JEn. Achates, 'tis my mother that is fled ; I know her by the movings of her feet : Stay, gentle Venus, fly not from thy son ! Too cruel ! why wilt thou forsake me thus, Or in these shades deceive mine eyes so oft? Why walk we not together hand in hand, And tell our griefs in more familiar terms ? But thou art gone, and leav'st me here alone, To dull the air with my discoursive moan. {Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter Iarbas, followed by Ilioneus, Cloan- thus, and Sergestus. Mo. Follow, ye Trojans ! follow this rave lord, And 'plain to him the sum of your distress. Iar. Why, what are you, or wherefore do you sue ? Mo. Wretches of Troy, envied of the winds, That crave such favour at your honour's feet As poor distressed misery may plead : Save, save, O save our ships from cruel fire, That do complain the wounds of thousand waves, And spare our lives, whom every spite pur- sues. We come not, we, to wrong your Libyan gods, Or steal your household Lares from their shrines : Our hands are not prepared to lawless spoil, Nor armed to offend in any kind ; Such force is far from our unweaponed thoughts, Whose fading weal, of victory forsook, Forbids all hope to harbour near our hearts. Iar. But tell me, Trojans, Trojans if you be, Unto what fruitful quarters were ye bound, Before that Boreas buckled with your sails ? Cloan. There is a place, Hesperia termed by us, An ancient empire, famoused for arms, And fertile in fair Ceres' furrowed wealth, Which now we call Italia, of his name That in such peace long time did rule the same. Thither made we ; When, suddenly, gloomy Orion rose, And led our ships into the shallow sands ; Whereas the southern wind, with brackish breath, Dispersed them all amongst the wreckful rocks ; From thence a few of us escaped to land ; The rest we fear are folded in the floods. Iar. Brave men-at-arms, abandon fruit- less fears, Since Carthage knows to entertain distress. Serg. Aye, but the barbarous sort do threat our ships, And will not let us lodge upon the sands ; In multitudes they swarm unto the shore, And from the first earth interdict our feet. Iar. Myself will see they shall not trouble ye: Your men and you shall banquet in our court, And every Trojan be as welcome here As Jupiter to silly Baucis' house. Come in with me, I'll bring you to my queen, Who shall confirm my words with furthe deeds. Serg. Thanks, gentle lord, for st unlooked-for grace ; Might we but once more see /Eneas' face Then would we hope to 'quite such friendl turns, As shall surpass the wonder of our speech. \Exeun SCENE I.] DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 177 ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. Enter ./Eneas, Achates, and Ascanius. ^En. Where am I now? these should be Carthage walls. Acha. Why stands my sweet yEneas thus amazed ? sEn. Oh, my Achates, Theban Niobe, Who for her sons' death wept out life and breath, And dry with grief was turned into a stone, Had not such passions in her head as I. Methinks That town there should be Troy, von Ida's hill, There Xanthus' stream, because here's Priamus, And when I know it is not, then I die. Acha. And in thishumour is Achates too ; I cannot choose but fall upon my knees, And kiss his hand ; oh, where is Hecuba? Here she was wont to sit, but saving air Is nothing here ; and what is this but stone ? jEii. Oh, yet this stone doth make ./Eneas weep ; And, would my prayers (as Pygmalion's did) Could give it life, that under his conduct We might sail back to Troy, and be revenged On these hard-hearted Grecians, which rejoice That nothing now is left of Priamus ! Oh, Priamus is left, and this is he : Come, come aboard ; pursue the hateful Greeks. Acha. What means ./Eneas ? JEn. Achates, though mine eyes say this is stone, et thinks my mind that this is Priamus ; nd when my grieved heart sighs and says no, hen would it leap out to give Priam life: 1 were I not at all, so thou might'st be ! chates, see, King Priam wags his hand ; [e is alive ; Troy is not overcome ! Acha. Thy mind, ./Eneas, that would have it so, ieludes thy eyesight ; Priamus is dead. Lfi». Ah, Troy is sacked, and Priamus { is dead ; id why should poor ./Eneas be alive ? \4sca. Sweet father, leave to weep, this 1 is not he : lir were it Priam, he would smile on me. Acha. ./Eneas, see, here comes the citizens ; Leave to lament, lest they laugh at our fears. Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Ilioneus, and the others. sEn. Lords of this town, or whatsoever style Belongs unto your name, vouchsafe of ruth To tell us who inhabits this fair town, What kind of people, and who governs them : For we are strangers driven on this shore, And scarcely know within what clime we are. Ilio. I hear ^Eneas' voice, but see him not, For none of these can be our general. Acha. Like Ilioneus speaks this nobleman, But Ilioneus goes not in such robes. Serg. You are Achates, or I am deceived. Acha. ./Eneas, see Sergestus, or his ghost. Ilio. He names ./Eneas ; let us kiss his feet. Cloan. It is our captain ; see Ascanius ! Serg. Live long .Eneas and Ascanius ! sEn. Achates, speak, for I am overjoyed. Acha. O Ilioneus, art thou yet alive ! Ilio. Blest be the time I see Achates' face. Cloan. Why turns .Eneas from his trusty friends ? AZ?i. Sergestus, Ilioneus, and the rest, Your sight amazed me : oh, what destinies Have brought my sweet companions in such plight? Oh, tell me, for I long to be resolved. Ilio. Lovely y£neas, these are Carthage walls, And here Queen Dido wears the imperial crown ; Who, for Troy's sake, hath entertained us all, And clad us in these wealthy robes we wear. Oft has she asked us under whom we served, And when we told her, she would weep for grief, Thinking the sea had swallowed up thy ships ; And now she sees thee, how will she rejoice. Serg. See, where her servitors pass through the hall Bearing a banquet ; Dido is not far. N i78 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. [act it. Ilio. Look where she comes : /Eneas, view her well. sEn. Well may I view her, but she sees not me. Enter Dido and her Train. Dido. What stranger art thou, that dost eye me thus ? JEn. Sometime I was a Trojan, mighty queen : But Troy is not ; — what shall I say I am? Ilio. Renowned Dido, 'tis our general, warlike ./Eneas. Dido. Warlike /Eneas ! and in these base robes ? Go, fetch the garment which Sichoeus ware : Brave prince, welcome to Carthage and to me, Both happy that /Eneas is our guest : Sit in this chair, and banquet with a queen; iEneas is /Eneas, were he clad In weeds as bad as ever Irus wore. s£n. This is no seat for one that's com- fortless : May it please your grace to let /Eneas wait ; For though my birth be great my fortune's mean, Too mean to be companion to a queen. Dido. Thy fortune may be greater than thy birth : Sit down, /Eneas, sit in Dido's place, And if this be thy son, as I suppose, Here let him sit ; be merry, lovely child. s£n. This place beseems me not ; oh, pardon me. Dido. I'll have it so ; ./Eneas be content. Asca. Madam, you shall be my mother. Dido. And so I will, sweet child; be merry, man, Here's to thy better fortune and good stars. [Drinks. ALn. In all humility, I thank your grace. Dido. Remember who thou art, speak like thyself ; Humility belongs to common grooms. ALn. And who so miserable as /Eneas is? Dido. Lies it in Dido's hands to make thee blest ? Then be assured thou art not miserable. s£n. O Priamus, O Troy, O Hecuba ! Dido. May I entreat thee to discourse at large, And truly too, how Troy was overcome ? For many tales go of that city's fall, And scarcely do agree upon one point : Some say Antenor did betray the town ; Others report 'twas Sinon's perjury ; But all in this, that Troy is overcome, And Priam dead ; yet how, we hear no news. Aln. A woful tale bids Dido to unfold, Whose memory, like pale Death's stony mace, Beats forth my senses from this troubled soul, And makes ./Eneas sink at Dido's feet. Dido. What ! faints ./Eneas to remember Troy, In whose defence he fought so valiantly ? Look up, and speak. AZn. Then speak, ./Eneas, with Achilles' tongue ! And Dido, and you Carthaginian peers, Hear me; but yet with Myrmidons' harsh ears, Daily inured to broils and massacres, Lest you be moved too much with my sad tale. The Grecian soldiers, tired with ten years' war, Began to cry, " Let us unto our ships, Troy is invincible, why stay we here?" With whose outcries Atrides being appalled, Summoned the captains to his princely tent; Who, looking on the scars we Trojans gave, Seeing the number of their men decreased, And the remainder weak, and out of heart, Gave up their voices to dislodge the camp, And so in troops all marched to Tenedos ; Where, when they came, Ulysses on the sand Assayed with honey words to turn them back: And as he spoke, to further his intent, The winds did drive huge billows to shore, And heaven was darkened with tempestuour clouds : Then he alleged the gods would have then stay, And prophesied Troy should be overcome : And therewithal he called false Sinon forth A man compact of craft and perjury, Whose ticing tongue was made of Hermes i pipe, To force an hundred watchful eyes to sleep j And him, Epeus having made the horse, With sacrificing wreaths upon his head, Ulysses sent to our unhappy town, WTho, grovelling in the mire of Xanthu banks, His hands bound at his back, and both b eyes Turned up to heaven, as one resolved to di Our Phrygian shepherds haled within t gates, And brought unto the court of Priamus ; ,* SCENE I.] DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. i/9 To whom he used action so pitiful, Looks so remorseful, vows so forcible, As therewithal the old man, overcome, Kissed him, embraced him, and unloosed his bands, And then, — O Dido, pardon me. Dido. Nay, leave not here ; resolve me of the rest. sEn. Oh ! the enchanting words of that base slave, Made him to think Epeus' pine-tree horse A sacrifice to appease Minerva's wrath ; The rather, for that one Laocoon, Breaking a spear upon his hollow breast, Was with two winged serpents stung to death. Whereat, aghast, we were commanded straight, With reverence, to draw it into Troy ; In which unhappy work was I employed : These hands did help to hale it to the gates, Through which it could not enter, 'twas so huge. Oh, had it never entered, Troy had stood. But Priamus, impatient of delay, Enforced a wide breach in that rampired wall, Which thousand battering rams could never pierce, ? And so came in this fatal instrument : ;At whose accursed feet, as overjoyed, We banqueted, till, overcome with wine, tSome surfeited, and others soundly slept. Which Sinon viewing, caused the Greekish spies 0 haste to Tenedos, and tell the camp : hen he unlocked the horse, and suddenly rom out his entrails, Neoptolemus, letting his spear upon the ground, leapt rth, \nd after him a thousand Grecians more, p whose stern faces shined the quenchless fire, hat after burnt the pride of Asia. y this the camp was come unto the walls, ad through the breach did march into the streets, 'here, meeting with the rest, "kill! kill!" they cried, -ighted with this confused noise, I rose, * d looking from a turret, might behold Aung infants swimming in their parents' blood ! 1 adless carcases piled up in heaps ! Vgins half dead, dragged by their golden hair, A I with main force flung on a ring of pikes ! Old men, with swords thrust through their aged sides, Kneeling for mercy to a Greekish lad, Who, with steel pole-axes dashed out their brains. Then buckled I mine armour, drew my sword, And thinking to go down, came Hector's ghost, With ashy visage, bluish sulphur eyes, His arms torn from his shoulders, and his breast Furrowed with wounds, and, that which made me weep, Thongs at his heels, by which Achilles' horse Drew him in triumph through the Greekish camp, Burst from the earth, crying, "^Eneas, fly, Troy is afire ! the Grecians have the town !" Dido. Oh, Hector ! who weeps not to hear thy name? ALn. Yet flung I forth, and, desperate of my life, Ran in the thickest throngs, and, with this sword, Sent many of their savage ghosts to hell. At last came Pyrrhus, fell and full of ire, His harness dropping blood, and on his spear The mangled head of Priam's youngest son ; And, after him, his band of Myrmidons, With balls of wildfire in their murdering paws, Which made the funeral-flame that burnt fair Troy ; All which hemmed me about, crying "This is he!" Dido. Ha ! how could poor /Eneas scape their hands ? sEn. My mother, Venus, jealous of my health, Conveyed me from their crooked nets and bands ; So I escaped the furious Pyrrhus' wrath : Who then ran to the palace of the king, And, at Jove's altar, finding Priamus, About whose withered neck hung Hecuba, Folding his hand in hers, and jointly both Beating their breasts, and falling on the ground, He with his falchion's point raised up at once, And with Megasra's eyes stared in their face, Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance ; To whom the aged king thus trembling spoke : — "Achilles' son, remember what I was, N 2 i8o DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. [act II. Father of fifty sons, but they are slain ; Lord of my fortune, but my fortune's turned ! King of this city, but my Troy is fired ! And now am neither father, lord, nor king! Yet who so wretched but desires to live? Oh, let me live, great Neoptolemus !" Not moved at all, but smiling at his tears, This butcher, whilst his hands were yet held up, Treading upon his breast, struck off his hands. Dido. O end, /Eneas, I can hear no more. sEn. At which the frantic queen leaped on his face, And in his eyelids hanging by the nails, A little while prolonged her husband's life. At last, the soldiers pulled her by the heels, And swung her howling in the empty air, Which sent an echo to the wounded king : Whereat, he lifted up his bed-rid limbs, And would have grappled with Achilles' son, Forgetting both his want of strength and hands ; Which he, disdaining, whisked his sword about, And with the wind thereof the king fell down ; Then from the navel to the throat at once He ripped old Priam, at whose latter gasp, Jove's marble statue 'gan to bend the brow, As loathing Pyrrhus for this wicked act. Yet he, undaunted, took his father's flag, And dipp'd it in the old king's chill-cold blood, And then in triumph ran into the streets, Through which he could not pass for slaughtered men ; So, leaning on his sword, he stood stone still, Viewing the fire wherewith rich Ilion burnt. By this, I got my father on my back, This young boy in mine arms, and by the hand Led fair Creusa, my beloved wife ; When thou, Achates, with thy sword mad'st way, And we were round environed with the Greeks, O there I lost my wife ! and had not we Fought manfully, I had not told this tale. Yet manhood would not serve ; of force we fled ; And as we went unto our ships, thou know'st We saw Cassandra sprawling in the streets, Whom Ajax ravished in Diana's fane, Her cheeks swollen with sighs, her hair all rent, Whom I took up to bear unto our ships ; But suddenly the Grecians followed us, And I, alas ! was forced to let her lie. Then got we to our ships, and, being aboard, Polyxena cried out, ' ' ^Eneas ! stay ! The Greeks pursue me ! stay, and take me in!" Moved with her voice, I leaped into the sea, Thinking to bear her on my back aboard, For all our ships were launched into the deep, And, as I swam, she, standing on the shore, Was by trie cruel Myrmidons surprised, And after by that Pyrrhus sacrificed. Dido. I die with melting ruth ; /Eneas, leave ! Anna. O what became of aged Hecuba? Jar. How got ^Eneas to the fleet again ? Dido. But how scaped Helen, she that caused this war ? sEn. Achates, speak, sorrow hath tired me quite. Acha. What happened to the queen we cannot show ; We hear they led her captive into Greece: As for .(Eneas, he swam quickly back, And Helena betrayed Deiphobus, Her lover, after Alexander died, And so was reconciled to Menelaus. Dido. Oh, had that ticing strumpet ne'er been born ! Trojan, thy ruthful tale hath made me sad. Come, let us think upon some pleasing sport, To rid me from these melancholy thoughts [Exeunt onirics Enter Venus and Cupid, Venus takes Ascanius by the sleeve. Ven. Fair child, stay thou with Dido waiting-maid ; I'll give thee sugar-almonds, sweet coi serves, A silver girdle, and a golden purse, And this young prince shall be thy pla fellow. Asc. Are you Queen Dido's son? Cup. Aye, and my mother gave me t! fine bow. Asc. Shall I have such a quiver and bow? SCENE I.] DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. c8i Vcn. Such bow, such quiver, and such golden shafts, Will Dido give to sweet Ascanius. For Dido's sake I take thee in my arms, And stick these spangled feathers in thy hat ; Eat comfits in mine arms, and I will sing. Now is he fast asleep, and in this grove, Amongst green brakes I'll lay Ascanius, And strew him with sweet-smelling violets, [With] blushing roses, purple hyacinths. These milk-white doves shall be his cen- tronels, Who, if that any seek to do him hurt, Will quickly fly to Cytherea's fist. Now, Cupid, turn thee to Ascanius' shape, And go to Dido, who, instead of him, Will set thee on her lap, and play with thee : Then touch her white breast with this arrow head, That she may dote upon /Eneas' love, And by that means repair his broken ships, Victual his soldiers, give him wealthy gifts, And he, at last, depart to Italy, Or else in Carthage make his kingly throne. Cup. I will, fair mother, and so play my part As every touch shall wound Queen Dido's heart. [Exit. Ven. Sleep, my sweet nephew, in these cooling shades, Free from the murmur of these running streams, The cry of beasts, the rattling of the winds, Or whisking of these leaves ; all shall be still, And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleep, Till I return and take thee hence again. [Exit. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter Cupid. Cup. Now, Cupid, cause the Carthaginian queen "o be enamoured of thy brother's looks. tonvey this golden arrow in thy sleeve, -est she imagine thou art Venus' son ; nd when she strokes thee softly on the head, hen shall I touch her breast and conquer her. Enter Iarbas, Anna, and Dido. far. How long, fair Dido, shall I pine for thee? ' s not enough that thou dost grant me love, ; t that I may enjoy what I desire : ' at love is childish which consists in words. Dido. Iarbas, know, that thou, of all my wooers, And yet have I had many mightier kings, Hast had the greatest favours I could give. I fear me Dido hath been counted light, In being too familiar with Iarbas ; Albeit the gods do know no wanton thought Had ever residence in Dido's breast. Jar. But Dido is the favour I request. Dido. Fear not, Iarbas, Dido may be thine. Anna. Look, sister, how /Eneas' little son Plays with your garments and embracethyou. Cup. No, Dido will not take me in her arms. I shall not be her son, she loves me not. Dido. Weep not, sweet boy, thou shalt be Dido's son ; Sit in my lap, and let me hear thee sing. [Cupid sings. No more, my child, now talk another while, And tell me where learn'dst thou this pretty song. Cup. My cousin Helen taught it me in Troy. Dido. How lovely is Ascanius when he smiles ! Cup. Will Dido let me hang about her neck? Dido. Aye, wag, and give thee leave to kiss her too. Cup. What will you give me ? Now, I'll have this fan. Dido. Take it, Ascanius, for thy father's sake. lar. Come, Dido, leave Ascanius, let us walk. Dido. Go thou away, Ascanius shall stay. Iar. Ungentle queen ! is this thy love to me? Dido. O stay, Iarbas, and I'll go with thee. Cup. And if my mother go, I'll follow her. Dido. Why stay'st thou here ? thou art no love of mine ! Iar. Iarbas, die, seeing she abandons thee. Dido. No : live Iarbas : what hast thou deserved, That I should say thou art no love of mine ? Something thou hast deserved. Away, I say ; Depart from Carthage — come not in my sight. Iar. Am I not king of rich Gaetulia ? Dido. Iarbas, pardon me, and stay awhile. Cup. Mother, look here. Dido. What tell'st thou me of rich Gaetulia? Am not I queen of Libya ? then depart. Iar. I go to feed the humour of my love, Yet not from Carthage for a thousand worlds. Dido. Iarbas ! 182 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. [act III. Iar. Doth Dido call mc back ? Dido. No ; but I charge thee never look on me. Iar. Then pull out both mine eyes, or let me die. {Exit Iarbas. A fin a. Wherefore doth Dido bid Iarbas go? Dido. Because his loathsome sight offends mine eyes, And in my thoughts is shrined another love. O Anna ! didst thou know how sweet love were, Full soon would'st thou abjure this single life. Anna. Poor soul ! I know too well the sour of love. O that Iarbas could but fancy me ! Dido. Is not /Eneas fair and beautiful ? Anna. Yes, and Iarbas foul and favour- less. Dido. Is he not eloquent in all his speech? A?ma. Yes, and Iarbas rude and rustical. Dido. Name not Iarbas ; but, sweet Anna, say, Is not ^Eneas worthy Dido's love ? Anna. O sister ! were you empress of the world, ./Eneas well deserves to be your love. So lovely is he, that, where'er he goes, The people swarm to gaze him in the face. Dido. But tell them, none shall gaze on him but I, Lest their gross eye-beams taint my lover's cheeks. Anna, good sister Anna, go for him, Lest with these sweet thoughts I melt clean away. Afina. Then, sister, you'll abjure Iarbas' love? Dido. Yet must I hear that loathsome name again ? Run for ./Eneas, or I'll fly to him. {Exit Anna. Cup. You shall not hurt my father when he comes. Dido. No, for thy sake, I'll love thy father well. O dull conceited Dido ! that till now Didst never think ./Eneas beautiful ! But now, for quittance of this oversight, I'll make me bracelets of his golden hair ; His glistering eyes shall be my looking- glass, His lips an altar, where I'll offer up As many kisses as the sea hath sands. Instead of music I will hear him speak, — His looks shall be my only library, — And thou /Eneas, Dido's treasury, In whose fair bosom I will lock more wealth Than twenty thousand Indias can afford. O here he comes: Love, love, give Dido leave To be more modest than her thoughts admit, Lest I be made a wonder to the world, Enter JEneas, Achates, Sergestus, Ilioneus, and Cloanthus. Achates, how doth Carthage please your lord ? Acha. That will /Eneas show your majesty. Dido. /Eneas, art thou there ? sEn. I understand "your highness sent for me. Dido. No ; but now thou art here, tell me in sooth In what might Dido highly pleasure thee. AZn. So much have I received at Dido's hands, As, without blushing, I can ask no more : Yet, queen of Afric, are my ships unrigged, My sails all rent in sunder with the wind. My oars broken, and my tackling lost, Yea, all my navy split with rocks and shelves ; Nor stern nor anchor have our maimed fleet; Our masts the furious winds struck over- board : Which piteous wants if Dido will supply, We will account her author of our lives. Dido. .ar, hear, O hear Iarbas' plaining prayers, lose hideous echoes make the welkin howl, d all the woods Eliza to resound : woman that thou willed us entertain, :ere, straying in our borders up and down, craved a hide of ground to build a town, whom we did divide both laws and land, all the fruits that plenty else sends brth, r ning our loves and royal marriage rites, YLjls up her beauty to a stranger's bed ; Who, having wrought her shame, is straight- way fled : Now, if thou be'st a pitying god of power, On whom ruth and compassion ever waits, Redress these wrongs, and warn him to his ships, That now afflicts me with his flattering eyes. Enter Anna. A?ina. How now, Iarbas ; at your prayers so hard ? Iar. Aye, Anna : is there aught you would with me ? Anna. Nay, no such weighty business of import But may be slacked until another time ; Yet, if you would partake with me the cause Of this devotion that detaineth you, I would be thankful for such courtesy. Iar. Anna, against this Trojan do I pray, Who seeks to rob me of thy sister's love, And dive into her heart by coloured looks. Anna. Alas, poor king! that labours so in vain, For her that so delighteth in thy pain : Be ruled by me, and seek some other love, Whose yielding heart may yield thee more relief. Iar. Mine eye is fixed where fancy cannot start : O leave me ! leave me to my silent thoughts, That register the numbers of my ruth, And I will either move the thoughtless flint, Or drop out both mine eyes in drizzling tears, Before my sorrow's tide has any stint. Anna. I will not leave Iarbas whom I 'love, In this delight of dying pensiveness ; Away with Dido ; Anna be thy song ; Anna, that doth admire thee more than heaven. Iar. I may, nor will, list to such loath- some change, That intercepts the course of my desire : Servants, come, fetch these empty vessels here : For I will fly from these alluring eyes, That do pursue my peace where'er it goes. [Exit. Anna. Iarbas, stay; loving Iarbas, stay, For I have honey to present thee with. Hard-hearted, wilt not deign to hear me speak ? I'll follow thee with outcries ne'ertheless, And strew thy walks with my dishevelled hair. [Exit. DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. [act IV. SCENE III. Enter ^Eneas. JEn. Carthage, my friendly host, adieu ! Since Destiny doth call me from thy shore : Hermes this night, descending in a dream, Hath summoned me to fruitful Italy; Jove wills it so, — my mother wills it so : Let my Phaenissa grant, and then I go. Grant she or no, ./Eneas must away ; Whose golden fortune, clogged with courtly ease, Cannot ascend to Fame's immortal house, Or banquet in bright Honour's burnished hall, Till he hath furrowed Neptune's glassy fields, And cut a passage through his topless hills. Achates, come forth ; Sergestus, Ilioneus, Cloanthus, haste away ; ^Eneas calls. Enter Achates, Cloanthus, Sergestus, and Ilioneus. Acha. What wills our lord, or wherefore did he call ? ALn. The dream, brave mates, that did beset my bed, When sleep but newly had embraced the night, Commands me leave these unrenowned realms, Whereas nobility abhors to stay, And none but base yEneas will abide. Aboard ! aboard ! since Fates do bid aboard, And slice the sea with sable-coloured ships, On whom the nimble winds may all day wait, And follow them, as footmen, through the deep; Yet Dido casts her eyes, like anchors, out, To stay my fleet from "loosing forth the bay : "Comeback, come back," I hear her cry afar, n And let me link thy body to my lips, That, tied together by the striving tongues, We may, as one, sail into Italy." Acha. Banish that ticing dame from forth your mouth, And follow your fore-seeing stars in all : This is no life for men-at-arms to live, Where dalliance doth consume a soldier's strength, And wanton motions of alluring eyes Effeminate our minds, inured to war. Mo. Why, let us build a city of our own, And not stand lingering here for amorous looks. Will Dido raise old Priam forth his grave, And build the town again the Greeks did burn? No, no ; she cares not how we sink or swim, So she may have ^Eneas in her arms. Clo. To Italy, sweet friends ! to Italy ! We will not stay a minute longer here. sEn. Trojans, aboard, and I will follow you: I fain would go, yet beauty calls me back : To leave her so, and not once say, farewell, Were to transgress against all laws of love : But, if I use such ceremonious thanks As parting friends accustom on the shore, Her silver arms will coil me round about, And tears of pearl cry, "Stay, yEneas, stay;" Each word she says will then contain a crown, And every speech be ended with a kiss : I may not dure this female drudgery : To sea, ./Eneas ! "find out Italy !" [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter Dido and Anna. Dido. Oh, Anna, run unto the water-side; They say /Eneas' men are going aboard ; It may be he will steal away with them : Stay not to answer me ; run, Anna, run. Oh, foolish Trojans, that would steal from hence, And not let Dido understand their drift : I would have given Achates store of gold, And Ilioneus gum and Libyan spice ; The common soldiers rich embroidered coats, And silver whistles to control the winds, Which Circe sent Sichaeus when he lived ; Unworthy are they of a queen's reward. See, where they come, how might I do to chide ? Enter Anna, with ^Eneas, Achates, Cloan- thus, Ilioneus, Sergestus, and Atten- dants. Anna. 'Twas time to run, /Eneas hac been gone The sails were hoisting up, and he aboard Dido. Is this thy love to me ? sEn. Oh, princely Dido, give me leave t speak ; went to take my farewell of Achates. Dido. How haps Achates bid me n farewell ? Acha. Because I feared your grace woui keep me here Dido. To rid thee of that doubt, aboai SCENE IV.] DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 189 I charge thee put to sea, and stay not here. Acha. Then let /Eneas go aboard with us. Dido. Get you aboard ; /Eneas means to stay. /En. The sea is rough, the wind blows to the shore. Dido. Oh, false ^Eneas, now the sea is rough, But when you were aboard 'twas calm enough ; Thou and Achates meant to sail away. /En. Hath not the Carthage queen mine only son ? Thinks Dido I will go and leave him here? Dido. /Eneas, pardon me, for I forgot That young Ascanius lay with me this night ; Love mademe jealous ; but, to make amends, Wear the imperial crown of Libya, Sway thou the Punic sceptre in my stead, And punish me, /Eneas, for this crime. /En. This kiss shall be fair Dido's punish- ment. Dido. O how a crown becomes /Eneas' head ! Stay here, /Eneas, and command as king. /En. How vain am I to wear this diadem, And bear this golden sceptre in my hand ! A burgonet of steel, and not a crown, A sword, and not a sceptre, fits /Eneas. Dido. Oh, keep them still, and let me gaze my fill : Now looks /Eneas like immortal Jove ; Oh, where is Ganymede, to hold his cup, And Mercury, to fly for what he calls ? Ten thousand Cupids hover in the air, And fan it in /Eneas' lovely face : O that the clouds were here wherein thou fleest, That thou and I unseen might sport our- selves ; Heaven, envious of our joys, is waxen pale ; And when we whisper, then the stars fall down, To be partakers of our honey talk. /En. Oh, Dido, patroness of all our lives, [When I leave thee, death be my punish- ment ; Swell, raging seas ! frown, wayward des- ', tinies ! How, winds ! threaten, ye rocks and sandy shelves ! 'his is the harbour that /Eneas seeks, .et's see what tempests can annoy me now. Dido. Not all the world can take that from mine arms ; filneas may command as many Moors, s in the sea are little water-drops, And now, to make experience of my love, Fair sister Anna, lead my lover forth, And, seated on my jennet, let him ride As Dido's husband through the Punic streets ; And will my guard, with Mauritanian darts, To wait upon him as their sovereign lord. Anna. What if the citizens repine thereat? Dido. Those that dislike what Dido gives in charge, Command my guard to slay for their offence. I Shall vulgar peasants storm at what I do ? j The ground is mine that gives them suste- nance, I The air wherein they breathe, the water, fire, I All that they have, their lands, their goods, I their lives, And I, the goddess of all these, command I /Eneas ride as Carthaginian king. Acha. /Eneas, for his parentage, deserves As large a kingdom as is Libya. /En. Aye, and unless the destinies be false, I shall be planted in as rich a land. Dido. Speak of no other land ; this land is thine. Dido is thine, henceforth I'll call thee lord : Do as I bid thee, sister ; lead the way, And from a turret I'll behold my love. Ain. Then here in me shall flourish Priam's race, And thou and I, Achates, for revenge For Troy, for Priam, for his fifty sons, Our kinsmen's lives and thousand guiltless souls, Will lead a host against the hateful Greeks, And fire proud Lacedemon o'er their heads. [Exeunt all but Dido and Attendants. Dido. Speaks not /Eneas like a conqueror? O blessed tempests that did drive him in ! O happy sand that made him run aground ! Henceforth you shall be our Carthage gods. Aye, but it may be he will leave my love, And seek a foreign land called Italy ; 0 that I had a charm to keep the winds Within the closure of a golden ball ; Or that the Tyrrhene sea were in mine arms, That he might suffer shipwreck on mybreast, As oft as he attempts to hoist up sail ! 1 must prevent him, wishing will not serve ; Go, bid my nurse take young Ascanius, And bear him in the country to her house, /Eneas will not go without his son ; Yet, lest he should, for I am full of fear, Bring me his oars, his tackling, and his sails. [One of the Attendants goes out. What if I sink his ships ? Oh, he will frown : Better he frown, than I should die for grief. I cannot see him frown ; — it may not be ; Armies of foes resolved to win this town, Or impious traitors vowed to have my life, igo DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. [act IV. Affright me not, only ^Eneas' frown Is that which terrifies poor Dido's heart ; Not bloody spears appearing in the air Presage the downfall of my empery, Nor blazing comets threaten Dido's death ; It is ^Eneas' frown that ends my days : If he forsake me not I never die, For in his looks I see eternity, And he'll make me immortal with a kiss. Enter a Lord with Attendants. Lord. Your nurse is gone with young Ascanius ; And here's Eneas' tackling, oars, and sails. Dido. Are these the sails that, in despite of me, Packed with the winds to bear ^Eneas hence? I'll hang ye in the chamber where I lie ; Drive if you can my house to Italy : I'll set the casement open, that the winds May enter in, and once again conspire Against the life of me, poor Carthage queen ; But though ye go, he stays in Carthage still, And let rich Carthage fleet upon the seas, So I may have iEneas in mine arms ! Is this the wood that grew in Carthage plains, And would be toiling in the watery billows, To rob their mistress of her Trojan guest? O cursed tree, had'st thou but wit or sense, To measure how I prize ^Eneas' love, Thou would'st have leaped from .out the sailors' hands, And told me that ^Eneas meant to go ! And yet I blame thee not, thou art but wood. The water, which our poets term a nymph, Why did it suffer thee to touch her breast, And shrunk not back, knowing my love was there ? The water is an element, no nymph. Why should I blame iEneas for his flight? O Dido, blame not him, but break his oars ; These were the instruments that launched him forth ; There's not so much as this base tackling too, But dares to heap up sorrow to my heart. Was it not you that hoised up these sails ? Why burst you not, and they fell in the seas? For this will Dido tie ye full of knots, And shear ye all asunder with her hands ; Now serve to chastise shipboys for their faults, Ye shall no more offend the Carthage queen. Now let him hang my favours on his masts, And see if those will serve instead of sails : For tackling, let him take the chains of gold, Which I bestowed upon his followers ; j Instead of oars, let him use his hands, j And swim to Italy, I'll keep these sure : Come, bear them in. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Enter the Nurse with Cupid, as Ascanius. Nurse. My Lord Ascanius, ye must go with me. Cup. Whither must I go? I'll stay with my mother. Nurse. No, thou shalt go with me unto my house. I have an orchard that hath store of plums, Brown almonds, services, ripe figs, and dates, Dewberries, apples, yellow oranges : A garden where are bee-hives full of honey, Musk-roses, and a thousand sort of flowers ; And in the midst doth run a silver stream, Where thou shalt see the red-gilled fishes leap, White swans, and many lovely water-fowls ; Now speak, Ascanius, will ye go or no ? Cup. Come, come, I'll go ; how far hence is your house ? Nurse. But hereby, child ; we shall get thither straight. Clip. Nurse, I am weary, will you carry me? Nurse. Aye, so you'll dwell with me, and call me mother. Cup. So you'll love me, I care not if I do. Nurse. That I might live to see this boy a man ! How prettily he laughs. Go, ye wag, You'll be a twigger when you come to age. Say Dido what she will, I am not old ; I'll be no more a widow, I am young, I'll have a husband, or else a lover. Cup. A husband, and no teeth ! Nurse. Oh, what mean I to have such foolish thoughts ? Foolish is love, a toy. O sacred love ! If there be any heaven in earth, 'tis love, Especially in women of your years. — Blush, blush for shame, why should 'st thou think of love ? A grave, and not a lover, fits thy age : A grave ! why I may live a hundred years, # Fourscore is but a girl's age. Love is sweet ; My veins are withered, and my sinews dry ; Why do I think of love now I should die? Cup. Come, nurse. SCENE I.] DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE. 191 Nurse. Well, if he come a wooing he shall speed ; Oh, how unwise was I to say him nay ! [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Enter ^Eneas, with a paper in his hand, drawing the platfonn of the city : with him Achates, Cloanthus, and Ilioneus. /En. Triumph, my mates, our travels are at end ! Here will ^Eneas build a statelier Troy, Than that which grim Atrides overthrew. Carthage shall vaunt her petty walls no more. For I will grace them with a fairer frame, And clad her in a crystal livery, ■Wherein the day may evermore delight ; From golden India, Ganges will I fetch, Whose wealthy streams may wait upon her towers, A.nd triple-wise entrench her round about. ; The sun from Egypt shall rich odours bring, flierewith his burning beams, like labour- ing bees That load their thighs with Hybla's honey- spoils, •hall here unburden their exhaled sweets, md plant our pleasant suburbs with her fumes. IAcha. What length or breadth shall this brave town contain ? /En. Not past four thousand paces at the most. Mo. But what shall it be called? Troy, as before ? /En. That have I not determined with myself. \Clo. Let it be termed /Enea, by your name. Serg. Rather Ascania, by your little son. r whom succeeding times make greater moan, s dangling tresses, that were never shorn, ley been cut, and unto Colchos borne, I have allured the venturous youth of Greece " hazard more than for the golden fleece. tjr Cynthia wished his arms might be her sphere ; Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there. His body was as straight as Circe's wand ; Jove might have sipt out nectar from his hand. Even as delicious meat is to the taste, So was his neck in touching, and surpast The white of Pelops' shoulder : I could tell ye, How smooth his breast was, and how white his belly ; And whose immortal fingers did imprint That heavenly path with many a curious dint, That runs along his back ; but my rude pen Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men, Much less of powerful gods : let it suffice That my slack Muse sings of Leander's eyes; Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his That leapt into the water for a kiss Of his own shadow, and, despising many, Died ere he could enjoy the love of any. Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen, Enamoured of his beauty had he been : His presence made the rudest peasant melt, That in the vast uplandish country dwelt ; The barbarous Thracian soldier, moved with naught, Was moved with him, and for his favour sought. Some swore he was a maid in man's attire, For in his looks were all that men desire, — A pleasant-smiling cheek, a speaking eye, A brow for love to banquet royally ; And such as knew he was a man would say, ' ' Leander, thou art made for amorous play: Why art thou not in love, and loved of all ? Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall." The men of wealthy Sestos every year, For his sake whom their goddess held so dear, Rose-cheeked Adonis, kept a solemn feast ; Thither resorted many a wandering guest To meet their loves : such as had none at all, Came lovers home from this great festival ; For every street, like to a firmament, Glistered with breathing stars, who, where they went, Frighted the melancholy earth, which deemed Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seemed, As if another Phaeton had got The guidance of the sun's rich chariot. But, far above the loveliest, Hero shined, And stole away the enchanted gazer's mind ; For like sea-nymphs' inveigling harmony, HERO AND LEANDER. So was her beauty to the standers by ; And tumbling with the Rainbow in a cloud; Nor that night-wandering, pale, and watery I Blood-quaffing Mars heaving the iron net star I Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set ; (When yawning dragons draw her thirling I Love kindling fire, to burn such towns as car Troy ; From Latmus' mount up to the gloomy sky, ; Sylvanus weeping for the lovely boy I Where, crowned with blazing light and ma- That now is turned into a cypress-tree jesty, She proudly sits) more over-rules the flood Than she the hearts of those that near her stood. Even as when gaudy nymphs pursue the chase, Wretched Ixion's shaggy-footed race, Incensed with savage heat, gallop amain From steep pine-bearing mountains to the plain, So ran the people forth to gaze upon her, And all that viewed her were enamoured on her: And as in fury of a dreadful fight, Their fellows being slain or put to flight, Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead- strooken, So at her presence all surprised and tooken, Await the sentence of her scornful eyes ; He whom she favours lives ; the other dies : There might you see one sigh; another rage; And some, their violent passions to assuage, Compile sharp satires ; but, alas, too late ! For faithful love will never turn to hate ; And many, seeing great princes were denied, Pined as ihey went, and thinking on her died. On this feast-day — oh, cursed day and hour ! — Went Hero tower To Venus' temple, where unhappily, As after chanced, they did each other spy. So fair a church as this had Venus none : The walls were of discoloured jasper-stone, Wherein was Proteus carved ; and over-head A lively vine of green sea-agate spread, Where by one hand light-headed Bacchus hung, And with the other wine from grapes out- wrung. Of crystal shining fair the pavement was ; The town of Sestos called it Venus' glass : There might you see the gods, in sundry shapes, Committing heady riots, incest, rapes ; For know, that underneath this radiant floor Was Danae's statue in a brazen tower ; love slily stealing from his sister's bed, To dally with Idalian Ganymed, And for his love Europa bellowing loud, Under whose shade the wood-gods love to be. And in the midst a silver altar stood : There Hero, sacrificing turtles' blood, Vailed to the ground, veiling her eyelids close ; And modestly they opened as she rose : Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head ; And thus Leander was enamoured. Stone-still he stood, and evermore he gazed, Till with the fire, that from his countenance blazed, Relenting Hero's gentle heart was strook : Such force and virtue, hath an amorous look. It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is over-ruled by fate. When two are stript, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect : The reason no man knows ; let it suffice, What we behold is censured by our eyes. Where both deliberate, the love is slight : Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight ? He kneeled; but unto her devoutly prayed thorough Sestos, from her Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said, ! "Were I the saint he worships, I wouli hear him;" And as she spake those words, came som< what near him. He started up ; she blushed as one ashamc Wherewith Leander much more was i" flamed. He touched her hand ; in touching it si trembled : Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissemble J These lovers parled by the touch of hand: I True love is mute, and oft amazed standi I Thus while dumb signs their yielding hea j entangled, The air with sparks of living fire was sp gled; And Night, deep-drenched in misty Acher Heaved up her head, and half the wc upon Breathed darkness forth (dark night Cupid's day) : And now begins Leander to display HERO AND LEANDER. 199 Love's holy fire, with words, with sighs, and tears ; Which, like sweet music, entered Hero's ears ; And yet at every word she turned aside, And always cut him off, as he replied. At last, like to a bold sharp sophister, With cheerful hope thus he accosted her. "Fair creature, let me speak without of- fence : I would my rude words had the influence To lead thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine ! Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine. Be not unkind and fair ; misshapen stuff Are of behaviour boisterous and rough. Oh, shun me not, but hear me ere you go ! ' God knows, I cannot force love as you do : My words shall be as spotless as my youth, Full of simplicity and naked truth. This sacrifice, whose sweet perfume de- scending : From Venus' altar, to your footsteps bend- ing, Doth testify that you exceed her far, To whom you offer, and whose nun you are. Why should you worship her ? her you sur- pass much as sparkling diamonds flaring glass. L diamond set in lead his worth retains ; heavenly nymph, beloved of human swains, eceives no blemish, but ofttimes more grace; ich makes me hope, although I am but base, ase in respect of thee divine and pure, utiful service may thy love procure ; nd I in duty will excel all other, thou in beauty dost exceed Love's mo- ther, or heaven nor thou were made to gaze upon : is heaven preserves all things, so save thou I one. Jstately-builded ship, well-rigged and tall, he ocean maketh more majestical : hy vowest thou, then, to live in Sestos I here, 1 ho on Love's seas more glorious wouldst appear ? I ce untuned golden strings all women are, jbich long time lie untouched, will harshly jar. of brass, oft handled, brightly shine : \ at difference betwixt the richest mine And basest mould, but use? for both, not used, Are of like worth. Then treasure is abused, When misers keep it : being put to loan, In time it will return us two for one. Rich robes themselves and others do adorn ; Neither themselves nor others, if not worn. Who builds a palace, and rams up the gate, Shall see it ruinous and desolate : Ah, simple Hero, learn thyself to cherish ! Lone women, like to empty houses, perish. Less sins the poor rich man, that starves himself In heaping up a mass of drossy pelf, Than such as you : his golden earth remains, Which, after his decease, some other gains ; But this fair gem, sweet in the loss alone, When you fleet hence, can be bequeathed to none; Or, if it could, down from th' enamelled sky All heaven would come to claim this legacy, And with intestine broils the world destroy, And quite confound Nature's sweet har- mony. Well therefore by the gods decreed it is, We human creatures should enjoy that bliss. One is no number ; maids are nothing, then, Without the sweet society of men. Wilt thou live single still ? one shalt thou be, Though never-singling Hymen couple thee. Wild savages, that drink of running springs, Think water far excels all earthly things ; But they, that daily taste neat wine, despise it: Virginity, albeit some highly prize it, Compared with marriage, had you tried them both, Differs as much as wine and water doth. Base bullion for the stamp's sake we allow : Even so for men's impression do we you ; By which alone, our reverend fathers say, Women receive perfection every way. This idol, which you term virginity, Is neither essence subject to the eye, No, nor to any one exterior sense, Nor hath it any place of residence, Nor is 't of earth or mould celestial, Or capable of any form at all. Of that which hath no being, do not boast : Things that are not at all, are never lost. Men foolishly do call it virtuous : What virtue is it, that is born with us ? Much less can honour be ascribed thereto : Honour is purchased by the deeds we do ; Believe me, Hero, honour is not won, Until some honourable deed be done. Seek you, for chastity, immortal fame, And know that some have wronged Diana's name? HERO AND LEANDER. Whose name is it, if she be false or not, So she be fair, but some vile tongues will blot? But you are fair, ah me ! so wondrous fair, So young, so gentle, and so debonair, As Greece will think, if thus you live alone, Some one or other keeps you as his own. Then, Hero, hate me not, nor from me fly, To follow swiftly-blasting infamy. Perhaps thy sacred priesthood makes thee loth: Tell me, to whom mad'st thou that heedless oath?" "To Venus," answered she; and, as she spake, Forth from those two tralucent cisterns brake A stream of liquid pearl, which down her face Made milk-white paths, whereon the gods might trace To Jove's high court. He thus replied : ' ' The rites In which love's beauteous empress most de- lights, Are banquets, Doric music, midnight revel, Plays, masques, and all that stern age counteth evil. Thee as a holy idiot doth she scorn ; For thou, in vowing chastity, hast sworn To rob her name and honour, and thereby Committ'st a sin far worse than perjury, Even sacrilege against her deity, Through regular and formal purity. To expiate which sin, kiss and shake hands : Such sacrifice as this Venus demands." Thereat she smiled, and did deny him so, As put thereby, yet might he hope for mo ; Which makes him quickly reinforce his speech, And her in humble manner thus beseech : ' ' Though neither gods nor men may thee deserve, Yet, for her sake, whom you have vowed to serve, Abandon fruitless cold virginity, The gentle Queen of love's sole enemy. Then shall you most resemble Venus" nun, When Venus' sweet rites are performed and done. Flint-breasted Pallas joys in single life; But Pallas and your mistress are at strife. Love, Hero, then, and be not tyrannous ; But heal the heart that thou hast wounded thus; Nor stain thy youthful years with avarice : Fair fools delight to be accounted nice. The richest corn dies, if it be not reapt ; Beauty alone is lost, too warily kept." These arguments he used, and many more; Wherewith she yielded, that was won before. Hero's looks yielded, but her words made war: Women are won when they begin to jar. Thus, having swallowed Cupid's golden hook, The more she strived, the deeper was she strook : Yet, evilly feigning anger, strove she still, And would be thought to grant against her will. So having paused a while, at last she said, "Who taught thee rhetoric to deceive a maid? Ah me ! such words as these should I abhor, And yet I like them for the orator." With that, Leander stooped to have em- braced her, But from his spreading arms away she cast her, And thus bespake him: "Gentle youth, forbear To touch the sacred garments which I wear. Upon a rock, and underneath a hill, Far from the town (where all is whist and still, Save that the sea, playing on yellow sand, Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land, Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus In silence of the night to visit us) My turret stands ; and there, God knows, I play With Venus' swans and sparrows all the day. A dwarfish beldam bears me company, That hops about the chamber where I lie, And spends the night, that might be bcttei spent, In vain discourse and apish merriment :— Come thither." As she spake this, tongue tripped, For unawares, "Come thither," from slipped; And suddenly her former colour chang And here and there her eyes through ranged ; And, like a planet moving several ways At one self instant, she, poor soul, assays Loving, not to love at all, and every part Strove to resist the motions of her heart: And hands so pure, so innocent, nay, sue' As might have made Heaven stoop to ha a touch, Did she uphold to Venus, and again Vowed spotless chastity ; but all in vain ; | Cupid beats down her prayers with wings ; Her vows above the empty air he flings; HERO AND LEANDER. All deep enraged, his sinewy bow he bent, And shot a shaft that burning. from him went ; Wherewith she strooken, looked so dolefully, As made Love sigh to see his tyranny ; And, as she wept, her tears to pearl he turned, And wound them on his arm, and for her mourned. Then towards the palace of the Destinies, Laden with languishment and grief, he flies, And to those stern nymphs humbly made request, Both might enjoy each other, and be blest. But with a ghastly dreadful countenance, Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance, They answered Love, nor would vouchsafe j so much As one poor word, their hate to him was such : Hearken a while, and I will tell you why. Heaven's winged herald, Jove-born Mer- cury, The self-same day that he asleep had laid Enchanted Argus, spied a country maid, Whose careless hair, instead of pearl t' adorn it, Glistered with dew, as one that seemed to scorn it ; Her breath as fragrant as the morning rose ; .Her mind pure, and her tongue untaught to glose : Vet proud she was (for lofty Pride that dwells n towered courts, is oft in shepherds' cells), And too, too well the fair vermilion knew \nd silver tincture of her cheeks, that drew he love of every swain. On her this god Enamoured was, and with his snaky rod bid charm her nimble feet, and made her stay, | (he while upon a hillock down he lay, nd sweetly on his pipe began to play, ith smooth speech her fancy to assay, I] in his twining arms he locked her fast, id then he wooed with kisses ; and at last, ■ shepherds do, her on the ground he laid, id, tumbling in the grass, he often strayed yond the bounds of shame, in being bold ' • eye those parts which no eye should be- , hold; 4d, like an insolent commanding lover, listing his parentage, would needs dis- cover 7- way to new Elysium. But she, \iose only dower was her chastity, Lving striven in vain, was now about to cry, And crave the help of shepherds that were nigh. Herewith he stayed his fury, and began To give her leave to rise : away she ran ; After went Mercury, who used such cunning, As she, to hear his tale, left off her running ; (Maids are not won by brutish force and might, But speeches full of pleasures and delight ;) And, knowing Hermes courted her, was glad That she such loveliness and beauty had As could provoke his liking ; yet was mute, And neither would deny nor grant his suit. Still vowed he love : she, wanting no excuse To feed him with delays, as women use, Or thirsting after immortality, (All women are ambitious naturally,) Imposed upon her lover such a task, As he ought not perform, nor yet she ask; A draught of flowing nectar she requested, Wherewith the king of gods and men is feasted. He, ready to accomplish w^at she willed, Stole some from Hebe (Hebe Jove's cup filled), And gave it to his simple rustic love : Which being known — as what is hid from Jove ? — He inly stormed, and waxed more furious Than for the fire filched by Prometheus ; And thrusts him down from heaven. He, wandering here, In mournful terms, with sad and heavy cheer, Complained to Cupid ; Cupid, for his sake, To be revenged on Jove did undertake ; And those on whom heaven, earth, and hell relies, I mean the adamantine Destinies, He wounds with love, and forced them equally To dote upon deceitful Mercury. They offered him the deadly fatal knife That shears the slender threads of human life; At his fair-feathered feet the engines laid, Which th' earth from ugly Chaos' den up- weighed. These he regarded not ; but did entreat That Jove, usurper of his father's seat, Might presently be banished into hell, And aged Saturn in Olympus dwell. They granted what he craved ; and once again Saturn and Ops began their golden reign : Murder, rape, war, and lust, and treachery, Were with Jove closed in Stygian empery. HERO AND LEANDER. But long this blessed time continued not: As soon as he his wished purpose got, He, reckless of his promise, did despise The love of th' everlasting Destinies. They, seeing it, both Love and him ab- horred, And Jupiter unto his place restored : And, but that Learning, in despite of Fate, Will mount aloft, and enter heaven-gate, And to the seat of Jove itself advance, Hermes had slept in hell with Ignorance. Yet, as a punishment, they added this, That he and Poverty should always kiss : And to this day is every scholar poor : Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor. Likewise the angry Sisters, thus deluded, To 'venge themselves on Hermes, have con- cluded That Midas' brood shall sit in Honour's chair, To which the Muses' sons are only heir; And fruitful wits, that inaspiring are, Shall, discontent, run into regions far ; And few great lords in virtuous deeds shall joy. But be surprised with every garish toy, And still enrich the lofty servile clown, Who with encroaching guile keeps learning down. Then muse not Cupid's suit no better sped, Seeing in their loves the Fates were injured. THE SECOND SESTIAD. THE ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND SESTIAD. Hero of love takes deeper sense, And doth her love more recompense ; Their first night's meeting, where sweet kisses Are th' only crowns of both their blisses, He swims to Abydos, and returns : Cold Neptune with his beauty burns ; Whose suit he shuns, and doth aspire Hero's fair tower and his desire. By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted, Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted. He kissed her, and breathed life into her lips ; Wherewith, as one displeased, away she trips ; Yet, as she went, full often looked behind, And many poor excuses did she find To linger by the way, and once she stayed, And would have turned again, but was afraid, In offering parley, to be counted light : So on she goes, and in her idle flight, Her painted fan of curled plumes let fall, Thinking to train Leander therewithal. He, being a novice, knew not what she meant, But stayed, and after her a letter sent ; Which joyful Hero answered in such sort, As he had hope to scale the beauteous fort Wherein the liberal Graces locked their wealth ; And therefore to her tower he got by stealth. Wide-open stood the door; he need not climb ; And she herself, before the 'pointed time, Had spread the board, with roses strowe the room, And oft looked out, and mused he did nc come. At last he came: oh, who can tell tl greeting These greedy lovers had at their fii meeting? He asked ; she gave ; and nothing w denied ; Both to each other quickly were affied : Look how their hands, so were their hea united, And what he did, she willingly requited (Sweet are the kisses, the embrai sweet, When like desires and like affections For from the earth to heaven is Cu raised, Where fancy is in equal balance paised.)- Yet she this rashness suddenly repented, And turned aside, and to herself lament" As if her name and honour had tl wronged By being possessed of him for whom • longed ; Ay, and she wished, albeit not fromfl heart, HERO AND LEANDER. 203 That he would leave her turret and depart. The mirthful god of amorous pleasure smiled To see how he this captive nymph beguiled ; For hitherto he did but fan the fire, And kept it down, that it might mount the higher. Now waxed she jealous, lest his love abated, Fearing, her own thoughts made her to be hated. Therefore unto him hastily she goes, And, like light Salmacis, her body throws Upon his bosom, where with yielding eyes She offers up herself a sacrifice To slake his anger, if he were displeased : Oh, what god would not therewith be ap- peased ? Like yEsop's cock, this jewel he enjoyed, And as a brother with his sister toyed, • Supposing nothing else was to be done, Now he her favour and goodwill had won. But know you not that creatures wanting sense, By nature have a mutual appetence, And, wanting organs to advance a step, Moved by love's force, unto each other leap ? Much more in subjects having intellect Some hidden influence breeds like effect. \lbeit Leander, rude in love and raw, I' ong dallying with Hero, nothing saw hat might delight him more, yet he sus- pected ome amorous rites or other were neg- lected, herefore unto his body hers he clung : he, fearing on the rushes to be flung, trived with redoubled strength ; the more she strived, he more a gentle pleasing heat revived, .'hich taught him all that elder lovers know : nd now the same 'gan so to scorch and glow, !in plain terms, yet cunningly, he crave it: ive always makes those eloquent that have ., it. I \ with a kind of granting, put him by it, * d ever, as he thought himself most nigh it, Le to the tree of Tantalus, she fled, - i, seeming lavish, saved her maiden- 1 head. > er king more sought to keep his diadem, l.n Hero this inestimable gem : mr life we love a steadfast friend ; n a token of great worth we send, vV often kiss it, often look thereon, A stay the messenger that would be gone ; No marvel, then, though Hero would not yield So soon to part from that she dearly held : Jewels being lost are found again ; this never ; 'Tis lost but once, and once lost, lost for ever. Now had the Morn espied her lover's steeds ; Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds, And, red for anger that he stayed so long, All headlong throws herself the clouds among, And now Leander, fearing to be missed, Embraced her suddenly, took leave, and kissed : Long was he taking leave, and loth to go, And kissed again, as lovers use to do. Sad Hero wrung him by the hand, and wept, Saying, ' ' Let your vows and promises be kept:" Then standing at the door, she turned about, As loth to see Leander going out. And now the sun, that through the horizon peeps, As pitying these lovers, downward creeps ; So that in silence of the cloudy night, Though it was morning, did he take his flight. But what the secret trusty night concealed, Leander 's amorous habit soon revealed : With Cupid's myrtle was his bonnet crowned, About his arms the purple riband wound, Wherewith she wreathed her largely-spread- ing hair ; Nor could the youth abstain, but he must wear The sacred ring wherewith she was en- dowed, When first religious chastity she vowed ; Which made his love through Sestos to be known, And thence unto Abydos sooner blown Than he could sail ; for incorporeal Fame, Whose weight consists in nothing but her name, Is swifter than the wind, whose tardy plumes Are reeking water and dull earthly fumes. Home when he came, he seemed not to be there, But, like exiled heir thrust from his sphere, Set in a foreign place; and straight from thence, Alcides-like, by mighty violence, 204 HERO AND LEANDER, He would have chased away the swelling main, That him from her unjustly did detain. Like as the sun in a diameter Fires and inflames objects removed far, And heateth kindly, shining laterally ; So beauty sweetly quickens when 'tis nigh, But being separated and removed, Burns where it cherished, murders where it loved. Therefore even as an index to a book, So to his mind was young Leander's look. Oh, none but gods have power their love to hide ! Affection by the countenance is descried ; The light of hidden fire itself discovers, And love that is concealed betrays poor lovers. His secret flame apparently was seen : Leander's father knew where he had been, And for the same mildly rebuked his son, Thinking to quench the sparkles new-begun. But love resisted once, grows passionate, And nothing more than counsel lovers hate; For as a hot proud horse highly disdains To have his head controlled, but breaks the reins, Spits forth the ringled bit, and with his hoves Checks the submissive ground ; so he that loves, The more he is restrained, the worse he fares : What is it now but mad Leander dares ? " Oh, Hero, Hero !" thus he cried full oft ; And then he got him to a rock aloft, Where having spied her tower, long stared he on't, And prayed the narrow toiling Hellespont To part in twain, that he might come and go; But still the rising billows answered, "No." With that he stripped him to the ivory skin, And, crying, " Love, I come," leaped lively in : Whereat the sapphire-visaged god grew proud, And made his capering Triton sound aloud, Imagining that Ganymede, displeased, Had left the heavens ; therefore on him he seized. Leander strived ; the waves about him wound, And pulled him to the bottom, where the ground Was strewed with pearl, and in low coral groves Sweet-singing mermaids sported with their loves On heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasure To spurn in careless sort the shipwrackt treasure; For here the stately azure palace stood, Where kingly Neptune and his train abode. The lusty god embraced him, called him " love," And swore he never should return to Jove: But when he knew it was not Ganymed, For under water he was almost dead, He heaved him up, and, looking on his face, Beat down the bold waves with his triple mace, Which mounted up, intending to have kissed him, And fell in drops like tears because they missed him. Leander, being up, began to swim, And, looking back, saw Neptune follow him : Whereat aghast, the poor soul 'gan to cry, " Oh, let me visit Hero ere I die !" The god put Helle's bracelet on his arm, And swore the sea should never do him harm. He clapped his plump cheeks, with hi: tresses played, And, smiling wantonly, his love bewrayed; He watched his arms, and, as they opene< wide At every stroke, betwixt them would h slide, And steal a kiss, and then run out an dance, And, as he turned, cast many a lustf glance, And throw him gaudy toys to please his ey And dive into the water, and there pry Upon his breast, his thighs, and every lim And up again, and close beside him swim And talk of love. Leander made reply, " You are deceived ; I am no woman, I." Thereat smiled Neptune, and then told tale, How that a shepherd, sitting in a vale, Played with a boy so loveiy fair and kinc As for his love both earth and heaven pin That of the cooling river durst not dri " Lest water-nymphs should pull him the brink ; And when he sported in the fragrant Goat-footed Satyrs and up-staring Faun Would steal him thence. Ere half this was done, " Ah me," Leander cried, " th' enamo pin rink HERO AND LEANDER. 205 That now should shine on Thetis' glassy bower, Descends upon my radiant Hero's tower : Oh, that these tardy arms of mine were wings !" And, as he spake, upon the waves he springs. Neptune was angry that he gave no ear, And in his heart revenging malice bare : He flung at him his mace ; but, as it went, He called it in, for love made him repent : The mace, returning back, his own hand hit, 1 As meaning tc be 'venged for darting it. I When this fresh-bleeding wound Leander viewed, His colour went and came, as if he rued The grief which Neptune felt : in gentle breasts Relenting thoughts, remorse and pity rests ; <\.nd who have hard hearts and obdurate minds, 3ut vicious, hare-brained, and illiterate hinds ? The god, seeing him with pity to be moved, Thereon concluded that he was beloved ; Love is too full of faith, too credulous, Vith folly and false hope deluding us ;) Yherefore, Leander's fancy to surprise, 'o the rich ocean for gifts he flies : Tis wisdom to give much ; a gift prevails \rhen deep-persuading oratory fails. By this, Leander, being near the land, : ast down his weary feet, and felt the sand, reathless albeit he were, he rested not ill to the solitary tower he got ; nd knocked, and called : at which celes- tial noise he longing heart of Hero much more joys, lan nymphs and shepherds when the tim- brel rings, I crooked dolphin when the sailor sings. ayed not for her robes, but straight arose, t d drunk with gladness, to the door she : goes; Wre seeing a naked man, she screeched for fear, sights as this to tender maids are rare,) A 1 ran into the dark herself to hide : ewels in the dark are soonest spied :) I o her was he led, or rather drawn, >e white limbs which sparkled through the lawn. T nearer that he came, the more she fled, A»), seeking refuge, slipt into her bed ; ■\ reon Leander sittiner, thus besran. Through numbing cold, all feeble, faint' and wan. " If not for love, yet, love, for pity-sake, Me in thy bed and maiden bosom take ; At least vouchsafe these arms some little room, Who, hoping to embrace thee, cheerly swoom : This head was beat with many a churlish billow, And therefore let it rest upon thy pillow." Herewith affrighted, Hero shrunk away, And in her lukewarm place Leander lay ; Whose lively heat, like fire from heaven fet, Would animate gross clay, and higher set The drooping thoughts of base-declining souls, Than dreary-Mars-carousing nectar bowls. His hands he cast upon her like a snare : She, overcome with shame and sallow fear, Like chaste Diana when Actaeon spied her, Being suddenly betrayed, dived down to hide her ; And, as her silver body downward went, With both her hands she made the bed a tent, And in her own mind thought herself secure, O'ercast with dim and darksome coverture. And now she lets him whisper in her ear, Flatter, entreat, promise, protest, and swear: Yet ever, as he greedily assayed To touch those dainties, she the harpy played, And every limb did, as a soldier stout, Defend the fort, and keep the foeman out ; For though the rising ivory mount he scaled, Which is with azure circling lines empaled, Much like a globe, (a globe may I term this, By which Love sails to regions full of bliss ?) Yet there with Sisyphus he toiled in vain, Till gentle parley did the truce obtain. Even as a bird, which in our hands we wring, Forth plungeth, and oft flutters with her wing, She trembling strove ; this strife of hers, like that Which made the world, another world begat Of unknown joy. Treason was in her thought, And cunningly to yield herself she sought. Seeming not won, yet won she was at length : In such wars women use but half their strength. 206 HERO AND LEANDER. ' Leander now, like Theban Hercules, Entered the orchard of th' Hesperidcs ; Whose fruit none rightly can describe, but he That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree. Wherein Leander on her quivering breast, Breathless spoke something, and sighed out the rest ; Which so prevailed, as he, with small ado, Enclosed her in his arms, and kissed her too ; And every kiss to her was as a charm, And to Leander as a fresh alarm : So that the truce was broke, and she, alas, Poor silly maiden, at his mercy was ! Love is not full of pity, as men say, But deaf and cruel where he means to prey. And now she wished this night were never done, And sighed to think upon th" approaching sun ; For much it grieved her that the bright day- light Should know the pleasure of this blessed night, And them, like Mars and Erycine, display Both in each other's arms chained as they lay. Again, she knew not how to frame her look, Or speak to him, who in a moment took That which so long, so charily she kept ; And fain by stealth away she would have crept, And to some corner secretly have gone, Leaving Leander in the bed alone. But as her naked feet were whipping out, He on the sudden clinged her so about, That, mermaid-like, unto the floor she slid ; One half appeared, the other half was hid. Thus near the bed she blushing stood up- right, And from her countenance behold ye might A kind of twilight break, which through the air, As from an orient cloud, glimpsed here and there ; And roundabout the chamber this false morn Brought forth the day before the day was born. So Hero's ruddy cheek Hero betrayed, And her all naked to his sight displayed : Whence his admiring eyes more pleasure took Than Dis, on heaps of gold fixing his look. By this, Apollo's golden harp began To sound forth music to the ocean ; Which watchful Hesperus no sooner heard, But he the bright Day-bearing car prepared, And ran before, as harbinger of light, And with his flaring beams mocked ugly Night, Till she, o'ercome with anguish, shame, and rage, Danged down to hell her loathsome carriage [Here Marlowe's work ceases and Chapt)ian's begins.'] THE THIRD SESTIAD. THE ARGUMENT OF THE TinRD SESTIAD. Leander to the envious light Resigns his night-sports with the night, And swims the Hellespont again. Thesme, the deity sovereign Of customs and religious rites, Appears, reproving his delights, Since nuptial honours he neglected ; Which straight he vows shall be effected. Fair Hero, left devirginate, Weighs, and with fury wails her state : But with her love and woman's wit She argues and approveth it. New light gives new directions, fortunes new, To fashion our endeavours that ensue. More harsh, at least more hard, more grave and high Our subject runs, and our stern Muse must fly. Love's edge is taken off, and that light flame, Those thoughts, joys, longings, that bef became High unexperienced blood, and maids' sh. plights Must now grow staid, and censure the lights, That, being enjoyed, ask judgment ; now^ praise, ' V HERO AND LEANDER. 207 As having parted : evenings crown the days. And now, ye wanton Loves, and young Desires, Pied Vanity, the mint of strange attires, Ye lisping Flatteries, and obsequious Glances, Relentful Musics, and attractive Dances, And you detested Charms constraining love ! Shun love's stolen sports by that these lovers prove. By this, the sovereign of heaven's golden fires, And young Leander, lord of his desires, Together from their lovers' arms arose : ; Leander into Hellespontus throws His Hero-handled body, whose delight Made him disdain each other epithite. And as amidst th' enamoured waves he swims, The god of gold of purpose gilt his limbs, ^That, this word gilt including double sense, The double guilt of his incontinence Might be expressed, that had no stay t' employ The treasure which the love-god let him joy- In his dear Hero, with such sacred thrift \s had beseemed so sanctified a gift ; 3ut, like a greedy vulgar prodigal, .Vould on the stock dispend, and rudely fall, Before his time, to that unblessed blessing, Vhich, for lust's plague, doth perish with possessing? oy graven in sense, like snow in water, wastes ; Without preserve of virtue, nothing lasts, .'hat man is he, that with a wealthy eye njoys a beauty richer than the sky, hrough whose white skin, softer than soundest sleep, 'ith damask eyes the ruby blood doth peep, id runs in branches through her azure veins, hose mixture and first fire his love attains ; hose both hands limit both love's deities, • d sweeten human thoughts like Paradise ; ''lose disposition silken is and kind, -ected with an earth-exempted mind ; — 10 thinks not heaven with such a love is given? i who, like earth, would spend that dower of heaven, :h rank desire to joy it all at first ? at simply kills our hunger, quencheth thirst, lies but our nakedness, and makes us live, se doth not any of her favours give : what doth plentifully minister iteous apparel and delicious cheer, I rdered that it still excites desire, ' still gives pleasure freeness to aspire, " palm of Bounty ever moist preserving ; To Love's sweet life this is the courtly carving. Thus Time and all-states-ordering Ceremony Had banished all offence: Time's golden thigh Upholds the flowery body of the earth In sacred harmony, and every birth Of men and actions makes legitimate ; Being used aright, the use of time is fate. Yet did the gentle flood transference more This prize of love home to his father's shore ; Where he unlades himself of that false wealth That makes few rich, — treasures composed by stealth ; And to his sister, kind Hermione, (Who on the shore kneeled, praying to the sea For his return,) he all love's goods did show, In Hero seised for him, in him for Hero. His most kind sister all his secrets knew, And to her, singing, like a shower, he flew, Sprinkling the earth, that to their tombs took in Streams dead for love, to leave his ivory skin, Which yet a snowy foam did leave above, As soul to the dead water that did love ; And from thence did the first white roses spring (For love is sweet and fair in every thing), And all the sweetened shore, as he did go, Was crowned with odorous roses, white as snow. Love-blest Leander was with love so filled, That love to all that touched him he instilled, And as the colours of all things we see, To our sight's powers communicated be, So to all objects that in compass came Of any sense he had, his senses' flame Flowed from his parts with force so virtual, It fired with sense things mere insensual. Now, with warm baths and odours com- forted, When he lay down, he kindly kissed his bed, As consecrating it to Hero's right, And vowed thereafter, that whatever sight Put him in mind of Hero or her bliss, Should be her altar to prefer a kiss. Then laid he forth his late-enriched arms, In whose white circle Love writ all his charms, And made his characters sweet Hero's limbs, When on his breast's warm sea she sideling swims : And as those arms, held up in circle, met, He said, "See, sister, Hero's carcanet ! 208 HERO AND LEANDER. Which she had rather wear about her neck, Than all the jewels that do Juno deck." But, as he shook with passionate desire To put in flame his other secret fire, A music so divine did pierce his ear, As never yet his ravished sense did hear ; When suddenly a light of twenty hues Brake through the roof, and, like the rain- bow, views Amazed Leander: in whose beams came down The goddess Ceremony, with a crown Of all the stars ; and Heaven with her descended : Her flaming hair to her bright feet extended, By which hung all the bench of deities ; And in a chain, compact of ears and eyes, She led Religion : all her body was Clear and transparent as the purest glass, For she was all presented to the sense : Devotion, Order, State, and Reverence, Her shadows were ; Society, Memory ; All which her sight made live, her absence die. A rich disparent pentacle she wears, Drawn full of circles and strange characters. Her face was changeable to every eye ; One way looked ill, another graciously ; Which while men viewed, they cheerful were and holy, But looking off, vicious and melancholy. The snaky paths to each observed law Did Policy in her broad bosom draw. One hand a mathematic crystal sways, Which, gathering in one line a thousand rays From her bright eyes, Confusion burns to death, And all estates of men distinguisheth : By it Morality and Comeliness Themselves in all their sightly figures dress. Her other hand a laurel rod applies, To beat back Barbarism and Avarice, That followed, eating earth and excrement And human limbs ; and would make proud ascent To seats of gods, were Ceremony slain. The Hours and Graces bore her glorious train ; And all the sweets of our society Were sphered and treasured in her bounteous eye. Thus she appeared, and sharply did reprove Leander's bluntness in his violent love ; Told him how poor was substance without rites, Likebillsunsigned; desireswithout delights ; Like meats unseasoned ; like rank corn that grows On cottages, that none or reaps or sows ; Not being with civil forms confirmed and bounded, For human dignities and comforts founded ; But loose and secret all their glories hide ; Fear fills the chamber, Darkness decks the bride. She vanished, leaving pierced Leander's heart With sense of his unceremonious part, In which, with plain neglect of nuptial rites, He close and flatly fell to his delights : And instantly he vowed to celebrate All rites pertaining to his married state. So up he gets, and to his father goes, To whose glad ears he doth his vows dis- close. The nuptials are resolved with utmost power; And he at night would swim to Hero's tower, From whence he meant to Sestos' forked bay To bring her covertly, where ships must stay, Sent by his father, throughly rigged and manned, To waft her safely to Abydos' strand. There leave we him ; and with fresh wing pursue Astonished Hero, whose most wished view I thus long have forborne, because I left hei So out of countenance, and her spirits beref her: To look on one abashed is impudence, When of slight faults he hath too deep sense. Her blushing het her chamber : she iookt out, And all the air she purpled round about ; And after it a foul black day befell, Which ever since a red morn doth foretell And still renews our woes for Hero's woe And foul it proved, because it figured so The next night's horror ; which prepare hear; I fail, if it profane your daintiest ear. Then, now, most strangely-intellecl • fire, That, proper to my soul, hast power t'insr Her burning faculties, and with the winj Of thy unsphered flame visit'st the sprin Of spirits immortal ! Now (as swift as 1 * Doth follow Motion) find th' eternal cli Of his free soul, whose living subject s Up to the chin in the Pierian flood, And drunk to me half this Muscean stc Inscribing it to deathless memory: Confer with it, and make my pledge as That neither's draught be consecra sleep ; Tell it how much his late desires I ten (If yet it know not), and to light surre HERO AND LEANDER. 209 My soul's dark offspring, willing it should die To loves, to passions, and society. Sweet Hero, left upon her bed' alone, Her maidenhead, her vows, Leander gone, And nothing with her but a violent crew Of new-come thoughts, that yet she never knew, Even to herself a stranger, was much like Th' Iberian city that War's hand did strike By English force in princely Essex' guide, When Peace assured her towers had fortified, And golden-fingered India had bestowed Such wealth on her, that strength and empire flowed Into her turrets, and her virgin waist The wealthy girdle of the sea embraced ; Till our Leander, that made Mars his Cupid, For soft love suits, with iron thunders chid ; Swum to her town, dissolved her virgin zone; Ted in his power, and made Confusion Run through her streets amazed, that she supposed She had not been in her own walls en- closed, Rut rapt by wonder to some foreign state, Seeing all her issue so disconsolate, And all her peaceful mansions possessed With war's just spoil, and many a foreign guest From (wery corner driving an enjoyer, upplying it with power of a destroyer. so fared fair Hero in th' expugned fort Jf her chaste bosom ; and of every sort trange thoughts possessed her, ransacking her breast )r that that was not there, her wonted rest. is a mother straight, and bore with pain 'houghts that spake straight, and wished their mother slain ; ie hates their lives, and they their own and lers : 1 fich strife still grows where sin the race * prefers : ve is a golden bubble, full of dreams, at waking breaks, and fills us with extremes, e mused how she could look upon her sire, d not show that without, that was intire ; • as a glass is an inanimate eye, " outward forms embraceth inwardly, sthe eye an .animate glass, that shows onus without us ; and as Phcebus throws His beams abroad, though he in clouds be closed, Still glancing by them till he find opposed A loose and rorid vapour that is fit T' event his searching beams, and useth it To form a tender twenty-coloured eye, Cast in a circle round about the sky ; So when our fiery soul, our body's star, (That ever is in motion circular,) Conceives a form, in seeking to display it Through all our cloudy parts, it doth convey it Forth at the eye, as the most pregnant place, And that reflects it round about the face. And this event, uncourtly Hero thought, Her inward guilt would in her looks have wrought ; For yet the world's stale cunning she re- sisted, To bear foul thoughts, yet forge what looks she listed, And held it for a very silly sleight, To make a perfect metal counterfeit, Glad to disclaim herself, proud of an art That makes the face a pander to the heart. Those be the painted moons, whose lights profane Beauty's true heaven, at full still in their wane ; Those be the lapwing faces that still cry, " Here 'tis !" when that they vow is nothing nigh : Base fools ! when every moorish fool can teach That which men think the height of human reach, But custom, that the apoplexy is i Of bed-rid nature and lives led amiss, And takes away all feeling of offence, Yet brazed not Hero's brow with im- pudence ; And this she thought most hard to bring to pass, To seem in countenance other than she was, As if she had two souls, one for t'le face, One for the heart, and that they shifted place As either list to utter or conceal What they conceived, or as one soul did deal With both affairs at once, keeps and ejects Both at an instant contrary effects ; Retention and ejection in her powers Being acts alike ; for this one vice of ours, That forms the thought, and sways the countenance, P 'T HERO AND LEAXDER. Rules both our motion and our utterance. These and more grave conceits toiled Hero's spirits ; For, though the light of her discoursive wits Perhaps might find some little hole to pass Through all these worldly cinctures, yet, alas ! There was a heavenly flame encompassed her, — Her goddess, in whose fane she did prefer Her virgin vows, from whose impulsive sight She knew the black shield of the darkest night Could not defend her, nor wit's subtlest art : This was the point pierced Hero to the heart ; Who, heavy to the death, with a deep sigh, And hand that languished, took a robe was nigh, Exceeding large, and of black cypres made, In which she sate, hid from the day in shade, Even over head and face, down to her feet; Her left hand made it at her bosom meet, Her right hand leaned on her heart-bowing knee, Wrapped in unshapeful folds, 'twas death to see ; Her knee stayed that, and that her falling face, Each limb helped other to put on disgrace : No form was seen, where form held all her sight ; But, like an embryon that saw never light, Or like a scorched statue made a coal With three-winged lightning, or a wretched soul Muffled with endless darkness, she did sit : The night had never such a heavy spirit. Yet might a penetrating eye well see How fast her clear tears melted on her knee Through her black veil, and turned as black as it, Mourning to be her tears. Then wrought her wit Writh her broke vow, her goddess' wrath, her fame, — All tools that enginous despair could frame : Which made her strow the floor with her torn hair, And spread her mantle piecemeal in the air. Like Jove's son's club, strong passion strook her down, And with a piteous shriek enforced her swoun : Her shriek made with another shriek ascend The frighted matron that on her did tend ; And as with her own cry her sense was slain, So with the other it was called again. She rose, and to her bed made forced way, And laid her down even where Leander lay ; And all this while the red sea of her blood Ebbed with Leander : but now turned the flood, And all her fleet of spirits came swelling in. With child of sail, and did hot fight begin With those severe conceits she too much marked : And here Leander's beauties were em- barked. He came in swimming, painted all with joys, Such as might sweeten hell ; his thought destroys All her destroying thoughts ! she thought she felt His heart in hers, with her contentions melt, And chide her soul that it could so much err, To check the true joys he deserved in her. Her fresh-heat blood cast figures in hei eyes, And she supposed she saw in Neptune': skies, How her star wandered, washed insmartini brine, For her love's sake, that with immorte wine Should be embathed, and swim in mo: hearts-ease Than there was water in the Sestian seas. Then said her Cupid-prompted spirit "Shall I Sing moans to such delightsome harmony Shall slick-tongued Fame, patched up wi voices rude, The drunken bastard of the multitude, (Begot when father Judgment is away, And, gossip-like, says because others say ' Takes news as if it were too hot to eat, | And spits it slavering forth for dog-f i meat,) Make me, for forging a fantastic vow, Presume to bear what makes grave mati bow? Good vows are never broken with g deeds, I HERO AND LEANDER. For then good deeds were bad : vows are but seeds, \nd good deeds fruits ; even those good deeds that grow From other stocks than from th' observed vow. That is a good deed that prevents a bad : Had I not yielded, slain myself I had. rlero Leander is, Leander Hero ; Such virtue love hath to make one of two. [f, then, Leander did my maidenhead git. Leander being myself, I still retain it : We break chaste vows when we live loosely ever, But bound as we are, we live loosely never : Two constant lovers being joined in one, Vielding to one another, yield to none. We know not how to vow, till love unblind us, \nd vows made ignorantly never bind us. Too true it is, that, when 'tis gone, men hate rhe joy as vain they took in love's estate : "Sut that's since they have lost the heavenly i light hould show them way to judge of all things right. yhen life is gone, death must implant his terror : s death is foe to life, so love to error, efore we love, how range we through this sphere, ^arching the sundry fancies hunted here ! bw with desire of wealth transported quite fyond our free humanity's delight ; >w with Ambition climbing falling towers, hose hope to scale, our fear to fall ■ devours ; 4>w wrapt with pastimes, pomp, all joys ! impure : things without us no delight is sure. 1 1 Love, with all joys crowned, within doth sit: goddess, pity love, and pardon it !" as spake she weeping : but her goddess' ear ned with too stern a heat, and would not hear. V me ! hath heaven's straight fingers no more graces For such as Hero than for homeliest faces ? Yet she hoped well, and in her sweet conceit Weighing her arguments, she thought them weight, And that the logic of Leander's beauty, And them together, would bring proofs of duty ; And if her soul, that was a skilful glance Of heaven's great essence, found such imperance In her love's beauties, she had confidence Jove loved him too, and pardoned her offence : Beauty in heaven and earth this grace doth win, It supples rigour, and it lessens sin. Thus, her sharp wit, her love, her secrecy, Trooping together, made her wonder why She should not leave her bed, and to the temple ; Her health said she must live ; her sex, dissemble. She viewed Leander's place, and wished he were Turned to his place, so his place were Leander. "Ah me," said she, " that love's sweet life and sense Should do it harm ! my love had not gone hence, Had he been like his place : oh, blessed place, Image of constancy ! Thus my love's grace Parts no where, but it leaves something behind Worth observation : he renowns his kind : His motion is, like heaven's, orbicular, For where he once is, he is ever there. This place was mine ; Leander, now 'tis thine ; Thou being myself, then it is double mine, Mine, and Leander's mine, Leander's mine. Oh, see what wealth it yields me, nay, yields him ! For I am in it, he for me doth swim, Rich, fruitful love, that, doubling self estates, Elixir-like contracts, though separates ! Dear place, I kiss thee, and do welcome thee, As from Leander ever sent to me." P 2 HERO AND LEANDER. THE FOURTH SESTIAD. THE ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH SESTIAD. Hero, in sacred habit deckt, Doth private sacrifice effect. Her scarf's description, wrought by Fate ; Ostents that threaten her estate ; The strange, yet physical, events, Leander's counterfeit present?, In thunder Cyprides descends, Presaging both the lovers' ends ; Ecte, the goddess of remorse, With vocal and articulate force Inspires Leucote, Venus' swan, T' excuse the beauteous Sestian. Venus, to wreak her rites' abuses, Creates the monster Eronusis, Inflaming Hero's sacrifice With lightning darted from her eyes ; And thereof springs the painted beast, That ever since taints everv breast. i Now from Leander's place she rose, and found Her hair and rent robe scattered on the ground ; Which taking up, she every piece did lay Upon an altar, where in youth of day She used t' exhibit private sacrifice : Those would she offer to the deities Of her fair goddess and her powerful son, As relics of her late-felt passion ; And in that holy sort she vowed to end them, In hope her violent fancies, that did rend them, Would as quite fade in her love's holy fire, As they should in the flames she meant t' inspire. Then put she on all her religious weeds, That decked her in her secret sacred deeds ; A crown of icicles, that sun nor fire Could ever melt, and figured chaste desire ; A golden star shined on her naked breast, In honour of the queen-light of the east. In her right hand she held a silver wand, On whose bright top Peristera did stand, Who was a nymph, but now transformed a dove, And in her life was dear in Venus' love ; And for her sake she ever since that time Choosed doves to draw her coach through heaven's blue clime. Her plenteous hair in curled billows swims On her bright shoulder : her harmonious limbs Sustained no more but a most subtile veil, That hung on them, as it durst not assail Their different concord ; for the weake air Could raise it swelling from her beauti fair ; Nor did it cover, but adumbrate only Her most heart-piercing parts, that a bl eye Might see, as it did shadow, fearfully, All that all-love-deserving paradise : It was as blue as the most freezing skies ; Near the sea's hue, for thence her godd came : On it a scarf she wore of wondrous franr In midst whereof she wrought a virg face. From whose each cheek a fieiy blush chase Two crimson flames, that did two v j extend, Spreading the ample scarf to either end Which figured the division of her mind Whiles yet she rested bashfully inclined And stood not resolute to wed Leander This served her white neck for ; sphere, And cast itself at full breadth down • back : There, since the first breath that begui * wrack Of her free quiet from Leander's lips, She wrought a sea, in one flame, fiH| ships ; But that one ship where all her wealtl d I pass, HERO AND LEANDER. 213 Like simple merchants' goods, Leander was ; For in that sea she naked figured him ; Her diving needle taught him how to swim, And to each thread did such resemblance give, For joy to be so like him it did live : Things senseless live by art, and rational die By rude contempt of art and industry. Scarce could she work, but, in her strength of thought, She feared she pricked Leander as she wrought, And oft would shriek so, that her guardian, frighted, Would staring haste, as with some mischief cited : They double life that dead things' grief sustain ; They kill that feel not their friends' living pain. Sometimes she feared he sought her in- famy ; And then, as she was working of his eye, iShe thought to prick it out to quench her ill; ?3ut, as she pricked, it grew more perfect still : Trifling attempts no serious acts advance; ['he fire of love is blown by dalliance. n working his fair neck she did so grace it, he still was working her own arms t' em- brace it : liat, and his shoulders, and his hands were » seen bove the stream ; and with a pure sea- green ie did so quaintly shadow every limb, I might be seen beneath the waves to swim. In this conceited scarf she wrought beside moon in change, and shooting stars did glide number after her with bloody beams ; hich figured her affects in their extremes, rsuing nature in her Cynthian body, d did her thoughts running on change I imply; maids take more delight, when they prepare, 1 think of wives' states, than when wives they are. all these she wrought a fisherman, I Diving his nets from forth that ocean ; J j drew so hard, ye might discover well, | T« toughened sinews in his neck did swell : ' 1 inward strains drave out his bloodshot ' eyes, And springs of sweat did in his forehead rise ; Yet was of nought but of a serpent sped, That in his bosom flew and stung him dead: And this by fate into her mind was sent, Not wrought by mere instinct of her intent. At the scarf's other end her hand did frame, Near the forked point of the divided flame, A country virgin keeping of a vine, Who did of hollow bulrushes combine Snares for the stubble-loving grasshopper, And by her lay her scrip that nourished her. Within a myrtle shade she sate and sung ; And tufts of waving reeds about her sprung, Where lurked two foxes, that, while she ap- plied Her trifling snares, their thieveries did di- vide, One to the vine, another to her scrip, That she did negligently overslip ; By which her fruitful vine and wholesome fare She suffered spoiled, to make a childish snare. These ominous fancies did her soul express, And every finger made a prophetess, To show what death was hid in love's dis- guise, And make her judgment conquer Destinies. Oh, what sweet forms fair ladies' souls do shroud, Were they made seen and forced through their blood ; If through their beauties, like rich work through lawn, They would set forth their minds with vir- tues drawn, In letting graces from their fingers fly, To still their eyas thoughts with industry; That their plied wits in numbered silks might sing Passion's huge conquest, and their needles leading Affection prisoner through their own-built cities, Pinioned with stories and Arachnean ditties. Proceed we now with Hero's sacrifice : She odours burned, and from their smoke did rise Unsavoury fumes, that air with plagues in- spired ; And then the consecrated sticks she fired, On whose pale flame an angry spirit flew, And beat it down still as it upward grew ; The virgin tapers that on th' altar stood, When she inflamed them, burned as red as blood ; All sad ostents of that too near success, That made such moving beauties motionless. 2I4 HERO AND LEAXDER. Then Hero wept ; but her affrighted eyes She quickly wrested from the sacrifice, Shut them, and inwards for Leander looked, Searched her soft bosom, and from thence she plucked His lovely picture: which when she had viewed, Her beauties were with all love's joys re- newed ; The odours sweetened, and the fires burned clear, Eeander's form left no ill object there : Such was his beauty, that the force of light, Whose knowledge teacheth wonders infinite, The strength of number and proportion, Nature had placed in it to make it known, Art was her daughter, and what human wits For study lost, entombed in drossy spirits. After this accident, (which for her glory Hero could not but make a history,) Th' inhabitants of Sestos and Abydos Did every year, with feasts propitious, To fair Leander's picture sacrifice : And they were persons of especial price That were allowed it as an ornament T' enrich their houses, for the continent Of the strange virtues all approved it held ; For even the very look of it repelled All blastings, witchcrafts, and the strifes of nature In those diseases that no herbs could cure : The wolfy sting of Avarice it would pull, And make the rankest miser bountiful ; It killed the fear of thunder and of death ; The discords that conceit engendereth 'Twixt man and wife, it for the time would cease; The flames of love it quenched, and would increase ; Held in a prince's hand, it would put out The dreadful'st comet; it would ease all doubt Of threatened mischiefs ; it would bring asleep Such as were mad ; it would enforce to weep Most barbarous eyes ; and many more effects This picture wrought, and sprung Leandrian sects ; Of which was Hero first ; for he whose form, Held in her hand, cleared such a fatal storm, From hell she thought his person would de- fend her, Which night and Hellespont would quickly send her. With this confirmed, she vowed to banish quite All thought of any check to her delight ; And, in contempt of silly bashfulness, She would the faith of her desires profess, Where her religion should be policy, To follow love with zeal her piety ; Her chamber her cathedral church should be, And her Eeander her chief deity ; For in her love these did the gods forego ; And though her knowledge did not teach her so, Yet did it teach her this, that what her heart Did greatest hold in her self-greatest part, That she did make her god ; and 'twas less naught To leave gods in profession and in thought, Than in her love and life ; for therein lies Most of her duties and their dignities ; And, rail the brain-bald world at what it will, That's the grand atheism that reigns in it still: Yet singularity she would use no more, For she was singular too much before ; But she would please the world with fair pretext ; Love would not leave her conscience per- plext : Great men that will have less do for them, still Must bear them out, though th' acts be ne'er so ill ; • Meanness must pander be to Excellence; Pleasure atones Falsehood and Conscience: Dissembling was the worst, thought Here then, And that was best, now she must live» men. O, virtuous love, that taught her to do best When she did worst, and when she though it least ! Thus would she still proceed in works d vine, And in her sacred state of priesthood shin Handling the holy rites with hands as bol' As if therein she did Jove's thunder hold, And need not fear those menaces of error, Which she at others threw with greaU terror. Oh, lovely Hero, nothing is thy sin, Weighed with those foul faults other pric are in ! That having neither faiths, nor works, r beauties, T' engender an excuse for slubbered duti With as much countenance fill their h chairs, And sweat denouncements 'gainst prof affairs, As if their lives were cut out by their pla< And they the only fathers of the graces. HERO AND LEANDER. Now, as with settled mind she did repair Her thoughts to sacrifice her ravished hair And her torn robe, which on the altar lay, And only for religion's fire did stay, She heard a thunder by the Cyclops beaten, In such a volley as the world did threaten, Given Venus as she parted th' airy sphere, Descending now to chide with Hero here : When suddenly the goddess" waggoners, The swans and turtles that, in coupled pheres, Through all worlds' bosoms draw her in- fluence, Lighted in Hero's window, and from thence To her fair shoulders flew the gentle doves, — Graceful yEdone that sweet pleasure loves, And ruff-foot Chreste with the tufted crown; Both which did- kiss her, though their god- dess frown. The swans did in the solid flood, her glass, Proin their fair plumes ; of which the fairest was Jove-loved Leucote, that pure brightness is; The other bounty-loving Dapsilis. All were in heaven, now they with Hero were : ;But Venus' looks brought wrath, and urged fear. fHer robe was scarlet ; black her head's at- tire; And through her naked breast shined streams of fire, bs when the rarefied air is driven l:i flashing streams, and opes the darkened heaven, n her white hand a wreath of yew she bore ; nd, breaking th' icy wreath sweet Hero wore, he forced about her brows her wreath of yew, nd said, ' ' Now, minion, to thy fate be true, hough not to me ; endure what this por- tends ! here lightness will, in shame it ends, ove makes thee cunning ; thou are current now, v being counterfeit : thy broken vow eceit with her pied garters must rejoin, id with her stamp thou countenances must coin ; n-ness, and pure deceits, for purities, hi still a maid wilt seem in cozened eyes, id have an antic face to laugh within, pile thy smooth looks make men digest thy sin. It since thy lips (least thought forsworn) forswore. Be never virgin's vow worth trusting more!" When Beauty's dearest did her goddess hear Breathe such rebukes 'gainst that she could not clear, Dumb sorrow spake aloud in tears and blood, That from her grief-burst veins, in piteous flood, From the sweet conduits of her favour fell. The gentle turtles did with moans make swell Their shining gorges ; the white black-eyed swans Did sing as woful epicedians, As they would straightways die : when Pity's queen, The goddess Ecte, that had ever been Hid in a watery cloud near Hero's cries, Since the first instant of her broken eyes, Gave bright Leucote voice, and made her speak, To ease her anguish, whose swoln breast did break With anger at her goddess, that did touch Hero so near for that she used so much ; And, thrusting her white neck at Venus, said : ' ' Why may not amorous Hero seem a maid, Though she be none, as well as you sup- press In modest cheeks your inward wantonness ? How often have we drawn you from above, T' exchange with mortals rites for rites in love! Why in your priest, then, call you that of- fence, That shines in you, and is your influence ?" With this, the Furies stopped Leucote's lips, Enjoined by Venus ; who with rosy whips Beat the kind bird. Fierce lightning from her eyes Did set on fire fair Hero's sacrifice, Which was her torn robe and enforced hair; And the bright flame became a maid most fair For her aspect : her tresses were of wire, Knit like a net, where hearts, set all on fire, Struggled in pants, and could not get re- least ; Her arms were all with golden pincers drest, And twenty-fashioned knots, pulleys, and brakes, And all her body girt with painted snakes ; Her down parts in a scorpion's tail com- bined, Freckled with twenty colours ; pied wings shined 2l6 HERO AND LEANDER - Out of her shoulders ; cloth had never dye, Nor sweeter colours never viewed eye, In scorching Turkey, Cares, Tartary, Than shined about this spirit notorious ; Nor was Arachne's web so glorious. Of lightning and of shreds she was begot ; More hold in base dissemblers is there not. Her name was Eronusis. Venus flew From Hero's sight, and at her chariot drew This wondrous creature to so steep a height, That all the world she might command with sleight Of her gay wings ; and then she bade her haste, — Since Hero had dissembled and disgraced Her rites so much, — and every breast infect With her deceits : she made her architect Of all dissimulation ; and since then Never was any trust in maids or men. Oh, it spited Fair Venus' heart to see her most delighted, And one she choosed, for temper of her mind, To be the only ruler of her kind, So soon to let her virgin race be ended ! Not simply for the fault a whit offended, But that in strife for chasteness with the Moon, Spiteful Diana bade her show but one That was her servant vowed, and lived a maid ; And, now she thought to answer that up- braid, Hero had lost her answer : who knows not Venus would seem as far from any spot Of light demeanour, as the very skin 'Twixt Cynthia's brows? sin is ashamed of sin. Up Venus flew, and scarce durst up for fear Of Phoebe's laughter, when she passed her sphere : And so most ugly-clouded was the light, That day was hid in day; night came ere night ; And Venus could not through the thick air pierce, Till the day's king, god of undaunted verse, Because she was so plentiful a theme To such as wore his laurel anademe, Like to a fiery bullet made descent, And from her passage those fat vapours rent, That, being not thoroughly rarefied to rain, Melted like pitch, as blue as any vein ; And scalding tempests made the earth to shrink Under their fervour, and the world did think In every drop a torturing spirit flew. It pierced so deeply, and it burned so blue. Betwixt all this and Hero, Hero held Leander's picture, as a Persian shield ; And she was free from fear of worst suc- cess: The more ill threats us, we suspect the less : As we grow hapless, violence subtle grows, Dumb, deaf, and blind, and comes when no man knows. THE FIFTH SESTIAD. THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH SESTIAD, Day doubles her accustomed date, As loth the Night, incensed by Fate, Should wreck our lovers. Hero's plight ; Longs for Leander and the night : Which ere her thirsty wish recovers, She sends for two betrothed lovers, And marries them, that, with their crew, Their sports, and ceremonies due, She covertly might celebrate, With secret joy her own estate. She makes a feast, at which appears The wild nymph Teras, that still bean An ivory lute, tells ominous tales, And sings at solemn festivals. Now was bright Hero weary of the day, Thought an Olympiad in Leander's stay. Sol and the soft-foot Hours hung on his arms, And would not let him swim, foreseeing r harms : That day Aurora double grace obtained Of her love Phcebus ; she his horses reinc HERO AND LEANDER. 217 Set on his golden knee, and, as she list, She pulled him back ; and, as she pulled, she kissed, To have him turn to bed: he loved her more, To see the love Leander Hero bore : Examples profit much ; ten times in one, In persons full of note, good deeds are done. Day was so long, men walking fell asleep; The heavy humours that their eyes did steep Made them fear mischiefs. The hard streets were beds For covetous churls and for ambitious heads, That, spite of Nature, would their business ply: All thought they had the falling epilepsy, Men giovelled so upon the smothered ground ; And pity did the heart of Heaven confound. The gods, the Graces, and the Muses came Down to the Destinies, to stay the frame Of the true lovers' deaths, and all world's tears : But Death before had stopped their cruel ears. Ml the celestials parted mourning then, Pierced with our human miseries more than men : Mi, nothing doth the world with mischief fill, ut want of feeling one another's ill ! With their descent the day grew some- thing fair, nd cast a brighter robe upon the air. ero, to shorten time with merriment, r young Alcmane and bright Mya sent, wo lovers that had long craved marriage- dues Hero's hands : but she did still refuse ; :>r lovely Mya was her consort vowed maid state, and therefore not allowed irous nuptials: yet fair Hero now ! ended to dispense with her cold vow, vrs was broken, and to marry her: es would pleasing matter minister 1 her conceits, and shorten tedious day. '1 'y came ; sweet Music ushered th" odorous way, A I wanton Air in twenty sweet forms danced A r her fingers ; Beauty and Love ad- vanced Tlir ensigns in the downless rosy faces J youths and maids, led after by the ices. Fctall these Hero made a friendly feast, ned them kindly, did much love >rotest, Winning their hearts with all the means she might, That, when her fault should chance t' abide the light, Their loves might cover or extenuate it, And high in her worst fate make pity sit. She married them ; and in the banquet came, Borne by the virgins. Hero strived to frame Her thoughts to mirth : ah me ! but hard it is To imitate a false and forced bliss ; 111 may a sad mind forge a merry face, Nor hath constrained laughter any grace. Then laid she wine on cares to make them sink: Who fears the threats of Fortune, let him drink. To these quick nuptials entered suddenly Admired Teras with the ebon thigh ; A nymph that haunted the green Sestian groves, And would consort soft virgins in their loves, At gaysome triumphs and on solemn days, Singing prophetic elegies and lays, And fingering of a silver lute she tied With black and purple scarfs by her left side. Apollo gave it, and her skill withal, And she was termed his dwarf, she was so small : Yet great in virtue, for his beams enclosed His virtues in her ; never was proposed Riddle to her, or augury, strange or new, But she resolved it ; never slight tale flew From her charmed lips, without important sense, Shown in some grave succeeding conse- quence. This little sylvan, with her songs and tales Gave such estate to feasts and nuptials, That though ofttimes she forwent tragedies, Yet for her strangeness still she pleased their eyes ; And for her smallness they admired her so, They thought her perfect born, and could not grow. All eyes were on her. Hero did command An altar decked with sacred state should stand At the feast's upper end, close by the bride, On which the pretty nymph might sit espied. Then all were silent ; every one so hears, As all their senses climbed into their ears ; And first this amorous tale, that fitted well Fair Hero and the nuptials, she did tell. 2l8 HERO AND LEAXDER. The Tale of Teras. Hymen, that now is god of nuptial rites, And crowns with honour Love and his de- lights, Of Athens was, a youth so sweet of face, That many thought him of the female race ; Such quickening brightness did his clear eyes dart, Warm went their beams to his beholder's heart ; In such pure leagues his beauties were com- bined, That there your nuptial contracts first were signed ; For as proportion, white and crimson, meet In beauty's mixture, all right clear and sweet, The eye responsible, the golden hair, And none is held, without the other, fair ; All spring together, all together fade ; Such intermixed affections should invade Two perfect lovers ; which being yet unseen, Their virtues and their comforts copied been In beauty's concord, subject to the eye ; And that, in Hymen, pleased so matchlessly, That lovers were esteemed in their full grace, Like form and colour mixed in Hymen's face; And such sweet concord was thought worthy then Of torches, music, feasts, and greatest men : So Hymen looked, that even the chastest mind He moved to join in joys of sacred kind ; For only now his chin's first down consorted His head's rich fleece, in golden curls con- torted ; And as he was so loved, he loved so too : So should best beauties, bound by nuptials, do. Bright Eucharis, who was by all men said The noblest, fairest, and the richest maid Of all th' Athenian damsels, Hymen loved With such transmission, that his heart re- moved From his white breast to hers : but her estate, In passing his, was so interminatc For wealth and honour, that his love durst feed On nought but sight and hearing, nor could breed Hope of requital, the grand prize of love ; Nor could lie hear or see, but he must prove How his rare beauty's music would agree With maids in consort ; therefore robbed he I . His chin of those same few first fruits it bore, And, clad in such attire as virgins wore, He kept them company; and might right well, For he did all but Eucharis excel In all the fair of beauty : yet he wanted Virtue to make his own desires implanted In his dear Eucharis ; for women never Love beauty in their sex, but envy ever. His judgment yet, that durst not suit ad- dress, Xor, past due means, presume of due suc- cess, Reason gat Fortune in the end to speed To his best prayers : but strange it seemed, indeed, That Fortune should a chaste affection bless : Preferment seldom graceth bashfulness. Xor graced it Hymen yet ; but many a dart, And many an amorous thought, enthrilled his heart, Ere he obtained her ; and he sick became, Forced to abstain her sight ; and then the flame Raged in his bosom. Oh, what grief did fill him ! Sight made him sick, and want of sight did kill him. The virgins wondered where Diaetia stayed. For so did Hymen term himself, a maid. At length with sickly looks he greetec them : 'Tis strange to see 'gainst what an extrem stream A lover strives ; poor Hymen looked so ill, That as in merit he increased still By suffering much, so he in grace d< creased : Women are most won, when men me: least : If Merit look not well, Love bids stand b Love's special lesson is to please the eye. And Hymen soon recovering all he lost, Deceiving still these maids, but hims most, His love and he with many virgin dames, Xoble by birth, noble by beauty's flames, Leaving the town with songs and hallov lights, To do great Ceres Eleusina rites Of zealous sacrifice, were made a prey To barbarous rovers, that in ambush lay And with rude hands enforced their shii i spoil, Far from the darkened city, tired with t And when the yellow issue of the sky Came trooping forth, jealous of cruelty HERO AND LEANDER. 219 To their bright fellows cf this under-heaven, Into a double night they saw them driven, — A horrid cave, the thieves' black mansion ; Where, weary of the journey they had gone, Their last night's watch, and drunk with their sweet gains, Dull Morpheus entered, laden with silken chains, Stronger than iron, and bound the swelling veins And tired senses of these lawless swains. But when the virgin lights thus dimly burned, Oh, what a hell was heaven in ! how they mourned, And wrung their hands, and wound their gentle forms Into the shapes of sorrow ! golden storms Fell from their eyes ; as when the sun ap- pears, And yet it rains, so showed their eyes their tears : And, as when funeral dames watch a dead corse, Weeping about it, telling with remorse What pains he felt, how long in pain he lay, How little food he ate, what he would say ; And then mix mournful tales of others' deaths, Smothering themselves in clouds of their own breaths ; A length, one cheering other, call for wine ; The golden bowl drinks tears out of their eyne, As they drink wine from it; and round it goes, Each helping other to relieve their woes ; So cast these virgins' beauties mutual rays, ^ne lights another, face the face displays ; ips by reflection kissed, and hands hands shook, Iven by the whiteness each of other took. But Hymen now used friendly Morpheus' aid, lew every thief, and rescued every maid : nd now did his enamoured passion take [eart from his hearty deed, whose worth did make [is hope of bounteous Eucharis more strong ; nd now came Love with Proteus, who had , long I the little god with prayers and gifts, m through all shapes, and varied all his I shifts, 1> win Love's stay with him, and make him > love him ; . d when he saw no strength of sleight could move him To make him love or stay, he nimbly turned Into Love's self, he so extremely burned. And thus came Love, with Proteus and his power, T' encounter Eucharis : first, like the flower That Juno's milk did spring, the silver lily, He fell on Hymen's hand, who straight did spy The bounteous godhead, and with wondrous joy Offered it Eucharis. She, wondrous coy, Drew back her hand : the subtle flower did woo it, And, drawing it near, mixed so you could not know it : As two clear tapers mix in one their light, So did the lily and the hand their white. She viewed it ; and her view the form be- stows Amongst her spirits ; for, as colour flows From superficies of each thing we see, Even so with colours forms emitted be ; And where Love's form is, Love is ; Love is form: He entered at the eye ; his sacred storm Rose from the hand, Love's sweetest instru- ment : It stirred her blood's sea so, that high it went, And beat in bashful waves 'gainst the white shore Of her divided cheeks ; it raged the more, Because the tide went 'gainst the haughty wind Of her estate and birth : and, as we find, In fainting ebbs, the flowery Zephyr hurls The green-haired Hellespont, broke in silver curls, 'Gainst Hero's tower; but in his blast's retreat, The waves obeying him, they after beat, Leaving the chalky shore a great way pale, Then moist it freshly with another gale ; So ebbed and flowed in Eucharis's face, Coyness and Love strived which had greatest grace; Virginity did fight on Coyness' side, Fear of her parents' frowns, and female pride Loathing the lower place, more than it loves The high contents desert and virtue moves. Writh Love fought Hymen's beauty and his valour, Which scarce could so much favour yet allure To come to strike, but, fameless, idle stood : Action is fiery valour's sovereign good. But Love once entered, wished no greater aid HERO AND LEAXDER. - Than he could find within ; thought thought betrayed ; The bribed, but incorrupted, garrison Sung ' ' Io Hymen ;' ' there those songs begun, And Love was grown so rich with such a gain, And wanton with the ease of his free reign, That he would turn into her roughest frowns To turn them out; and thus he Hymen crowns King of his thoughts, man 's greatest empery : This was his first brave step to deity. Home to the mourning city they repair, With news as wholesome as the morning air, To the sad parents of each saved maid : But Hymen and his Eucharis had laid This plot, to make the flame of their delight Round as the moon at full, and full as bright. Because the parents of chaste Eucharis Exceeding Hymen's so, might cross their bliss ; And as the world rewards deserts, that law Cannot assist with force ; so when they saw Their daughter safe, take 'vantage of their own. Praise Hymen's valour much, nothing be- stown ; Hymen must leave the virgins in a grove Far off from Athens, and go first to prove, If to restore them all with fame and life, He should enjoy his dearest as his wife. This told to all the maids, the most agree: The riper sort, knowing what 'tis to be The first mouth of a news so far derived, And that to hear and bear news brave folks lived, As being a carriage special hard to bear Occurrents, these occurrents being so dear, They did with grace protest, they were con- tent T' accost their friends with all their compli- ment, For Hymen's good ; but to incur their harm, There he must pardon them. This wit went warm To Adolesche's brain, a nymph born high, Made all of voice and fire, that upwards fly : Her heart and all her forces' nether train Climbed to her tongue, and thither fell her brain, Since it could go no higher ; and it must go ; All powers she had, even her tongue did so : In spirit and quickness she much joy did take, And loved her tongue, only for quickness' sake ; And she would haste and tell. The rest all stay: Hymen goes one, the nymph another way; And what became of her I'll tell at last : Yet take her visage now; — moist-lipped, long-faced, Thin like an iron wedge, so sharp and tart, As 'twere of purpose made to cleave Love's heart : Well were this lovely beauty rid of her. And Hymen did at Athens now prefer His welcome suit, which he with joy aspired : A hundred princely youths with him retired To fetch the nymphs; chariots and music went : And home they came : heaven with applauses rent. The nuptials straight proceed, whiles all the town, Fresh in their joys, might do them most renown. First, gold-locked Hymen did to church re- pair, Like a quick offering burned in flames of hair; And after, with a virgin firmament The godhead-proving bride attended went Before them all : she looked in her command, As if form-giving Cypria's silver hand Gripped all their beauties, and crushed out one flame ; She blushed to see how beauty overcame The thoughts of all men. Next, before her went Five lovely children, decked with ornament Of her sweet colours, bearing torches by ; For light was held a happy augury Of generation, whose efficient right ! Is nothing else but to produce to light. The odd disparent number they did choose, To show the union married loves should use, Since in two equal parts it will not sever, But the midst holds one to rejoin it ever, As common to both parts: men therefor deem, That equal number gods do not esteem, Being authors of sweet peace and unity, But pleasing to th' infernal empery, Under whose ensigns Wars and Discord fight, Since an even number you may disunite In two parts equal, nought in middle left To reunite each part from other reft ; And five they hold in most especial prize, Since 'tis the first odd number that doth ri< From the two foremost numbers' unity, That odd and even are ; which are two ar three ; For one no number is ; but thence doth flc The powerful race of number. Next, did A noble matron, that did spinning bear HERO AND LEANDER. A huswife's rock and spindle, and did wear A wether's skin, with all the snowy fleece, To intimate that even the daintest piece And noblest-born dame should industrious be: That which does good disgraceth no degree. And now to Juno's temple they are come, Where her grave priest stood in the marriage- room : On his right arm did hang a scarlet veil, And from his shoulders to the ground did trail, On either side, ribands of white and blue : With the red veil he hid the bashful hue Of the chaste bride, to show the modest shame, In coupling with a man, should grace a dame. Then took he the disparent silks, and tied The lovers by the waists, and side to side, In token that thereafter they must bind In one self-sacred knot each other's mind. Before them on an altar he presented Both fire and water, which was first in- vented, Since to ingenerate every human creature And every other birth produced by Nature, Moisture and heat must mix : so man and wife For human race must join in nuptial life. Then one of Juno's birds, the painted jay, He sacrificed, and took the gall away ; SMI which he did behind the altar throw, 1 sign no bitterness of hate should grow, wixt married loves, nor any least disdain, othing they spake, for 'twas esteemed too plain or the most silken mildness of a maid, o let a public audience hear it said, I Hie boldly took the man ; and so respected ishftilness in Athens, it erected -neia, which is Shamefacedness, red temple, holding her a goddess. w to feasts, masques, and triumphant shows, , lie shining troops returned, even till earth- throes u forth with joy the thickest part of night hen the sweet nuptial song, that used to cite -i o their rest, was by Phemonoe sung, i Delphian prophetess, whose graces sprung < 1 of the Muses' well : she sung before Tfe bride into her chamber ; at which door A latron and a torch-bearer did stand : A aimed box of comfits in her hand The matron held, and so did other some That compassed round the honoured nuptial room. The custom was, that every maid did wear, During her maidenhood, a silken sphere About her waist, above her inmost weed, Knit with Minerva's knot, and that was freed By the fair bridegroom on the marriage- night, With many ceremonies of delight : And yet eternised Hymen's tender bride, To suffer it dissolved so, sweetly cried. The maids that heard, so loved and did adore her, They wished with all their hearts to suffer for her. So had the matrons, that with comfits stood About the chamber, such affectionate blood, And so true feeling of her harmless pains, That every one a shower of comfits rains ; For which the bride-youths scrambling on the ground, In noise of that sweet hail her cries were drowned. And thus blest Hymen joyed his gracious bride, And for his joy was after deified. The saffron mirror by which Phoebus' love, Green Tellus, decks her, now he held above The cloudy mountains : and the noble maid, Sharp-visaged Adolesche, that was strayed Out of her way, in hasting with her news, Not till this hour th' Athenian turrets views ; And now brought home by guides, she heard by all, That her long kept occurrents would be stale, And now fair Hymen's honoufs did excel For those rare news, which she came short to tell. To hear her dear tongue robbed of such a joy, Made the well-spoken nymph take such a toy, That down she sunk : when lightning from above Shrunk her lean body, and, for mere free love, Turned her into the pied-plumed Psittacus, That now the Parrot is surnamed by us, Who still with counterfeit confusion prates Nought but news common to the commonest mates. — This told, strange Teras touched her lute, and sung This ditty, that the torchy evening sprung. 222 HERO AND LEANDER. Ep it ha lam ion Tcratos. Now Love in Night, and Night in Love exhorts Come, come, dear Night ! Love's mart of Courtship and dances : all your parts em- kisses, ploy, Sweet close of his ambitious line, And suit Night's rich expansure with your The fruitful summer of his blisses ! joy. Love's glory doth in darkness shine. Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes : Oh, come, soft rest of cares ! come, Night ! Rise, youths ! Love's rite claims more than Come, naked Virtue's only tire, banquets ; rise ! The reaped harvest of the light, Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire ! Rise, virgins ! let fair nuptial loves en- Love calls to war ; fold Sighs his alarms, Your fruitless breasts : the maidenheads ye Lips his swords are, hold The field his arms. Are not your own alone, but parted are ; Part in disposing them your parents share, Come, Night, and lay thy velvet hand And that a third part is ; so must ye save On glorious Day's outfacing face ; Your loves a third, and you your thirds must And all thy crowned flames command, have. For torches to our nuptial grace ! Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' Love calls to war ; eyes : Sighs his alarms, Rise, youths ! Love's rite claims more than Lips his swords are, banquets ; rise ! The field his arms. Herewith the amorous spirit, that was so No need have we of factious Day, kind To cast, in envy of thy peace, To Teras' hair, and combed it down \ Her balls of discord in thy way : wind, Here Beauty's day doth never cease ; Still as it, comet-like, brake from her Day is abstracted here, brain, And varied in a triple sphere. Would needs have Teras gone, and did Hero, Alcmane, Mya, so outshine thee, refrain Ere thou come here, let Thetis thrice refine To blow it down : which, staring up, dis thee. mayed Love calls to war ; The timorous feast ; and she no longe Sighs his alarms, stayed ; Lips his swords are, But, bowing to the bridegroom and tb The field his arms. bride, Did, like a shooting exhalation, glide The evening star I see : Out of their sights : the turning of he Rise, youths ! the evening star back Helps Love to summon war ; Made them all shriek, it looked so ghast' Both now embracing be. black. Rise, youths ! Love's rite claims more than Oh, hapless Hero ! that most haplc banquets • rise ! cloud Now the bright marigolds, that deck the Thy soon-succeeding tragedy foreshowed. skies, Thus all the nuptial crew to joys depart ; Phoebus' celestial flowers, that, contrary But much-wrung Hero stood Hell's black< , To his flowers here, ope when he shuts his dart : eye, Whose wound because I grieve so to d And shut when he doth open, crown your play, sports : I use digressions thus t' increase the day. HERO AND LEANDER. !23 THE SIXTH SESTIAD. THE ARGUMENT. OF THE SIXTH SESTIAD. Leucote flies to all the Winds, And from the Fates their outrage blinds, That Hero and her love may meet. Leander, with Love's complete fleet Manned in himself, puts forth to seas : When straight the ruthless Destinies, With Ate, stir the winds to war Upon the Hellespont ; their jar Drowns poor Leander. Hero's eyes, Wet witnesses of his surprise, Her torch blown out, grief casts her down Upon her love, and both doth drown : In whose just ruth the god of seas Transforms them to th' Acanthides. No longer could the Day nor Destinies Delay the Night, who now did frowning rise Into her throne ; and at her humorous breasts /isions and Dreams lay sucking : all men's rests rell like the mists of death upon their eyes, )ay's too-long darts so killed their facul- ties, "he Winds yet, like the flowers, to cease began ; 'or bright Leucote, Venus' whitest swan, j hat held sweet Hero dear, spread her fair wings, ■ike to a field of snow, and message brings rom Venus to the Fates, t' entreat them lay eir charge upon the Winds their rage to stay, hat the stern battle of the seas might cease, id guard Leander to his love in peace. itea consent ;— ah, me, dissembling Fates ! — ' ey showed their favours to conceal their , hates, . 1 draw Leander on, lest seas too high Bbuld stay his too obsequious destiny : n 10 like a fleering slavish parasite, I vvarping profit or a traitorous sleight, round his rotten body with devotes, Al pricks his descant face full of false notes ; T sing with open throat, and oaths as foul Mis false heart, the beauty of an owl ; Kissing his skipping hand with charmed skips, That cannot leave, but leaps upon his lips Like a cock-sparrow, or a shameless quean Sharp at a red-lipped youth, and nought doth mean Of all his antic shows, but doth repair More tender fawns, and takes a scattered hair From his tame subject's shoulder ; whips and calls For every thing he lacks ; creeps 'gainst the walls With backward humbless, to give needless way: Thus his false fate did with Leander play. First to black Eurus flies the white Leu- cote, (Born 'mongst the negroes in the Levant sea, On whose curled head the glowing sun doth rise,) And shows the sovereign will of Destinies, To have him cease his blasts ; and down he lies. Next, to the fenny Notus course she holds, And found him leaning, with his arms in folds, Upon a rock, his white hair full of showers ; And him she chargeth by the fatal powers, To hold in his wet cheeks his cloudy voice. To Zephyr then that doth in flowers re- joice : To snake-foot Boreas next she did remove, And found him tossing of his ravished love, To heat his frosty bosom hid in snow ; Who with Leucote's sight did cease to blow. 224 hero and leaxder. Thus all were still to Hero's heart's de- sire; Who with all speed did consecrate a fire Of flaming gums and comfortable spice, To light her torch, which in such curious price She held, being object to Leander's sight, That nought but fires perfumed must give it light. She loved it so, she grieved to see it burn, Since it would waste, and soon to ashes turn : Yet, if it burned not, 'twere not worth her eyes ; What made it nothing, gave it all the prize. Sweet torch, true glass of our society ! What man does good, but he consumes thereby? But thou wert loved for good, held high, given show ; Poor virtue loathed for good, obscured, held low: Do good, be pined, be deedless good, dis- graced ; Unless we feed on men, we let them fast. Yet Hero with these thoughts her torch did spend : When bees make wax, Nature doth not intend It should be made a torch ; but we, that know The proper virtue of it, make it so, And when 'tis made, we light it : nor did Nature Propose one life to maids ; but each such creature Makes by her soul the best of her true state, Which without love is rude, disconsolate, And wants love's fire to make it mild and bright, Till when, maids are but torches wanting light. Thus 'gainst our grief, not cause of grief, we fight : The right of nought is gleaned, but the j delight. Up went she : but to tell how she de- scended, Would God she were not dead, or my verse ended ! She was the rule of wishes, sum, and end, Eor all the parts that did on love depend : Yet cast the torch his brightness further forth ; But what shines nearest best, holds truest worth. torch, although it lighted Leander did not through such tempests swim To kiss the him : But all his powers in her desires awaked, Her love and virtues clothed him richly naked. Men kiss but fire that only shows pursue ; Her torch and Hero, figure show and virtue. Now at opposed Abydos nought was heard But bleating flocks, and many a bellowing herd, Slain for the nuptials ; cracks of falling woods ; Blows of broad axes ; pourings out of floods. The guilty Hellespont was mixed and stained With bloody torrent that the shambles rained ; Not arguments of feast, but shows that bled, Foretelling that red night that followed. More blood was spilt, more honours wen addrest, Than could have graced any happy feast; Rich banquets, triumphs, every pomp em ploys His sumptuous hand ; no miser's nuptk joys. Air felt continual thunder with the noise Made in the general marriage-violence; And no man knew the cause ot this e pense, But the two hapless lords, Leander's sire, And poor Leander, poorest where the fire Of credulous love made him most rich si mised : As short was he of that himself so prized, As is an empty gallant full of form, That thinks each look an act, each droj storm, That falls from his brave breathings ; n brought up In our metropolis, and hath his cup Brought after him to feasts ; and much r bears For his rare judgment in the at wears ; Hath seen the hot Low Countries, not heat, Observes their rampires and their buil( yet; And, for your sweet discourse with mc is heard Giving instructions with his very beard Hath gone with an ambassador, and I A great man's mate in travelling, e\ Rhene ; HERO AND LEANDER. 225 And then puts all his worth in such a face (\s he saw brave men make, and strives for grace ro get his news forth : as when you descry A ship, with all her sail contends to fly Dut of the narrow Thames with winds unapt, Now crosseth here, now there, then this way rapt, And then hath one point reached, then alters all, And to another crooked reach doth fall Of half a bird -bolt's shoot, keeping more coil Than if she danced upon the ocean's toil ; So serious is his trifling company, In all his swelling ship of vacantry. And so short of himself in his high thought Was our Leander in his fortunes brought, And in his fort of love that he thought won ; But otherwise he scorns comparison. Oh, sweet Leander, thy large worth I hide n a short grave ! ill-favoured storms must chide :"hy sacred favour : I in floods of ink 'ust drown thy graces, which white papers drink, ven as thy beauties did the foul black seas ; ust describe the hell of thy decease, at heaven did merit : yet I needs must see painted fools and cockhorse peasantry 11, still usurp, with long lives, loves, and lust, e scats of Virtue cutting short as dust r dear-bought issue: ill to worse con- verts, tramples in the blood of all deserts. fight close and silent now goesfast before I tains and the soldiers to the shore, 1 attended the appointed fleet is' bay, that should Leander meet. RM> feigned he in another ship would pass? must not be, for no one mean there Kvas Ioket his love home, but the course he lid his beauty for his beauty look, vnihaw her through her torch, as you be- n inies within the sun a face of gold, I in strong thoughts, by that tradi- jn's force, JiaLays a god sits there and guides his •urse. His sister was with him; to whom he shewed His guide by sea, and said, ' ' Oft have you viewed In one heaven many stars, but never yet In one star many heavens till now were met. See, lovely sister ! see, now Hero shines, No heaven but her appears ; each star re- pines, And all are clad in clouds as if they mourned To be by influence of earth out-burned. Yet doth she shine, and teacheth Virtue's train Still to be constant in hell's blackest reign, Though even the gods themselves do so en- treat them As they did hate, and earth as she would eat them." Off went his silken robe, and in he leapt, Whom the kind waves so licorously cleapt, Thickening for haste, one in another, so, To kiss his skin, that he might almost go To Hero's tower, had that kind minute lasted. But now the cruel Fates with Ate hasted To all the Winds, and made them battle fight Upon the Hellespont, for either 's right Pretended to the windy monarchy ; And forth they brake, the seas mixed with the sky, And tossed distressed Leander, being in hell, As high as heaven : bliss not in height doth dwell. The Destinies sate dancing on the waves, To see the glorious Winds with mutual braves Consume each other : oh, true glass, to see How ruinous ambitious statists be To their own glories ! Poor Leander cried For help to sea-born Venus ; she denied, — ■ To Boreas, that, for his Atthaea's sake, He would some pity on his Hero take, And for his own love's sake, on his desires : But Glory never blows cold Pity's fires. Then called he Neptune, who, through all the noise, Knew with affright his wracked Leander 's voice, And up he rose ; for haste his forehead hit 'Gainst heaven's hard crystal ; his proud waves he smit With his forked sceptre, that could not obey ; Much greater powers than Neptune's gave them sway. Q 226 HERO AND LEANDER. They loved Leander so, in groans they brake When they came near him ; and such space did take 'Twixt one another, loth to issue on, That in their shallow furrows earth was shown, And the poor lover took a little breath : But the curst Fates sate spinning of his death On every wave, and with the servile Winds Tumbled them on him. And now Hero finds, By that she felt, her dear lender's state : She wept, and praved for him to every Fate; And every wind that whipped her with her hair About the face, she kissed and spake it fair, Kneeled to it, gave it drink out of her eyes To quench his thirst : but still their cruel- ties Even her poor torch envied, and rudely beat The bating flame from that dear food it eat ; Dear, for it nourished her Leander 's life, Which with her robe she rescued from their strife : But silk too soft was such hard hearts to break ; And she, dear soul, even as her silk, faint, weak, Could not preserve it ; out, oh, out it went ! Leander still called Neptune, that now rent His brackish curls, and tore his wrinkled face, Where tears in billows did each other chase ; And, burst with ruth, he hurled his marble mace At the stern Fates : it wounded Lachesis That drew Leander's thread, and could not miss The thread itself, as it her hand did hit, But smote it full, and quite did sunder it. The more kind Neptune raged, the more he rased His love's life's fort, and killed as he em- braced : Anger doth still his own mishap increase ; If any comfort live, it is in peace. Oh, thievish Fates, to let blood, flesh, and sense, Build two fair temples for their excellence, To rob it with a poisoned influence ! Though souls' gifts starve, the bodies are held dear In ugliest things; sense-sport preserves a bear : But here nought serves our turns : oh, heaven and earth, How most most wretched is our human birth ! And now did all the tyrannous crew depart, Knowing there was a storm in Hero's heart, Greater than they could make, and scorned their smart. She bowed herself so low out of her tower, That wonder 'twas she fell not ere her hour, With searching the lamenting waves for him : Like a poor snail, her gentle supple limb Hung on her turret's top, so much down- right, As she would dive beneath the darkness quite, To find her jewel ;— jewel ! — her Leander, A name of all earth's jewels pleased not her Like his dear name: "Leander, still my choice, Come nought but my Leander ! Oh, my voice, Turn to Leander ! henceforth be all sounds, Accents, and phrases, that show all griefs' wounds, Analysed in Leander! Oh, black change! Trumpets, do you with thunder of yoar clange, Drive out this change's horror ! My voice faints : Where all joy was, now shriek out all com- plaints !" Thus cried she ; for her mixed soul could tell Her love was dead : and when the Morning fell Prostrate upon the weeping earth for woe, Blushes, that bled out of her cheeks, did show Leander brought by Neptune, bruised and torn Writh cities' ruins he to rocks had worn. To filthy usuring rocks, that would hate blood, Though they could get of him no other good. She saw him, and the sight was much, mock more Than might have served to kill her: should her store Of giant sorrows speak? [No]— burst- die, — bleed, And leave poor plaints to us that sh succeed. She fell on her love's bosom, hugged it fas And with Leander's name she breathed be last. HERO AND LEANDER. 227 Neptune for pity in his arms did take them, Flung them into the air, and did awake them Like two sweet birds, surnamed th' Acan- thides, Which we call Thistle-warps, that near no seas Dare ever come, but still in couples fly, And feed on thistle-tops, to testify The hardness of their first life in their last ; The first, in thorns of love, that sorrows past : And so much beautiful their colours show, As none (so little) like them ; her sad brow A sable velvet feather covers quite, Even like the forehead-cloth that, in the night, Or when they sorrow, ladies use to wear : Their wings, blue, red, and yellow, mixed appear ; Colours that, as we construe colours, paint Their states to life ;— the yellow shows their saint, The dainty Venus, left them; blue, their truth ; The red and black, ensigns of death and ruth. And this true honour from their love-death sprung, — They were the first that ever poet sung. 1 ■ Ovid's Elegies. P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM. LIBER PRIMUS. Elegia I. Quemadmodum a Cupidine, pro bellis amoris scribere coactus sit. We which were Ovid's five books, now are three, For these before the rest preferreth he : If reading five thou 'plain'st of tediousness, Two ta'en away, the labour will be less ; With Muse prepared, I meant to sing of arms, Choosing a subject fit for fierce alarms : Both verses were alike till Love (men say) Began to smile and took one foot away. Rash boy, who gave thee power to change a line? We are the Muses' prophets, none of thine. What, if thy mother take Diana's bow, Shall Dian fan when love begins to glow ? In woody groves is't meet that Ceres reign, And quiver-bearing Dian till the plain? Who'll set the fair-tressed Sun in battle 'ray, While Mars doth take the Aonian harp to play ? Great are thy kingdoms, over-strong and large, Ambitious imp, why seek'st thou further charge? Are all things thine? the Muses' Tempe thine ? Then scarce can Phoebus say, ' ' This harp is mine." When in this work's first verse I trod aloft, Love slacked my muse, and made my number soft : I have no mistress nor no favourite, Being fittest matter for a wanton wit. Thus I complained, but love unlocked his quiver, Took out the shaft, ordained my heart to shiver, And bent his sinewy bow upon his knee, Saying, "Poet, here's a work beseeming thee." Oh, woe is me ! he never shoots but hits, I burn, love in my idle bosom sits : Let my first verse be six, my last five feet ; Farewell stern war, for blunter poets meet! Elegian muse, that warblest amorous lays. Girt my shine brow with seabank myrtle sprays. Elegia II. Quod primo amore correptus, in triumphum duci se a Cupidine patiatur. What makes my bed seem hard seeing it is soft? Or why slips down the coverlet so oft ? Although the nights be long I sleep not tho' My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro, Were love the cause it's like I should descry him, Or lies he close and shoots where none car spy him ? 'Twas so he struck me with a slender dart ; 'Tis cruel Love turmoils my captive heart. Yielding or struggling do we give hin might, Let's yield, a burden easily borne is light. I saw a brandished fire increase in strength Which being not shak'd, I saw it die s length. Young oxen newly yoked are beaten more Than oxen which have drawn the ploug before : And rough jades' mouths with stubboi bits are torn, But managed horses' heads are light borne. Unwilling lovers, love doth more torment Than such as in their bondage feci co tent. Lo ! I confess, I am thy captive I, And hold my conquered hands for thee tie. 1 OVID'S ELEGIES. 229 What need'st thou war ? I sue to thee for grace : With arms to conquer armless men is base. Yoke Venus' Doves, put myrtle on thy hair, Vulcan will give thee chariots rich and fair : The people thee applauding, thou shalt stand, Guiding the harmless pigeons with thy hand. Young men and women shalt thou lead as thrall, So will thy ;riumph seem magnifical ; I, lately caught, will have a new made wound, And captive-like be manacled and bound : Good meaning, Shame, and such as seek love's wrack Shall follow thee, their hands tied at their back. Thee all shall fear, and worship as a king 16 triumphing shall thy people sing. Smooth speeches, Fear and Rage shall by thee ride, Which troops have always been on Cupid's side : Thou with these soldiers conquer 'st gods and men, Take these away, where is thine honour then? Thy mother shall from heaven applaud this show, And on their faces heaps of roses strow, With beauty of thy wings, thy fair hair gilded, Ride golden Love in chariots richly builded ! Unless I err, full many shalt thou burn, And give wounds infinite at every turn. In spite of thee, forth will thine arrows fly, scorching flame burns all the standers by. having conquered Inde, was Bacchus hue; hee pompous birds and him two tigers drew ; hen seeing I grace thy show in following thee, orbear to hurt thyself in spoiling me. ehold thy kinsman Caesar's prosperous bands, 'ho guards thee conquered with his con- l quering hands. Elegia III. Ad amicam. I sk but right, let her that caught me late, 1 her love, or cause that I may never hate ; I ask too much — would she but let me love her ; Jove knows with such like prayers I daily move her. Accept him that will serve thee all his youth, Accept him that will love with spotless truth. If lofty titles cannot make me thine, That am descended but of knightly line, (Soon may you plough the little land I have ; I gladly grant my parents given to save ;) Apollo, Bacchus, and the Muses may ; And Cupid who hath marked me for thy prey; My spotless life, which but to gods gives place, Naked simplicity, and modest grace. I love but one, and her I love change never, If men have faith, I'll live with thee for ever. The years that fatal Destiny shall give I'll live with thee, and die ere thou shalt grieve. Be thou the happy subject of my books That I may write things worthy thy fair looks. By verses, horned 16 got her name ; And she to whom in shape of swan Jove came ; And she that on a feigned Bull swam to land, Griping his false horns with her virgin hand, So likewise we will through the world be rung And with my name shall thine be always sung. Elegia IV. Amicam, qua arte quibusque nutibus in caena, presente viro, uti debeat, admonet. Thy husband to a banquet goes with me, Pray God it may his latest supper be. Shall I sit gazing as a bashful guest, While others touch the damsel I love best? Wilt lying under him, his bosom clip ? About thy neck shall he at pleasure skip ? Marvel not, though the fair bride did incite j The drunken Centaurs to a sudden fight. I am no half horse, nor in woods I dwell, Yet scarce my hands from thee contain I well. 23° OVID'S ELEGIES. But how thou should'st behave thyself now know, Nor let the winds away my warnings blow. Before thy husband come, though I not see "What may be done, yet there before him be. Lie with him gently, when his limbs he spread Upon the bed, but on my foot first tread. View me, my becks, and speaking coun- tenance ; Take, and return each secret amorous glance. Words without voice shall on my eyebrows sit, Lines thou shalt read in wine by my hand writ. When our lascivious toys come to thy mind, Thy rosy cheeks be to thy thumb inclined. If aught of me thou speak'st in inward thought, Let thy soft finger to thy ear be brought. When I, my light, do or say aught that please thee, Turn round thy gold ring, as it were to ease thee. Strike on the board like them that pray for evil, When thou dost wish thy husband at the devil. What wine he fills thee, wisely will him drink, Ask thou the boy, what thou enough dost think. When thou hast tasted, I will take the cup, And where thou drink 'st, on that part I will sup. If he gives thee what first himself did taste, Even in his face his offered gobbets cast. Let not thy neck by his vile arms be prest, Nor lean thy soft head on his boisterous breast. Thy bosom's roseate buds let him not finger, Chiefly on thy lips let not his lips linger. If thou givest kisses, I shall all disclose, Say they are mine, and hands on thee impose. Yet this I'll see, but if thy gown aught cover, Suspicious fear in all my veins will hover. Mingle not thighs, nor to his leg join thine, Nor thy soft foot with his hard foot com- bine. I have been wanton, therefore am perplexed, And with mistrust of the like measure vexed. I and my wench oft under clothes did lurk, When pleasure moved us to our sweetest work. Do not thou so; but throw thy mantle hence, Lest I should think thee guilty of offence. Entreat thy husband drink, but do not kiss, And while he drinks, to add more do not miss ; If he lies down with wine and sleep opprest, The thing and place shall counsel us the rest. When to go homewards we rise all along Have care to walk in middle of the throng. There will I find thee or be found by thee, There touch whatever thou canst touch of me. Ah me! I warn what profits some few hours, But we must part, when heaven with black night lours. At night thy husband clips thee: I will weep And to the doors sight of thyself [will] keep : Then will he kiss thee, and not only kiss, But force thee give him my stolen honey bliss. Constrained against thy will give it the pea- sant, Forbear sweet words, and be your sport un- pleasant. To him I pray it no delight may bring, Or if it do, to thee no joy thence spring. But, though this night thy fortune be to try it, To me to-morrow constantly deny it. Elegia V. Corinnae concubitus. In summer's heat, and mid-time of the day, To rest my limbs, upon a bed I lay ; One window shut, the other open stood, Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood, Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun, Or night being past, and yet not day begun Such light to shamefaced maidens must b< shown Where they may sport, and seem to be un known : Then came Corinna in her long loose gown Her white neck hid with tresses h'angin down, Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed, I Or Lais of a thousand wooers sped. OVID'S ELEGIES. 231 I snatched her gown being thin, the harm was small, Yet strived she to be covered therewithal, And striving thus as one that would be cast, Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last. Stark naked as she stood before mine eye, Not one wen in her body could I spy. What arms and shoulders did I touch and see, How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me. How smooth a belly under her waist saw I, How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh. To leave the rest, all liked me passing well ; I dinged her naked body, down she fell : Judge you the rest, being tired she bade me kiss ; Jove send me more such afternoons as this ! Elegia VI. Ad Janitorem, ut fores sibi aperiat. Unworthy porter, bound in chains full sore, On mov£d hooks set ope the churlish door. Little I ask, a little entrance make, The gate half-ope my bent side in will take. Long love my body to such use makes slender, And to get out doth like apt members render. He shows rne how unheard to pass the watch, And guides my feet lest stumbling falls they catch : But in times past I feared vain shades, and night, Wondering if any walked without light. Love, hearing ii, laughed with his tender mother, And smiling said, "Be thou as bold as other." Forthwith love came, no dark night-flying sprite, STor hands prepared to slaughter, me affright. Thee fear I too much : only thee I flatter : Thy lightning can my life in pieces batter. iVhyenviest me? this hostile den unbar, iee how the gates with my tears watered are. Vhen thou stood'st naked ready to be beat ior thee I did thy mistress fair entreat. 1 ut what entreats for thee sometimes took place, i ) mischief!) now for me obtain small grace ; atis thou mayest be free; give like for • like ; ght goes away : the door's bar backward strike. Strike ; so again hard chains shall bind thee never, Nor servile water shalt thou drink for ever. Hard-hearted Porter, dost and wilt not hear? With stiff oak propped the gate doth still appear. Such rampired gates besieged cities aid, In midst of peace why art of arms afraid ? Exclud'st a lover, how would'st use a foe ? Strike back the bar, night fast away doth go. With arms or armed men I come not guarded, I am alone, were furious love discarded. Although I would, I cannot him cashier, Before I be divided from my gear. See Love with me, wine moderate in my brain, And on my hairs a crown of flowers remain. Who fears these arms ? who will not go to meet them ? Night runs away ; with open entrance greet them. Art careless ? or is't sleep forbids thee hear, Giving the winds my words running in thine ear? Well I remember when I first did hire thee, Watching till after midnight did not tire thee. But now perchance thy wench with thee doth rest, Ah, how thy lot is above my lot blest : Though it be so, shut me not out there- fore, Night goes away : I pray thee ope the door. Err we ? or do the turned hinges sound, And opening doors with creaking noise abound ? We err : a strong blast seemed the gates to ope: Ah me, how high that gale did lift my hope! If, Boreas, bear'st Orithyia's rape in mind, Come break these deaf doors with thy bois- terous wind. Silent the city is : night's dewy host March fast away: the bar strike from the post. Or I more stern than fire or sword will turn, And with my brand these gorgeous houses burn. Night, love, and wine to all extremes per- suade : Night, shameless wine, and love are fearless made. All have I spent : no threats or prayers move thee, O harder than the doors thou guard'st I prove thee ! No pretty wench's keeper may'st thou be, The careful prison is more meet for thee. 232 OVID'S ELEGIES. Now frosty night her flight begins to take, And crowing cocks poor souls to work awake. But thou my crown from sad hairs ta'en away, On this hard threshold till the morning lay. That when my mistress there beholds thee cast, She may perceive how we the time did waste. Whate'er thou art, farewell, be like me pained ! Careless farewell, with my fault not dis- tained ! And farewell cruel posts, rough threshold's block, And doors conjoined with an hard iron lock! Elegia VII. Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat. Bind fast my hands, they have deserved chains, While rage is absent, take some friend the pains. For rage against my wench moved my rash arm, My mistress weeps whom my mad hand did harm. I might have then my parents dear misused, Or holy gods with cruel strokes abused. Why, Ajax, master of the seven-fold shield, Butchered the flocks he found in spacious field. And he who on his mother venged his ire, Against the Destinies durst sharp darts re- quire. Could I therefore her comely tresses tear? Yet was she graced with her ruffled hair. So fair she was, Atalanta she resembled, Before whose bow the Arcadian wild beasts trembled. Such Ariadne was, when she bewails, Her perjured Theseus' flying vows and sails. So, chaste Minerva, did Cassandra fall Deflowered except within thy temple wall. That I was mad, and barbarous all men cried, She nothing said, pale fear her tongue had tied. But secretly her looks with checks did trounce me, Her tears, she silent, guilty did pronounce me. Would of mine arms my shoulders had been scanted : Better I could part of myself have wanted. To mine own self have I had strength so furious, And to myself could I be so injurious ? Slaughter and mischief's instruments, no better, Deserved chains these cursed hands shall fetter. Punished I am, if I a Roman beat ; Over my mistress is my right more great ? Tydides left worse signs of villainy, He first a goddess struck; another I. Yet he harmed less; whom I professed to love I harmed : a foe did Diomede's anger move. Go now thou conqueror, glorious triumphs raise, Pay vows to Jove ; engirt thy hairs with bays. And let the troops which shall thy chariot follow, "15, a strong man conquered this wench," hollow. Let the sad captive foremost, with locks spread On her white neck but for hurt cheeks, be led. Meeter it were her lips were blue with kissing, And on her neck a wanton's mark not miss- ing. But, though I like a swelling flood was driven, And as a prey unto blind anger given, Was't not enough the fearful wench to chide ? Nor thunder, in rough threatenings, haughty pride ? Nor shamefully her coat pull o'er her crown, Which to her waist her girdle still kept down! But cruelly her tresses having rent, My nails to scratch her lovely cheeks I bent Sighing she stood, her bloodless white look showed, Like marble from the Parian mountain. hewed. Her half dead joints, and trembling limbs saw, Like poplar leaves blown with a storm flaw. Or slender ears, with gentle zephyr shaker Or waters' tops with the warm south-win taken. And down her cheeks, the trickling tea did flow, Like water gushing from consuming snow Then first I did perceive I had offended, My blood the tears were that from h descended. Before her feet thrice prostrate down I My feared hands thrice back she did n OVID'S ELEGIES. 233 But doubt thou not (revenge doth grief appease), With thy sharp nails upon my face to seize ; Bescratch mine eyes, spare not my locks to break, (Anger will help thy hands though ne'er so weak.) And lest the sad signs of my crime remain, Put in their place the kembed hairs again. Elegia VIII. Execratur lenam quae puellam suam meretricis arte instituebat. There is — whoe'er will know a bawd aright, Give ear — there is an old trot, Dipsas hight. Her name comes from the thing : she being wise, Sees not the morn on rosy horses rise. She magic arts and Thessal charms doth know, And makes large streams back to their fountains flow ; She knows with grass, with threads on wrung wheels spun, And what with mares' rank humour may be done. When she will, clouds the darkened heaven obscure, When she will, day shines every where most pure. If I have faith, I saw the stars drop blood, The purple moon with sanguine visage stood ; -ler I suspect among night's spirits to fly, Vnd her old body in birds' plumes to lie. arae saith as I suspect, and in her eyes, \vo eyeballs shine, and double light thence flies, reat-grandsires from their ancient graves she chides, nd with long charms the solid earth divides. ie draws chaste women to incontinence, or doth her tongue want harmful eloquence. r chance I heard her talk ; these words she said, hile closely hid betwixt two doors I laid. Mistress, thou knowest thou hast a blest youth pleased, - ■ stayed and on thy looks his gazes seized. • d why should'st not please ; none thy face exceeds, , 1 me, thy body hath no worthy weeds ! * thou art fair, would thou wert fortunate ! ; » rt thou rich, poor should not be my state. Th' opposed star of Mars hath done thee harm, Now Mars is gone, Venus thy side doth warm, And brings good fortune ; a rich lover plants His love on thee, and can supply thy wants. Such is his form as may with thine com- pare, Would he not buy thee, thou for him should'st care." She blushed : "Red shame becomes white cheeks, but this If feigned, doth well ; if true, it doth amiss. When on thy lap thine eyes thou dost deject, Each one according to his gifts respect. Perhaps the Sabines rude, when Tatius reigned, To yield their love to more than one dis- dained. Now Mars doth rage abroad without all pity, And Venus rules in her ^Eneas' city. Fair women play : she's chaste whom none will have Or, but for bashfulness, herself would crave. Shake off these wrinkles that thy front assault ; Wrinkles in beauty is a grievous fault. Penelope in bows her youths' strength tried, Of horn the bow was that approved their side. Time flying slides hence closely, and de- ceives us, And with swift horses the swift year soon leaves us. Brass shines with use ; good garments would be worn ; Houses not dwelt in, are with filth forlorn. Beauty not exercised with age is spent, Nor one or two men are sufficient. Many to rob is more sure, and less hateful, From dog-kept flocks come preys to wolves most grateful. Behold, what gives the poet but new verses? And therefore many thousand he rehearses. The poet's god arrayed in robes of gold, Of his gilt harp the well-tuned strings doth hold. Let Homer yield to such as presents bring, (Trust me) to give, it is a witty thing. Nor, so thou may'st obtain a wealthy prize, The vain name of inferior slaves despise. Nor let the arms of ancient lines beguile thee ; Poor lover, with thy grandsires I exile thee. Who seeks, for being fair, a night to have, What he will give, with greater instance crave. 234 OVID'S ELEGIES. Make a small price, while thou thy nets dost lay; Lest they should fly ; being ta'en, the tyrant play. Dissemble so, as loved he may be thought, And take heed, lest he gets that love for naught. Deny him oft ; feign now thy head doth ache : And Isis now will show what 'scuse to make. Receive him soon, lest patient use he gain, Or lest his love oft beaten back should wane. To beggars shut, to bringers ope thy gate ; Let him within hear barred-out lovers prate. And as first wronged the wronged sometimes banish ; Thy fault with his fault so repulsed will vanish. But never give a spacious time to ire, Anger delayed doth oft to hate retire. And let thine eyes constrained learn to weep, That this, or that man may thy cheeks moist keep. Nor, if thou cozenest one, dread to forswear, Venus to mocked men lends a senseless ear. Servants fit for thy purpose thou must hire, To teach thy lover what thy thoughts desire. Let them ask somewhat, many asking little, Within a while great heaps grow of a tittle, And sister, nurse, and mother spare him not, By many hands great wealth is quickly got. When causes fail thee to require a gift By keeping of thy birth, make but a shift. Beware lest he unrivalled loves secure, Take strife away, love doth not well endure. On all the bed men's tumbling let him view, And thy neck with lascivious marks made blue. Chiefly show him the gifts, which others' send : If he gives nothing, let him from thee wend. When thou hast so much as he gives no more, Pray him to lend what thou may'st ne'er restore. Let thy tongue flatter, while thy mind harm works, Under sweet honey deadly poison lurks. If this thou dost to me by long use known, (Nor let my words be with the winds hence • blown,) Oft thou wilt say, 'live well,' thou wilt pray oft, That my dead bones may in their grave lie soft." As thus she spake, my shadow me be- trayed, With much ado my hands I scarcely stayed ; But her blear eyes, bald scalp's thin hoary fleeces. And rivelled cheeks I would have pulled a-pieces. The gods send thee no house, a poor old age, Perpetual thirst, and winter's lasting rage. Elegia IX. Ad Atticum, amantem non oportere desidiosum esse, sicuti nee militem. All lovers war, and Cupid hath his tent, Attic, all lovers are to war far sent, What age fits Mars, with Venus doth agree, 'Tis shame for eld in war or love to be. What years in soldiers captains do require, Those in their lovers pretty maids desire. Both of them watch: each on the hard earth sleeps : His mistress' door this; that his captain': keeps. Soldiers must travel far: the wench fortl send, Her valiant lover follows without end. Mounts, and rain-doubled floods he passet' over, And treads the desert snowy heaps d cover. Going to sea, east winds he doth n( chide, Nor to hoist sail attends fit time and tide. Who but a soldier or a lover is bold, To suffer storm-mixed snows with night sharp cold ? One as a spy doth to his enemies go, The other eyes his rival as his foe. He cities great, this thresholds lies before This breaks town gates, but he his mistre door. Oft to invade the sleeping foe 'tis good, And armed to shed unarmed peopl blood. So the fierce troops of Thracian Rhe fell, And captive horses bade their lord farew Sooth, lovers watch till sleep the husbc charms, Who slumbering, they rise up in swell arms. The keeper's hands and corps-du-gard pass, The soldier's, and poor lover's work • was. Doubtful is war and love; the vanquis rise, And who thou never think 'st should down lies. OVID'S ELEGIES. 235 Therefore whoe'er love slothfulness doth call, Let him surcease : love tries wit best of all. Achilles burned, Briseis being ta'en away, Trojans destroy the Greek wealth, while you may. Hector to arms went from his wife's em- braces, And on Andromache his helmet laces. Great Agamemnon was, men say amazed, On Priam's loose-trest daughter when he gazed. Mars in the deed the blacksmith's net did stable, In heaven was never more notorious fable. Myself was dull and faint, to sloth inclined Pleasure, and ease had mollified my mind. A fair maid's care expelled this sluggish- ness, And to her tents willed me myself address. Since may'st thou see me watch and night- wars move : e that will not grow slothful, let him love. Elegia X. Ad puellam, ne pro amore praemia poscat. 3uch as the cause was of two husbands' war, .Yhorn Trojan ships fetched from Europa far, uch as was Leda, whom the god deluded 1 snow-white plumes of a false swan in- cluded, uch as Amymone through the dry fields strayed, Tien on her head a water pitcher laid. ich wert thou, and I feared the bull and , eagle, id whate'er Love made Jove, should thee inveigle. )\v all fear with my mind's hot love abates : -> more this beauty mine eyes captivates. ; -c'st why I change ? because thou crav'st [ reward; Tis cause hath thee from pleasing me debarred. Viile thou wert plain I loved thy mind and 1 face: inward faults thy outward form dis- grace. e is a naked boy, his years saunce stain, U hath no clothes, but open doth re- main. you for gain have Cupid sell himself? H}hath no bosom, where to hide base pelf. Love and Love's son are with fierce arms at odds; To serve for pay beseems not wanton gods. The whore stands to be bought for each man's money, And seeks vile wealth by selling of her coney. Yet greedy bawd's command she curseth still, And doth, constrained, what you do of good- will. Take from irrational beasts a precedent, 'Tis shame their wits should be more excel- lent. The mare asks not the horse, the cow the bull, Nor the mild ewe gifts from the ram doth pull. Only a woman gets spoils from a man, Farms out herself on nights for what she can. And lets what both delight, what both desire, Making her joy according to her hire. The sport being such, as both alike sweet try it, Why should one sell it and the other buy it ? Why should I lose, and thou gain by the pleasure, Which man and woman reap in equal measure ? Knights of the post of perjuries make sale, The unjust judge for bribes becomes a stale. 'Tis shame sold tongues the guilty should defend, Or great wealth from a judgment-seat ascend. 'Tis shame to grow rich by bed merchan- dize, Or prostitute thy beauty for bad price. Thanks worthily are due for things un- bought, For beds ill-hired we are indebted nought. The hirer payeth all ; his rent discharged, From further duty he rests then enlarged. Fair dames forbear rewards for nights to crave : Ill-gotten goods good end will never have. The Sabine gauntlets were too dearly won, That unto death did press the holy nun. The son slew her, that forth to meet him went, And a rich necklace caused that punish- ment. Yet think no scorn to ask a wealthy churl ; He wants no gifts into thy lap to hurl. Take clustered grapes from an o 'er-laden vine, May bounteous love Alcinous' fruit resign. 236 OVID'S ELEGIES. Let poor men show their service, faith and care ; All for their mistress, what they have, pre- pare. In verse to praise kind wenches 'tis my part. And whom I like eternise by mine art. Garments do wear, jewels and gold do waste, The fame that verse gives doth for ever last. To give I love, but to be asked disdain ; Leave asking, and I'll give what I refrain. Elegia XL Napen alloquitur, ut paratas tabellas ad Corinnam perferat. In skilful gathering ruffled hairs in order, Nape, free-born, whose cunning hath no border, Thy service for night's scapes is known commodious, And to give signs dull wit to thee is odious. Corinna clips me oft by thy persuasion : Never to harm me made thy faith evasion. Receive these lines ; them to my mistress carry ; Be sedulous ; let no stay cause thee tarn', Nor flint nor iron are in thy soft breast, But pure simplicity in thee doth rest. And 'tis supposed Love's bow hath wounded thee ; Defend the ensigns of thy war in me. If what I do, she asks, say "hope for night ;" The rest my hand doth in my letters write. Time passeth while I speak ; give her my writ, But see that forthwith she peruseth it. I charge thee mark her eyes and front in reading : By speechless looks we guess at things suc- ceeding. Straight being read, will her to write much back, I hate fair paper should writ matter lack. Let her make verses and some blotted letter On the last edge to stay mine eyes the better. What need she tire her hand to hold the quill ?. Let this word " Come," alone the tables fill. Then with triumphant laurel will I grace them And in the midst of Venus' temple place them, Subscribing, that to her I consecrate My faithful tables, being vile maple late. Elegia XII. Tabellas quas miserat execratur quod arnica noctem negabat Bewail my chance : the sad book is returned, This day denial hath my sport adjourned. Presages are not vain ; when she departed, Nape, by stumbling on the threshold, started. Going out again, pass forth the door more wisely, And somewhat higher bear thy foot pre- cisely. Hence luckless tables ! funeral wood, be flying ! And thou the wax stuffed full with notes denying ! Which I think gathered from cold hemlock'5 flower, Wherein bad honey Corsic bees did pour: Yet as if mixed with red lead thou wer ruddy, That colour rightly did appear so bloody. As evil wood, thrown in the highways, he, Be broke with wheels of chariots passing by And him that hewed you out for needn uses, I'll prove had hands impure with all abuse Poor wretches on the tree themselves di strangle : There sat the hangman for men's necks ' angle. To hoarse scrich-owls foul shadows allows ; Vultures and Furies nestled in the boughs To these my love I foolishly committed, And then with sweet words to my mistn fitted. More fitly had they wrangling bonds a tained From barbarous lips of some atton strained. Among day-books and bills they had 1 better, In which the merchant wails his bankr debtor. Your name approves you made for such things, The number two no good divining bring Angry, I pray that rotten age you racks And sluttish white-mould overgrow the v Elegia XIII. Ad Auroram ne properet. Now o'er the sea from her old love come II That draws the day from heaven's axletree. OVID'S ELEGIES. 237 Aurora, whither slid'st thou? down again! And birds from Memnon yearly shall be slain. Now in her tender arms I sweetly bide, If ever, now well lies she by my side. The air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now, And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough. Whither runn'st thou, that men and women love not ? Hold in thy rosy horses that they move not. Ere thou rise, stars teach seamen where to sail, But when thou com'st, they of their courses fail. Poor travellers though tired, rise at thy sight, And soldiers make them ready to the fight. The painful hind by thee to field is sent ; Slow oxen early in the yoke are pent. Thou coz'nest boys of sleep, and dost betray them To pedants that with cruel lashes pay them. Thou mak'st the surety to the lawyer run, That with one word hath nigh himself undone. The lawyer and the client hate thy view, joth whom thou raisest up to toil anew. 3y thy means women of their rest are barred, Thou set'st their labouring hands to spin and card. Ml could I bear ; but that the wench should rise, •Vho can endure, save him with whom none lies? low oft wished I night would not give thee place, or morning stars shun thy uprising face. ow oft that either wind would break thy coach, ds might fall, forced with thick clouds approach. hither go'st thou, hateful nymph ? Mem- non the elf 1 (1 his coal-black colour from thyself. a thy love with Cephalus were not known, 'en thinkest thou thy loose life is not shown. ^ >uld Tithon might but talk of thee awhile, le in heaven should be more base and vile. 1 »u leav'st his bed, because he's faint through age, early mount'st thy hateful carriage : 1st thou in thy arms some Cephalus, I n would 'st thou cry, ' ' Stay night, and run not thus." I Dost punish me because years make him wane, I did not bid thee wed an aged swain. The moon sleeps with Endymion every day, Thou art as fair as she, then kiss and play. Jove, that thou should'st not haste but wait his leisure, Made two nights one to finish up his plea- sure. I chid no more ; she blushed, and therefore heard me, Yet lingered not the day, but morning scared me. Elf.gia XIV. Puellam consolatur cui prse nimia cura comae desiderant. Leave colouring thy tresses, I did cry ; Now hast thou left no hairs at all to dye. But what had been more fair had they been kept? Beyond thy robes thy dangling locks had swept. Fear'dst thou to dress them being fine and thin, Like to the silk the curious Seres spin. Or threads which spider's slender foot draws out, Fastening her light web some old beam about. Not black, nor golden were they to our view, Yet although neither, mixed of cither's hue. Such as in hilly Ida's watery plains, The cedar tall spoiled of his bark retains. And they were apt to curl an hundred ways, And did to thee no cause of dolour raise. Nor hath the needle, or the comb's teeth reft them, The maid that kembed them ever safely left them. Oft was she dressed before mine eyes, yet never, Snatching the comb to beat the wench, out- drive her. Oft in the morn her hairs not yet digested, Half sleeping on a purple bed she rested ; Yet seemly like a Thracian Bacchanal, That tired doth rashly on the green grass fall. When they were slender and like downy moss, The troubled hairs, alas, endured great loss. How patiently hot irons they did take, In crooked trammels crispy curls to make. I cried, "'Tis sin, 'tis sin, these hairs to burn, They well become thee, then to spare them turn. 238 OVID'S ELEGIES. Far off be force, no fire to them may reach, Thy very hairs will the hot bodkin teach." Lost are the goodly locks, which from their crown, Phoebus and Bacchus wished were hanging down. Such were they as Diana painted stands, All naked holding in her wave-moist hands. Why dost thy jll-combed tresses' loss lament? Why in thy glass dost look, being discon- tent? Be not to see with wonted eyes inclined ; To please thyself, thyself put out of mind. No charmed herbs of any harlot scathed thee, No faithless witch in Thessal waters bathed thee. No sickness harmed thee (far be that away !) No envious tongue wrought thy thick locks' decay. By thine own hand and fault thy hurt doth grow, Thou mad'st thy head with compound poi- son flow. Now Germany shall captive hair-tires send thee, And vanquished people curious dressings lend thee. With some admiring, O thou oft wilt blush ! And say, ' ' He likes me for my borrowed bush. Praising for me some unknown Guelder dame, But I remember when it was my fame." Alas she almost weeps, and her white cheeks, Dyed red with shame to hide from shame she seeks. She holds, and views her old locks in her lap; Ah me ! rare gifts unworthy such a hap. Cheer up thyself, thy loss thou may'st re- pair, And be hereafter seen with native hair. Elegia XV. Ad invidos, quod fama poetarum sit perennis. Envy, why carp'st thou my time's spent so ill? And term'st my works fruits of an idle quill? Or that unlike the line from whence I sprung, War's dusty honours are refused being young ? Nor that I study not the brawling laws, Nor set my voice to sale in every cause? Thy scope is mortal ; mine, eternal fame. That all the world may ever chant my name. Homer shall live while Tenedos stands and Ide, Or to the sea swift Simois doth slide. Ascraeus lives while grapes with new wine swell, Or men with crooked sickles corn down fell. The world shall of Callimachus ever speak, His art excelled, although his wit was weak. For ever lasts high Sophocles' proud vein, With sun and moon Aratus shall remain. While bondmen cheat, fathers [be] hard, bawds whorish, And strumpets flatter, shall Menander flou- rish. Rude Ennius, and Plautus full of wit, Are both in Fame's eternal legend writ. What age of Varro's name shall not be told, And Jason's Argo, and the fleece of gold? Lofty Lucretius shall live that hour, That nature shall dissolve this earthly bower. ^Eneas' war and Tityrus shall be read, While Rome of all the conquered world is head. Till Cupid's bow, and fiery shafts be broken, Thy verses sweet Tibullus shall be spoken. And Gallus shall be known from East to West, So shall Lycoris whom he loved best. Therefore when flint and iron wear away, Verse is immortal and shall ne'er decay. To verse let kings give place and kingly .shows, And banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagr.s flows. Let base conceited wits admire vile things, Fair Phoebus lead me to the Muses' springs. About my head be quivering myrtle wound, And in sad lovers' heads let me be found. The living, not the dead, can envy bite, For after death all men receive their right Then though death rakes my bones in funeral fire, I'll live, and as he pulls me down mount higher. The same, by B. I. [Ben Jonson]. Envy, why twitt'st thou me, my time's spent ill? And call'st my verse fruits of an idle quill? Or that (unlike the line from whence I sprung) War's dusty honours I pursue not young ? Or that I study not the tedious laws ; And prostitute my voice in every cause? Thy scope is mortal ; mine eternal fame, Which through the world shall ev< my name. OVID'S ELEGIES. 239 Homer will live, whilst Tenedos stands, and Ide, Or to the sea, fleet Symois doth slide : And so shall Hesiod too, while vines do bear, Or crooked sickles crop the ripened ear ; Callimachus, though in invention low, Shall still be sung, since he in art doth flow. No less shall come to Sophocles' proud vein ; With sun and moon Aratus shall remain. While slaves be false, fathers hard, and bawds be whorish, While harlots flatter, shall Menander flourish. Ennius, though rude, and Accius' high- reared strain, A fresh applause in every age shall gain. Of Varro's name, what ear shall not be told? Of Jason's Argo, and the fleece of gold? Then, shall Lucretius' lofty numbers die, When earth, and seas in fire and flames shall fry. Tityrus, Tillage, ^Eney shall be read, Whilst Rome of all the conquered world is head. Till Cupid's fires be out, and his bow broken, Thy verses, neat Tibullus, shall be spoken. Our Gallus shall be known from East to West, So shall Lycoris, whom he now loves best. The suffering ploughshare or the flint may wear, But heavenly poesy no death can fear. Kings shall give place to it, and kingly shows, The banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows. Kneel hinds to trash : me let bright Phoebus swell, With cups full flowing from the Muses' well. The frost-drad myrtle shall impale my head, And of sad lovers I'll be often read. Envy the living, not the dead doth bite, For after death all men receive their right. Then when this body falls in funeral fire, My name shall live, and my best part aspire. P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM. LIBER SECUNDUS. Elegia I. Quod pro gigantomachia amores scribere sit coactus. I, Ovid, poet, of my wantonness, Born at Peligny, to write more address. So Cupid wills. Far hence be the severe ! You are unapt my looser lines to hear. Let maids whom hot desire to husbands lead, And rude boys, touched with unknown love, me read : That some youth hurt, as I am, with Love's bow, His own flame's best acquainted signs may know. And long admiring say, ' ' By what means learned, Hath this same poet my sad chance dis- cern'd?" I durst the great celestial battles tell, Hundred-hand Gyges, and had done it well ; With Earth's revenge, and how Olympus top High Ossa bore, Mount Pelion up to prop ; Jove and Jove's thunderbolts I had in hand, Which for his heaven fell on the giants' band. My wench her door shut, Jove's affairs I left, Even Jove himself out of my wit was reft. Pardon me, Jove! thy weapons aid me nought, Her shut gates greater lightning than thine brought. Toys and light elegies my darts I took, Quickly soft words hard doors wide-open strook. Verses reduce the horned bloody moon, And call the sun's white horses back at noon. Snakes leap by verse from caves of broken mountains, And turned streams run backward to their fountains. Verses ope doors; and locks put in the post, Although of oak, to yield to verses boast ; What helps it me of fierce Achill to sing ? What good to me will either Ajax bring ? Or he who warred and wandered twenty year? Or woful Hector whom wild horses tear ? But when I praise a pretty wench's face, She in requital doth me oft embrace. A great reward ! Heroes of famous names Farewell ! your favour naught my mind in- flames. Wenches apply your fair looks to my verse, Which golden Love doth unto me rehearse. Elegia II. Ad Bagoum, ut custodiam puellae sibi commissae laxiorem habeat. Bagous, whose care doth thy mistress bridle, While I speak some few, yet fit words, be idle. I saw the damsel walking yesterday, There, where the porch doth Danaus' fact display : She pleased me soon, I sent, and did her woo, Her trembling hand writ back she might not do. And asking why, this answer she redoubled, Because thy care too much thy mistress troubled. Keeper, if thou be wise, cease hate to cherish, Believe me, whom we fear, we wish to perish. Nor is her husband wise: what needs de- fence, When unprotected there is no expense? But furiously he follow his love's fire, And thinks her chaste whom many d( desire : Stolen liberty she may by thee obtain, Which giving her, she may give thee again Wilt thou her fault learn ? she may mak thee tremble. Fear to be guilty, then thou may'st di: semble. Think when she reads, her mother lei sent her : Let him go forth known, that unknown d enter. Let him go see her though she do n languish, And then report her sick and full of anguis OVID'S ELEGIES. 241 If long she stays, to think the time more short, Lay down thy forehead in thy lap to snort. Enquire not what with [sis may be done, Nor fear lest she to the theatres ran. Knowing her scapes, thine honour shall in- crease ; And what less labour than to hold thy peace ? Let him please, haunt the house, be kindly used, Enjoy the wench ; let all else be refused. Vain causes feign of him, the true to hide, And what she likes, let both hold ratified. When most her husband bends the brows and frowns, His fawning wench with her desire he crowns. But yet sometimes to chide thee let her fall Counterfeit tears : and thee lewd hangman call. Object thou then, what she may well excuse, To stain all faith in truth, by false crimes' use. Of wealth and honour so shall grow thy heap: Do this, and soon thou shalt thy freedom reap. ■ On t tell-tales' necks thou seest the link-knit chains, ^The filthy prison faithless breasts restrains. Water in waters, and fruit flying touch Tantalus seeks, his long tongue's gain is such. !While Juno's watchman Id too much eyed, Him timeless death took, she was deified. I saw one's legs with fetters black and blue, '.v whom the husband his wife's incest knew : ore he deserved ; to both great harm he framed, e man did grieve, the woman was de- famed. t me all husbands for such faults are sad, or make they any man that hears them glad. he loves not, deaf ears thou dost impor- tune, 4 if he loves, thy tale breeds his misfortune. hx is it easy proved though manifest, E B safe by favour of her judge doth rest. h himself see, he'll credit her denial, C idemn his eyes, and say there is no trial. Sring his mistress' tears, he will lament A 1 say ' ' This blab shall suffer punish- ment." Wy fight'st 'gainst odds? to thee, being cast, do hap Sly-p stripes ; she sitteth in the judge's lap. To meet for poison or vile facts we crave not ; My hands an unsheathed shining wreapon have not. We seek that, through thee, safely love we may; What can be easier than the thing we pray ? Elegia III. Ad Eunuchum servantem dominam. Ah me, an eunuch keeps my mistress chaste, That cannot Venus' mutual pleasure taste. Who first deprived young boys of their best part, With self-same wounds he gave, he ought to smart. To kind requests thou would'st more gentle prove, If ever wench had made lukewarm thy love : Thou wert not born to ride, or arms to bear, Thy hands agree not with the warlike spear. Men handle those ; all manly hopes resign, Thy mistress' ensigns must be likewise thine. Please her — her hate makes others thee abhor, If she discards thee, what use* serv'st thou for? Good form there is, years apt to play to- gether : Unmeet is beauty without use to wither. She may deceive thee, though thou her protect, What two determine never wants effect. Our prayers move thee to assist our drift, While thou hast time yet to bestow that gift. Elegia IV. Quod amet mulieres, cujuscunque formse sint. I mean not to defend the scapes of any, Or justify my vices being many ; For I confess, if that might merit favour, Here I display my lewd and loose behaviour. I loathe, yet after that I loathe I run : Oh, how the burthen irks, that we should shun. I cannot rule myself but where love please And driven like a ship upon rough seas, No one face likes me best, all faces move, A hundred reasons make me ever love. If any eye me with a modest look, I blush, and by that blushful glance am took; 242 OVID'S ELEGIES. And she that's coy I like, for being no clown, Methinks she would be nimble when she's down. Though her sour looks a Sabine's brow re- semble, I think she'll do, but deeply can dissemble. If she be learned, then for her skill I crave her, If not, because she's simple I would have her. Before Callimachus one prefers me far ; Seeing she likes my books, why should we jar? Another rails at me, and that I write, Yet would I lie with her, if that I might : Trips she, it likes me well ; plods she, what then ? She would be nimbler lying with a man. And when one sweetly sings, then straight I long, To quaver on her lips even in her song ; Or if one touch the lute with art and cunning, Who would not love those hands for their swift running? And her I like that with a majesty, Folds up her arms, and makes low courtesy. To leave myself, that am in love with all, Some one of these might make the chastest fall. If she be tall, she's like an Amazon, And therefore fills the bed she lies upon : If short, she lies the rounder, to say troth, But short and long please me, for I love both. I think what one undecked would be, being drest ; Is she attired ? then show her graces best. A white wench thralls me, so doth golden yellow ; And nut-brown girls in doing have no fellow. If her white neck be shadowed with brown hair, Why so was Leda's, yet was Leda fair. Amber-tress 'd is she? then on the morn think I : My love alludes to every history : A young wench pleaseth, and an old is good, This for her looks, that for her womanhood : Nay what is she, that any Roman loves, But my ambitious ranging mind approves ? Elegia V. Ad amicam corruptam. No love is so dear, — quivered Cupid fly ! — That my chief wish should be so oft to die. Minding thy fault, with death I wish to revel ; Alas ! a wench is a perpetual evil. No intercepted lines thy deeds display, No gifts given secretly thy crime bewray. 0 would my proofs as vain might be with- stood ! Ah me, poor soul, why is my cause so good? He's happy, that his love dares boldly credit ; To whom his wench can ^ay, " I never did it." He's cruel, and too much his grief doth favour, That seeks the conquest by her loose beha- viour. Poor wench, I saw when thou didst think I slumbered ; Not drunk, your faults on the spilt wine I numbered. 1 saw your nodding eyebrows much to speak, Even from your cheeks, part of a voice did break. Not silent were thine eyes, the board with wine Was scribbled, and thy fingers writ a line. I knew your speech (what do not lovers see?) And words that seemed for certain mark.' to be. Now many guests were gone, the feast beim done, The youthful sort to divers pastimes run. I saw you then unlawful kisses join ; (Such with my tongue it likes me to pu: loin), None such the sister gives her brother gravi But such kind wenches let their lovers hav. Phoebus gave not Diana such, 'tis thought But Venus often to her Mars such broughi " What dost ?" I cried ; " transport "st the my delight ? My lordly hands I'll throw upon my right Such bliss is only common to us two, In this sweet good why hath a third to do This, and what grief enforced me say, said : A scarlet blush her guilty face arrayed ; Even such as by Aurora hath the sky, Or maids that their betrothed husbai spy; Such as a rose mixed with a lily breeds, Or when the moon travails with charn steeds. Or such as, lest long years should tum dye, Arachne stains Assyrian ivory. OVID'S ELEGIES. 243 To these, or some of these, like was her colour : By chance her beauty never shined fuller. She viewed the earth? the earth to view, be- seemed her. She looked sad ; sad, comely I esteemed her. Even kembdd as they were, her locks to rend, And scratch her fair soft cheeks I did intend. Seeing her face, mine upreared arms de- scended, With her own armour was my wench de- fended. I, that erewhile was fierce, now humbly sue, Lest with worse kisses she should me endue. She laughed, and kissed so sweetly as might make Wrath-kindled Jove away his thunder shake. I grieve lest others should such good per- ceive, And wish hereby them all unknown to leave. Also much better were they than I tell, And ever seemed as some new sweet befel. Tis ill they pleased so much, for in my lips 'Lay her whole tongue hid, mine in hers she ' dips. This grieves me not ; no joined kisses spent, Bewail I only, though I them lament. \Towhere can they be taught but in the bed ; know no master of so great hire sped. Elegia VI. In mortem psittaci. he parrot, from East Indies to me sent, dead ; all fowls her exequies frequent ! godly birds, sinking your breasts, be- wail, d with rough claws your tender cheeks assail. woful hairs let piece-torn plumes abound, long shrild trumpets let your notes re- sound. y Philomel dost Tereus' lewdness mourn? A wasting years have that complaint now worn ? TJ tunes let this rare bird's sad funeral borrow, ftya great, but ancient cause of sorrow. Al ou whose pinions in the clear air soar, tost, thou friendly turtle dove, de- oiore. i u :oncord all your lives was you betwixt, AiMto the end your constant faith stood xt. Wri Pylades did to Orestes prove, ^uc :o the parrot was the turtle-dove. But what availed this faith ? her rarest hue? Or voice that how to change the wild notes knew ? What helps it thou wert given to please my wench ? Birds' hapless glory, death thy life doth quench. Thou with thy quills might'st make green emeralds dark, And pass our scarlet of red saffron's mark. No such voice-feigning bird was on the ground, Thou spok'st thy words so well with stam- mering sound. Envy hath rapt thee, no fierce wars thou mov'dst. Vain-babbling speech, and pleasant peace thou lov'dst. Behold how quails among their battles live, Which do perchance old age unto them give. A little filled thee, and for love of talk, Thy mouth to taste of many meats did balk. Nuts were thy food, and poppy caused thee sleep, Pure water's moisture thirst away did keep. The ravenous vulture lives, the puttock hovers Around the air, the cadess rain discovers. And crow survives arms-bearing Pallas' hate. Whose life nine ages scarce bring out of date. Dead is that speaking image of man's voice, The parrot given me, the far world's best choice. The greedy spirits take the best things first, Supplying their void places with the worst. Thersites did Protesilaus survive ; And Hector died, his brothers yet alive. My wench's vows for thee why should I show, Which stormy south winds into sea did blow ? The seventh day came, none following might'st thou see, And the Fate's distaff empty stood to thee : Yet words in thy benumbed palate rung, ' ' Farewell Corinna, " cried thy dying tongue. Elysium hath a wood of holm-trees black, Whose earth doth not perpetual green grass lack, There good birds rest (if we believe things hidden) Whence unclean fowls are said to be for- bidden. There harmless swans feed all abroad the river ; There lives the phoenix, one alone bird ever ; R 2 244 OVID'S ELEGIES. There Juno's bird displays his gorgeous feather, And loving doves kiss eagerly together. The parrot into wood received with these, Turns all the godly birds to what she please. A grave her bones hides : on her corps' small grave, The little stones these little verses have. This tomb approves I pleased my mistress well, My mouth in speaking did all birds excel. Elegia VII. Amicae se purgat, quod ancillam non amet. Dost me of new crimes always guilty frame? To overcome, so oft to fight I shame. If on the marble theatre I look, One among many is, to grieve thee, took. If some fair wench me secretly behold, Thou arguest she doth secret marks unfold. If I praise any, thy poor hairs thou tearest ; If blame, dissembling of my fault thou fearest. If I look well, thou think 'st thou dost not move, If ill, thou say'st I die for others' love. Would I were culpable of some offence, They that deserve pain, bear't with patience. Now rash accusing, and thy vain belief, Forbid thine anger to procure my grief. Lo, how the miserable great eared ass, Dulled with much beating, slowly forth doth pass. Behold Cypassis, wont to dress thy head, Is charged to violate her mistress' bed. The gods from this sin rid me of suspicion, To like a base wench of despised condition. With Venus' game who will a servant grace? Or any back, made rough with stripes, em- brace ? Add she was diligent thy locks to braid, And, for her skill, to thee a grateful maid. Should I solicit her that is so just ; To take repulse, and cause her show my lust? I swear by Venus, and the winged boy's bow, Myself unguilty of this crime I know. Elegia VIII. Ad Cypassim ancillam Corinnae, Cypassis, that a thousand ways trim'st hair, Worthy to kemb none but a goddess fair, Our pleasant scapes show thee no clown to be, Apt to thy mistress, but more apt to me. Who that our bodies were comprest be- wrayed ? Whence knows Corinna that with thee I played? Yet blushed I not, nor used I any saying, That might be urged to witness our false playing. What if a man with bondwomen offend, To prove him foolish did I e'er contend ? Achilles burnt with face of captive Briseis, Great Agamemnon loved his servant Chry- seis. Greater than these myself I not esteem : What graced kings, in me no shame I deem. But when on thee her angry eyes did rush, In both thy cheeks she did perceive thee blush. But being present, might that work the best, By Venus' deity how did I protest ! Thou goddess dost command a warm south blast, My self oaths in Carpathian seas to cast. For which good turn my sweet reward repay, Let me lie with thee, brown Cypass, to-day. Ungrate, why feign'st new fears, and dost refuse ? Well may'st thou one thing for thy mistress use. If thou deniest, fool, I'll our deeds express, And as a traitor mine own faults confess ; Telling thy mistress where I was with thee, How oft, and by what means we did agree. Elegia IX. Ad Cupidinem. O Cupid, that dost never cease my smart? O boy, that liest so slothful in my heart ! Why me that always was thy soldier found, Dost harm, and in thy tents why dost me wound ? Why burns thy brand, why strikes thy bow thy friends ? More glory by thy vanquished foes ascends. Did not Pelides whom his spear did grieve, Being required, with speedy help relieve ? Hunters leave taken beasts, pursue the chase, And than things found do ever further pace. We people wholly given thee, feel thine arms, Thy dull hand stays thy striving enemies' harms. Dost joy to have thy hooked arrows shaked In naked bones? love hath my bones left naked. So many men and maidens without love, Hence with great laud thou may'st a triumph move. mi OVID'S ELEGIES. 245 Rome, if her strength the huge world had not filled, With strawy cabins now her courts should build. The weary soldier hath the conquered fields, His sword, laid by, safe, tho' rude places yields ; The dock inharbours ships drawn from the floods, Horse freed from service range abroad the woods. And time it was for me to live in quiet, That have so oft served pretty wenches diet. Yet should I curse a God, if he but said, " Live without love," so sweet ill is a maid. For when my loathing it of heat deprives me, I know not whither my mind's whirlwind drives me. Even as a headstrong courser bears away, His rider vainly striving him to stay. Or as a sudden gale thrusts into sea The haven-touching bark now near the lea ; So wavering Cupid brings me back amain, And purple Love resumes his darts again. Strike, boy, I offer thee my naked breast, Here thou hast strength, here thy right hand doth rest. Here of themselves thy shafts come, as if shot; Better than I their quiver knows them not : Hapless is he that all the night lies quiet. And slumbering, thinks himself much blessed by it. Fool, what is sleep but image of cold death, Long shalt thou rest when Fates expire thy breath. But me let crafty damsel's words deceive, Great joys by hope I inly shall conceive. Now let her flatter me, now chide me hard, Let me enjoy her oft, oft be debarred. Cupid, by thee, Mars in great doubt doth trample, And thy stepfather fights by thy example. Light art thou, and more windy than thy wings ; Joys with uncertain faith thou tak'st and brings : Yet Love, if thou with thy fair mother hear, Within my breast no desert empire bear; Subdue the wandering wenches to thy reign, So of both people shalt thou homage gain. Elegia X. Ad Graecinum quod eodem tempore duas amet. Graecinus (well I wot) thou told'st me once, I could not be in love with two at once ; By thee deceived, by thee surprised am I, For now I love two women equally : Both are well favoured, both rich in array, Which is the loveliest it is hard to say : This seems the fairest, so doth that to me ; And this doth please me most, and so doth she; Even as a boat tossed by contrary wind, So with this love and that wavers my mind. Venus, why doublest thou my endless smart ? Was not one wench enough to grieve my heart ? Why add'st thou stars to heaven, leaves to green woods, And to the vast deep sea fresh water floods? Yet this is better far than lie alone : Let such as be mine enemies have none ; Yea, let my foes sleep in an empty bed, And in the midst their bodies largely spread : But may soft love rouse up my drowsy eyes, And from my mistress' bosom let me rise : Let one wench cloy me with sweet love's delight, If one can do't, if not, two every night. Though I am slender, I have store of pith, Nor want I strength, but weight, to press her with : Pleasure adds fuel to my lustful fire, I pay them home with that they most desire : Oft have I spent the night in wantonness, And in the morn been lively ne'ertheless, He's happy whom Love's mutual skirmish slays ; And to the gods for that death Ovid prays. Let soldiers chase their enemies amain, And with their blood eternal honour gain, Let merchants seek wealth and with per- jured lips, Being wrecked, carouse the sea tired by their ships ; But when I die, would I might droop with doing, And in the midst thereof, set my soul going ; That at my funerals some may weeping cry, " Even as he led his life, so did he die." Elegia XL Ad amicam navigantem. The lofty pine, from high Mount Pelion raught, 111 ways by rough seas wondering waves first taught. 246 OVID'S ELEGIES. Which rashly 'tvvixt the sharp rocks in the deep, Carried the famous golden-fleeced sheep. O would that no oars might in seas have sunk ! The Argo wrecked had deadly waters drunk. Lo, country gods and known bed to for- sake Corinna means, and dangerous ways to take. For thee the East and West winds make me pale, With icy Boreas, and the Southern gale. Thou shalt admire no woods or cities there, The unjust seas all bluish do appear. The ocean hath no painted stones or shells, The sucking shore with their abundance swells. Maids on the shore, with marble-white feet tread, So far 'tis safe ; but to go farther, dread. Let others tell how winds fierce battles wage, How Scylla's and Charybdis' waters rage ; And with what rocks the feared Ceraunia threat ; In what gulf either Syrtes have their seat. Let others tell this, and what each one speaks Believe ; no tempest the believer wreaks. Too late you look back, when with anchor weighed, The crooked bark hath her swift sails dis- played. The careful shipman now fears angry gusts, And with the waters sees death near him thrusts. But if that Triton toss the troubled flood, In all thy face will be no crimson blood. Then wilt thou Leda's noble twin-stars pray, And, he is happy whom the earth holds, say. It is more safe to sleep, to read a book, The Thracian harp with cunning to have strook. But if my words with winged storms hence slip, Yet, Galatea, favour thou her ship. The loss of such a wench much blame will gather, Both to the sea-nymphs and the sea-nymphs' father. Go, minding to return with prosperous wind, Whose blast may hither strongly be in- clined. Let Nereus bend the waves unto this shore, Hither the winds blow, here the springtide roar. Request mild Zephyr's help for thy avail, And with thy hand assist the swelling sail. I from the shore thy known ship first will see, And say it brings her that preserveth me. I'll clip and kiss thee with all contentation, For thy return shall fall the vowed oblation ; And in the form of beds we'll strew soft ' sand ; Each little hill shall for a table stand : There wine being filled, thou many things shalt tell, How, almost wrecked, thy ship in main seas fell. And hasting to me, neither darksome night, Nor violent south-winds did thee aught affright. I'll think all true, though it be feigned matter ? Mine own desires why should myself not flatter? Let the bright day-star cause in heaven this day be, To bring that happy time so soon as may be. Elegia XII. Exultat, quod arnica potitus sit. About my temples go, triumphant bays ! Conquered Corinna in my bosom lays. She whom her husband, guard, and gate, as foes, Lest art should win her, firmly did en- close : That victory doth chiefly triumph merit, Which without bloodshed doth the prey inherit. No little ditched towns, no lowly walls, But to my share a captive damsel falls. When Troy by ten years' battle tumbled down, With the Atrides many gained renown : But I no partner of my glory brook, Nor can another say his help I took. I, guide and soldier, won the field and wear her, I was both horseman, footman, standard- bearer. Nor in my act hath fortune mingled chance : O care-got triumph hitherwards advance ! Nor is my war's cause new ; but for a queen, Europe and Asia in firm peace had been. The Lapiths and the Centaurs, for a woman, To cruel arms their drunken selves did summon. A woman forced the Trojans new to enter Wars, just Latinus, in thy kingdom's centre : OVID'S ELEGIES. 247 A woman against late-built Rome did send The Sabine fathers, who sharp wars in- tend. I saw how bulls for a white heifer strive, She looking on them did more courage give. And me with many, but me without murther, Cupid commands to move his ensigns further. Elegia XIII. Ad Isidem, ut parientem Corinnam servet. While rashly her womb's burden she casts out, Weary Corinna hath her life in doubt. She, secretly from me, such harm attempted, Angry I was, but fear my wrath exempted. But she conceived of me ; or I am sure I oft have done what might as much pro- cure. Thou that frequent'st Canopus' pleasant fields, Memphis, and Pharos that sweet date-trees yields. And where swift Nile in his large channel skipping, By seven huge mouths into the sea is slip- ping. By feared Anubis' visage I thee pray, So in thy temples shall Osiris stay, And the dull snake about thy offerings creep, And in thy pomp horned Apis with thee keep. Turn thy looks hither, and in one spare twain : Thou givest my mistress life, she mine again. She oft hath served thee upon certain days, Where the French rout engirt themselves with bays. On labouring women thou dost pity take, Whose bodies with their heavy burdens ache ; My wench, Lucina, I entreat thee favour, Worthy she is, thou should'st in mercy save her. In white, with incense, I'll thine altars greet, Myself will bring vowed gifts before thy feet, Subscribing Naso with Corinna saved, Do but deserve gifts with this title graved. But if in so great fear I may advise thee, To have this skirmish fought let it suffice thee. Elegia XIV. In amicam, quod abortivum ipsa fecerit. What helps it women to be free from war, Nor being armed fierce troops to follow far, If without battle self-wrought wounds annoy them, And their own privy-weaponed hands de- stroy them ? Who unborn infants first to slay invented, Deserved thereby with death to be tor- mented. Because thy belly should rough wrinkles lack, Wilt thou thy womb-inclosed offspring wrack ? Had ancient mothers this vile custom cherished, All human kind by their default had perished. Or stones, our stock's original should be hurled, Again, by some, in this unpeopled world. Who should have Priam's wealthy substance won, If watery Thetis had her child fordone? In swelling womb her twins had Ilia killed, He had not been that conquering Rome bid build. Had Venus spoiled her belly's Trojan fruit, The earth of Caesars had been destitute. Thou also that wert born fair, had'st de- cayed, If such a work thy mother had assayed. Myself, that better die with loving may, Had seen, my mother killing me, no day. Why tak'st increasing grapes from vine- trees full ? With cruel hand why dost green apples pull? Fruits ripe will fall ; let springing things increase ; Life is no light price of a small surcease. Why with hid irons are your bowels torn ? And why dire poison give you babes un- born? At Colchis, stained with children's blood men rail, And mother-murdered Itys they bewail. Both unkind parents ; but, for causes sad, Their wedlocks' pledges venged their hus- bands bad. What Tereus, what Iason you provokes, To plague your bodies with such harmful strokes ? Armenian tigers never did so ill, Nor dares the lioness her young whelps kill. 248 OVID'S ELEGIES. But tender damsels do it, though with pain ; Oft dies she that her paunch-wrapt child hath slain : She dies, and with loose hairs to grave is sent, And whoe'er see her, worthily lament. But in the air let these words come to naught, And my presages of no weight be thought. Eorgive her, gracious gods, this one delict, And on the next fault punishment inflict. Elegia XV. Ad annulum, quern dono amicse dedit. Thou ring that shalt my fair girl's finger bind, Wherein is seen the giver's loving mind : Be welcome to her, gladly let her take thee, And, her small joints encircling, round hoop make thee. Fit her so well, as she is fit for me, And of just compass for her knuckles be. Blest ring, thou in my mistress' hand shall lie, Myself, poorwretch, mine own gifts now env^. 0 would that suddenly into my gift, 1 could myself by secret magic shift ! Then would I wish thee touch my mistress' pap, And hide thy left hand underneath her lap, I would get off though strait, and sticking fast, And in her bosom strangely fall at last. Then I, that I may seal her privy leaves, Lest to the wax the hold-fast dry gem cleaves, Would first my beauteous wench's moist lips touch, Only I'll sign naught that may grieve me much. I would not out, might I in one place hit : But in less compass her small fingers knit. My life ! that I will shame thee never fear, Or be a load thou should 'st refuse to bear. Wear me, when warmest showers thy mem- bers wash, And through the gem let thy lost waters pash. But seeing thee, I think my thing will swell, And even the ring perform a man's part well. Vain things why wish I ? go small gift from hand, Let her my faith, with thee given, under- stand. Elegia XVI. Ad amicam, ut ad rura sua veniat. Sulmo, Peligny's third part, me contains, A small, but wholesome soil with watery veins. Although the sun to rive the earth incline, And the Icarian froward dog-star shine ; Pelignian fields with liquid rivers flow, And on the soft ground fertile green grass grow. With corn the earth abounds, with vines much more, And some few pastures Pallas' olives bore. And by the rising herbs, where clear springs slide, A grassy turf the moistened earth doth hide. But absent is my fire ; lies I'll tell none, My heat is here, what moves my heat is gone. Pollux and Castor, might I stand betwixt, In heaven without thee would I not be fixl. Upon the cold earth pensive let them lay, That mean to travel some long irksome way. Or else will maidens young men's mates, to go If they determine to persever so. Then on the rough Alps should I tread aloft. My hard way with my mistress would seem soft. With her I durst the Libyan Syrts break through, And raging seas in boisterous south-winds plough, No barking dogs, that Scylla's entrails bear, Nor thy gulfs, crooked Malea, would I fear. Nor flowing waves with drowned ships forth-poured By cloyed Charybdis, and again devoured. But if stern Neptune's windy power prevail, And waters' force, force helping Gods to fail, With thy white arms upon my shoulders seize, So sweet a burden I will bear with ease. The youth oft swimming to his Hero kind, Had then swam over, but the way was blind. But without thee, although vine-planted ground Contains me ; though the streams the fields surround ; Though hinds in brooks the running waters bring, And cool gales shake the tall trees' leafy spring ; Healthful Peligny, I esteem naught worth, Nor do I like the country of my birth. Scythia, Cilicia, Britain are as good, And rocks dyed crimson with Prometheus' blood. Elms love the vines ; the vines with elms abide, Why doth my mistress from me oft divide? Thou swear' dst, division should not 'twixt us rise, By me, and by my stars, thy radiant eyes ; OVID'S ELEGIES. 249 Maids' words more vain and light than falling leaves, Which as it seems, hence wind and sea be- reaves. If any godly care of me thou hast, Add deeds unto thy promises at last. And with swift nags drawing thy little coach, (Their reins let loose) right soon my house approach. But when she comes, you swelling mounts sink down, And falling valleys be the smooth ways crown. Elegia XVII. Quod Corinnae soli sit serviturus. To serve a wench if any think it shame, He being judge, I am convinced of blame. Let me be slandered, while my fire she hides, That Paphos, and flood-beat Cythera guides. Would I had been my mistress' gentle prey, Since some fair one I should of force obey. Beauty gives heart ; Corinna's looks excel ; Ah me, why is it known to her so well ? But by her glass disdainful pride she learns, Nor she herself, but first trimmed up, dis- cerns. Not though thy face in all things make thee reign, (O face, most cunning mine eyes to detain !) Thou ought'st therefore to scorn me for thy mate, Small things with greater may be copulate. Love-snared Calypso is supposed to pray A mortal nymph's refusing lord to stay. Who doubts, with Peleus Thetis did consort, Egeria with just Numa had good sport. Venus with Vulcan, though, smith's tools laid by, With his stump foot he halts ill-favouredly. This kind of verse is not alike, yet fit, With shorter numbers the heroic sit. And thou, my light, accept me howsoever, Lay in the mid bed, there be my lawgiver. My stay no crime, my flight no joy shall breed, Nor of our love, to be ashamed we need. For great revenues I good verses have, And many by me to get glory crave. I know a wench reports herself Corinne ; What would not she give that fair name to win ? But sundry floods in one bank never go, Eurotas cold, and poplar-bearing Po. Nor in my books shall one but thou be writ, Thou dost alone give matter to my wit. Elegia XVIII. Ad Macrum, quod de amoribus scribat. To tragic verse while thou Achilles train 'st, And new sworn soldiers' maiden arms re- tain'st. We, Macer, sit in Venus' slothful shade, And tender love hath great things hateful made. Often at length, my wench depart I bid, She in my lap sits still as erst she did. I said "It irks me," half to weeping framed, "Ah me!" she cries, "to love why art ashamed?" Then wreathes about my neck her winding arms, And thousand kisses gives, that work my harms : I yield, and back my wit from battles bring, Domestic acts, and mine own wars to sing. Yet tragedies, and sceptres fill'd my lines, But though I apt were for such high designs, Love laughed at my cloak, and buskins painted, And rule, so soon with private hands acquainted. My mistress' deity also drew me fro it, And love triumpheth o'er his buskined poet. What lawful is, or we profess love's art : (Alas, my precepts turn myself to smart ! ) We write, or what Penelope sends Ulysses, Or Phillis' tears that her Demophoon misses. What thankless Jason, Macareus, and Paris, Phedra, and Hippolyte may read, my care is. And what poor Dido, with her drawn sword sharp, Doth say, with her that loved the Aonian harp. As soon as from strange lands Sabinus came, And writings did from divers places frame, White-cheeked Penelope knew Ulysses' sign, The step-dame read Hippolytus' lustless line. ^Eneas to Elisa answer gives, And Phillis hath to read, if now she lives. Jason's sad letter doth Hypsipyle greet ; Sappho her vowed harp lays at Phoebus' feet. Nor of thee, Macer, that resound 'st forth arms, Is golden love hid in Mars' mid alarms. There Paris is, and Helen's crime's record, With Laodamia, mate to her dead lord, Unless I err to these thou more incline, Than wars, and from thy tents wilt come to mine. OVID'S ELEGIES. Elegia XIX. Ad rivalem cui uxor curae non erat. Fool, if to keep thy wife thou hast no need, Keep her from me, my more desire to breed ; We scorn things lawful ; stolen sweets we affect ; Cruel is he that loves whom none protect. Let us, both lovers, hope and fear alike, And may repulse place for our wishes strike. What should I do with fortune that ne'er fails me ? Nothing I love that at all times avails me. Wily Corinna saw this blemish in me, And craftily knows by what means to win me. Ah, often, that her hale head ached, she lying, Willed me, whose slow feet sought delay, be flying; Ah, oft, how much she might, she feigned offence ; And, doing wrong, made show of innocence. So having vexed she nourished my warm fire, And was again most apt to my desire. To please me, what fair terms and sweet words has she ! Great gods! what kisses, and how many gave she ! Thou also that late took'st mine eyes away, Oft cozen me, oft, being wooed, say nay ; And on thy threshold let me lie dispread, Suff ring much cold by hoary night's frost bred. So shall my love continue many years ; This doth delight me, this my courage cheers. Fat love, and too much fulsome, me annoys, Even as sweet meat a glutted stomach cloys. In brazen tower had not Danae dwelt, A mother's joy by Jove she had not felt. While Juno 16 keeps, when horns she wore, Jove liked her better than he did before. Who covets lawful things takes leaves from woods, And drinks stolen waters in surrounding floods. Her lover let her mock that long will reign, Ah me, let not my warnings cause my pain. Whatever haps, by sufferance harm is done, What flies I follow, what follows me I shun. But thou, of thy fair damsel too secure, Begin to shut thy house at evening sure. Search at the door who knocks oft in the dark, In night's deep silence why the ban-dogs bark. Whether the subtle maid lines brings and carries, Why she alone in empty bed oft tarries. Let this care sometimes bite thee to the quick, That to deceits it may me forward prick. To steal sands from the shore he loves a-life, That can affect a foolish wittol's wife. Now I forewarn, unless to keep her stronger Thou dost begin, she shall be mine no longer. Long have I borne much, hoping time would beat thee To guard her well, that well I might entreat thee. Thou suffer 'st what no husband can endure, But of my love it will an end procure. Shall I, poor soul, be never interdicted? Nor never with night's sharp revenge af- flicted ? In sleeping shall I fearless draw my breath? Wilt nothing do, why I should wish thy death ? Can I but loathe a husband grown a bawd ? By thy default thou dost our joys defraud. Some other seek that may in patience strive with thee, To pleasure me, forbid me to corrive with thee. P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM. LIBER TERTIUS. Elegia I. Deliberatio poetae, utrum elegos pergat scribere an potius traga:dias. An old wood stands uncut of long years' space, Tis credible some godhead haunts the place. In midst thereof a stone-paved sacred spring, Where round about small birds most sweetly sing. Here while I walk, hid close in shady grove, To find what work my muse might move, I strove. Elegia came with hairs perfumed sweet, And one, I think, was longer, of her feet : A decent form, thin robe, a lover's look, By her foot's blemish greater grace she took. Then with huge steps came violent Tragedy, Stern was her front, her cloak on ground did lie. Her left hand held abroad a regal sceptre, The Lydian buskin in fit paces kept her. And first she said, ' ' When will thy love be spent, O poet careless of thy argument? Wine-bibbing banquets tell thy naughtiness, Each cross-way's corner doth as much ex- press. Oft some points at the prophet passing by, And ' This is he whom fierce love burns, ' they cry. A laughing-stock thou art to all the city ; While without shame thou sing'st thy lewd- ness' ditty. 'Tis time to move grave things in lofty style, Long hast thou loitered; greater works compile. The subject hides thy wit, men's acts re- sound ; This thou wilt say to be a worthy ground. Thy muse hath played what may mild girls content, And by those numbers is thy first youth spent. Now give the Roman Tragedy a name, To fill my laws thy wanton spirit frame." This said, she moved her buskins gaily var- nished, And seven times shook her head with thick locks garnished. The other smiled (I wot), with wanton eyes: Err I, or myrtle in her right hand lies? "With lofty words stout Tragedy (she said), Why tread'st me down? art thou aye gravely play'd ? Thou deign 'st unequal lines should thee re- hearse ; Thou fight'st against me using mine own verse. Thy lofty style with mine I not compare, Small doors unfitting for large houses are. Light am I, and with me, my care, light Love; Not stronger am I, than the things I move. Venus without me should be rustical : This goddess' company doth to me befal. What gate thy stately words cannot un- lock, My flattering speeches soon wide open knock. And I deserve more than thou canst in verity, By suffering much not borne by thy severity. By me Corinna learns, cozening her guard, To get the door with little noise unbarred ; And slipped from bed, clothed in a loose nightgown, To move her feet unheard in setting down. Ah, how oft on hard doors hung I en- graved, From no man's reading fearing to be saved ! But, till the keeper went forth, I forget not, The maid to hide me in her bosom let not. What gift with me was on her birthday sent, But cruelly by her was drowned and rent. First of thy mind the happy seeds I knew, Thou hast my gift, which she would from thee sue." She left ; I said, ' ' You both I must be- seech, To empty air may go my fearful speech. With sceptres and high buskins th' one would dress me, 252 OVID'S ELEGIES. So through the world should bright renown express me ; The other gives my love a conquering name, Come, therefore; and to long verse shorter frame. Grant, Tragedy, thy poet time's least tittle: Thy labour ever lasts ; she asks but little." She gave me leave; soft loves in time make haste; Some greater work will urge me on at last. Elegia II. Ad amicam cursum equorum spectantem. I sit not here the noble horse to see; Yet whom thou favour'st, pray may con- queror be. To sit and talk with thee I hither came, That thou may'st know with love thou mak'st me flame. Thou view'st the course ; I thee : let either heed What please them, and their eyes let either feed. What horse-driver thou favour'st most is best, Because on him thy care doth hap to rest. Such chance let me have : I would bravely run, On swift steeds mounted till the race were done. Now would I slack the reins, now lash their hide, With wheels bent inward now the ring-turn ride. In running if I see thee, I shall stay, And from my hands the reins will slip away. Ah, Pelops from his coach was almost felled, Hippodamia's looks while he beheld ! Yet he attained, by her support, to have her: Let us all conquer by our mistress' favour. In vain, why fly'st back : force conjoins us now: The place's laws this benefit allow. But spare my wench, thou at her right hand seated ; By thy sides touching, ill she is entreated. And sit thou rounder, that behind us see ; For shame press not her back with thy hard knee. But on the ground thy clothes too loosely lie: Gather them up, or lift them, lo, will I. Envious garment, so good legs to hide ! The more thou look'st, the more the gown's envied. Swift Atalanta's flying legs, like these, Wish in his hands grasped did Hippomenes. Coat-tucked Diana's legs are painted like them, When strong wild beasts, she, stronger, hunts to strike them. Ere these were seen, I burnt : what will these do? Flames into flame, floods thou pour'st seas into, By these I judge ; delight me may the rest, Which lie hid, under her thin veil supprest. Yet in the meantime wilt small winds be- stow, That from thy fan, moved by my hand, may blow ? Or is my heat of mind, not of the sky? Is't women's love my captive breast doth fry? While thus I speak, black dust her white robes ray ; Foul dust, from her fair body go away ! Now comes the pomp ; themselves let all men cheer : The shout is nigh ; the golden pomp comes here. First, Victory is brought with large spread wing, Goddess, come here ; make my love con- quering. Applaud you Neptune, that dare trust his wave, The sea I use not : me my earth must have. Soldier applaud thy Mars, no wars we move, Peace pleaseth me, and in mid peace is love. With augurs Phcebus, Phoebe with hunters stands. To thee Minerva turn the craftsmen's hands. Ceres and Bacchus countrymen adore, Champions please Pollux, Castor loves horsemen more. Thee gentle Venus, and the boy that flies, We praise, great goddess aid my enter- prise. Let my new mistress grant to be beloved ; She becked, and prosperous signs gave as she moved. What Venus promised, promise thou we pray Greater 'than her, by her leave, thou'rt, I'll say. The gods, and their rich pomp witness with me, For evermore thou shalt my mistress be. OVID'S ELEGIES. 253 Thy legs hang down, thou may'st, if that be best, Awhile thy tiptoes on the footstool rest. Now greatest spectacles the Praetor sends, Four chariot-horses from the lists' even ends. I see whom thou affect'st: he shall sub- due; The horses seem as thy desire they knew. Alas, he runs too far about the ring ; What dost? thy waggon in less compass bring. What dost, unhappy? her good wishes fade : Let with strong hand the rein to bend be made. One slow we favour, Romans him revoke : And each give signs by casting up his cloak. They call him back ; lest their gowns toss thy hair, To hide thee in my bosom straight repair. But now again the barriers open lie, And forth the gay troops on swift horses fly. At least now conquer, and outrun the rest : My mistress' wish confirm with my request. My mistress hath her wish ; my wish re- main : He holds the palm : my palm is yet to gain. She smiled, and with quick eyes benight some grace : Pay it not here, but in another place. Elegia III. De arnica quae perjuraverat. What, are there gods ? herself she hath for- swore, And yet remains the face she had before. How long her locks were ere her oath she took, So long they be since she her faith forsook. Fair white with rose-red was before com- mixt ; Now shine her looks pure white and red be- twixt. Her foot was small : her foot's form is most fit: Comely tall was she, comely tall she's yet. Sharp eyes she had : radiant like stars they be, By which she, perjured oft, hath lied to me. In sooth, th' eternal powers grant maids' society Falsely to swear ; their beauty hath some deity. By her eyes, I remember, late she swore, And by mine eyes, and mine were pained sore. Say gods : if she unpunished you deceive, For other faults why do I loss receive. But did you not so envy Cepheus' daughter, For her ill-beauteous mother judged to slaughter. 'Tis not enough, she shakes your record oK, And, unrevenged, mocked gods with me doth scoff. But by my pain to purge her perjuries, Cozened, I am the cozener's sacrifice. God is a name, no substance, feared in vain, And doth the world in fond belief detain. Or if there be a God, he loves fine wenches, And all things too much in their sole power drenches. Mars girts his deadly sword on for my harm ; Pallas' lance strikes me with unconquered arm ; At me Apollo bends his pliant bow ; At me Jove's right hand lightning hath to throw. The wronged gods dread fair ones to offend, And fear those, that to fear them least in- tend. Who now will care the altars to perfume ? Tut, men should not their courage so con- sume. Jove throws down woods and castles with his fire, But bids his darts from perjured girls retire. Poor Semele among so many burned, Her own request to her own torment turned. But when her lover came, had she drawn back, The father's thigh should unborn Bacchus lack. Why grieve I ? and of heaven reproaches pen ? The gods have eyes, and breasts as well as men. Were I a god, I should give women leave, With lying lips my godhead to deceive. Myself would swear the wenches true did swear, And I would be none of the gods severe. But yet their gift more moderately use, Or in mine eyes, good wench, no pain transfuse. Elegia IV. Ad virum servantem conjugem. Rude man, 'tis vain thy damsel to com- mend To keeper's trust: their wits should them defend. Who, without fear, is chaste, is chaste in sooth : 254 OVID'S ELEGIES. Who, because means want, doeth not, she doth. Though thou her body guard, her mind is stained ; Nor, 'less she will, can any be restrained. Nor canst by watching keep her mind from sin, All being shut out, the adulterer is within. Who may offend, sins least ; power to do ill The fainting seeds of naughtiness doth kill. Forbear to kindle vice by prohibition ; Sooner shall kindness gain thy will's frui- tion. I saw a horse against the bit stiff-necked, Like lightning go, his struggling mouth being checked : When he perceived the reins let slack, he stayed, And on his loose mane the loose bridle laid. How to attain what is denied we think, Even as the sick desire forbidden drink. Argus had either way an hundred eyes, Yet by deceit Love did them all surprise. In stone and iron walls Danae shut, Came forth a mother, though a maid there put. Penelope, though no watch looked unto her, Was not defiled by any gallant wooer. What's kept, we covet more : the care makes theft, Few love what others have unguarded left. Nor doth her face please, but her husband's love : I know not what men think should thee so move. She is not chaste that's kept, but a dear whore ; Thy fear is than her body valued more. Although thou chafe, stolen pleasure is sweet play, She pleaseth best, " I fear," if any say. A free-born wench, no right 'tis up to lock, So use we women of strange nations' stock. Because the keeper may come say, " I did it," She must be honest to thy servant's credit. He is too clownish whom a lewd wife grieves, And this town's well-known custom not be- lieves ; Where Mars his sons not without fault did breed, Remus and Romulus, Ilia's twin -born seed. Cannot a fair one, if not chaste, please thee? Never can these by any means agree. Kindly thy mistress use, if thou be wise ; Look gently, and rough husbands' laws de- spise. Honour what friends thy wife gives, she'll give many, Least labour' so shalt win great grace of any. So shalt thou go with youths to feasts to- gether, And see at home much that thou ne'er brousrht'st thither. Elegia VI. Ad amnem dum iter faceret ad amicam. Flood with reed-grown slime banks, till I be past Thy waters stay : I to my mistress haste. Thou hast no bridge, nor boat with ropes to throw, That may transport me, without oars to row. Thee I have passed, and knew thy stream none such, When thy wave's brim did scarce my ankles touch. With snow thawed from the next hill now thou gushest, And in thy foul deep waters thick thou rushest. What helps my haste ? what to have ta'en small rest ? What day and night to travel in her quest ? If standing here I can by no means get My foot upon the further bank to set. Now wish I those wings noble Perseus had, Bearing the head with dreadful adders clad ; Now wish the chariot, whence corn fields were found, First to be thrown upon the untilled ground : I speak old poets' wonderful inventions, Ne'er was, nor [e'er] shall be, what my verse mentions. Rather, thou large bank-overflowing river, Slide in thy bounds ; so shalt thou run for ever. Trust me, land-stream, thou shalt no envy lack, If I a lover be by thee held back. Great floods ought to assist young men in love, Great floods the force of it do often prove. OVID'S ELEGIES. 255 In mid Bithynia, 'tis said, Inachus Grew pale, and, in cold fords, hot lecherous. Troy had not yet been ten years' siege out- stander, When nymph Nesera rapt thy looks, Sca- mander. What, not Alpheus in strange lands to ran, The Arcadian virgin's constant love hath won? And Crusa unto Xanthus first affied, They say Peneus near Phthia's town did hide. What should I name Asop, that Thebe loved, Thebe who mother of five daughters proved. If Achelous, I ask where thy horns stand, Thou say'st, broke with Alcides' angry hand. Not Calydon, nor ^Etolia did please ; One Deianira was more worth than these. Rich Nile by seven mouths to the vast sea flowing, Who so well keeps his water's head from knowing, Is by Evadne thought to take such flame, As his deep whirlpools could not quench the same. Dry Enipeus, Tyro to embrace, Fly back his stream charged ; the stream charged, gave place. Nor pass I thee, who hollow rocks down tumbling, In Tibur's field with watery foam art rumbling. Whom Ilia pleased, though in her looks grief revelled, Her cheeks were scratched, her goodly hairs dishevelled. She, wailing Mars' sin and her uncle's crime, Strayed barefoot through sole places on a time. Her, from his swift waves, the bold flood perceived, And from the mid ford his hoarse voice upheaved, Saying, "Why sadly tread 'st my banks upon, Ilia, sprung from Idaean Laomedon ? Where's thy attire? why wanderest here alone ? To stay thy tresses white veil hast thou none? Why weep'st, and spoil'st with tears thy watery eyes ? And fiercely knock 'st thy breast that open lies? His heart consists of flint and hardest steel, That seeing thy tears can any joy then feel. Fear not : to thee our court stands open wide, There shalt be loved : Ilia, lay fear aside. Thou o'er a hundred nymphs or more shalt reign, For five score nymphs or more our floods contain. Nor, Roman stock, scorn me so much I crave, Gifts than my promise greater thou shalt have." This said he : she her modest eyes held down, Her woful bosom a warm shower did drown. Thrice she prepared to fly, thrice she did stay, By fear deprived of strength to run away. Yet rending with enraged thumb her tresses, Her trembling mouth these unmeet sounds expresses. " O would in my forefathers' tomb deep laid, My bones had been, while yet I was a maid ! Why being a vestal am I wooed to wed, Deflowered and stained in unlawful bed. Why stay I ? men point at me for a whore, Shame, that should make me blush, I have no more." This said : her coat hoodwinked her fearful eyes, And into water desperately she flies. 'Tis said the slippery stream held up her breast, And kindly gave her what she liked best. And I believe some wench thou hast affected, But woods and groves keep your faults undetected. While thus I speak the waters more abounded, And from the channel all abroad sur- rounded. Mad stream, why dost our mutual joys defer? Clown, from my journey why dost me deter ? How would'st thou flow wert thou a noble flood? If thy great fame in every region stood ? Thou hast no name, but com'st from snowy mountains, No certain house thou hast, nor any fountains, 256 OVID'S ELEGIES. Thy springs are nought but rain and melted snow, Which wealth cold winter doth on thee bestow. Either thou art muddy in mid winter tide, Or full of dust dost on the dry earth slide. What thirsty traveller ever drunk of thee? Who said with grateful voice, ' ' Perpetual be!" Harmful to beasts, and to the fields thou proves, Perchance these others, me mine own loss moves. To this I fondly loves of floods told plainly, I shame so great names to have used so vainly. I know not what expecting, I ere while, Named Achelbus, Inachus, and Nile. But for thy merits I wish thee, white stream, Dry winters aye, and suns in heat extreme. Elegia VII. Quod ab arnica receptus, cum ea coire non potuit, conqueritur. Either she was foul, or her attire was bad, Or she was not the wench I wished to have had. Idly I lay with her, as if I loved not, And like a burden grieved the bed that moved not. Though both of us performed our true intent, Yet could I not cast anchor where I meant. She on my neck her ivory arms did throw, Her arms far whiter than the Scythian snow. And eagerly she kissed me with her tongue, And under mine her wanton thigh she flung, Yea, and she soothed me up, and called me "Sir," And used all speech that might provoke and stir. Yet like as if cold hemlock I had drunk, It mocked me, hung down the head and sunk. Like a dull cipher, or rude block I lay, Or shade, or body was I, who can say? What will my age do, age I cannot shun, When in my prime my force is spent and done? I blush, that being youthful, hot, and lusty, I prove nor youth nor man, but old and rusty. Pure rose she, like a nun to sacrifice, Or one that with her tender brother lies. Yet boarded I the golden Chie twice, And Libas, and the white-cheeked Pitho thrice. Corinna craved it in a summer's night, And nine sweet bouts we had before day- light. What, waste my limbs through some Thes- salian charms? May spells and drugs do silly souls such harms? With virgin wax hath some imbast my joints? And pierced my fiver with sharp needles' points ? Charms change corn to grass and make it die : By charms are running springs and fountains dry. By charms mast drops from oaks, from vines grapes fall, And fruit from trees when there's no wind at all. Why might not then my sinews be en- chanted, And I grow faint as with some spirit haunted ? To this, add shame : shame to perform it quailed me, And was the second cause why vigour failed me. My idle thoughts delighted her no more, Than did the robe or garment which she wore. Yet might her touch make youthful Pylius fire, And Tithon livelier than his years require. Even her I had, and she had me in vain, What might I crave more, if I ask again? I think the great gods grieved they had bestowed, The benefit : which lewdly I foreslowed. I wished to be received in, in I get me : To kiss, I kissed ; to he with her, she let me. Why was I blest? why made king to refuse it? Chuff-like had I not gold and could not use it? So in a spring thrives he that told so much, And looks upon the fruits he cannot touch. Hath any rose so from a fresh young maid, As she might straight have gone to church and prayed. Well I believe, she kissed not as she should, Nor used the sleight and cunning which she could. Huge oaks, hard adamants might she have moved, And with sweet words caused deaf rocks to have loved. OVID'S ELEGIES. 257 Worthy she was to move both gods and men, But neither was I man nor lived then. Can deaf ears take delight when Phaemius sings ? Or Thamyris in curious painted things? What sweet thought is there but I had the same? And one gave place still as another came. Yet notwithstanding, like one dead it lay, Drooping more than a rose pulled yesterday. Now, when he should not jet, he bolts up- right, And craves his task, and seeks to be at fight. Lie down with shame, and see thou stir no more, Seeing thou would'st deceive me as before. Thou cozehest me : by thee surprised am I, And bide sore loss with endless infamy. Nay more, the wench did not disdain a whit To take it in her hand, and play with it. But when she saw it would by no means stand, But still drooped down, regarding not her hand, "Why mock*st thou me," she cried, "or being ill, Who bade thee lie down here against thy will ? Either thou art witched with blood of frogs new dead, Or jaded cam'st thou from some other's bed." With that, her loose gown on, from me she cast her, In skipping out her naked feet much graced her. And lest her maid should know of this dis- grace, To cover it, spilt water on the place. Elegia VIII. Quod ab arnica non recipiatur, dolet. What man will now take liberal arts in hand, Or think soft verse in any stead to stand ? Wit was sometimes more precious than gold; Now poverty great barbarism we hold. When our books did my mistress fair con- tent, I might not go whither my papers went. She praised me, yet the gate shut fast upon her, I here and there go, witty with dishonour. See a rich chuff, whose wounds great wealth inferred, For bloodshed knighted, before me pre- ferred. Fool, can'st thou him in thy white arms embrace ? Fool, canst thou lie in his enfolding space ? Know'st not this head a helm was wont to bear? This side that serves thee, a sharp sword did wear. His left hand whereon gold doth ill alight, A target bore : blood-sprinkled was his right. Can'st touch that hand wherewith some one lies dead ? Ah, whither is thy breast's soft nature fled ? Behold the signs of ancient fight, his scars, Whate'er he hath his body gained in wars. Perhaps he'll tell how oft he slew a man, Confessing this, why dost thou touch him then? I, the pure priest of Phoebus and the Muses, At thy deaf doors sing verse in my abuses. Not what we slothful know, let wise men learn, But follow trembling camps and battles stern. And for a good verse draw the first dart forth : Homer without this shall be nothing worth. Jove, being admonished gold had sovereign power, To win the maid came in a golden shower. Till then, rough was her father, she severe, The posts of brass, the walls of iron were. But when in gifts ihe wise adulterer came, She held her lap ope to receive the same. Yet when old Saturn heaven's rule possest, All gain in darkness the deep earth supprest. Gold, silver, iron's heavy weight, and brass, In hell were harboured ; here was found no mass. But better things it gave, corn without ploughs, Apples, and honey in oaks' hollow boughs. With strong ploughshares no man the earth did cleave, The ditcher no marks on the ground did leave. Nor hanging oars the troubled seas did sweep, Men kept the shore and sailed not into deep. Against thyself, man's nature, thou wert cunning, And to thine own loss was thy wit swift running. 2S8 OVID'S ELEGIES. Why gird'st thy cities with a towered wall, Why let'st discordant hands to armour fall ? What dost with seas ? with the earth thou wert content ; Why seek'st not heaven, the third realm, to frequent ? Heaven thou affects : with Romulus, temples brave, Bacchus, Alcides, and now Caesar have. Gold from the earth instead of fruits we pluck ; Soldiers by blood to be enriched have luck. Courts shut the poor out : wealth gives estimation. Thence grows the judge, and knight of re- putation. All, they possess: they govern fields and laws, They manage peace, and raw war's bloody jaws. Only our loves let not such rich churls gain : Tis well if some wench for the poor re- main. Now, Sabine-like, though chaste she seems to live, One her commands, who many things can give. For me, she doth keeper and husband fear, If I should give, both would the house for- bear. If of scorned lovers god be venger just, O let him change goods so ill got to dust. Electa IX. Tibulli mortem deflet. : If Thetis and the Morn their sons did wail I And envious Fates great goddesses assail ; Sad Elegy, thy woeful hairs unbind : Ah, now a name too true thou hast I find. Tibullus, thy work's poet, and thy fame, Burns his dead body in the funeral flame. Lo, Cupid brings his quiver spoiled quite, His broken bow, his firebrand without light ! How piteously with drooping wings he ! stands, And knocks his bare breast with self-angry i hands. The locks spread on his neck receive his tears, .And shaking sobs his mouth for speeches bears. ^o at ^Eneas' burial, men report, Fair-faced lulus, he went forth thy court. And Venus grieves, Tibullus' life being spent, As when the wild boar Adon's groin had rent. The gods' care we are called, and men of piety, And some there be that think we have a deity. Outrageous death profanes all holy things, And on all creatures obscure darkness brings. To Tracean Orpheus what did parents good? Or songs amazing wild beasts of the wood ? Where Linus by his father Phoebus laid, To sing with his unequalled harp is said. See Homer from whose fountain ever filled, Pierian dew to poets is distilled : Him the last day in black Avem hath drowned : Verses alone are with continuance crowned. The work of poets lasts : Troy's labour's fame, And that slow web night's falsehood did unframe. So Nemesis, so Delia famous are, The one his first love, the other his new care. What profit to us hath our pure life bred ? What to have lain alone in empty bed? When bad Fates take good men, I am for- bod By secret thoughts to think there is a God. Live godly, thou shalt die ; though honour heaven, Yet shall thy life be forcibly bereaven. Trust in good verse, Tibullus feels death's pains, Scarce rests of all what a small urn con- tains. Thee sacred poet could sad flames destroy? Nor feared they thy body to annoy ? The holy gods' gilt temples they might fire, That durst to so great wickedness aspire. Eryx, bright empress, turned her looks aside, And some, that she refrained tears, have denied. Yet better is't, than if Corcyra's Isle, Had thee unknown interred in ground most vile. Thy dying eyes here did thy mother close, Nor did thy ashes her last offerings lose. Part of her sorrow here thy sister bearing, Comes forth her unkernbed locks asunder tearing. Nemesis and thy first wench join their kisses With thine, nor this last fire their presence misses. Delia departing, "Happier loved," she saith, "Was I : thouliv'dst, while thou esteem'dst my faith.'' OVID'S ELEGIES. 259 Nemesis answers, "What's my loss to thee ? His fainting hand in death engrasped me." If aught remains of us but name and spirit, Tibullus doth Elysium's joy inherit. Their youthful brows with ivy girt to meet him, With Calvus learned Catullus comes, and greet him, And thou, if falsely charged to wrong thy friend, Gallus, that car'dst not blood and life to spend, With these thy soul walks : souls if death release, The godly sweet Tibullus doth increase. Thy bones, I pray, may in the urn safe rest, And may th' earth's weight thy ashes naught molest. Elegia X. Ad Cererem, conquerens quod ejus sacris cum arnica concumbere non permittatur. Come were the times of Ceres' sacrifice ; In empty bed alone my mistress lies. Golden-haired Ceres crowned with ears of corn, Why are our pleasures by thy means for- "borne ? The goddess, bountiful all nations judge, Nor less at man's prosperity any grudge. Rude husbandmen baked not their corn be- fore, Nor on the earth wras known the name of floor. On mast of oaks, first oracles, men fed, This was their meat, the soft grass was their bed. First Ceres taught the seed in fields to swell, And ripe-eared corn with sharp-edged scythes to fell. She first constrained bulls' necks to bear the yoke, And untilled ground with crooked plough- shares broke. Who thinks her to be glad at lovers' smart, And worshipped by their pain and lying apart ? Nor is she, though she loves the fertile fields, A clown, nor no love from her warm breast yields : Be witness Crete (nor Crete doth all things feign) Crete proud that Jove her nursery maintain. There, he who rules the world's star- spangled towers, A little boy drunk teat-distilling showers. Faith to the witness Jove's praise doth apply ; Ceres, I think, no known fault will deny. The goddess Iasion saw on Candian Idc, With strong hand striking wild beasts' bristled hide. She saw, and as her marrow took the flame, Was divers ways distract with love and shame. Love conquered shame, the furrows dry were burned, And corn with least part of itself returned. When well-tossed mattocks did the ground prepare, Being fit-broken with the crooked share, And seeds were equally in large fields cast, The ploughman's hopes were frustrate at the last. The grain-rich goddess in high woods did stray, Her long hair's ear-wrought garland fell away. Only was Crete fruitful that plenteous year, Where Ceres went, each place was harvest there. Ida, the seat of groves, did sing with corn, Which by the wild boar in the woods was shorn. Law-giving Minos did such years desire, And wished the goddess long might feel love's fire. Ceres, what sports to thee so grievous were, As in thy sacrifice we them forbear ? Why am I sad, when Proserpine is found, And Juno-like with Dis reigns underground? Festival days ask Venus, songs, and wine, These gifts are meet to please the powers divine. Elegia XL Ad amicam a cujus amore discedere non potest. Long have I borne much, mad thy faults me make ; Dishonest love, my wearied breast forsake ! Now have I freed myself, and fled the chain, And what I have borne, shame to bear again. We vanquish, and tread tamed love under feet, Victorious wreaths at length my temples greet. Suffer, and harden : good grows by this grief, Oft bitter juice brings to the sick relief. I have sustained, so oft thrust from the door, To lay my body on the hard moist floor. I know not whom thou lewdly didst embrace, When I to watch supplied a servant's place. S 2 260 OVID'S ELEGIES. I saw when forth a tired lover went, His side past service, and his courage spent. Yet this is less, than if he had seen me ; May that shame fall mine enemies' chance to be. When have not I, fixed to thy side, close layed? I have thy husband, guard, and fellow played. The people by my company she pleased ; My love was cause that more men's love she seized. What, should I tell her vain tongue's filthy lies, And, to my loss, god-wronging perjuries? What secret becks in banquets with her youths, With privy signs, and talk dissembling truths? Hearing her to be sick, I thither ran, Rut with my rival sick she was not then. These hardened me, with what I keep obscure : Some other seek, who will these things en- dure. Now my ship in the wished haven crowned, With joy hears Neptune's swelling waters sound. Leave thy once powerful words, and flat- teries, I am not as I was before, unwise. Now love and hate my light breast each way move, But victory, I think will hap to love. I'll hate, if I can ; if not, love 'gainst my will, Bulls hate the yoke, yet what they hate have still. I fly her lust, but follow beauty's creature, I loathe her manners, love her body's feature. Nor with thee, nor without thee can I live, And doubt to which desire the palm to give. Or less fair, or less lewd would thou might'st be: Beauty with lewdness doth right ill agree. Her deeds gain hate, her face entreateth love, Ah, she doth more worth than her vices prove ! Spare me, oh, by our fellow bed, by all The gods, who by thee, to be perjured fall. And by thy face to me a power divine, And by thine eyes whose radiance burns out mine ! Whate'er thou art, mine art thou : choose this course, Wilt have me willing, or to love by force. Rather I'll hoist up sail, and use the wind, That I may love yet, though against my mind. Elegia XII. Dolet amicam suam ita suis carminibus inno- tuisse ut rivales multos sibi pararit. What day was that, which all sad haps to bring, White birds to lovers did not always sing? Or is I think my wish against the stars ? Or shall I plain some god against me wars ? Who mine was called, whom I loved more than any, I fear with me is common now to many. Err I ? or by my books is she so known ? 'Tis so : by my wit her abuse is grown. And justly : for her praise why did I tell ? The wench by my fault is set forth to sell. The bawd I play, lovers to her I guide : Her gate by my hands is set open wide. 'Tis doubtful whether verse avail or harm, Against my good they were an envious charm. When Thebes, when Troy, when Caesar should be writ, Alone Corinna moves my wanton wit. With Muse opposed, would I my lines had done, And Phoebus had forsook my work begun ! Nor, as use will not poets' record hear, Would I my words would any credit bear. Scylla by us her father's rich hair steals, And Scylla's womb mad raging dogs con- ceals. We cause feet fly, we mingle hares with snakes, Victorious Perseus a winged steed's back takes. Our verse great Tityus, a huge space out- spreads, And gives the viper-curled dog three heads. We make Enceladus use a thousand arms, And men enthralled by mermaid's singing charms. The east winds in Ulysses' bags we shut, And blabbing Tantalus in mid-waters put. Niobe flint, Callist we make a bear, Bird-changed Progne doth her Ilys tear. Jove turns himself into a swan, or gold, Or his bull's horns Europa's hand doth hold. Proteus what should I name ? teeth, Thebes- first seed? Oxen in whose mouths burning flames did breed ? Heaven-star, Electra, that bewailed 1 sisters ? The ships, whose godhead in the sea now glisters? The sun turned back from Atreus' cursed' table? And sweet touched harp that to move stones j was able ? OVID'S ELEGIES. 261 Poets' large power is boundless and immense, Nor have their words true history's pretence. And my wench ought to have seemed falsely praised, Now your credulity harm to me hath raised. Elegia XIII. De Junonis festo. When fruit-filled Tuscia should a wife give me, We touched the walls, Camillus, won by thee. The priests to Juno did prepare chaste feasts, With famous pageants, and their home-bred beasts. To know their rites, well recompensed my stay, Though thither leads a rough steep hilly way. There stands an old wood with thick trees dark clouded : Who sees it grants some deity there is shrouded. An altar takes men's incense and oblation, An altar made after the ancient fashion. Here, when the pipe with solemn tunes doth sound, The annual pomp goes on the covered ground. White heifers by glad people forth are led, Which with the grass of Tuscan fields are fed. And calves from whose feared front no threatening flies, And little pigs, base hogsties' sacrifice, And rams with horns their hard heads wreathed back ; Only the goddess-hated goat did lack. By whom disclosed, she in the high woods took, Is said to have attempted flight forsook. Now is the goat brought through the boys with darts, And given to him that the first wound im- parts. 1 Where Juno comes, each youth and pretty maid, Show large ways, with their garments there displayed. J I Jewels, and gold their virgin tresses crown, And stately robes to their gilt feet hang down. As is the use, the nuns in white veils clad, Upon their heads the holy mysteries had. When the chief pomp comes, loud the people hollow ; And she her vestal virgin priests doth follow. , Such was the Greek pomp, Agamemnon dead ; Which fact and country wealth, Halesus fled. And having wandered now through sea and land, Built walls high towered with a prosperous hand. He to the Hetrurians Juno's feast com- mended : Let me and them by it be aye befriended. Elegia XIV. Ad amicam, si peccatura est, ut occulte peccet. Seeing thou art fair, I bar not thy false play- ing, But let not me poor soul know of thy straying. Nor do I give thee counsel to live chaste, But that thou would'st dissemble, when 'tis past. She hath not trod awry, that doth deny it. Such as confess have lost their good names by it. What madness is't to tell night-pranks by day? And hidden secrets openly to bewray ? The strumpet with the stranger will not do, Before the room be clear, and door put-to. Will you make shipwreck of your honest name, And let the world be witness of the same ? Be more advised, walk as a puritan, And I shall think you chaste, do what you can. Slip still, only deny it when 'tis done, And, before folk, immodest speeches shun. The bed is for lascivious toyings meet, There use all tricks, and tread shame under feet. When you are up and dressed, be sage and grave, And in the bed hide all the faults you have. Be not ashamed to strip you, being there, And mingle thighs, yours ever mine to bear. There in your rosy lips my tongue entomb, Practise a thousand sports when there you come. Forbear no wanton words you there would speak, And with your pastime let the bedstead creak But with your robes put on an honest face, And blush and seem as you were full of grace. Deceive all ; let me err ; and think I'm right, And like a wittol think thee void of slight. Why see I lines so oft received and given ? This bed and that by tumbling made un- even ? :'2 OVID'S ELEGIES. Like one start up your hair tost and dis- placed, And with a wanton's tooth your neck new- rased. Grant this, that what you do I may not see; If you weigh not ill speeches, yet weigh me. My soul fleets when I think what you have done, And thorough every vein doth cold blood run. Then thee whom I must love, I hate in vain, And would be dead, but dead with thee re- main. I'll not sift much, but hold thee soon ex- cused, Say but thou wert injuriously accused. Though while the deed be doing you be took, And I see when you ope the two-leaved book, Swear I was blind ; deny, if you be wise, And I will trust your words more than mine eyes. From him that yields, the palm is quickly got, Teach but your tongue to say, ' ' I did it not," And being justified by two words, think The cause acquits you not, but I that wink. Elegia XV. Ad Venerem, quod elegis finem imponat. Tender love's mother a new poet get, This last end to my Elegies is set. Which I Peligny's foster-child have framed. (Nor am I by such wanton toys defamed.) Heir of an ancient house, if help that can, Not only by war's rage made gentleman. In Virgil Mantua joys : in Catull Verone, Of me Peligny's nation boasts alone ; Whom liberty to honest arms compelled, When careful Rome in doubt their prowess held. And some guest viewing watery Sulmo's walls, Where little grounds to be inclosed befalls; " How such a poet could you bring forth," says : "How small soe'er, I'll you for greatest praise." Both loves, to whom my heart long time did yield, Your golden ensigns pluck out of my field, Horned Bacchus graver fury doth distil, A greater ground with great horse is to till. Weak Elegies, delightful Muse, farewell ; A work, that after my death, here shall dwell. Epigrams by J. D[avies], Ad Musam. I. Fly merry Muse unto that merry town, Where thou may'st plays, revels, and tri- umphs see, The house of fame and theatre of renown, Where all good wits and spirits love to be. Fall in between their hands, that praise and love thee, And bs to them a laughter and a jest : But as for them which scorning shall re- p-ove thee, Disdain their wits, and think thine own the best. But if thou find any so gross and dull, That thinks I do to private taxing lean : Bid him go hang for he is but a gull, And knows not what an epigram doth mean. Which taxeth, under a particular name, A general vice which merits public blame. Of a Gull. II. Oft in my laughing rhymes, I name a gull, But this new term will many questions breed, Therefore at first I will express at full, Who is a true and perfect gull indeed. A gull is he who fears a velvet gown, And, when a wench is brave, dares not speak to her : A gull is he which traverseth the town, And is for marriage known a common wooer. A gull is he, which while he proudly wears, A silver-hilted rapier by his side, Endures the lie, and knocks about the ears, Whilst in his sheath his sleeping sword doth bide. A gull is he which wears good handsome clothes, And stands in presence stroking up his hair, And fills up his unperfect speech with oaths, But speaks not one wise word throughout the year : But to define a gull in terms precise, A gull is he which seems, and is no£ wise. In Rufum. III. Rufus the Courtier, at the theatre, Leaving the best and most conspicuous place, Doth either to the stage himself transfer, Or through a grate, doth show his double i face. For that the clamorous fry of Inns of Court, Fills up the private rooms of greater price, And such a place where all may have- resort, He in his singularity doth despise. Yet doth not his particular humour shun The common stews and brothels of the town, Though all the world in troops do thither run, Clean and unclean, the gentle and the clown : Then why should Rufus in his pride abhor, A common seat, that loves a common whore ? In Quintum. IV. Quintius the Dancer useth evermore, His feet in measure, and in rule to move, Yet on a time he called his mistress "whore," And thought with that sweet word to win her love. Oh, had his tongue like to his feet been taught, It never would have uttered such a thought. In Plurimos. V. Faustinus, Sextus, Cinna, Ponticus, With Gella, Lesbia, Thais, Rhodope, Rode all to Staines for no cause serious, But for their mirth, and for their lechery. 264 EPIGRAMS BY J. D. Scarce were they settled in their lodging, when Wenches with wenches, men with men fell out; Men with their wenches, wenches with their men, Which straight dissolved this ill-assembled rout. But since the devil brought them thus to- gether, To my discoursing thoughts it is a wonder, Why presently as soon as they came thi- ther, The selfsame devil didthem part asunder. Doubtless it seems it was a foolish devil That thus did part them, ere they did some evil. In Titum. VI. Titus the brave and valorous young gal- lant, Three years together in the town hath been, Yet my Lord Chancellor's tomb he hath not seen, Nor the new waterwork, nor the elephant : I cannot tell the cau~e without a smile, — He hath been in the Counter all this while. In Faustum. VII. Faustus not lord, nor knight, nor wise, nor old, To every place about the town doth ride, He rides into the fields plays to behold, He rides to take boat at the water-side ; He rides to Paul's, he rides to the Ordinary, He rides unto the house of bawdry too : Thither his horse so often doth him carry, That shortly he will quite forget to go. In Katum. VIII. Kate being pleased, wished that her plea- sure could Endure as long as a buff jerkin would : Content thee Kate, although thy pleasure wasteth, Thy pleasure's place like a buff jerkin lasteth : For no buff jerkin hath been oftener worn, Nor hath more scrapings or more dress- ings borne. In Librum. IX. Liber doth vaunt how chastely he hath lived, Since he hath been in town seven years and more, For that he swears he hath four only swived, A maid, a wife, a widow, and a whore : Then Liber thou hast swived al women- kind, For a fifth sort I know thou canst not find. In Medontem. X. Great Captain Medon wears a chain of gold, Which at five hundred crowns is valued, For that it was his grandsire's chain of old, When great King Henry Bullogne con- quered. And wear it, Medon, for it may ensue, That thou by virtue of this massy chain, A stronger town than Bullogne may'st subdue, If wise men's saws be not reputed vain. For what said Philip king of Macedon? ' ' There is no castle so well fortified, But if an ass laden with gold come on, The guard will stoop, and gates fly open wide." In Gellam. XI. Gella, if thou dost love thyself, take heed, Lest thou my rhymes unto thy lover read, For straight thou grinn'st, and then thy lover seeth, Thy canker-eaten gums and rotten teeth. In Quintum. XII. Quintus his wit infused into his brain, Mislikes the place, and fled into his feet, And there it wanders up and down the street, Dabbled in the dirt, and soaked in the rain. Doubtless his wit intends not to aspire, Which leaves his head to travel in the mire. In Severum. XIII. The puritan Severus oft doth read This text that doth pronounce vain speech a sin, ' ' That thing defiles a man that doth proceed From out the mouth, not that which enters in." EPIGRAMS BY J. D. 265 Hence is it, that we seldom hear him swear ; And thereof like a Pharisee he vaunts ; But he devours more capons in a year, Than would suffice an hundred protestants. And sooth those sectaries are gluttons all, As well the threadbare cobbler as the knight, For those poor slaves which have not where- withal, * Feed on the rich, till they devour them quite. And so like Pharaoh's kine, they eat up clean, Those that be fat, yet still themselves be lean. In Leucam. XIV. Leuca in presence once a fart did let, Some laughed a little, she forsook the place ; And mad with shame, did eke her glove forget, Which she returned to fetch with bashful grace : And when she would have said ' ' [I seek] my glove," "My fart" (quod she), which did more laughter move. In Macrum. XV. Thou canst not speak yet, Macer, for to speak, Is to distinguish sounds significant ; Thou with harsh noise the air dost rudely break, But what thou utterest common sense doth want : — Half English words, with fustian terms among, Much like the burthen of a northern song. In Faustum. XVI. " That youth," said Faustus, "hath a lion seen, Who from a dicing house comes money- less." But when he lost his hair, where had he been, I doubt me he had seen a lioness. In Cosmum. XVII. Cosmus hath more discoursing in his head, Than Jove, when Pallas issued from his brain, And still he strives to be delivered, Of all his thoughts at once, but all in vain : For as we see at all the playhouse doors, When ended is the play, the dance and song, A thousand townsmen, gentlemen, and whores, Porters and serving-men together throng : So thoughts of drinking, thriving, wenching, war, And borrowing money, ranging in his mind, To issue all at once so forward are, As none at all can perfect passage find. In Flaccum. XVIII. The false knave Flaccus once a bribe I gave, The more fool I to bribe so false a knave, But he gave back my bribe, the more fool he, That for my folly, did not cozen me. In Cineam. XIX. Thou, dogged Cineas, hated like a dog, For still thou grumblest like a mastiff dog Compar'st thyself to nothing but a dog, Thou say'st thou art as weary as a dog, As angry, sick, and hungry as a dog, As dull and melancholy as a dog, As lazy, sleepy, idle as a dog ; But why dost thou compare thee to a dog? | In that, for which all .men despise a dog ? I will compare thee better to a dog. Thou art as fair and comely as a dog, Thou art as true and honest as a dog, Thou art as kind and liberal as a dog, Thou art as wise and valiant as a dog : But Cineas I have often heard thee tell, Thou art as like thy father as may be ; 'Tis like enough, and 'faith I like it well, But I am glad thou art not like to me. In Gerontem. XX. Geron his mouldy memory corrects Old Holinshed our famous chronicler, With moral rules, and policy collects Out of all actions done these fourscore year. j Accounts the time of every old event, I Not from Christ's birth, nor from the prince's reign, But from some other famous accident, Which in men's general notice doth remain. The siege of Boulogne, and the plaguy sweat, The going to Saint Quintin's and New- haven, The rising in the North, the frost so great, The cart-wheel prints on Thamis' face were graven. 266 EPIGRAMS BY J. D. The fall of money, and burning of Pauls' steeple, The blazing star, and Spaniard's overthrow: By these events, notorious to the people, He measures times, and things forepast doth show. But most of all, he chiefly reckons by A private chance, the death of his curst wife : This is to him the dearest memory, And the happiest accident of all his life. In MARCUM. XXI. : When Marcus comes from Mins', he still doth swear By, " come on seven," that all is lost and gone, But that's not true, for he hath lost his hair Only for that he came too much on one. In Ciprium. XXII. The fine youth Cyprius is more terse and neat, Than the new garden of the Old Temple is, And still the newest fashion he doth get, And with the time doth change from that to this, He wears a hat now dt the flat-crown block, The treble ruff, long cloak, and doublet French ; He takes tobacco, and doth wear a lock, And wastes more time in dressing than a wench. Yet this new-fangled youth, made for these times, Doth above all, praise old George Gas- coigne's rhymes. In Cineam. XXIII. When Cineas comes amongst his friends in morning, He slily looks who first his cap doth move : Him he salutes, the rest so grimly scorning, As if for ever they had lost his love. I knowing how it doth the humour fit, Of this fond gull to be saluted first : Catch at my cap, but move it not a whit : Which he perceiving seems for spite to burst. But Cineas, why expect you more of me, Than I of you? I am as good a man, And better too by many a quality, For vault, and dance, and ience, and rhyme I can: You keep a whore at your own charge men tell me, Indeed friend Cineas therein you excel me. IN Gallum. XXIV. Gallus has been this summer in Friesland, And now returned he speaks such warlike words, As, if I could their English understand, I fear me they would cut my throat like swords. He talks of counterscarps and casamates, Of curtains, parapets, and pallisadoes, Of flankers, ravelins, gabions he prates, And of false-brayes and sallies, and scala- does : But to requite such gulling terms as these, With words of my profession I reply ; I tell of fourching, vouchers, and counter- pleas, Of withernams, essoines, and champarty : So neither of us understanding either, We part as wise as when we came toge- ther. In Decium. [Drayton.] XXV. Audacious painters have Nine Worthies made, But poet Decius more audacious far, Making his mistress march with men of war, With title of tenth worthy doth her lade ; Methinks that gull did use his terms as fit, Which termed his love "a giant for her wit." In Gellam. XXVI. If Gella's beauty be examined, She hath a dull dead eye, a saddle nose, An ill-shaped face, with morphew over- spread, And rotten teeth which she in laughing shows. Briefly, she is the filthiest wench in town, Of all that do the art of whoring use ; But when she hath put on her satin gown, Her cut-lawn apron, and her velvet shoes, Her green silk stockings and her petticoat Of taffeta, with golden fringe around : And is withal perfumed with civet hot, Which doth her valiant stinking breath con- found ; Yet she with these additions is no more, Than a sweet, filthy, fine, ill-favoured whore. EPIGRAMS BY J. D. 267 In Syllam. XXVII. Sylla is often challenged to the field, To answer like a gentleman his foes, But then he doth this only answer yield, — That he hath livings and fair lands to lose. Sylla, if none but beggars valiant were, The king of Spain would put us all in fear. In Syllam. XXVIII. Who dares affirm that Sylla dares not fight ? When I dare swear he dares adventure more, Than the most brave and most all-daring wight, That ever arms with resolution bore : He that dares touch the most unwholesome whore, That ever was retired into the spittle ; And dares court wenches standing at a door, (The portion of his wit being passing little :) He that dares give his dearest friends offences, Which other valiant fools do fear to do ; And when a fever doth confound his senses, Dares eat raw beef, and drink strong wine thereto : He that dares take tobacco on the stage, Dares man a whore at noon-day through the street, Dares dance in Pauls', and in this formal age, Dares say and do whatever is unmeet : Whom fear of shame could never yet affright, Who dares affirm that Sylla dares not \ fight? In Heywodum. XXIX. I Heywood that did in epigrams excel, j Is now put down since my light Muse arose ; . As buckets are put down into a well, Or as a schoolboy putteth down his hose. In Dacum. XXX. : Amongst the poets Dacus numbered is, i Yet could he never make an English rhyme, j But some prose speeches I have heard of his, I Which have been spoken many a hundred time ; The man that keeps the elephant hath one, Wherein he tells the wonders of the beast ; Another Banks pronounced long agone, When he his curtal's qualities expressed : He first taught him that keeps the monu- ments At Westminster, his formal tale to say, And also him which puppets represents, And also him which with the ape doth play; Though all his poetry be like to this, Amongst the poets Dacus numbered is. In Priscum. XXXI. When Priscus, raised from low to high estate, Rode through the street in pompous jollity, Caius his poor familiar friend of late, Bespake him thus, " Sir, now you know not me :" " 'Tis likely, friend," quoth Priscus, "to be so, For at this time myself I do not know." In Brunum. XXXII. Brunus which thinks himself a fair sweet youth Is nine-and-thirty years of age at least ; Yet was he never, to confess the truth, But a dry starveling when he was at best. This gull was sick to show his nightcap fine, And his wrought pillow overspread with lawn ; But hath been well since his grief's cause hath lien At Trollop's by Saint Clement's Church in pawn. In Francum. XXXIII. When Francus comes to solace with his whore, He sends for rods and strips himself stark naked ; For his lust sleeps, and will not rise before By whipping of the wench it be awaked. I envy him not, but wish I had the power, To make himself his wench but one half hour. In Castorem. XXXIV. Of speaking well, why do we learn the skill, Hoping thereby honour and wealth to gain : Sith railing Castor doth by speaking ill, Opinion of much wit, and gold obtain. 268 EPIGRAMS BY J. D. In Septimum. XXXV. Scptimius lives, and is like garlic seen, For, though his head be white, his blade is green : This old mad colt deserves a martyr's praise, For he was burned in Queen Mary's days. Of Tobacco. XXXVI. Homer of Moly, and Nepenthe sings, Moly the gods' most sovereign herb divine ; Nepenthe, Helen's drink, most gladness brings, Heart's grief expels, and doth the wits refine. But this our age another world hath found, From whence an herb of heavenly power is brought ; Moly is not so sovereign for a wound, Nor hath Nepenthe so great wonders wrought. It is tobacco, whose sweet subtle fume, The hellish torment of the teeth doth ease, By drawing down, and drying up the rheum, The mother and the nurse of each disease. It is tobacco which doth cold expel, And clears the obstructions of the arteries, And surfeits threatening death digesteth well, Decocting all the stomach's crudities. It is tobacco which hath power to clarify The cloudy mists before dim eyes appearing, It is tobacco which hath power to rarify The thick gross humour which doth stop the hearing, The wasting hectic and the quartan fever, Which doth of physic make a mockery : The gout it cures, and helps ill breaths for ever, Whether the cause in teeth or stomach be: And though ill breaths were by it but con- founded Yet that vile medicine it doth far excel, Which by Sir Thomas More hath been propounded, For this is thought a gentlemanlike smell. 0 that I were one of these mountebanks, Which praise their oils and powders which they sell, My customers would give me coin with thanks ! 1 for this ware, forsooth a tale would tell ; Yet would I use none of these terms be- fore, I would but say, that it the pox will cure ; This were enough, without discoursing more, All our brave gallants in the town to al- lure. In CRASSUM. XXXVII. Crassus's lies are not pernicious lies, But pleasant fictions, hurtful unto none But to himself, for no man counts him wise, To tell for truth, that which for false is known. He swears that Gaunt is threescore miles about, And that the bridge at Paris on the Seine, Is of such thickness, length and breadth, throughout, That six score arches can it scarce sustain : He swears he saw so great a dead man's skull, At Canterbury digged out of the ground, That would contain of wheat three bushels full, And that in Kent are twenty yeomen found, Of which the poorest every year dispends Five thousand pound : these and five thousand mo, So oft he hath recited to his friends, That now himself persuades himself 'tis so. But why doth Crassus tell his lies so rife, Of bridges, towns, and things that have no life: He is a lawyer, and doth well espy, That for such lies an action will not lie. In Philonem. XXXVIII. Philo the lawyer and the fortune-teller, The schoolmaster, the midwife, and the bawd, The conjuror, the buyer and the seller Of painting which with breathing will be thaw'd, Doth practise physic, and his credit grows, As doth the ballad-singer's auditory, Which hath at Temple Bar his standing chose, And to the vulgar sings an alehouse story. First stands a porter ; then an oyster-wife Doth stint her cry, and stay her steps to hear him ; Then comes a cutpurse ready with a knife, And then a country client presseth near him : EPIGRAMS BY J. D. 269 There stands the constable, there stands the whore, And harkening to the song-, mark not each other; There by the Serjeant stands the debtor poor, And doth no more mistrust him than his brother : This Orpheus to such hearers giveth music, And Philo to such patients giveth physic. In Fl-scum. XXXIX. Fuscus is free, and hath the world at will, Yet in the course of life that he doth lead, He's like a horse which turning round a mill, Doth always in the self-same circle tread : First he doth rise at ten, and at eleven He goes to Gill's, where he doth eat till one ; Then sees he a play till six, and sups at seven, And after supper straight to bed is gone. And there till ten next day he doth remain, And then he dines, then sees a comedy ; And then he sups, and goes to bed again, Thus round he runs without variety : Save that sometimes he comes not to the play, But falls into a whore-house by the way. In Afrum. XL. The smell-feast Afer, travels to the Burse Twice every day the flying news to hear, Which, when he hath no money in his purse, To rich men's tables he doth ever bear : He tells how Groningen is taken in, By the brave conduct of illustrious Vere ; And how the Spanish forces Brest would win, But that they do victorious Norris fear. No sooner is a ship at sea surprised, But straight he learns the news and doth disclose it ; No sooner hath the Turk a plot devised To conquer Christendom, but straight he knows it.* Fair written in a scroll he hath the names, Of all the widows which the plague hath made ; And persons, times and places, still he frames To every tale, the better to persuade : * The above two lines were recovered by Mr. Dyce from a MS. in the British Museum. We call him Fame, for that the wide-mouth slave, Will eat as fast as he will utter lies ; For Fame is said an hundred mouths to have, And he eats more than would five score suffice. In Paulum. XLI. By lawful mart, and by unlawful stealth, Paulus in spite of envy fortunate, Derives out of the ocean so much wealth, As he may well maintain a lord's estate : But on the land a little gulf there is, Wherein he drowneth all that wealth of his. In Licum. XLII. Lycus which lately is to Venice gone, Shall if he do return, gain three for one : But ten to one his knowledge and his wit, Will not be bettered or increased a whit. In Publium. XLIII. Publius, student at the Common Law, Oft leaves his books, and for his recreation,. To Paris Garden doth himself withdraw, Where he is ravished with such delectation, As down amongst the bears and dogs he goes; Where whilst he skipping cries, " To head, to head," His satin doublet and his velvet hose, Are all with spittle from above bespread. Then is he like his father's country hall, Stinking with dogs, and muted all with hawks ; And rightly too on him this filth doth fall. Which for such filthy sports his books for- sakes ; Leaving old Plowden, Dyer and Brooke alone, To see old Harry Hunkes and Sacarson. In Syllam. XLIV. When I this proposition had defended, "A coward cannot be an honest man," Thou Sylla seem'st forthwith to be offended, And hold'st the contrary and swear 'st he can : But when I tell thee that he will forsake His dearest friend, in peril of his life, Thou then art changed and say'st thou didst mistake, And so we end our argument and strife : Yet I think oft, and think I think aright, Thy argument argues thou wilt not fight. 270 EPIGRAMS BY J. D. In Dacum. XLV. Dacus with some good colour and pretence, Terms his love's beauty " silent eloquence ;" For she doth lay more colours on her face, Than ever Tully used his speech to grace. In Marcum. XLVI. Why dost thou, Marcus, in thy misery Rail and blaspheme, and call the heavens unkind? The heavens do owe no kindness unto thee, Thou hast the heavens so little in thy mind : For in thy life thou never usest prayer, But at primero, to encounter fair. Meditations of a Gull. XLVI I. See yonder melancholy gentleman, Which hoodwinked with his hat, alone doth sit ! Think what he thinks and tell me, if you can, What great affairs trouble his little wit. He thinks not of the war 'twixt France and Spain, Whether it be for Europe good or ill, Nor whether the Empire can itself main- tain Against tire Turkish power encroaching still ; Nor what great town in all the Nether- lands The States determine to besiege this spring, Nor how the Scottish policy now stands, Nor what becomes of the Irish mutining. But he doth seriously bethink him whether Of the gulled people he be more esteemed, For his long cloak, or for his great black feather, By which each gull is now a gallant deemed : Or of a journey he deliberates, To Paris Garden, Cock-pit, or the play : Or how to steal a dog he meditates, Or what he shall unto his mistress say : Yet with these thoughts he thinks him- self most fit To be of counsel with a kins: for wit. Ad MUSAM. XLVIII. Peace, idle Muse, have done ! for it is time, Since lousy Ponticus envies me fame, And swears the better sort are much to blame To make me so well known for my ill rhyme : Yet Banks his horse is better known than he, So are the camels and the western hog, And so is Lepidus his printed dog : Why doth not Ponticus their fames envy? Besides this Muse of mine, and the black feather, Grew both together fresh in estimation, And both grown stale, were cast away to- gether : What fame is this that scarce lasts out a fashion? Only this last in credit doth remain, That from henceforth each bastard cast- forth rhyme, Which doth but savour of a libel vein, Shall call me father, and be thought my crime ; So dull and with so little sense endued, Is my gross-headed judge, the multitude. I. D. Ignoto, I love thee not for sacred chastity. Who loves for that ? nor for thy sprightly wit : I love thee not for thy sweet modesty, Which makes thee in perfection's throne to sit. I love thee not for thy enchanting eye, Thy beauty, ravishing perfection : I love thee not for unchaste luxury, Nor for thy body's fair proportion. I love thee not for that my soul doth dance, And leap with pleasure when those lips of thine, Give musical and graceful utterance, To some (by thee made happy) poet's line. I love thee not for voice or slender small, But wilt thou" know wherefore ? fair sweet, for all. 'Faith wench ! I cannot court thy sprightly eyes, With the base viol placed between my thighs : I cannot lisp, nor to some fiddle sing, Nor run upon a high stretched minikin. I cannot whine in puling elegies. Entombing Cupid with sad obsequies : I am not fashioned for these amorous times, To court thy beauty with lascivious rhymes : I cannot dally, caper, dance and sing, Oiling my saint with supple sonneting : I cannot cross my arms, or sigh "Ah me," ' ' Ah me forlorn !" egregious foppery ! I cannot buss thy fill, play with thy hair, Swearing by Jove, "Thou art most de- bonnaire!" Not I, by cock ! but I shall tell thee roundly, Hark in thine ear, zounds I can ( ) thee soundly. Sweet wench, I love thee ; yet I will not sue, Or show my love as musky courtiers do ; I'll not carouse a health to honour thee, In this same bezzling drunken courtesy : And when all's quaffed, eat up my bousing glass, In glory that I am thy servile ass. Nor will I wear a rotten Bourbon lock, As some sworn peasant to a female smock. Well-featured lass, thou know'st I love thee dear, Yet for thy sake I will not bore mine ear, To hang thy dirty silken shoe-tires there : Nor for thy love will I once gnash a brick, Or some pied colours in my bonnet stick. But by the chaps of hell, to do thee good, I'll freely spend my thrice decocted blood. The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. [This beautiful song was first printed in 1599 in The Passionate Pilgrim as Shak- speare's, but in the following year is found in England's Helicon with the name Ckr. Marlow appended to it, and followed by The Nimph's Reply to the Sheepheard, and Another of the same nature, made since. The former of these has always been assigned to Sir Walter Raleigh ; but in England's Helico?i both have the word Ignoto attached to them, which is equivalent to the "Anon." of the present day. Marlowe's famous song should never be printed without them. I have here given, in the first instance, the version made popular by Isaak Walton, and afterwards the three sister poems copied verbatim et literatim from Mr. Collier's beautiful reprint of the old Anthology.] Come live with me, and be my love ; And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Woods or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. 2J2 THE NIMPHS REPLY TO THE SHEEPHEARD. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies ; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle ; A gown made of the finest wool. Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold ; A belt of straw and ivy-buds With coral clasps, and amber-studs : And, if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. [Thy silver dishes for thy meat, As precious as the gods do eat, Shall on an ivory table be Prepared each day for thee and me.] The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May-morning : If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love. The Passionate Sheepheard to his Loue, Come hue with mee, and be my loue And we will all the pleasures proue, That Vallies, groues, hills and fieldes, Woods, or steepie mountaine yeeldes. And wee will sit vpon the Rocks, Seeing the Sheepheards feede flocks, By shallow Riuers, to whose falls, Melodious byrds sings Madrigalls. And I will make thee beds of Roses And a thousand fragrant poesies, A cap of flowers and a kirtle, Imbroydred all with leaues of Mirtle. theyr A gowne made of the finest wooll Which from our pretty Lambes we pull, Fayre lined slippers for the cold : With buckles of the purest gold. A belt of straw, and Iuie buds, With Corall clasps and Amber studs, And if these pleasures may thee moue, Come hue with mee, and be my loue. The Sheepheards Swaines shall dauncc and sing, For thy delight each May-morning, Tf these delights thy mind may moue; Then hue with mee, and be my loue. Chk. Makloyv. fine. The Nimphs Reply to the Sheepheard, If all the world and loue were young, And truth in euery Sheepheards tongue, These pretty pleasures might me moue, To hue with thee, and be thy loue. Time driues the flocks from field to fold, When Riuers rage and Rocks grow cold, And Philomell becommeth dombe, The rest complaines of cares to come. The flowers doe fade and wanton fieldes, To wayward winter reckoning yeeldes, A honny tongue, a hart of gall, Is fancies spring, but sorrowes fall. Thy gounes, thy shooes, thy beds of Roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy poesies, Soone breake, soone wither, soone for- gotten : In follie ripe, in reason rotten. ANOTHER OF THE SAME NATURE, MADE SINCE. 273 Thy belt of straw and Iuie buddes, Thy Corall claspes, and Amber studdes, All these in mee no meanes can moue, To come to thee, and be thy loue. But could youth last, and loue still breede, Had ioyes no date, nor age no neede, Then these delights my minde might moue, To live with thee, and be thy loue. IGNOTO. FINIS. Another of the same Nature, made since. Come hue with mee, and be my deere, And we will revel all the yeere, In plain es and groaues, on hills and dales : Where fragrant ayre breedes sweetest gales. There shall you haue the beauteous Pine, The Cedar, andthe spreading Vine, And all the woods to be a skreene : Least Phoebus kisse my Sommers Queene. The seate for your disport shall be Ouer some Riuer in a tree, Where siluer sands and pebbles sing, Eternall ditties with the spring. There shall you see the Nimphs at play, And how the Satires spend the day, The fishes gliding on the sands : Offering their bellies to your hands. The birds with heauenly tuned throates, Possesse woods Ecchoes with sweet noates, Which to your sences will impart, A musique to enflame the hart. Vpon the bare and leafe-lesse Oake, The Ring-Doues wooings will prouoke A colder blood then you possesse, To play with me and doo no lesse. In bowers of Laurell trimly dight, We will out-weare the silent night, While Flora busie is to spread : Her richest treasure on our bed. Ten thousand Glow-wormes shall attend, And all this sparkling lights shall spend, All to adorne and beautifie : Your lodging with most maiestie. Then in mine armes will I enclose Lillies faire mixture with the Rose, Whose nice perfections in loue's play : Shall tune me to the highest key. Thus as we passe the welcome night, In sportfull pleasures and delight, The nimble Fairies on the grounds, Shall daunce and sing mellodious sounds. If these may serue for to entice, Your presence to Loues Paradice, Then come with me, and be my Deare ; And we will then begin the yeare. IGNOTO. Fragment. [From "England's Parnassus." 1600.] I walked along a stream, for pureness rare, Brighter than sunshine ; for it did ac- quaint The dullest sight with all the glorious prey That in the pebble-paved channel lay. No molten crystal, but a richer mine, Even Nature's rarest alchymyran there, — Diamonds resolved, and substance more divine, Through whose bright-gliding current might appear A thousand naked nymphs, whose ivory shine, Enamelling the banks, made them more dear Than ever was that glorious palace' gate Where the day-shining Sun in triumph sate. Upon this brim the eglantine and rose, The tamarisk, olive, and the almond tree, As kind companions, in one union grows, Folding their twining arms, as oft we see Turtle-taught lovers either other close, Lending to dulness feeling sympathy : And as a costly valance o'er a bed, So did their garland-tops the brook o'er- spread. Their leaves that differed both in shape and show, Though all were green, yet difference such in green, Like to the checkered bent of Iris' bow, Prided the running main, as it had been — Dialogue in Verse. [This Dialogue was first published by Mr. Collier in his volume of Alleyn Papers, edited for the Shakespeare Society. The original MS., found amongst the documents of Dulwich College, was written in prose on one side of a sheet of paper, with the name " Kitt Marlowe" inscribed in a modern hand on the back. "What connexion, if any, he may have had with it," says Mr. Collier, "it is impossible to determine, but it was obviously worthy of preservation, as a curious stage relic of an early date, and unlike any- thing else of the kind that has come down to us." The words in brackets were deficient in the original, and have been supplied by Mr. Collier. The Dialogue was probably in- tended as an interlude in a play, or as an entertainment, terminating with a dance, after a play. It is essentially dramatic in character ; but it would be rash to speculate upon the authorship from the internal evidence. — R. Bell.] JACK. Seest thou not yon farmer's son? He hath stolen my love from me, alas ! What shall I do ? I am undone ; , My heart will ne'er be as it was. Oh, but he gives her gay gold rings, And tufted gloves [for] holiday, And many other goodly things, That hath stoln my love away. FRIEND. Let him give her gay gold rings Or tufted gloves, were they ne'er so [gay] ; r Or were her lovers lords or kings, a They should not carry the wench away. ■i: DIALOGUE IN VERSE. 275 JACK. But a' dances wonders well, And with his dances stole her love from me: Yet she wont to say I bore the bell For dancing and for courtesy. Fie, lusty younker, what do you here, Not dancing on the green to-day? For Pierce, the farmer's son, I fear, Is like to carry your wench away. JACK. Good Dick, bid them all come hither, And tell Pierce, from me beside, That, if he think to have the wench, Here he stands shall lie with the bride. Fie, Nan, why use thy old lover so, For any other new-come guest ? Thou long time his love did know ; Why shouldst thou not use him best ? Bonny Dick, I will not forsake My bonny Rowland for any gold : If he can dance as well as Pierce, He shall have my heart in hold. PIERCE. Why, then, my hearts, let's to this gear ; And by dancing I may won My Nan, whose love I hold so dear As any realm under the sun. GENTLEMAN. Then, gentles, ere I speed from hence, I will be so bold to dance A. turn or two without offence; For, as I was walking along by chance, [ was told you did agree. Tis true, good sir ; and this is she Hopes your worship comes not to crave her ; ror she hath lovers two or three, And he that dances best must have her. GENTLEMAN. How say you, sweet, will you dance with me? And you [shall] have both land and [hill] ; My love shall want nor gold nor fee. I thank you, sir, for your good will, But one of these my love must be : I'm but a homely country maid, And far unfit for your degree : [To dance with you I am afraid.] FRIEND. Take her, good sir, by the hand, As she is fairest : were she fairer, By this dance you shall understand, He that can win her is like to wear her. FOOL. And saw you not [my] Nan to-day, My mother's maid have you not seen ? My pretty Nan is gone away To seek her love upon the green. [I cannot see her 'mong so many :] She shall have me, if she have any. Welcome, sweetheart, and welcome here, Welcome, my [true] love, now to me. This is my love [and my darling dear], And that my husband [soon] must be. And boy, when thou com'st home, thou'lt see Thou art as welcome home as he. GENTLEMAN. Why, how now, sweet Nan ? I hope you jest. NAN. No, by my troth, I love the fool the best : And if you be jealous, God give you good- night ! I fear you're a gelding, you caper so light. GENTLEMAN. I thought she had jested and meant but a fable, But now do I see she hath played with his bable. I wish all my friends by me to take heed, That a fool come not near you when you. mean to speed. T 2 In obitum honoratissimi viri, Rogeri Manwood, Militis, Quasstorii Reginalis Capitalis Baronis. Noctivagi terror, ganeonis tristeflagellum, Et Jovis Alcides, rigido vulturque latroni, Urna subtegitur. Scelerum, gaudete, ne- potes ! Insons, luctifica. sparsis cervice capillis, Plange ! fori lumen, venerandas gloria legis, Occidit : heu, secum effoetas Achcrontis ad oras Multa abiit virtus. Pro tot virtutibus uni, Livor, parce viro ; non audacissimus esto Illius in cineres, cujus tot millia vultus Mortalium attonuit : sic cum te nuntia Ditis Vulneret exsanguis, feliciter ossa quiescant, Famaque marmorei superet monumenta sepulcri. [Mr. Collier found this Epitaph, with Marlowe's name attached, on the back of the title-page of a copy of the 1629 edition of Hero and Leander. Sir Roger Manwood was born at Sandwich in 1525, and may have been an early Kentish acquaintance of Marlowe's. He was appointed Chief Baron of the Exchequer in 1578, and died December 14th, 1592. This Epitaph, therefore, must have been written within the last six months of Marlowe's life; unless, indeed, the Judge, who erected his own monument while still alive, had also taken the precaution to procure an Epitaph in advance.] >^r\.z. .^__, 1,1* 1 an -. 1 ""a 1 The First Book of Lucan, TO HIS KIND AND TRUE FRIEND, EDWARD BLUNT. Blunt, I purpose to be blunt with you, and, out of my dulness, to encounter you with a Dedication in memory of that pure elemental wit, Chr. Marlowe, whose ghost or genius is to be seen walk the Churchyard in, at the least, three or four sheets. Methinks you should presently look wild now, and grow humorously frantic upon the taste of it. Well, lest you should, let me tell you, this spirit was sometime a familiar of your own, Lucan s First Book translated; which, in regard of your old right in it, I have raised in the circle of your patronage. But stay now, Edward : if I mistake not, you are to ac- commodate yourself with some few instructions, touching the property of a patron, that you are not yet possessed of ; and to study them for your better grace, as our gallants do fashions. First, you must be proud, and think you have merit enough in you, though you are ne'er so empty ; then, when I bring you the book, take physic, and keep state ; assign me a time by your man to come again ; and, afore the day, be sure to have changed your lodging ; in the mean time sleep little, and sweat with the invention of some pitiful dry jest or two, which you may happen to utter, with some little, or not at all, marking of your friends, when you have found a place for them to come in at ; or, if by chance something has dropped from you worth the taking up, weary all that come to you with the often repetition of it ; censure scornfully enough, and somewhat like a traveller ; commend nothing, lest you discredit your (that which you would seem to have) judgment. These things, if you can mould yourself to them, Ned, I make no question but they will not become you. One special virtue in our patrons of these days I have promised myself you shall fit excellently, which is, to give nothing ; yes, thy love I will challenge as my peculiar object, both in this, and, I hope, many more succeeding offices. Farewell : I affect not the world should measure my thoughts to thee by a scale of this nature : leave to think good of me when I fall from thee. Thine in all rites of perfect friendship, Thomas Thorpe. Wars worse than civil on Thessalian plains, And outrage strangling law, and people strong, We sing, whose conquering swords their own breasts lanced, Armies allied, the kingdom's league up- rooted, Th' affrighted world's force bent on public spoil, Trumpets and drums, like deadly threaten- ing other, Eagles alike displayed, darts answering darts. Romans, what madness, what huge lust of war, Hath made barbarians drunk with Latin blood ? Now Babylon, proud through our spoil, should stoop, While slaughtered Crassus' ghost walks un- revenged, Will ye wage war, for which you shall not triumph ? Ah me ! oh, what a world of land and sea Might they have won whom civil broils have slain ! As far as Titan springs, where night dims heaven, Ay, to the torrid zone where mid-day burns, And where stiff winter, whom no spring re solves Fetters the Euxine Sea with chains of ice ; Scythia and wild Armenia have been yoked, 278 Till-: FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. And they of Nilus' mouth, if there live any. Rome, if thou take delight in impious war, First conquer all the earth, then turn thy force Against thyself: as yet thou want'st not foes. That now the walls of houses half-reared totter, That rampires fallen down, huge heaps of stone Lie in our towns, that houses are aban- doned, And few live that behold their ancient seats ; Italy many years hath lien untilled And choked with thorns ; that greedy earth wants hinds ; — Fierce Pyrrhus, neither thou nor Hannibal Art cause ; no foreign foe could so afflict us : These plagues arise from wreak of civil power. But if for Nero, then unborn, the Fates Would find no other means, and gods not slightly Purchase immortal thrones, nor Jove joyed heaven Until the cruel giants' war was done ; We plain not, Heavens, but gladly bear these evils For Nero's sake : Pharsalia groan with slaughter, And Carthage' souls be glutted with our bloods ! At Munda let the dreadful battles join ; Add, Caesar, to these ills, Perusian famine, The Mutin toils, the fleet at Leuca sunk, And cruel field near burning ./Etna fought ! Yet Rome is much bound to these civil arms, Which made thee emperor. Thee (seeing thou, being old, Must shine a star) shall heaven (whom thou lovest) Receive with shouts ; where thou wilt reign as king, Or mount the Sun's flame-bearing chariot, And with bright restless fire compass the earth, Undaunted though her former guide be changed ; Nature and every power shall give thee place, What god it please thee be, or where to sway. But neither choose the north t' erect Un- seat, Not yet the adverse reeking southern pole, Whence thou shouldst view thy Rome with squinting beams. If any one part of vast heaven thou swayest, The burdened axis with thy force will bend : The midst is best; that place is pure and bright ; There, Caesar, mayst thou shine, and no cloud dim thee. Then men from war shall bide in league and ease, Peace through the world from Janus' fane shall fly, And bolt the brazen gates with bars of iron. Thou, Caesar, at this instant art my god : Thee if I invocate, I shall not need To crave Apollo's aid or Bacchus' help ; Thy power inspires the Muse that sings this war. The causes first I purpose to unfold Of these garboils, whence springs a long discourse ; And what made madding people shake off peace. The Fates are envious, high seats quickly perish, Under great burdens falls are ever grievous : Rome was so great it could not bear itself. So when this world's compounded union breaks, Time ends, and to old Chaos all things turn, Confused stars shall meet, celestial fire Fleet on the floods, the earth shoulder the sea, Affording it no shore, and Phoebe's wain Chase Phoebus, and enraged affect his place, And strive to shine by day, and full of strife Dissolve the engines of the broken world. All great things crush themselves ; such end the gods Allot the height of honour ; men so strong By land and sea, no foreign force could ruin. Oh, Rome, thyself art cause of all these evils, Thyself thus shivered out to three men's shares ! Dire league of partners in a kingdom last not. Oh, faintly-joined friends, with ambition i blind, Why join you force to share the world be- twixt you? THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. 279 While the earth the sea, and air the earth sustains, While Titan strives against the world's swift course, Or Cynthia, night's queen, waits upon the day, Shall never faith be found in fellow kings : Dominion cannot suffer partnership. This need[s] no foreign proof nor far-fgt story : Rome's infant walls were steeped in brother's blood; Nor then was land or sea, to breed such hate; A town with one poor church set them at odds. Caesar's and Pompey's jarring love soon ended, 'Twas peace against their wills; betwixt thein both Stepped Crassus in. Even as the slender isthmus Betwixt the ^Egaean and the Ionian sea Keeps each from other, but being worn away, They both burst out, and each encounter other ; So whenas Crassus' wretched death, who stayed them, Had filled Assyrian Carra's walls with blood, His loss made way for Roman outrages. Parthians, y'affiict us more than ye sup- pose; Being conquered, we are plagued with civil war. Swords share our empire : Fortune, that made Rome Govern the earth, the sea, the world itself, Would not admit two lords ; for Julia, Snatched hence by cruel Fates, with ominous howls Bare down to hell her son, the pledge of peace, And all bands of that death-presaging alliance. Julia, had heaven given thee longer life, Thou hadst restrained thy headstrong hus- band's rage, Yea, and thy father too, and, swords thrown down, Made all shake hands, as once the Sabines did: Thy death broke amity, and trained to war These captains emulous of each other's glory. Thou fear'd'st, great Pompey, that late deeds would dim Old triumphs, and that Caesar's conquering France Would dash the wreath thou war'st for pirates' wrack : Thee war's use stirred, and thoughts that always scorned A second place. Pompey could bide no equal, Nor Caesar no superior : which of both Had justest cause, unlawful 'tis to judge : Each side had great partakers ; Caesar's cause The gods abetted, Cato liked the other. Both differed much. Pompey was strook in years, And by long rest forgot to manage arms, And, being popular, sought by liberal gifts To gain the light unstable commons' love. And joyed to hear his theatre's applause : He lived secure, boasting his former deeds, And thought his name sufficient to uphold him: Like to a tall oak in a fruitful field, Bearing old spoils and conquerors' monu- ments, Who, though his root be weak, and his own weight Keep him within the ground, his arms all bare, His body, not his boughs, send forth a shade : Though every blast it fiod, and seem to fall, When all the woods about stand bolt up- right, Yet he alone is held in reverence. Caesar's renown for war was less ; he rest- less, Shaming to strive but where he did sub- due; When ire or hope provoked, heady, and bold; At all times charging home, and making havoc ; Urging his fortune, trusting in the gods, Destroying what withstood his proud de- sires, And glad when blood and ruin made him way : So thunder, which the wind tears from the clouds, With crack of riven air and hideous sound Filling the world, leaps out and throws forth fire, Affrights poor fearful men, and blasts their eyes With overthwarting flames, and raging shoots Alongst the air, and, not resisting it, 28o THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. Falls, and returns, and shivers where it lights. Such humours stirred them up : but this war's seed Was even the same that wracks all great dominions. When Fortune made us lords of all, wealth flowed, And then we grew licentious and rude ; The soldiers' prey and rapine brought in riot ; Men took delight in jewels, houses, plate, And scorned old sparing diet, and ware robes Too light for women ; Poverty, who hatched Rome's greatest wits, was loathed, and all the world Ransacked for gold, which breeds the world decay ; And then large limits had their butting lands ; The ground, which Curius and Camillus tilled, Was stretched unto the fields of hinds unknown. Again, this people could not brook calm peace ; Them freedom without war might not suffice : Quarrels were rife ; greedy desire, still poor, Did vile deeds ; then 'twas worth the price of blood, And deemed renown, to spoil their native town ! Force mastered right, the strongest governed all; Hence came it that th' edicts were over- ruled, That laws were broke, tribunes with con- suls strove, Sale made of offices, and people's voices Bought by themselves and sold, and every year Frauds and corruption in the Field of Mars ; Hence interest and devouring usury sprang, Faith's breach, and hence came war, to most men welcome. Now Caesar overpassed the snowy Alps ; His mind was troubled, and he aimed at war : And coming to the ford of Rubicon, At night in dreadful vision fearful Rome Mourning appeared, whose hoary hairs were torn, And on her turret-bearing head dispersed, And arms all naked ; who, with broken sighs, And staring, thus bespoke: "What mean'st thou, Caesar? Whither goes my standard? Romans if ye be And bear true hearts, stay here !" This spectacle Stroke Caesar's heart with fear ; his hair stood up, And faintness numbed his steps there on the brink. He thus cried out : ' ' Thou thunderer that guard'st Rome's mighty walls, built on Tarpeian rock ! Ye gods of Phrygia and lulus' line, Quirinus' rites, and Latian Jove advanced On Alba hill ! Oh, vestal flames ! oh, Rome, My thought's sole goddess, aid mine enter- prise ! I hate thee not, to thee my conquests stoop: Caesar is thine, so please it thee, thy soldier. He, he afflicts Rome that made me Rome's foe." This said, he, laying aside all lets of war, Approached the swelling stream with drum and ensign : Like to a lion of scorched desert Afric, Who, seeing hunters, pauseth till fell wrath And kingly rage increase, then having whisked His tail athwart his back, and crest heaved up, With jaws wide-open ghastly roaring out, Albeit the Moor's light javelin or his spear Sticks in his side, yet runs upon the hunter. In summer-time the purple Rubicon, Which issues from a small spring, is but shallow, And creeps along the vales, dividing just The bounds of Italy from Cisalpine France. But now the winter's wrath, and watery moon Being three days old, enforced the flood to swell, And frozen Alps thawed with resolving winds. The thunder-hoofed horse, in a crooked line, To scape the violence of the stream, first waded ; Which being broke, the foot had easy passage. As soon as Caesar got unto the bank THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. 2S1 And bounds of Italy, "Here, here," saith he, "An end of peace; here end polluted laws ! Hence, leagues and covenants ! Fortune, thee I follow ! War and the Destinies shall try my cause." This said, the restless general through the dark, Swifter than bullets thrown from Spanish slings, I Or darts which Parthians backward shoot, marched on ; And then, when Lucifer did shine alone, And some dim stars, he Ariminum entered. Day rose, and viewed these tumults of the war : Whether the gods or blustering south were cause I know not, but the cloudy air did frown. The soldiers having won the market-place, There spread the colours, with confused noise Of trumpet's clang, shrill cornets, whistling fifes. The people started; young men left their beds, And snatched arms near their household- gods hung up, Such as peace yields ; worm-eaten leathern targets, Through which the wood peered, headless darts, old swords With ugly teeth of black rust foully scarred. But seeing white eagles, and Rome's flags well known, And lofty Caesar in the thickest throng, They shook for fear, and cold benumbed their limbs, And muttering much, thus to themselves complained : ' ' Oh walls unfortunate, too near to France ! Predestinate to ruin ! all lands else Have stable peace : here war's rage first be- gins ; We bide the first brunt. Safer might we dwell Under the frosty bear, or parching east, Waggons or tents, than in this frontier town. We first sustained the uproars of the Gauls And furious Cimbrians, and of Carthage Moors : As oft as Rome was sacked, here 'gan the spoil." Thus sighing whispered they, and none durst speak, And show their fear or grief ; but as the fields When birds are silent thorough winter's rage, Or sea far from the land, so all were whist. Now light had quite dissolved the misty night, And Caesar's mind unsettled musing stood ; But gods and fortune pricked him to this war, Infringing all excuse of modest shame, And labouring to approve his quarrel good. The angry senate, urging Gracchus' deeds, From doubtful Rome wrongly expelled the tribunes That crossed them : both which now ap- proached the camp, And with them Curio, sometime tribune too, One that was fee'd for Caesar, and whose tongue Could tune the people to the nobles' mind. "Caesar," said he, "while eloquence pre- vailed, And I might plead, and draw the commons' minds To favour thee, against the senate's will, Five years I lengthened thy command in France ; But law being put to silence by the wars, We. from our houses driven, most willingly Suffered exile : let thy sword bring us home. Now, while their part is weak and fears, march hence : Where men are ready, lingering ever hurts. In ten years wonn'st thou France : Rome may be won With far less toil, and yet the honour's more ; Few battles fought with prosperous success May bring her down, and with her all the world. Nor shalt thou triumph when thou com'st to Rome, Nor Capitol be adorned with sacred bays ; Envy denies all ; with thy blood must thou Aby thy conquest past : the son decrees To expel the father : share the world thou canst not : Enjoy it all thou mayst. " Thus Curio spake ; And therewith Caesar, prone enough to war, Was so incensed as are Eleus' steeds With clamours, who, though locked and chained in stalls, Souse down the walls, and make a passage forth. Straight summoned he his several companies Unto the standard : his grave look appeased The wrestling tumult, and right hand made silence ; 282 THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. And thus he spake: "You that with me have borne A thousand brunts, and tried me full ten years, Sec how they quit our bloodshed in the north, Speak, when shall power end ? , What end of mischief? thee, 1 At last learn, wretch, to narchy ! tins thy long-usurped Sylla teaching leave thy mo- Our friends' death, and our wounds, our What, now Sicilian pirates are suppressed, wintering And jaded king of Pontus poisoned slain, Under the Alps ! Rome rageth now in j Must Pompey as his last foe plume on me, arms ' Because at his command I wound not up As if the Carthage Hannibal were near; My conquering eagles? say I merit naught, Cornets of horse are mustered for the Yet, for long service done, reward these field; men, Woods turned to ships ; both land and sea And so they triumph, be't with whom ye against us. Had foreign wars ill-thrived, or wrathful France Pursued us hither, how were we bested, When, coming conqueror, Rome afflicts me thus? Let come their leader whom long peace hath quailed, will. Whither now shall these old bloodless souls repair ? What seats for their deserts ? what store of ground For servitors to till ? what colonies To rest their bones ? say, Pompey, are these worse Raw soldiers lately pressed, and troops of j Than pirates of Sicilia? they had houses. gowns, Spread, spread these flags that ten years' Babbling Marcellus, Cato whom fools re- J space have conquered ! verence ! Let's use our tried force : they that now Must Pompey 's followers, with strangers' j thwart right, aid I In wars will yield to wrong : the gods are (Whom from his youth he bribed), needs j with us ; make him king? And shall he triumph long before his time, And, having once got head, still shall he reign ? What should I talk of men's corn reaped by force, And by him kept of purpose for a dearth ? Who sees not war sit by the quivering judge, And sentence given in rings of naked swords, And laws assailed, and armed men in the senate ? 'Twas his troop hemmed in Milo being ac- cused Neither spoil nor kingdom seek we by these arms, But Rome, at thraldom's feet, to rid from tyrants." This spoke, none answered, but a murmur- ing buzz Th' unstable people made : their household- gods And love to Rome (though slaughter steeled their hearts, And minds were prone) restrained them; but war's love And Cresar's awe dashed all. Then Laelius, The chief centurion, crowned with oaken And now, lest age might wane his state, he j leaves casts \ For saving of a Roman citizen For civil war, wherein through use he's i Stepped forth, and cried : " Chief leader of known Rome's force, To exceed his master, that arch-traitor So be, I may be bold to speak a truth Sylla. As brood of barbarous tigers, having lapped The blood of many a herd, whilst with their dams They kennelled in Hyrcania, evermore Will rage and prey ; so Pompey, thou, having licked Warm g^rc from Sylla's sword, art yet athiict: Jaws fleshed with blood continue mur- derous. We grieve at this thy patience and delay, What, doubt'st thou us ? even now whe: youthful blood Pricks forth our lively bodies, and stron arms Can mainly throw the dart, wilt thou en- dure These purple grooms, that senate's tyranny? Is conquest got by civil war so heinous? Well, lead us, then, to Syrtes' desert shore, Or Scythia, or hot Libya's thirsty sands. THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. 283 This band, that all behind us might be quailed, Hath with thee passed the swelling ocean, j And swept the foaming breast of Arctic Rhene. Love over-rules my will ; I must obey thee, Caesar: he whom I hear thy trumpets charge, I hold no Roman ; by these ten blest ensigns And all thy several triumphs, shouldst thou bid me Entomb my sword within my brother's bowels, Or father's throat, or women's groaning womb, This hand, albeit unwilling, should perform it; Or rob the gods, or sacred temples fire, These troops should soon pull down the church of Jove; If to encamp on Tuscan Tiber's streams, I'll boldly quarter out the fields of Rome : What walls thou wilt be levelled to the ground, These hands shall thrust the ram, and make them fly, Albeit the city thou wouldst have so razed Be Rome itself." Here every band ap- plauded, And, with their hands held up, all jointly cried They'll follow where he please. The shouts rent heaven, As when against pine-bearing Ossa's rocks Beats Thracian Boreas, or when trees, bowed down And rustling, swing up as the wind fets breath. When Caesar saw his army prone to war, And Fates so bent, lest sloth and long delay Might cross him, he withdrew his troops from France, And in all quarters musters men for Rome. They by Lemannus' nook forsook their tents ; They whom the Lingones foiled with painted spears, Under the rocks by crooked Vogesus ; And many came from shallow Isara, Who, running long, falls in a greater flood, And, ere he sees the sea, loseth his name ; The yellow Ruthens left their garrisons ; Mild Atax glad it bears not Roman boats, And frontier Varus that the camp is far, Sent aid ; so did Alcides' port, whose seas Eat hollow rocks, and where the north-west wind Nor zephyr rules not, but the north alone Turmoils the coast, and enterance forbids ; And others came from that uncertain shore Which is nor sea nor land, but ofttimes both, And changeth as the ocean ebbs and flows ; Whether the sea rolled always from that point Whence the wind blows, still forced to and fro; Or that the wandering main follow the moon; Or flaming Titan, feeding on the deep, Pulls them aloft, and makes the surge kiss heaven ; Philosophers, look you ; for unto me, Thou cause, whate'er thou be whom God assigns This great effect, art hid. They came that dwell By Nemes' fields and banks of Satirus, Where Tarbell's winding shores embrace the sea ; The Santons that rejoice in Caesar's love; Those of Bituriges, and light Axon pikes ; And they of Rhene and Leuca, cunning darters, And Sequana that well could manage steeds ; The Belgians apt to govern British cars ; Th" Averni too, which boldly feign them- selves The Romans' brethren, sprung of Ilian race ; The stubborn Nervians stained with Cotta's blood ; And Vangions who, like those of Sarmata, Wear open slops ; and fierce Batavians, Whom trumpet's clang incites ; and those that dwell By Cinga's stream, and where swift Rhoda- nus Drives Araris to sea ; they near the hills, Under whose hoary rocks Gebenna hangs ; And, Trevier, thou being glad that wars are past thee ; And you, late-shorn Ligurians, who were wont In large-spread hair to exceed the rest ot France ; And where to Hesus and fell Mercury They offer human flesh, and where Jove seems Bloody like Dian, whom the Scythians serve. And you, French Bardi, whose immortal pens Renown the valiant souls slain in your wars, Sit safe at home and chant sweet poesy. And, Druides, you now in peace renew Your barbarous customs and sinister rites: 284 THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. In unfelled woods and sacred groves you dwell ; And only gods and heavenly powers you know, Or only know you nothing ; for you hold That souls pass not to silent Erebus Or Pluto's bloodless kingdom, but else- where Resume a body ; so (if truth you sing) Death brings long life. Doubtless these northern men, Whom death, the greatest of all fears, af- fright not, Are blest by such sweet error; this makes them Run on the sword's point, and desire to die, And shame to spare life which being lost is won. You likewise that repulsed the Cayc foe, March towards Rome ; and you, fierce men of Rhene, Leaving your country open to the spoil. These being come, their huge power made him bold To manage greater deeds; the bordering towns He garrisoned; and Italy he filled with soldiers. Vain fame increased true fear, and did in- vade The people's minds, and laid before their eyes Slaughter to come, and swiftly bringing news Of present war, made many lies and tales : One swears his troops of daring horsemen fought Upon Mevania's plain, where bulls are grazed : Other that Caesar's barbarous bands were spread Along Nar flood that into Tiber falls, And that his own ten ensigns and the rest Marched not entirely, and yet hid the ground ; And that he's much changed, looking wild and big, And far more barbarous than the French, his vassals ; And that he lags behind with them, of pur- pose, Born 'twixt the Alps and Rhene, which he hath brought From out their northern parts, and that Rome, He looking on, by these men should be sacked. Thus in his fright did each man strengthen fame, And, without ground, feared what them- selves had feigned. Nor were the commons only strook to heart With this vain terror; but the court, the senate, The fathers selves leaped from their seats, and, flying, Left hateful war decreed to both the consuls. Then, with their fear and danger all- distract, Their sway of flight carries the heady rout, That in chained troops break forth at every port : You would have thought their houses had been fired, Or, dropping-ripe, ready to fall with ruin. So rushed the inconsiderate multitude Thorough the city, hurried headlong on, As if the only hope that did remain To their afflictions were t' abandon Rome. Look how, when stormy Auster from the breach Of Libyan Syrtes rolls a monstrous wave, Which makes the mainsail fall with hideous sound, The pilot from the helm leaps in the sea, And mariners, albeit the keel be sound, Shipwreck themselves ; even so, the city left, All rise in arms ; nor could the bed-rid pa- rents Keep back their sons, or women's tears their husbands : They stayed not either to pray or sacrifice ; Their household-gods restrain them not ; none lingered, As loth to leave Rome whom they held so dear: Th' irrevocable people fly in troops. Oh, gods, that easy grant men great estates, But hardly grace to keep them ! Rome, that flows With citizens and captives, and would hold The world, were it together, is by cowards Left as a prey, now Caesar doth approach. When Romans are besieged by foreign foes, With slender trench they escape night-stra- tagems, And sudden rampire raised of turf snatched up, Would make them sleep securely in their tents. Thou, Rome, at name of war runn'st from, thyself, And wilt not trust thy city-walls one night : l Well might these fear, when Pompey feared and fled. THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. 285 Now evermore, lest some one hope might ease The commons' jangling minds, apparent signs arose, Strange sights appeared ; the angry threa- tening gods Filled both the earth and seas with prodi- gies. Great store of strange and unknown stars were seen Wandering about the north, and rings of fire Fly in the air, and dreadful bearded stars, And comets that presage the fall of king- doms ; The flattering sky glittered in often flames, And sundry fiery meteors blazed in heaven, Now spear-like long, now like a spreading torch ; Lightning in silence stole forth without clouds, And, from the northern climate snatching fire, Blasted the Capitol ; the lesser stars, Which wont to run their course through empty night, At noon-day mustered ; Phcebe, having filled Her meeting horns to match her brother's light, Strook with th' earth's sudden shadow, waxed pale ; Titan himself, throned in the midst of hea- ven, His burning chariot plunged in sable clouds, And whelmed the world in darkness, making men Despair of day, as did Thyestes' town, Mycenae, Phcebus flying through the east. Fierce Mulciber unbarred ^Etna's gate, Which flamed not on high, but headlonj pitched Her burning head on bending Hespery. Coal black Charybdis whirled a sea of blood. Fierce mastives howled. The vestal fires went out ; The flame in Alba, consecrate to Jove, Parted in twain, and with a double point Rose, like the Theban brothers' funeral fire. The earth went off her hinges ; and the Alps Shook the old snow from off their trembling laps. The ocean swelled as high as Spanish Calpe Or Atlas' head. Their saints and house- hold gods Sweat tears, to show the travails of their city: Crowns fell from holy statues. Ominous birds Defiled the day ; and wild beasts were seen, Leaving the woods, lodge in the streets of Rome. Cattle were seen that muttered human speech ; Prodigious births with more and ugly joints Than nature gives, whose sight appals the mother ; And dismal prophecies were spread abroad : And they whom fierce Bellona's fury moves To wound their arms, sing vengeance ; Cybel's priests, Curling their bloody locks, howl dreadful things. Souls quiet and appeased sighed from their graves ; Clashing of arms was heard ; inuntrod woods Shrill voices schright ; and ghosts encounter men. Those that inhabited the suburb-fields Fled : foul Erinnys stalked about the walls, Shaking her snaky hair and crooked pine With flaming top ; much like that hellish fiend Which made the stern Lycurgus wound his thigh, Or fierce Agave mad ; or like Megsera That scared Alcides, when by Juno's task He had before looked Pluto in the face. Trumpets were heard to sound ; and with what noise An armed battle joins, such and more strange Black night brought forth in secret. Sylla's ghost Was seen to walk, singing sad oracles ; And Marius'headabovecoldTav'ron peering, His grave broke open, did affright the boors. To these ostents, as their old custom was, They call th' Etrurian augurs : amongst whom The gravest, Arruns, dwelt in forsaken Luca, Well-skilled in pyromancy ; one that knew The hearts of beasts, and flight of wander- ing fowls. First he commands such monsters Nature hatched Against her kind, the barren mules' loathed issue, To be cut forth and cast in dismal fires ; Then, that the trembling citizens should walk About the city ; then, the sacred priests That with divine lustration purged the walls, And went the round, in and without the town : 286 THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN Next, an inferior troop, in tucked-up vestures, After the Gabine manner ; then, the nuns And their veiled matron, who alone might VKAV Minerva's statue ; then, they that keep and read Sibylla's secret works, and wash their saint In Almo's flood ; next, learned augurs follow ; Apollo's soothsayers, and Jove's feasting priests ; The skipping Salii with shields like wedges ; And Flamens last, with net-work woollen veils. While these thus in and out had circled Rome, Look what the lightning blasted, Arruns takes, And it inters with murmurs dolorous, And calls the place Bidental. On the altar He lays a ne'er-yoked bull, and pours down wine, Then crams salt leaven on his crooked knife : The beast long struggled, as being like to prove An awkward sacrifice ; but by the horns The quick priest pulled him on his knees, and slew him : No vein sprung out, but from the yawning gash, Instead of red blood, wallowed venomous gore. These direful signs made Arruns stand amazed, And searching farther for the god's dis- pleasure, The very colour scared him ; a dead black- ness Ran through the blood, that turned it all to jelly, And stained the bowels with dark loathsome spots ; The liver swelled with filth ; and every vein Did threaten horror from the host of Caesar ; A small thin skin contained the vital parts ; The heart stirred not ; and from the gaping liver Squeezed matter through the caul ; the en- trails peered ; And which (ah me ! ) ever pretendeth ill, At that bunch where the liver is, appeared A knob of flesh, whereof one half did look Dead and discoloured, the other lean and thin. By these he seeing what mischiefs must ensue, Cried out, " Oh, gods, I tremble to unfold What you intend ! great Jove is now dis- pleased ; And in the breast of this slain bull are crept Th' infernal powers. My fear transcends my words ; Yet more will happen than I can unfold : Turn all to good, be augury vain, and Tages, Th' art's master, false ! " Thus, in ambiguous terms Involving all, did Arruns darkly sing. But Figulus, more seen in heavenly mysteries. Whose like ./Egyptian Memphis never had For skill in stars and tuneful planeting, In this sort spake: "The world's swift course is lawless And casual ; all the stars at random range ; Or if Fate rule them, Rome, thy citizens Are near some plague. What mischief shall ensue ? Shall towns be swallowed? shall the thickened air Become intemperate? shall the earth be barren ! Shall water be congealed and turned to ice? Oh, gods, what death prepare ye ? with what plague Mean ye to rage ? the death of many men Meets in one period. If cold noisome Saturn Were now exalted, and with blue beams shined, Then Ganymede would renew Deucalion's flood, And in the fleeting sea the earth be drenched. Oh, Phoebus, shouldst thou with thy rays now singe The fell Nemasan beast, th' earth would be fired, And heaven tormented with thy chafingheat : But thy fires hurt not. Mars, 'tis thou in- flam'st The threatening Scorpion with the burning tail, And first his cleyes : why art thou thus en- raged ? Kind Jupiter hath low declined himself; Venus is faint ; swift Hermes retrograde ; Mars only rules the heaven. Why do the planets Alter theircourse, and vainly dim their virtue? Sword-girt Orion's side glisters too bright : Wars rage draws near ; and to the sword's strong hand Let all laws yield, sin bear the name of virtue : Many a year these furious broils let last : Why should we wish the gods should ever end them ? War only gives us peace. Oh, Rome, con- tinue The course of mischief, and stretch out the dare THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. 287 Of slaughter ! only civil broils make peace." These sad presages were enough to scare The quivering Romans ; but worse things affright them. As Moenas full of wine on Pindus raves, So runs a matron through th' amazed streets, Disclosing Phoebus' fury in this sort : "Pagan, whither am I haled? where shall I fall, Thus bcrne aloft ? I see Pangaeus' hill With hoary top, and, under Hasmus' mount, Philippi plains. Phoebus, what rage is this? Why grapples Rome, and makes war, having no foes ? Whither turn I now? thou lead'st me to- ward th' east. Where Nile augmenteth the Pelusian sea : This headless trunk that lies on Nilus' sand I know. Now throughout the air I fly To doubtful Syrtes and dry Afric, where A Fury leads the Emathian bands. From thence To the pine-bearing hills ; thence to the mounts Pyrene ; and so back to Rome again. See, impious war defiles the senate-house ! New factions rise. Now through the world again I go. Oh, Phoebus, show me Neptune's. shore, And other regions ! I have seen Philippi." This said, being tired with fury, she sunk down. The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus. [From the Quarto of 1604.] PERSONS REPRESENTED. friends to Faustus. The Pope. Cardinal of Lorrain. Emperor. Duke of Vanholt. Faustus. Yaldes, \ ,., Cornelius, y Wagner, servant to Faustus. Clown. Robin. Ralph. Vintner, Horse-Courser, Knight, Old Man, Friars, and Attendants. Duchess of Vanholt. Lucifer. Belzebub. Mephistophilis. Good Angel. Evil Angel. The Seven Deadly Sins. Devils. The Spirits representing Alexander the Great and his Paramour, and Helen of Troy. Chorus. Enter Chorus. Chorus. Not marching now in fields of Thrasymene, Where Mars did mate the Carthaginians ; Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, In Courts of Kings where state is over- turned ; Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds, Intends our Muse to vaunt her heavenly verse : Only this, gentlemen — we must perform The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad; To patient judgments we appeal our plaud, And speak for Faustus in his infancy. Now is he born, his parents base of stock, In Germany, within a town called Rhodes ; Of riper years to Wertenberg he went, Whereas' his kinsmen chiefly brought him up. So soon he profits in Divinity, The fruitful plot of scholarism graced, That shortly he was graced with Doctor's name, Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes In heavenly matters of Theology ; Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, heavens conspired his over- throw ; For falling to a devilish exercise, And glutted now with learning's golden gifts, He surfeits upon cursed Necromancy. Nothing so sweet as Magic is to him, Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss. And this the Man that in his Studv sits ! [Exit. Faustus in his Study. E a 11st. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin To sound the depth of that thou wilt pro- fess ; Having commenced be a Divine in show, Yet level at the end of even- Art, And live and die in Aristotle's works. Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou hast ravished me, Bene disserere est finis logices. Is to dispute well Logic's chiefest end ? Affords this Art no greater miracle ? Then read no more, thou hast attained tha end; A greater subject fitteth Faustus" wit : Bid Economy farewell and Galen come, Seeing UH desinit Ehilosophus ibi incipi Mcdicus, Be a physician, Faustus, heap up gold THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604.) 289 And be eternized for some wondrous cure. Suinmum bonum medicines sa?titas, The end of physic is our body's health. Why, Faustus, hast thou not attained that end? Is not thy common talk found Aphorisms ? Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, Whereby whole cities have escaped the Plague, And thousand desperate maladies been eased ? Yet art thou still but Faustus and a man. Couldst thou make men to live eternally, Or, being dead, raise them to life again, Then this profession were to be esteemed. Physic farewell. — Where is Justinian? Si una eadanque res legatur duobus, alter rem alter valorem rei, &c. A pretty case of paltry legacies ! E-xhccreditare filium non potest pater nisi, Such is the subject of the Institute And universal Body of the Law. This study fits a mercenary drudge, Who aims at nothing but external trash ; Poo servile and illiberal for me. When all is done Divinity is best ; erome's Bible, Faustus, view it well. Stipendium peccati mors est. Ha ! Sti- pendium, &c. The reward of sin is death. That's hard. yi peccasse negamus fallimur et nulla est in }obis Veritas. If we say that we have no in we deceive ourselves, and there's no ruth in us. Why then, belike we must sin, nd so consequently die ; ^.ye, we must die an everlasting death. Vhat doctrine call you this, Che sera sera, Vhat will be shall be ? Divinity, adieu ! hese metaphysics of Magicians nd necromantic books are heavenly : ines, circles, scenes, letters, and charac- ters: ye, these are those that Faustus most de- sires. i" h what a world of profit and delight, f power, of honour, of omnipotence promised to the studious artisan ! 11 things that move between the quiet poles lall be at my command: Emperors and Kings re but obeyed in their several provinces, (|Jpr can they raise the winds or rend the clouds ; it his dominion that exceeds in this retches as far as doth the mind of man. isound Magician is a mighty god : sre, Faustus, tire thy brains to gain a Deity. Enter Wagner. Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends, The German Valdes and Cornelius ; Request them earnestly to visit me. Wag. I will, sir. [Exit. Faust. Their conference will be a greater help to me Than all my labours, plod I ne'er so fast. Enter Good Angel and Evil Angel. G. An%. Oh, Faustus, lay that damned book aside, And gaze not on it lest it tempt thy soul, And heap God's heavy wrath upon thy head. Read, read the Scriptures. That is blas- phemy. E. Ang. Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art, Wherein all Nature's treasure is contained, Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky, Lord and commander of these elements. [Exeunt Angels. Faust. How am I glutted with conceit of this! Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve me of all ambiguities, Perform what desperate enterprise I will ? I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the Ocean for orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates ; I'll have them read me strange Philosophy And tell the secrets of all foreign kings ; I'll have them wall all Germany with brass, And make swift Rhine circle fair Werten- berg, I'll have them fill the public schools with silk Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad ; I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring, And chase the Prince of Parma from our land, And reign sole King of all the Provinces ; Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of War Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp's bridge, I'll make my servile spirits to invent. Enter Valdes Cornelius. Come German Valdes and Cornelius, And make me blest with your sage con- ference. Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius, Know that your words have won me at the last To practise Magic and concealed arts : u 290 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF Yet not your words only, but mine own fan- tasy That will receive no object, for my head But ruminates on necromantic skill. Philosophy is odious and obscure, Both Law and Physic are for petty wits ; Divinity is basest of the three, Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile : 'Tis Magic, Magic that hath ravished me. Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt ; And I that have with concise syllogisms Gravelled the pastors of the German Church, And made the flowering pride of Werten- berg Swarm to my problems, as the infernal spirits On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell, Will be as cunning as Agrippa was, Whose shadow made all Europe honour him. Vald. Faustus, these books, thy wit, and our experience Shall make all nations to canonize us. As Indian Moors obey their Spanish Lords, So shall the Spirits of every element Be always serviceable to us three ; Like lions shall they guard us when we please ; Like Almain Rutters with their horsemen's staves Or Lapland giants, trotting by our sides ; Sometimes like women or unwedded maids, Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows Than have the white breasts of the Queen of love : From Venice shall they drag huge argosies, And from America the golden fleece That yearly stuffs old Philip's treasury ; If learned Faustus will be resolute. Faust. Valdes, as resolute am I in this As thou to live ; therefore object it not. Corn. The miracles that Magic will per- form Will make thee vow to study nothing else. He that is grounded in Astrology, Enriched with Tongues, well seen in Mine- rals, Hath all the principles Magic doth require. Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be re- nowned, And more frequented for this mystery Than heretofore the Delphian Oracle. The spirits tell me they can dry the sea, And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks, Aye, all the wealth that our forefathers hid Within the massy entrails of the earth ; Then tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want ? Faust. Nothing, Cornelius! Oh this cheers my soul ! Come show me some demonstrations magical That I may conjure in some lusty grove, And have these joys in full possession. Vald. Then haste thee to some solitary grove And bear wise Bacon's and Albertus' works, The Hebrew Psalter and New Testament ; And whatsoever else is requisite We will inform thee ere our conference cease. Corn. Valdes, first let him know the words of art ; And then, all other ceremonies learned, Faustus may try his cunning by himself. Vald. First I'll instruct thee in the rudi- ments, And then wilt thou be perfecter than I. Faust. Then come and dine with me, and after meat, We'll canvas every quiddity thereof ; For ere I sleep I'll try what I can do : This night I'll conjure tho' I die therefore. [Exeunt. Enter two Scholars. \st Schol. I wonder what's become of, Faustus that was wont to make our schools ring with sic probo ? ■2nd Schol. That shall we know, for see here comes his boy. Enter Wagner. 1st Schol. How now, sirrah ! Where's thy master? Wag. God in heaven knows. 2nd Schol. Why, dost not thou know? Wag. Yes, I know. But that follows not 1st Schol. Go to, sirrah ! leave your jest- ing, and tell us where he is. Wag. That follows not necessary by force of argument, that you, being licentiates, should stand upon : therefore acknowledge* your error and be attentive. 2nd Schol. Why, did'st thou not say th knewest? Wag. Have you any witness on't ? 1st Schol. Yes, sirrah, I heard you. Wag. Ask my fellows if I be a thief. 2nd Schol. Well, you will not tell us ? Wag. Yes, sir, I will tell you ; yet if yd were not dunces, you would never ask rn such a question ; for is not he corpus natt rale ? and is not that mobile ? then where fore should you ask me such a question But that I am by nature phlegmatic, slow to wrath, and prone to lechery (to love, I J would say), it were not for you to come t } DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604.) 291 within forty foot of the place of execution, although I do not doubt to see you both hanged the next sessions. Thus having triumphed over you, I will set my counte- nance like a Precisian, and begin to speak thus : — Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at dinner, with Valdes and Cor- nelius, as this wine, if it could speak, would inform your worships ; and so the Lord bless you, preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren, my dear brethren. [Exit. 1st Schol. Nay, then, I fear he is fallen into that damned Art, for which they two are infamous through the world. 2.tid Schol. Were he a stranger, and not allied to me, yet should I grieve for him. But come, let us go and inform the Rector, I and see if he by his grave counsel can re- claim him. 1st Schol. Oh, but I fear me nothing can reclaim hint. 27id Schol. Yet let us try what we can do. [Exeunt. Enter Faustus to conjure. Faust. Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth Longing to view Orion's drizzling look, Leaps from the antarctic world unto the sky, And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath, Faustus, begin thine incantations, A.nd try if devils will obey thy hest, Seeing thou hast prayed and sacrificed to them. Within this circle is Jehovah's name, Forward and backward anagrammatized, The breviated names of holy saints, Igures of every adjunct to the Heavens, \nd characters of signs and erring stars, 3y which the spirits are enforced to rise : hen fear not, Faustus, but be resolute, ind try the uttermost magic can perform. Sint mihi Dei Acherontis propitii ! ^aleat numen triplexjehovallgnei, aerti, quatani spiritus, salvete ! Oricntis prin- '.ps Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et )emogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat ct gat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris ; per ehovam, Gehennam, et co?tsecratatnaqua?n uam nunc spargo, signutnqtie crucis quod unc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc rgat nobis dicatus Mephistophilis / Enter Mephistophilis. charge thee to return and change thy shape ; hou art too ugly to attend on me. Go, and return an old Franciscan friar ; That holy shape becomes a devil best. [Exit Mephistophilis. I see there's virtue in my heavenly words ; Who would not be proficient in this art? How pliant is this Mephistophilis, Full of obedience and humility ! Such is the force of Magic, and my spells : Xo, Faustus, thou art conjuror laureat, Thou can'st command great Mephistophilis : Quin regis Mephistophilis fratris imagine. Re-enter Mephistophilis, like a Franciscan Friar. Meph. Now, Faustus, what would'st thou have me do ? Faust. I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, To do whatever Faustus shall command, Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. Meph. I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave : No more than he commands must we per- form. Faust. Did not he charge thee to appear to me? Meph. No, I came hither of mine own accord. Faust. Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee ? Speak. Meph. That was the cause, but yet per accidens ; For when we hear one rack the name of God, Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ, We fly in hope to get his glorious soul ; Nor will we come, unless he use such means Whereby he is in danger to be damned. Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity, And pray devoutly to the Prince of Hell. Faust. So Faustus hath Already done ; and holds this principle, There is no Chief but only Belzebub, To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself. This word damnation terrifies not him, For he confounds Hell in Elysium ; His ghost be with the old philosophers ! But, leaving these vain trifles of men's souls, Tell me what is that Lucifer thy lord ? Meph. Arch-regent and commander of all spirits. n 2 292 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF Faust. Was not that Lucifer an Angel once? Meph. Yes, Faustus, and most dearly loved of God. Faust. How comes it then that he is Prince of Devils ? Meph. Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer Conspired against our God with Lucifer, And are for ever damned with Lucifer. Faust. Where are you damned ? Meph. In Hell. Faust. How comes it then that thou art out of Hell ? Meph. Why this is Hell, nor am I out of it : Think'st thou that I who saw the face of God, And tasted the eternal joys of Heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand Hells, In being deprived of everlasting bliss ? Oh, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands, Which strike a terror to my fainting soul. Faust. What, is great Mephistophilis so passionate For being deprived of the joys of Heaven? Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude, And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess. Go bear these tidings to great Lucifer : Seeing Faustus hath incurred eternal death By desperate thoughts against Jove's deity, j Say he surrenders up to him his soul, So he will spare him four and twenty years, Letting him live in all voluptuousness : Having thee ever to attend on me ; To give me whatsoever I shall ask, To tell me whatsoever I demand, To slay mine enemies, and aid my friends, And always be obedient to my will. Go, and return to mighty Lucifer, And meet me in my study at midnight, And then resolve me of thy master's mind. Meph. I will, Faustus. {Exit. Faust. Had I as many souls as there be stars. I'd give them all for Mephistophilis. By him I'll be great Emperor of the world, And make a bridge thorough the moving air, To pass the ocean with a band of men : I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore, And make that country continent to Spain, And both contributory to my Crown. The Emperor shall not live but by my leave, Nor any Potentate of Germany. Now that I have obtained what I desired, I'll live in speculation of this Art Till Mephistophilis return again. {Exit. Enter Wagner and Clown. Wag. Sirrah boy, come hither. Clown. How, boy! Swowns, boy ! I hope you have seen many boys with such picka- devaunts as I have ; boy, quotha ! Wag. Tell me, sirrah, hast thou any comings in? Clown. Aye, and goings out too. You may see else. Wag. Alas, poor slave ! see how poverty jesteth in his nakedness ! the villain is bare and out of service, and so hungry that I know he would give his soul to the Devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood- raw. Clown. How. My soul to the Devil for a shoulder of mutton, though 'twere blood raw ! Not so, good friend. By'r Lady, I had need have it well roasted and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear. • Wag. Well, wilt thou serve us, and I'll make thee go like Qui mi hi discipulus ? Clown. How, in verse? Wag. No , sirrah ; in beaten silk and stavesacre. Clown. How, how, Knave's acre ! Aye, I thought that was all the land his father left him. Do you hear ? I would be sorry to rob you of your living. Wag. Sirrah, I say in stavesacre. Clown. Oho! Oho! Stavesacre! Why then belike if I were your man I should be full of vermin. Wag. So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no. But, sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me for seven years, or I'll turn all the lice about thee into familiars, and they shall tear thee in pieces. Clown. Do you hear, sir ? You may save that labour : they are too familiar with me already : swowns ! they are as bold with my flesh as if they had paid for their meat and drink. Wag. Well, do you hear, sirrah? Hold, take these guilders. {Gives money* Clown. Gridirons ! what be they? Wag. Why, French crowns. Clown. Mass, but in the name of French crowns, a man were as good have as many English counters. And what should I do with these ? Wag. Why, now, sirrah, thou art at an) hour's warning, whensoever and whereso- ever the Devil shall fetch thee. Clown. No.no. Here, take your gridirons again. Wag. Truly I'll none of them. DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604.) 293 Clown. Truly but you shall. Wag. Bear witness I gave them to him. Clown. Bear witness I give them you again. Wag. Well, I will cause two Devils pre- sently to fetch thee away — Baliol and Belcher. Clown. Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and I'll knock them ! They were never so knocked since they were Devils ! Say I should kill one of them, what would folks say ? ' ' Do ye see yonder tall fellow in the round slop — he has killed the Devil." So I should be called kill-devil all the parish over. Enter two Devils : the Clown runs up and down crying. Wag. Baliol and Belcher ! Spirits, away ! Clown. What, are they gone? A ven- geance on them, they have vile long nails ! There was a he-devil, and a she-devil ! I'll tell you how you shall know them ; all he- devils has horns, and all she-devils has clift and cloven feet. Wag. Well, sirrah, follow me. Clown. But, do you hear — if I should serve you, would you teach me to raise up Banios and Belcheos ? Wag. I will teach thee to turn thyself to anything ; to a clog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or anything, Clown. How ! a Christian fellow to a dog or a cat, a mouse or a rat ! No, no, sir. If you turn me into anything, let it be in the likeness of a little pretty frisking flea, that I may be here and there and evervwhere. Oh, I'll tickle the pretty wenches' plackets ; I'll be amongst them, i' faith. Wag. Well, sirrah, come. Clown. But, do you hear, Wagner? Wag. How ! Baliol and Belcher ! Clown. O Lord ! I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep. Wag. Villain — call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be diametrically fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigiis nostris insistere. [Exit. Clown. God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian. Well, I'll follow him : I'll serve him,' that's flat. [Exit. Faustus discovered in his Study. Faust. Now, Faustus, must Thou needs be damned, and canst thou not be saved : What boots it then to think of God or Heaven ? Away with such vain fancies, and despair : Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub ; Now go not backward : no, Faustus, be resolute : Whywaver'st thou? Oh, somethingsoundeth in mine ears Abjure this Magic, turn to God again! Aye, and Faustus will turn to God again. To God ? He loves thee not — The God thou serv'st is thine own appetite, Wherein is fixed the love of Belzebub ; To him I'll build an altar and a church, And offer lukewarm blood of newborn babes. Ejitcr Good Angel and Evil Angel. G. Ang. Sweet Faustus, leave that exe- crable Art. Faust. Contrition, prayer, repentance ! What of them ? G. Ang. Oh, they are means to bring thee unto Heaven. E. A ng. Rather, illusions — fruits of lunacy, That make men foolish that do trust them most. G. A tig. Sweet Faustus, think of Heaven, and heavenly things. E. Ang. No, Faustus, think of honours and of wealth. [Exeunt Angels. Faust. Of wealth ! Why the Signiory of Embden shall be mine. When Mephistophilis shall stand by me, What God can hurt thee ; Faustus, thou art safe: Cast no more doubts. Come, Mephistophilis, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer ; — Is't not midnight ? Come, Mephistophilis ; Vent, veni, Mephistophile! Enter Mephistophilis. Now tell me, what says Lucifer thy lord ? Mcph. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives, So he will buy my service with his soul. Faust. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee. Meph. But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood, For that security craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to Hell. Faust. Stay, Mephistophilis ! Tell me what good will my soul do thy lord. Mcph. Enlarge his kingdom. Faust. Is that the reason why he tempts us thus ? Meph. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. Faust. Why, have you any pain that torture others ? Mcph. As great as have the human souls of men. But tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul? 294 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee, And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask. Faust. Ay, Mephistophilis, I give it thee. Meph. Then, Faustus, stab thine ar.n courageously, And bind thy soul that at some certain day Great Lucifer may claim it as his own ; And then be thou as great as Lucifer. Faust. [Stabbing his arm."] So, Mephis- tophilis, for love of thee I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night ! View here the blood that trickles from mine arm, And let it be propitious for my wish. Meph. But, Faustus, thou must Write it in manner of a deed of gift. Faust. Aye, so I will. [ Writes.'] But, Me- phistophilis, My blood congeals, and I can write no more. Meph. I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. [Exit. Fatist. What might the staying of my blood portend ? Is it unwilling I should write this bill ? Why streams it not that I may write afresh? Faustus gives to thee his soul. Ah, there it stayed. Why should 'st thou not? Is not thy soul thine own ? Then write again, Faustus gives to thee his Soul. Re-enter Mephistophilis with a chafer of coals. Meph. Here's fire. Come, Faustus, set it on. Faust. So now the blood begins to clear again ; Now will I make an end immediately. [Writes. Meph. Oh, what will not I do to obtain his soul. [Aside. Faust. Consummatum est: this bill is ended, And Faustus hath bequeathed his soul to Lucifer. But what is this inscription on mine arm ? Ho?no,fugeI Whither should I fly? If unto God, he'll throw me down to Hell. My senses are deceived ; here's nothing writ : — I see it plain ; here in this place is writ Homo, fugc I Yet shall not Faustus fly. Meph. I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind. [Aside, and exit. Re-enter Mephistophilis with Devils, who give crowns and rich apparel to Faustus, dance, and depart. Faust. Speak, Mephistophilis, what means this show? Meph. Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind withal, And to show thee what Magic can perform. Faust. But may I raise up Spirits when I please ? Meph. Aye, Faustus, and do greater things than these. Faust. Then there's enough for a thou- sand souls. Here, Mephistophilis, receive this scroll, A deed of gift of Body and of Soul : But yet conditionally that thou perform All articles prescribed between us both. Meph. Faustus, I swear by Hell and Lucifer To effect all promises between us made. Faust. Then hear me read them : On these conditiotis following. First, that Faustus may be a Spirit in form and- sub- stance. Secondly, that Mephistophilis shall be his servant, and at his command. Thirdly, shall do for him and bring him whatsoever he desires. Fourthly, that he shall be in his chamber or house invisible. Lastly, that he shall appear to the said John Faustus, at all times, and in what form or shape soever he pleases. I, John Faustus, of Wertenberg, Doctor, by these presents, do give both body and soul to Lucifer, Prince of the East, and his minister, Mephis- tophilis ; and furthermore grant unto them, that twenty-four years being expired, the articles above written inviolate, full power to fetch or carry the said John Faustus, body and soul, flesh, blood, or goods; into their habitation wheresoever. By me, John Faustus. Meph. Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as your deed ? Faust. Aye, take it, and the Devil give thee good on't ! Meph. Now, Faustus, ask what thou wilt. Faust. First will I question with thee about Hell. Tell me where is the place that men call Hell? Meph. Under the Heavens. Faust, Aye, but whereabout ? Meph. Within the bowels of these elements, Where we are tortured and remain for ever ; Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604.) 29S In one self place ; for where we are is Hell, And where Hell is there must we ever be : And, to conclude, when all the world dis- solves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be Hell that are not Heaven. Faust. Come, I think Hell's a fable. Meph. Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind. Faust. Why, think'st thou then that Faustus shall be damned ? Meph. Aye, of necessity, for here's the scroll Wherein thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer. Faust. Aye, and body too ; but what of that? Think'st thou that Faustus is so fond to imagine That, after this life, there is any pain ? Tush ; these are trifles, and mere old wives' tales. Meph. But, Faustus, I'm an instance to the contrary, For I am damned, and am now in Hell. Faust. How ! now in Hell? Nay, an this be Hell, I'll willingly be damned here ; What ? walking, disputing et caetera ? But, leaving off this, let me have a wife, The fairest maid in Germany ; For I am wanton and lascivious, And cannot live without a wife. Meph. How — a wife? I prithee, Faustus, talk not of a wife. Faust. Nay, sweet Mephistophilis, fetch me one, for I will have one. Meph. Well— thou wilt have one. Sit here till I come: I'll fetch thee a wife in the devil's name. [Exit. Re-enter Mephistophilis with a Devil drest like a woman, with fireworks. Meph. Tell me, Faustus, how dost thou like thy wife ? Faust. A plague on her for a hot whore ! Meph. But, Faustus, Marriage is but a ceremonial toy ; If thou lovest me, think no more of it. I'll cull thee out the fairest courtesans, And bring them every morning to thy bed ; She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall have, Be she as chaste as was Penelope, As wise as Saba, or as beautiful !As was bright Lucifer before his fall. Here, take this book, peruse it thoroughly : [Gives a book. The iterating of these lines brings gold ; The framing of this circle on the ground Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder and lightning; Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself, And men in armour shall appear to thee, Ready to execute what thou desir'st. Faust. Thanks, Mephistophilis ; yet fain would I have a book wherein I might be- hold all spells and incantations, that I might raise up spirits when I please. Meph. Here they are, in this book. [ Turns to them. Faust. Nay, let me have one book more, — and then I have done, — wherein I might see all plants, herbs, and trees that grow upon the earth. Meph. Here they be. Faust. Oh, thou art deceived. Meph. Tut, I warrant thee. [ Turns to them. Faust. When I behold the heavens, then I repent, And curse thee .wicked Mephistophilis, Because thou hast deprived me of those joys. Meph. Why, Faustus, Thinkest thou Heaven is such a glorious thing ? I tell thee 'tis not half so fair as thou, Or any man that breathes on earth. Faust. How prov'st thou that ? Meph. 'Twas made for man, therefore is man more excellent. Faust. If it were made for man, 'twas made for me ; I will renounce this Magic and repent. Enter Good Angel and Evil Angel. G. Ang. Faustus, repent; yet God will pity thee. E. Ang. Thou art a Spirit; God cannot pity thee. Faust. Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a Spirit ? Be I a Devil, yet God may pity me ; Aye, God will pity me if I repent. E. Ang. Aye, but Faustus never shall re- pent. [Exeunt Angels. Faust. My heart's so hardened I cannot reptnt. Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven, But fearful echoes thunder in mine ears Faustus, thou art damned / Then swords and knives, Poison, guns, halters, and envenomed steel Are laid before me to despatch myself, And long ere this I should have slain myself, Had not sweet pleasure conquered deep despair, 296 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF Have not I made blind Homer sing to me Of Alexander's love and CEnon's death ? And hath not he that built the walls of Thebes With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, Made music with my Mephistophilis? Why should I die then, or basely despair? I am resolved : Faustus shall ne'er repent — Come, Mephistophilis, let us dispute again, And argue of divine Astrology. Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon? Are all celestial bodies but one globe, As is the substance of this centric earth ? Mcph. As are the elements, such are the spheres Mutually folded in each other's orb, And, Faustus, All jointly move upon one axletree Whose terminine is termed the wide world's pole; Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter Feigned, but are erring stars. Faust. But tell me, have they all one motion both, situ et tempore. Meph. All jointly move from east to west in twenty-four hours upon the poles of the world ; but differ in their motion upon the poles of the zodiac. Faust. Tush ! These slender trifles Wagner can decide ; Hath Mephistophilis no greater skill ? Who knows not the double motion of the planets ? The first is finished in a natural day ; The second thus : as Saturn in thirty years ; Jupiter in twelve : Mars in four ; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year ; the Moon in twenty-eight days. Tush, these are freshmen's suppositions. But tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intelligentia f Meph. Aye. Faust. How many heavens, or spheres, are there ? Meph. Nine: the seven planets, the fir- mament, and the empyreal heaven. Faust. Well, resolve me in this question : Why have we not conjunctions, oppositions, aspects, eclipses, all at one time, but in some years we have more, in some less ? Mcph. Per in&qualem motum respectu totius. Faust. Well, I am answered. Tell me who made the world. Meph. I will not. Faust. Sweet Mephistophilis, tell me. Meph. Move me not, for I will not tell thee. Faust. Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me anything? Meph. Aye, that is not against our king- dom ; but this is. Think thou on Hell, Faustus, for thou art damned. Faust. Think, Faustus, upon God that made the world. Meph. Remember this. {Exit. Faust. Aye, go, accursed Spirit, to ugly Hell. 'Tis thou hast damned distressed Faustus' soul. Is't not too late? Re-enter Good Angel and Evil Angel. E. Ang. Too late, G. Ang. Never too late, if Faustus can repent. E. Ang. If thou repent, Devils shall tear thee in pieces. G. Ang. Repent, and they shall never raze thy skin. {Exeunt Angels. Faust. Ah, Christ my Saviour, Seek[ing] to save distressed Faustus' soul. Enter Lucifer, Belzebub, a?id Mephistophilis. Luc. Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just ; There's none but I have interest in the same. Faust. Oh, who art thou that look'st so terrible? Luc. I am Lucifer, And this is my companion-prince in Hell. Faust. Oh, Faustus, they are come to fetch away thy soul ! Luc. We come to tell thee thou dost in- jure us ; Thou talk'st of Christ contrary to thy pro- mise ; Thou should'st not think of God : think of the Devil, And of his dam too. Faust. Nor will I henceforth : pardon me in this, And Faustus vows never to look to Heaven, Never to name God, or to pray to him, To burn his Scriptures, slay his Ministers, And make my Spirits pull his Churches down. Luc. Do so, and we will, highly gratify thee. Faustus, we are come from Hell to show thee some pastime : sit down, and thou shalt see all the Seven Deadly Sins appear in their proper shapes. Faust. That sight will be as pleasing unto me, DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604. 297 As Paradise was to Adam the first day Of his creation. Luc. Talk not of paradise nor creation, but mark this show : talk of the Devil, and nothing else : come away ! Enter Jhe Seven Deadly Sins. Now, Faustus, examine them of their several names and dispositions. Faust. What art thou — the first? Pride. I am Pride. I disdain to have any parents. I am like to Ovid's flea: I can creep into every corner of a wench ; sometimes, like a perriwig, I sit upon her brow ; or like a fan of feathers, I kiss her lips ; indeed I do — what do I not ? But, fie, what a scent is here ! I'll not speak another word, except the ground were perfumed, and covered with cloth of arras. Faust. What art thou — the second ? Covet. I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl in an old leathern bag ; and might I have my wish I would desire that this house and all the people in it were turned to gold, that I might lock you up in my good chest. Oh, my sweet gold ! Faust. What art thou— the third? Wrath. I am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother: I leapt out of a lion's mouth when I was scarce half an hour old ; and ever since I have run up and down the world with this case of rapiers, wounding myself when I had nobody to fight withal. I was born in Hell ; and look to it, for some of you shall be my father. Faust. What art thou— the fourth ? Envy. I am Envy, begotten of a chimney- sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt. I am lean with seeing others eat. O that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone ! then thou should'st see how fat I would be . But must thou sit and I stand ! Come down with a vengeance ! Faust. Away, envious rascal ! What art thou— the fifth ? Glut. Who, I, sir? I am Gluttony. My parents are all dead, and the devil a penny they have left me, but a bare pension, and that is thirty meals a day and ten bevers— a small trifle to suffice nature. Oh, I come of a royal parentage ! My grandfather was a Gammon of Bacon, my Grandmother a hogshead of Claret wine ; my godfathers were these, Peter Pickleherring, and Martin Martlemas-beef ; oh, but my godmother, she was a jolly gentlewoman, and well beloved in every good town and city ; her names was Mistress Margery March-beer. Now, Faus- tus, thou hast heard all my progeny, wilt thou bid me to supper? Faust. No, I'll see thee hanged: thou wilt eat up all my victuals. Glut. Then the Devil choke thee ! Faust. Choke thyself, glutton ! Who art thou — the sixth ? Sloth. I am Sloth. I was begotten on a sunny bank, where I have lain ever since ; and you have done me great injury to bring me from thence : let me be carried thither again by Gluttony and Lechery. I'll not speak another word for a king's ransom. Faust. What are you, Mistress Minx, the seventh and last ? Lech. Who, I, sir? I am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better than an ell of fried stockfish ; and the first letter of my name begins with L. Faust. Away to Hell, to Hell ! [Exeunt the Sins. Luc. Now, Faustus, how dost thou like this? Faust. Oh, this feeds my soul ! Luc. Tut, Faustus, in Hell is all manner of delight. Faust. O might I see Hell, and return again, How happy were I then ! Luc. Thou shalt ; I will send for thee at midnight. In meantime take this book; peruse it throughly, And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt. Faust. Great thanks, mighty Lucifer ! This will I keep as chary as my life. Luc. Farewell, Faustus, and think on the Devil. Faust. Farewell, great Lucifer ! [Exeunt Lucifer and Belzebub. Come, Mephistophilis. Enter Chorus. Chorus. Learned Faustus, To know the secrets of Astronomy, Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament, Did mount himself to scale Olympus top, Being seated in a chariot burning bright, Drawn by the strength of yoky dragons' necks. He now is gone to prove Cosmography, And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome, To see the Pope and manner of his Court, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, That to this day is highly solemnized. [Exit. 298 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF Enter Faustus and Mephistophilis. Faust. Having now, my good Mephisto- philis, Passed with delight the stately town of Trier, Environed round with airy mountain tops, With walls of flint, and deep entrenched lakes, Not to be won by any conquering prince ; From Paris next, coasting the realm of France, We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine, Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines; Then up to Naples, rich Campania, Whose buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye, The streets straight forth, and paved with finest brick, Quarter the town in four equivalents : There saw we learned Maro's golden tomb, The way he cut, an English mile in length, Thorough a rock of stone in one night's space ; From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest, In one of which a sumptuous temple stands, That threats the stars with her aspiring top. Thus hitherto has Faustus spent his time : But tell me, now, what resting place is this? Hast thou, as erst I did command, Conducted me within the walls of Rome? Meph. Faustus, I have ; and because we will not be unprovided, I have taken up his Holiness' privy-chamber for our use. Faust. I hope his Holiness will bid us welcome. Meph. Tut, 'tis no matter, man, we will be bold with his good cheer, And now, my Faustus, that thou may'st perceive What Rome containeth to delight thee with, Know that this city stands upon seven hills That underprop the groundwork of the same : Just through the midst runs fiewing Tiber's stream, With winding banks that cut it in two parts : Over the which four stately bridges lean, That make safe passage to each part of Rome: Upon the bridge called Ponte Angelo Erected is a castle passing strong, Within whose walls such store of ordnance are, And double cannons formed of carved brass, As match the days within one complete year ; Besides the gates and high pyramides, Which Julius Caesar brought from Africa. Faust. Now by the kingdom's of infernal rule, Of Styx, of Acheron, and the fiery lake Of ever-burning Phlegethon, I swear That I do long to see the monuments And situation of bright-splendent Rome : Come therefore, let's away. Meph. Nay, Faustus, stay ; I know you'd see the Pope, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, Where thou shalt see a troop of bald-pate friars, Whose summum donum is in belly cheer. Faust. Well, I'm content to compass then some sport, And by their folly make us merriment. Then charm me [so] that I May be invisible, to do what I please Unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome. [Mephistophilis charms him. Meph. So, Faustus, now Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be dis- cerned. Soiind a Sennet. Enter the Pope and the Cardinal of Lorrain to the Banquet, with Friars attending. Pope. My Lord of Lorrain, wilt please you draw near ? Faust. Fall to, and the devil choke you an you spare ! Pope. How now! Who's that which spake ? — Friars, look about. First Friar. Here's nobody, if it like your Holiness. Pope. My lord, here is a dainty dish was sent me from the Bishop of Milan. Faust. I thank you, sir. [Snatches the dish. Pope. How now ! Who's that which snatched the meat from me ? Will no man look ? My Lord, this dish was sent me from the Cardinal of Florence. Faust. You say true ; I'll ha't. [Snatches the dish. Pope. What, again ! My lord, I'll drink to your grace. Faust. I'll pledge your grace. [Snatches the cup. C. of Lor. My lord, it may be some ghost newly crept out of Purgatory, come to beg a pardon of your Holiness. DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604.) 299 Pope. It may be so. Friars' prepare a dirge to lay the fury of this ghost. Once again, my lord, fall to. [ The Pope crosses himself. Faust. What, are you crossing of your- self? Well, use that trick no more I would advise you. [The Pope crosses himself again. Well, there's the second time. Aware the third, I give you fair warning. [The Pope crosses hi?nself again, and Faustus hits him a box of the ear; and they all run away. Come on, Mephistophilis, what shall we do ? Meph. Nay, I know not. We shall be cursed with bell, book, and candle. Faust. How! bell, book, and candle, — candle, book, and bell, Forward and backward to curse Faustus to Hell! Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, an ass bray, Because it is Saint Peter's holiday. Re-enter the Friars to sing the Dirge. First Friar. Come, brethren, let's about our business with good devotion. [They sing. Cursed be he that stole away his Holiness' meat from the table! Maledicat Dominus. Cursed be he that struck his Holiness a blow on the face! Maledicat Dominus! Cursed be he that took Friar Sandelo a blow on the pate ! Maledicat Dominus ! Cursed be he that disturbeth our holy dirge! Maledicat Dominus ! Cursed be he that took away his Holiness wine! Maledicat Dominus! Et omnes Sancti ! Amen I [Mephistophilis and Faustus beat the Friars, and fling fireworks among them: and so exeunt. Enter Chorus. Chorus. When Faustus had with pleasure ta'en the view Of rarest things, and royal courts of kings, He stayed his course, and so returned home; Where such as bear his absence but with grief, I mean his friends, and near'st companions, Did gratulate his safety with kind words, And in their conference of what befell, Touching his journey through the world and air, They put forth questions of Astrology, Which Faustus answered with such learned skill, As they admired and wondered at his wit. Now is his fame spread forth in every land ; Amongst the rest the Emperor is one, Carolus the Fifth, at whose palace now Faustus is feasted 'mongst his noblemen. What there he did in trial of his art, I leave untold — your eyes shall see per- formed. [Exit. Enter Robin the Ostler, with a book in his hand. Robin. Oh, this is admirable ! here I ha* stolen one of Dr. Faustus' conjuring books, and i' faith I mean to search some circles for my own use. Now will I make all the maidens in our parish dance at my pleasure, stark naked before me ; and so by that, means I shall see more than e'er I felt or saw yet. Enter Ralph calling Robin. Ralph. Robin, prithee come away; there's a gentleman tarries to have his horse, and he would have his things rubbed and made clean : he keeps such a chafing with my mistress about it ; and she has sent me to look thee out; prithee come away. Robin. Keep out, keep out, or else you are blown up ; you are dismembered, Ralph : keep out, for I am about a roaring piece of work. Ralph. Come, what doest thou with that same ? Thou can'st not read. Robin. Yes, my master and mistress shall find that I can read, he for his forehead, she for her private study ; she's born to bear with me, or else my art fails. Ralph. Why, Robin, what book is that ? Robin. What book! why the most in- tolerable book for conjuring that e'er was invented by any brimstone devil. Ralph. Can'st thou conjure with it? Robin. I can do all these things easily with it ; first, I can make thee drunk with ibbocras at any tabern in Europe for nothing ; that's one of my conjuring works. Ralph. Our Master Parson says that's nothing. Robin. True, Ralph ; and more, Ralph, if thou hast any mind to Nan Spit, our kitchenmaid, then turn her and wind her to thy own use as often as thou wilt, and at midnight. Ralph. O brave Robin, shall I have Nan Spit, and to mine own use ? On that condi- 3oo THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF tion I'd feed thy devil with horsebread as long as he lives, of free cost. Robin. No more, sweet Ralph : let's go and make clean our boots, which lie foul upon our hands, and then to our conjuring in the devil's name. \Exeunt. Enter Robin and Ralph with a silver goblet. Robin. Come, Ralph, did not I tell thee we were for ever made by this Doctor Faus- tus' book? ecce signum, here's a simple pur- chase for horsekeepers ; our horses shall eat no hay as long as this lasts. Ralph. But, Robin, here comes the Vint- ner. Robin. Hush ! I'll gull him supernatu- rally. Enter Vintner. Drawer, I hope all is paid : God be with you ; come, Ralph. Vint. Soft, sir ; a word with you. I must yet have a goblet paid from you, ere you go. Robin. I, a goblet, Ralph ; I, a goblet ! I scorn you, and you are but a &c. I, a goblet ! search me. Vint. I mean so, sir, with your favour. {Searches him. Robin. How say you now? Vint. I must say somewhat to your fel- low. You, sir ! Ralph. Me, sir ! me, sir ! search your fill. [Vintner searches him.] Now, sir, you maybe ashamed to burden honest men with a matter of truth. Vint. Well, one of you hath this goblet about you. Robin. You lie, drawer, 'tis afore me. [Aside.'] Sirrah you, I'll teach you to im- peach honest men ; — stand by ; — I'll scour you for a goblet !— stand aside you had best, I charge you in the name of Belzebub. — Look to the goblet, Ralph. [Aside to Ralph. Vint. What mean you, sirrah? Robin. I'll tell you what I mean. [Reads from a book.] Sanctobulorum Periphrasti- con— Nay, I'll tickle you, Vintner. Look to the goblet, Ralph. [Aside to Ralph. [Reads.] Polypragmos Belseborams fra- manto pacostiphos tostu, Mephistophilis, &c. Enter Mephistophilis, sets squibs at their backs, and then exit. They run about. Vint. O nomine Domini ! what meanest thou, Robin ? thou hast no goblet. Ralph. Peccatum peccatorum / Here's thy goblet, good Vintner. [Gives the goblet to Vintner, who exit. Robin. Misericordia pro nobis! What shall I do ? Good devil, forgive me now, and I'll never rob thy library more. Re-enter Mephistophilis. Meph. Monarch of Hell, under whose black survey Great potentates do kneel with awful fear, Upon whose altars thousand souls do lie, How am I vexed with these villains' charms? j From Constantinople am I hither come Only for pleasure of these damned slaves. Robin. How from Constantinople ? You i have had a great journey : will you take six- j pence in your purse to pay for your supper, and begone ? Meph. Well, villains, for your presump- j tion, I transform thee into an ape, and thee | into a dog ; and so begone. [Exit. Robin. How, into an ape ; that's brave ! I'll have fine sport with the boys. I'll get nuts and apples enow. Ralph. And I must be a dog. Robin. I' faith thy head will never be out of the pottage pot. [Exeunt. Enter Emperor, Faustus, and a Knight with Attendants. Emp. Master Doctor Faustus, I have heard strange report of thy knowledge in the black art, how that none in my empire nor in the whole world can compare with thee for the rare effects of magic : they say thou hast a familiar spirit, by whom thou can'st accomplish what thou list. This there- fore is my request, that thou let me see some proof of thy skill, that mine eyes may be witnesses to confirm what mine ears have heard reported : and here I swear to thee by the honour of mine imperial crown, that, whatever thou doest, thou shalt be no ways prejudiced or endamaged. Knight. I'faith he looks much like a conjuror. [Aside. Faust. My gracious sovereign, though I must confess myself far inferior to the report men have published, and nothing answer- able to the honour of your imperial majesty, yet for that love and duty binds me there- unto, I am content to do whatsoever your majesty shall command me. Emp. Then, Doctor Faustus, mark what I shall say. As I was sometime solitary set Within my closet, sundry thoughts arose DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604.) 30X About the honour of mine ancestors, How they had won by prowess such ex- ploits, Got such riches, subdued so many kingdoms As we that do succeed, or they that shall Hereafter possess our throne, shall (I fear me) ne'er attain to that degree Of high renown and great authority : Amongst which kings is Alexander the Great, Chief spectacle of the world's pre-eminence, The bright shining of whose glorious acts Lightens the world with his reflecting beams, As when I hear but motion made of him It grieves my soul I never saw the man : If therefore thou by cunning of thine art Canst raise this man from hollow vaults below, Where lies entombed this famous conqueror, And bring with him his beauteous paramour, Both in their right shapes, gesture, and at- tire They used to wear during their time of life, Thou shalt both satisfy my just desire, And give me cause to praise thee whilst I live. Faust. My gracious lord, I am ready to accomplish your request so far forth as by art, and power of my Spirit, I am able to perform. Knight. I'faith that's just nothing at all. [Aside. Faust. But, if it like your grace, it is not in my ability to present before your eyes the true substantial bodies of those two deceased princes, which long since are consumed to dust. Knight. Aye marry, Master Doctor, now there's a sign of grace in you, when you will confess the truth. {Aside. Faust. But such spirits as can lively re- semble Alexander and his paramour shall appear before your grace in that manner that they both lived in, in their most flou- rishing estate; which I doubt not shall suf- ficently content your imperial majesty. Emp. Go to, Master Doctor, let me see them presently. i Knight. Do you hear, Master Doctor? You bring Alexander and his paramour be- Ifore the Emperor ! Faust. How then, sir ? I Knight. I'faith, that's as true as Diana turned me to a stag ! Faust. No, sir, but when Actason died, he left the horns to you. Mephistophilis, begone. [Exit Mephistophilis. I Knight. Nay, an you go to conjuring, I'll [begone. [Exit. Faust. I'll meet with you anon for inter- rupting me so. Here they are, my gracious lord. Re-enter Mephistophilis with Spirits in the shape 3 Faust. What, is he gone ? Farewell, he ! Faustus has his leg again, and the Horse- courser, I take it, a bottle of hay for his labour. Well, this trick shall cost him forty dollars more. Enter Wagner. How now, Wagner, what's the news with thee? Wag. Sir, the Duke of Vanholt doth earnestly entreat your company. Faust. The Duke of Vanholt ! an honour- able gentleman, to whom I must be no niggard of my cunning. Come, Mephisto- philis, let's away to him. {Exeunt. Enter the Duke of Vanholt, the Duchess, and Faustus. Duke. Believe me, Master Doctor, this merriment hath much pleased me. Faust. My gracious lord, I am glad it contents you so well. — But it may be, madam, you take no delight in this. I have heard that great-bellied women do long for some dainties or other : what is it, madam ? tell me, and you shall have it. Duchess. Thanks, good Master Doctor; and for I see your courteous intent to plea- sure me, I will not hide from you the thing my heart desires ; and were it now summer, as it is January and the dead time of the winter, I would desire no better meat than a dish of ripe grapes. Faust. Alas, madam, that's nothing ! Mephistophilis, begone. — [Exit Mephisto- philis.] Were it a greater thing than this, so it would content you, you should have it. Ee-enter Mephistophilis with grapes. Here they be, madam ; wilt please you taste on them ? Duke. Believe me, Master Doctor, this makes me wonder above the rest, that being in the dead time of winter, and in the month of January, how you should come by these grapes ? Faust. If it like your grace, the year is divided into two circles over the whole world, that, when it is here winter with us, in the contrary circle it is summer with them, as in India, Saba, and farther countries in the East ; and by means of a swift Spirit that I have I had them brought hither, as you see. — How do you like them, madam ; be they good? Duchess. Believe me, Master Doctor, they be the best grapes that ever I tasted in my life before. Faust. I am glad they content you so, madam. Duke. Come, madam, let us in, where you must well reward this learned man for the great kindness he hath showed to you. Duchess. And so I will, my lord ; and, whilst I live, rest beholding for this courtesy. Faust. I humbly thank your grace. Duke. Come, Master Doctor, follow us and receive your reward. {Exeunt. Enter Wagner. Wag. I think my master shortly means to die, For he hath given to me all his goods : And yet, methinks, if that death were [so] near, He would not banquet, and carouse and swill Amongst the students, as even now he doth, Who are at supper with such belly cheer As Wagner ne'er beheld in all his life. See where they come ! belike the feast is ended. [Exit. Enter Faustus, with two or three Scholars and Mephistophilis. ist Schol. Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifullest in all the world, we have determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived : therefore, Master Doctor, if you will do us that favour, as to let us see that peer- less dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think our- selves much beholding unto you. Faust. Gentlemen, For that I know your friendship is unfeigned, And Faustus' custom is not to deny The just requests of those that wish him well, You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece, No otherways for pomp and majesty, Than when Sir Paris crossed the seas with her, And brought the spoils to rich Dardania. Be silent, Ihen, for danger is in words. [Music sounds, and Helen passeth over the stage. •2nd Schol. Too simple is my wit to tell her praise, Whom all the world admires for majesty. yd Schol. No marvel though the angry Greeks pursued With ten years' war the rape of such a Queen, 3°4 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF Whose heavenly beauty passeth all com- pare. ist Schol. Since we have seen the pride of Nature's works, And only paragon of excellence, Let us depart ; and for this glorious deed Happy and blest be Faustus evermore. Faustus. Gentlemen, farewell — the same I wish to you. [Exeunt Scholars. Enter an Old Man. Old Man. Ah, Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail To guide thy steps unto the way of life, By which sweet path thou may'st attain the goal That shall conduct thee to celestial rest ! Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears, Tears falling from repentant heaviness Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness, The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul With such flagitious crimes of heinous sin As no commiseration may expel, But Mercy, Faustus, of thy Saviour sweet, Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt. Faust. Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done ? Damned art thou, Faustus, damned ; despair and die ! Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice Says "Faustus! come! thine hour is almost come !" And Faustus now will come to do thee right. [Mephistophilis^/z'W him a dagger. Old Man. Ah stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps ! I see an angel hovers o'er thy head, And, with a vial full of precious grace, Offers to pour the same into thy soul : Then call for Mercy, and avoid Despair. Faust. Ah, my sweet friend, I feel Thy words do comfort my distressed soul. Leave me a while to ponder on my sins. Old Man. I go, sweet Faustus, but with heavy cheer, Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul. [Exit. Faust. Accursed Faustus, where is Mercy now? I do repent ; and yet I do despair : Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast : What shall I do to shun the snares of death? Meph. Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul For disobedience to my sovereign Lord ; Revolt, or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh. Faust. Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord To pardon my unjust presumption. And with my blood again I will confirm My former vow I made to Lucifer. Mcpk. Do it then quickly, with unfeigned heart, Lest greater danger do attend thy drift. Faust. Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age, That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer, With greatest torments that our Hell affords. Mcph. His faith is great : I cannot touch his soul ; But what I may afflict his body with I will attempt, which is but little worth. Faust. One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee, To glut the longing of my heart's desire, — That I might have unto my paramour That heavenly Helen which I saw of late, Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer. Meph. Faustus, this or what else thou shalt desire Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye. Re-enter Helen. Faust. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium ? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. [Kisses her. Her lips suck forth my soul ; see where it flies !— Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again, Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy shall Wertenbergbe sacked : And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed orest : Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars ; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appeared to hapless Semele ; More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azured arms ; And none but thou shalt be my paramour ! [Exeimt. Enter the Old Man. Old Man. Accursed Faustus ! miserable man, DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604.) 305 That from thy soul exclud'st the Grace of Heaven, And fly 'st the throne of his tribunal seat ! Enter Devils. Satan begins to sift me with his pride : As in this furnace God shall try my faith, My faith, vile Hell, shall triumph over thee. Ambitious fiends ! see how the heavens smile At your repulse, and leave your state to scorn ! Hence, Hell ! for hence I fly unto my God. {Exeunt, on one side Devils — on the other, Old Man. Enter Faustus with Scholars. Faust. Ah, gentlemen ! 1st Schol. What ails Faustus? Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber fellow, had I lived with thee, then had I lived still ! but now I die eternally. Look, comes he not, comes he not ? 2nd Schol. What means Faustus ? %rd Schol. Belike he is grown into some sickness by being over solitary. 1st Schol. If it be so, we'll have physi- cians to cure him. 'Tis but a surfeit. Never fear, man. Faust. A surfeit of deadly sin that hath damned both body and soul. 2nd Schol. Yet, Faustus, look up to Heaven : remember God's mercies are in- finite. Faust. But Faustus' offence can never be pardoned : the serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. Ah, gentle- men, hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches! Though my heart pants and quivers to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years, oh, would I had never seen Wertenberg, never read book ! and what wonders I have done, all Germany can witness, yea all the world ; for which Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world, yea Heaven itself, Heaven, the seat of God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy ; and must remain in Hell for ever, Hell, aye Hell, forever! Sweet friends ! what shall become of Faustus being in Hell for ever? 3rd Schol. Yet, Faustus, call on God. Faust. On God, whom Faustus hath ab- jured ; on God, whom Faustus hath blas- phemed ! Ah, my God, I would weep, but he Devil draws in my tears. Gush forth Dlood instead of tears ! Your life and soul ! Dh, he stays my tongue ! I would lift up my lands, but see ! they hold them, they hold hem ! All. Who, Faustus? Faust. Lucifer and Mephistophilis. Ah, gentlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning ! All. God forbid ! Faust. God forbade it indeed ; but Faustus hath done it: for vain pleasure of twenty - four years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own blood : the date is expired ; the time will come, and he will fetch me. 1st Schol. Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, that divines might have prayed for thee ? Faust. Oft have I thought to have done so ; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces if I named God ; to fetch both body and soul if I once gave ear to divinity : and now 'tis too late. Gentlemen, away ! lest you perish with me. 2?id Schol. Oh, what shall we do to save Faustus ? Faust. Talk not of me, but save your- selves, and depart. yd Schol. God will strengthen me. I will stay with Faustus. 1st Schol. Tempt not God, sweet friend ; but let us into the next room, and there pray for him. Faust. Aye, pray for me, pray for me ! and what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. 2nd Schol. Pray thou, and we will pray that God may have mercy upon thee. Faust. Gentlemen, farewell : if I live till morning I'll visit you : if not Faustus is gone to Hell. All. Faustus, farewell. [Exeunt Scholars. The clock strikes eleven. Faust. Ah, Faustus, now Hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damned perpetually ! Stand still, you ever moving spheres of Heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come ; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again and make Perpetual day ; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul! O lente, lente, cur rite noctis equi / The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damned. Oh, I'll leap up to my God ! Who pulls me down? x 3o6 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (QUARTO, 1604.) See, see where Christ's blood streams in the firmament ! One drop would save my soul — half a drop : ah, my Christ ! Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ ! Yet will I call on him : O spare me, Lu- cifer ! — Where is it now? 'tis gone ; and see where God Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows ! Mountains and hills, come, come and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of God ! No, no ! Then will I headlong run into the earth ; Earth gape ! Oh, no, it will not harbour me ! You stars that reigned at my nativity, Whose influence hath allotted Death and Hell, Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud, That when you vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, So that my soul may but ascend to Heaven. [The clock strikes the half hour. Ah, half is past ! 'twill all be past anon ! O God! If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul, Yet for Christ's sake whose blood hath ran- somed me, Impose some end to my incessant pain ; Let Faustus live in Hell a thousand years— A hundred thousand, and — at last — be saved ! Oh, no end is limited to damned souls ! Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or why is this immortal that thou hast? Ah, Pythagoras' Metempsychosis! Were that [but] true, this soul should fly from me, And I be changed unto some brutish beast. All beasts are happy, for [that] when they die Their souls are soon dissolved in elements ; But mine must live, still to be plagued in Hell. Curst be the parents that engendered me ! No, Faustus : curse thyself : curse Lucifer That hath deprived thee of the joys of Heaven. [The clock strikes twelve. Oh, it strikes, it strikes ! Now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to Hell. [Thunder and lightning [and raiii\. O soul, Be changed into little water drops, And fall into the ocean — ne'er be found. [Enter Devils. Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile ! Ugly Hell, gape not ! come not, Lucifer ! I'll burn my books ! — Ah, Mephistophilis ! t Exeunt Devils with Faustus. Enter Chorus. Chorus. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone ; regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise Only to wonder at unlawful things, Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits To practise more than heaven permits. [Exit. Terminal hora diem; terminal auctor opus. i. Ballad of Faustus. [As an appropriate accompaniment of Marlowe's great drama, the contemporary ballad, giving the story of the play, is printed from the copy selected by Mr. Dyce from the Roxburghe Collection in the British Museum.] THE JUDGMENT OF GOD SHOWED UPON ONE JOHN FAUSTUS, DOCTOR IN DIVINITY. Tune of Fortune my Foe. All Christian men, give ear a while to me, How I am plunged in pain, but cannot die ; I lived a life the like did none before, Forsaking Christ, and I am damned there- fore. At Wittenburge, a town in Germany, There was I born and bred of good degree ; Of honest stock which afterwards I shamed ; Accursed therefore, for Faustus was I named. In learning, loe, my uncle brought up me, A.nd made me Doctor in Divinity ; A.nd when he died, he left me all his wealth, Whose cursed gold did hinder my soul's health. Then did I shun the holy Bible-book, ^lor on God's word would ever after look ; 3ut studied accursed conjuration, /Vhich was the cause of my utter damna- tion. The devil in fryars weeds appeared to me, i.nd streight to my request he did agree, hat I might have all things at my desire ; gave him soul and body for his hire. wice did I make my tender flesh to bleed, wice with my blood I wrote the devil's deed, wice wretchedly I soul and body sold, o live in pleasure, and do what things I would. or four and twenty years this bond was made, nd at the length my soul was truly paid : ime ran away, and yet I never thought ow dear my soul our Saviour Christ had bought. Would I had first been made a beast by kind ! Then had not I so vainly set my mind ; Or would, when reason first began to bloom, Some darksome den had been my dismal tomb ! Woe to the day of my nativity ! Woe to the time that once did foster me ! And woe unto the hand that sealed the bill ! Woe to myself, the cause of all my ill ! The time I past away with much delight, 'Mongst princes, peers, and many a worthy knight ; I wrought such wonders by my magic skill, That all the world may talk of Faustus still. The devil he carried me up into the sky, Where I did see how all the world did lie ; I went about the world in eight days space, And then returned unto my native place. What pleasure I did wish to please my mind He did perform, as bond and seal did bind ; The secrets of the stars and planets told, Of earth and seas with wonders manifold. When four and twenty years was almost run, I thought of all things that was past and done ; How that the devil would soon claim his right, And carry me to everlasting night. Then all too late I cursed my wicked deed, The dread whereof doth make my heart to bleed ; All days and hours I mourned wondrous sore, Repenting me of all things done before. X 2 3°8 BALLAD OF FAUSTUS. I then did wish both sun and moon to stay, All times and seasons never to decay ; Then had my time ne'er come to dated end, Nor soul and body down to hell descend. At last, when I had but one hour to come, I turned my glass for my last hour to run, And called in learned men to comfort me ; But faith was gone, and none could comfort me. By twelve o'clock my glass was almost out ; My grieved conscience then began to doubt ; I wisht the students stay in chamber by ; But as they staid, they heard a dreadful cry. Then present, lo, they came into the hall, Whereas my brains was cast against the wall ; Both arms and legs in pieces torn they see, My bowels gone : this was an end of me. You conjurors, and damned witches all, Example take by my unhappy fall ; Give not your souls and bodies unto hell, See that the smallest hair you do not sell. But hope that Christ his kingdom you may gain, Where you shall never fear such mortal pain ; Forsake the devil and all his crafty ways, Embrace true faith that never more decays. Printed by and for A. M., and sold by the Booksellers of London. Notes, Explanatory and Illustrative. Tamburlaine the Great. PARTS I. & II. Two editions of these Plays were published during the life-time of Marlowe. I. Quarto, 1590. Tamburlaine the Great. Who, from a Scythian Shephearde by his rare and woonderfull Conquests, became a most puissant and mightye Monarque. And, (for his tyranny, and terrour in Warre) was tearmed, The Scourge of God. Deuided into two Tragicall Discourses, as they were sundrie times shewed vpon Stages in the Citie of London. By the right honourable the Lord Admyrall, his seruauntes. Now first, and newlie published. London. Printed by Richard /hones : at the signe of the Rose and Crowne ?iecre Holbome Bridge. 1590. tfo. [This edition is only known by two leaves, the title and the address to the reader, which are pasted into a copy of the 410 of 1605, preserved at Bridgewater House.] II. Octavo, 1590. The general title is the same as No. 1. The half-title of the Second Part is — The Second Part of the bloody Conquests of mighty Tamburlaine. With his impassionate fury, for the death of his Lady and loue faire Zenocrate ; his fourme of exhortacion and discipline to his three sons, with the tnaner of his own death. [Of this edition two copies are found in our public libraries ; Garrick's at the British Museum, and Malone's in the Bodleian. Mr. Dyce and Mr. W. C. Hazlitt vary slightly in their descriptions of them, but the discrepancies would perhaps vanish if there was an opportunity of placing the volumes side by side.] The Printer's address is given from the Octavo Edition, 1592. To the Gentlemen Readers and Others that take pleasure in Reading Histories. Gentlemen and courteous readers whosoever : I have here published in print, for your sakes, the two tragical discourses of the Scythian shepherd Tamburlaine, that became so great a conqueror and so mighty a monarch. My hope is, that they will be now no less acceptable unto you to read after your serious affairs and studies than they have been lately delightful for many of you to see when the same were shewed in London upon stages. I have purposely omitted and left out some fond and frivolous gestures, digressing, and, in my poor opinion, far unmeet for the matter, which I thought might seem more tedious unto the wise than any way else to be regarded, though haply they have been of some vain-conceited fondlings greatly gaped at, what time they were shewed upon the stage in their graced defor- mities : nevertheless now to be mixtured in print with such matter of worth, it would prove a great disgrace to so honourable and stately a history. Great folly were it in me to commend unto your wisdoms either the eloquence of the author that writ them or the worthiness of the matter itself. I therefore leave unto your learned censures both the one and the other, and myself the poor printer of them 3io NOTES. unto your most courteous and favourable protection ; which if you vouchsafe to accept, you shall evermore bind me to employ what travail and service I can to the advancing and pleasuring of your excellent degree. Yours, most humble at commandment, R[ichard]J[ones], Printer. P. I. Prologue. From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits, &c. &c. Mr. Collier attaches great importance to these words, and regards them as the death knell of rhyme and clownish conceits. P. 2 b. How now, my lord, what mated and amazed. Mated is humbled, from the French verb mater. It is still preserved in check-mate. P. 2 b. I pass not for his threats. To pass — to care. Bradford the Martyr says, " We have sinned so many ten-times as we have hair of our heads and beards, yet pass not. " P. 3 a. Now sit and laugh our regiment to scorn. Regiment was formerly used for rule, authority. In 1558 John Knox wrote a book called ' ' The First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regimen of Women." P. 3 a. And that which might resolve me into tears. Resolve was much more frequently used than dissolve. — See Hamlet's Soliloquy. P. 3 a. We in the name of other Persian states. States means here persons of high estate, as opposed to commons. P. 3 b. In spite of them shall malice my estate. Malice is employed as a verb by Surrey, Spenser, Daniel, Jonson, &c, meaning bear malice against. P. 3 b. Intending your investion so near. Investiture. Either word is awkward to pronounce. P. 3 b. To injury or suppress your worthy title. The use of this word as a verb was not uncommon. Nares quotes Danet's Comines, "princes should take great heed how they injurie any man." P. 3 b. Who, travelling with these my uncle's lords. To Memphis from his country of Media. Mr. Dyce remarks that in these lines as previously printed there is ' ' evidently some corruption." I have ventured to give them as above. They formerly stood : Who, travelling with these Median Lords, To Memphis from my uncle's country of Media. P. 4 a. Of this success and loss unvalued. Not to be estimated. Milton uses unrcmoved for irremovable. P. 4 b. More rich and valurous than Zenocrate's. A more poetical form than valuable ; as valure was of value. P. 4 b. Resolved for dissolved. — See P. 3 a. TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 311 P. 5 a. In every part exceeding brave and rich — and P. 5 b. {last line). Gaily attired. In Green's Tu Quoque we have " For I have gold and therefore will be brave." P. 5 a. Stay ask a parle first. A more poetical form of -parley, with the advantage of sounding as either one syllable or two at discretion. P. 5 a. Open the mails, yet guard the treasure sure. Bags, portmanteaus — Shakspeare makes a verb of it : " Mailed up in shame, with papers on my back." P. 6 a. Renowned man. Mr. Dyce invariably prints this word as renowm£d, which appears to have heen Marlowe's way of spelling it ; but the sound is awkward, and hardly worth preserving, except in a note. P. 6 a. And christian merchants, that with Pussian stems Plough up huge furrows in the Caspian sea, Shall vail to us as lords of all the lake. Merchants stands for merchant-men : stems means prows, but we still talk of "from stem to stern," and of "stemming the tide." Marlowe was thinking of his native Cinque Port country and the narrow seas, when he spoke of " vailing," i.e., lower- ing the top sails (not merely the flags, as Mr. Dyce says) in token of respect. The object was that they should pull up to a certain extent, as well as make their bow. P. 7 a. ' Twixt his manly pitch, A pearl, 7nore worth than all the world, is placed. Pitch was the height to which a falcon soared, and thence height in general. Here it means the shoulders of Tamburlaine, the "pearl" being his head. P. 7 a. His arms and fingers long and sinewy. This reading belongs to Mr. Dyce. Of the old editions the octavo gave, His arms and fingers long and snowy, and the quarto, His armes long, his fingers snowy-white. And so, if I had not found Marlowe using the word sinewy elsewhere, I should have been inclined to leave it. Vandyck always drew his knights and nobles with hands such as the quarto describes. P. 7 a. Though strait the passage and the port be made. The gates of Edinburgh are at this day called the ports, and we still talk of a sally- port. P. 7 a. In fair Persia noble Tamburlaine. Fair must here be pronounced as a dissyllable, a liberty frequently taken, appa- rently quite unconsciously, by the old dramatists. Just as Scott's ear detected nothing unusual in his line, Exalt the unicorn's horn. But the burr of the Borderer puts the extra syllable after the r, as Unicor-run, whereas the Elizabethan practice seems to have been to place it in front asfai-er. 3i2 NOTES. P. 7 b. Such scald knaves as love him not. Scald originally signified scaly-headed, or scabby-headed, and was thence used as a general term of contempt. h\ the authorized version of the Bible the word scall (from which scald is derived) occurs twelve times in eight consecutive verses of Leviticus. P. 8 a. And make him false his faith unto his king. "She falsed her faith, and brake her wedlock's band." — Ed-ward IV., 1626. P. 8 a. Scouting abroad upon these champion plains. Marlowe always uses this form of champain. P. 9 b. ICings are clouts that every man shoots at, Our crown the pin that thousands seek to cleave. The clout was the mark at which archers practised ; the pin was the peg which fastened it to the tree or post. P. 10 b. Cannot compare with kingly joys in earth. In earth, for on earth. Mr. Dyce points out the same form in the Lord's' Prayer. P. 11 a. I judge the purchase more important far. Purchase was used for plunder or loot. " They will steal anything and call it purchase." Nares quotes Spenser to show that it was not a mere cant word, but the above line of Marlowe's would have been more to the purpose. " Of nightly stelths and pillage severall Which he had got abroad by pure has criminall. — F. Q. ii. 16. P. 11 a. And lose 7nore labour than the gain will quit. To quit — to repay — to requite. " Enkindle all the sparks of nature To quit this horrid act. " — King Lear. P. 11 b. Sacks every vein and artier of my heart. Takes by storm and pillages every artery. Mr. Mitford doubted whether the word artier was ever used in this sense, but Mr. Dyce has given a string of instances. P. 11 b. Moved me to manage arms against thy state. Manage means to lead, to conduct in form, to make war. Prior has "What wars I manage, and what wreaths I gain." P. 11 b. Warring within our breasts for regiment. See Note 3 a. Here it means dominion. P. 12 a. And like a harpy tires on my life. To tire was a term in falconry meaning to seize eagerly with the beak. It must here be pronounced as a dissyllable, like fair, in Note 7 a. See also Note 195 a. P. 12 £. Great kings of Darbary and my portly bassoes. Basso was used for Bashaw or Pacha. TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. 313 P. 12 b. And warlike bands ^/"Christians renied. Mr. Mitford wished very needlessly to change this to " Christian renegades." P. 12 b. He be so mad to manage arms with me. — See Note n b. P. 15 a. Arc punished with bastones so grievously. Mr. Dyce says "bastones — i.e. bastinadoes ;" but the bastinado, as I have seen it, was always applied to the soles of the feet, and was therefore a punishment inappli- cable to rowers, whom it would have rendered unfit for work. I have seen a string of bakers, convicted of using false weights, doing their best to hobble away from a Turkish court of justice, amid the jeers of a delighted populace. " Bastones" simply means batons, sticks. P. 15 a. Inhabited with straggling runagates. "She shall be inhabited of devils for a great time."— Baruch iv. 35. P. 15 b. And in my sarell tend my concubines. Sarell for seraglio. French, serail. P. 15 b. Your threefold army, and my hugy host. Hugy for huge is used by Dryden. Carew, in his Survey of Cornwall, applies the epithet to the Rocking Stone, which some Vandal the other day blew up with gun- powder. P. 15 b. Did pash the jaws of serpents venomous. Pash — to crush to pieces. In the Virgin Martyr, Massinger uses the phrase " to pash your gods to pieces." P. 16 a. And manage words with her as we will arms. — See Note 11 b. To carry on a war of words. P. 16 b. And make your strokes to wound the senseless light. Light is lure in the old editions. Air would be a better word : but, as Mr. Dyce remarks, it ends the line next but one above it. Wind would perhaps have been better. P. 16 b. Disdainful Turkess, and unreverend Boss. Mr. Mitford wished this word changed to Bassa, which would have been simple nonsense; but Mr. Dyce found in Cotgrave's Dictionary " A fat bosse. Femme bien grasse et grosse ; une coche," and I am afraid this is the meaning intended by the fair Zenocrate. P. 17 a. That dare to manage arms with him. — See Note 11 b. P. 17 a. Thou by the fortune of this damntd foil. Foil, of course, meaning sword. But the old editions read soil, which is very probably right, as referring to the ill-chosen/e/ i. Hero and Leander. By Christopher Marloe. London. Printed by Adam Islip, for Edward Blunt. 1598. 4to. — This edition has only the first two Sestiads. 2. [Another edition printed in the same year. Marlowe's portion is split into three Sestiads, and Chapman's continuation follows. Sir Charles Isham has two — the only two — copies. It will soon be reprinted by Mr. Collier, see his letter in the Athenceum, September 4, 1869. Previously to the date of this letter it was not known that Chapman's continuation had been published before 1600.] 3. Hero and Leander : Begunne by Christopher Marloe : Wherunto is added the first booke of Lucan translated line for line by the same Author. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. At London Printed for John Flasket, and are to be solde in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Blacke-beare. 1600. 4to. [This title-page has the peculiarity of making no mention of Chapman's con- tinuation, which occupies the larger portion of the volume, and of particularly specifying the translation, a separate publication, which has not hitherto been dis- covered bound up with it.] 4. Hero and Leander : Begunne by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. At London. Imprinted for John Flasket, and are to be sold in Paules Church-Yard, at the signe of the blacke Beare. 1606. 4to. 5. Hero and Leander : Begunne by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. At London. Imprinted for Ed. Blunt and W. Barret, and are to be sold in Paul's Church-yard, at the signe of the blacke Beare. 1609. 4to. 6. Hero and Leander : Begunne by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. London. Printed by W. Stansby for Ed. Blunt and W. Barret, and are to be sold in Pauls Church-yard, at the signe of the Blacke Beare. 1613, 4to. 7. Hero and Leander : Begun by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. London. Printed by A. M. for Richard Hawkins : and are to bee sold at his Shop in Chancerie-Lane, neere Serieants Inne. 1629. 4to. 8. Hero and Leander : Begun by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. London. Printed by N. Okes for William Leake, and are to be sold at his shop in Chancery-lane neere the Roules. 1637. 4to. FIRST SESTIAD. P. 197 a. Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills. Which, as she went, would cherup through the bills. An idea taken from the well-known toy, by which the song of birds may be so closely imitated. P. 197 a. And with still panting rock there took his rest. Some of the editions read rockt, which I am inclined to think must be the right HERO AND LEANDER. 34: word. It would mean that Cupid was rocked to rest by the gentle heaving of her bosom. P. 197 a. Fair Cynthia wished his arms might be her sphere; Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there. This bold idea will remind the reader of Tamburlainc the Great. P. 197 b. So was his neck in touching, and surpast The white of Pelops shoulder. Pelops was said to have been boiled by his father, Tantalus, and offered as a feast to the gods. His shoulder alone was consumed, and replaced by an imitation one of ivory. The earliest mythic Musaeus is represented as presiding at Eleusis over the mystic rites of Demeter, the eater of the shoulder. P. 197 b. That my slack muse sings of Leander's eyes. Slack here stands for feeble, and in a way which I imagine to be very unusual. It does nx^xi feeble certainly, but it is the feebleness of relaxation or looseness. "All his joints relaxed ; From his slack hands the garland wreathed for Eve Down dropped, and all the faded roses shed." — Milton. P. 198 a. When yawning dragons draw her thirling car. The old editions read thirling, and Mr. Dyce very properly removed the whirling of the modern editors in its favour. He has, however, been severely taken to task for defining it as "tremulously moving," by Mr. Robert Bell, who prefers the other reading. But thirling really means penetrating by revolving, and thus may be fairly poetically applied to the motion of a chariot through the " gloomy sky" of midnight. The word is preserved to us in the drill of a carpenter's workshop. The old Mussulman historian Al 'Utbi describes Mahmoud of Ghuzni forcing his way through an army "like a gimlet into wood." P. 198. Incensed with savage heat, gallop amain. Mr. Robert Bell thinks this line was in Shakspeare's head when he wrote — ' ' Gallop amain you fiery-footed steeds Tow'rds Phoebus' lodging." But unluckily Shakspeare's phrase is " gallop apace." P. 198 a. The walls were 0/" discoloured jasper stone. Discoloured is diverse-coloured. So Chapman — ' ' Menesthius was one That ever wore discoloured arms." — Iliad, xvi. P. 198 b. Vailed to the ground, veiling her eyelids close. Vailed— i.e., bowed. It is not often used as a neuter verb, except by the poets, and South, in doing so, spells it veils—" ignorantly," as Johnson says. P. 198 b. What we behold is censured by our eyes. Censure meant judgment, opinion. Shakspeare has — "Madam and you, my sister, will you go To give your censures in this weighty business?" 346 NOTES. P. 198 b. Whoever loved that loved not at first sight. Shakspeare introduces this line very gracefully in act iii. scene 5 of As You Like It, which he is believed to have produced in 1599, the year after Hero and Leandcr was published — " Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw of might Who ever loved that loved not at first sight." Shakspeare must have had the whole passage in his mind when writing this scene. P. 199 a. Rare creature, let me speak without offence, Would God my rude words had the i?ifiuence To rule thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine, Then shouldst thou be his prisoner who is thine. Be not unkind and fair : misshapen stuff Is of behaviour boisterous and rough. This is the shape in which these lines are put by Ben Jonson into the mouth of Mathew in Every Man in his Humour. Knowell remarks, " this is in Hero and Leandcr ;" and on Mathew 's quoting another couplet further on — And I in duty will excel all other, As you in beauty do excel Love's mother — Knowell says "he utters nothing but stolen remnants! A filching rogue, hang him ! — and from the dead ! its worse than sacrilege." Gifford, who, when editing a book, hated everybody but his author and Dean Ireland, takes occasion to say of Marlowe, " he was a man of impious principles, and flagitious life, and perished in a drunken broil." Why did he not add that he was the son of a shoemaker? P. 200 a. So young, so gentle, and so debonair. Milton must have been thinking of this line when he wrote " So buxom, blithe and debonair." P. 200 a. As put thereby yet might he hope for me. I think this ought to be written " put then by." At 203 a post, we find She with a kind of granting//// him by it. P. 200 b. Far from the town where all is whist and still. Whist is husht or hush. — See Note, ante, 187 a. P. 200 b. Her vows above the e?npty air he flings. Mr. Dyce has altered the above of the old editions to about. P. 201 a. Her mind pure, and her to?igue untaught to glose. To glose or gloze is to flatter, to insinuate, to fawn. It was arrested for a time in its descent to the limbo of disused words by Lord Brougham's memorable taunt to Lord Melbourne. " My tongue is not hung to courtly tunes ; I can't gloze." P. 202 b. And fruitful wits that inaspiring are, Shall, discontent, run itito regions far. Mr. Robert Bell claims the merit of the comma on each side of "discontent," and adds, " I have ventured upon the punctuation in the text under the impression that discontent here means discontented, and that the interpretation of the passage is that foolish wits who fail in their inspiration [? aspirations] shall, discontented, seek their portion in distant lands. It may possibly be intended to convey an allusion to the numerous adventurers, such as Raleigh, who went at that time flocking to the New World." Raleigh is a curious specimen to select as an inaspiring wit. HERO AND LEANDER. 347 SECOND SESTIAD. P. 202 b. Had spread the board, with roses strowed the room. Mr. Robert Bell devotes a long note to this piece of extravagance in decoration, justifying it by similar examples from Heliogabalus and Cleopatra. "Not only were the tables and dishes covered with them, but by mechanical contrivance showers of roses were made to descend upon the guests 1" He seems to think they cost the same everywhere as they do in Covent Garden. Attar of roses is by no means uncommon, or outrageously expensive, and a quarter of a million of full- grown roses are consumed in making every half-crown's weight of it ! At Ghazipur I have seen many hundred acres cultivated with nothing else. P. 202 b. Where fancy is in equal balance paised. Fancy is love, and paised is poised, Frenchified in its pronunciation to suit the rhyme. P. 203 a. Moved by love's force unto each other leap. Mr. Dyce follows the old copies in printing lep in order that it may rhyme to the eye. Step is one of the words always quoted as having no corresponding rhyme, and among the irregular sounds suggested has been this very one of lep for leaped, which like crep for crept, kep for kept is often enough heard among horsey indi- viduals. Mr. Thackeray makes Captain Crawley invariably pronounce them in this way. P. 203 a. She fearing on the rushes to be flung. Rushes were the ordinary coverings for the floors of mansions, as well as cottages, in the England of Marlowe's time. Sir Thomas More in his Pittifull Life of King Edward V. has drawn an affecting picture of Queen Elizabeth (Woodville) in the Sanctuary at Westminster sitting " alone below on the rushes all desolate and dis- maid. " P. 204 a. Like as the sun in a diameter. Marlowe appears to mean the sun shining upon an object directly opposite to it. P. 204 a. Oh, none but gods have power their love to hide / Another reading of this line is — Oh, none have power, but gods, their love to hide ! P. 204 a. Spits forth the ringled bit, and with his hoves, &c. In ages and countries where mechanical ingenuity has but few outlets, it exhausts itself in the construction of bits each more peculiar in form, or more torturing in effect than that which has preceded it. I have seen collections of these instruments of torment, and among them some of which Marlowe's curious adjective would have been highly descriptive. It may be, however, that the word is ring-led, in which shape it would mean guided by the ring on each side like a snaffle. Hoves of course are hooves, as some people affectedly, but perhaps correctly, call hoofs. P. 205 a, Relenting thoughts, remorse and pity rests. Mr. Dyce is liable to fits of virtuous indignation against tautology. In Queen Dido, p. 182 a, he complained of foul and favourless as "pleonastic ;" and here remorse and pity are "all but synonymes." He might as well say that revenge and ?nurder were identical. 348 NOTES. P. 205 b. Whose lively heat, like fire from heaven fet. Fet is fetched.— See Note 185 b. P. 205 b. Even as a bird which in our hands we wring, Forth plungeth, and oft flutters with her wing. This couplet, which is so beautifully appropriate where it now stands, was printed, in every edition up to that of 1820 inclusive, after the line But deaf and cruel where he means to prey, the fourteenth in the first column of the following page. This felicitous transposi- tion was first made in 1821 in The Select Early English Poets, of which, I believe, Mr. Singer was the editor. P. 206 b. Than Dis, on heaps of gold fixing his look. Dis, Pluto, here seems to stand for Plutus. Dr. Smith's Dictionary, iii. 432, is not so clear as usual on the subject of these two names. As I understand him the one individual Pluto (IUovtmv) was both the "giver of wealth," and the " god of the lower world ;" and Plutus (IUovto?) was the "personification of wealth." P. 206 b. Danged down to hell her loathsome carriage. Danged or dang is the past tense of the old verb to ding, to drive with violence. THE THIRD SESTIAD. P. 207 a. Joy graven in sense like snow in water wastes. Graven here means buried. It is not likely that Burns had ever read Hero and Leander, but compare Tarn 0' Shanter — 1 ' But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its bloom is shed, Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white — then melts for ever." P. 207 b. And every birth Of men and actions makes legitimate. In England's Parnassus, 1600, the last line stands — " Of men audacious makes legitimate," which may be the proper reading. P. 207 b. It fired with sense things mere inscnsual. Mere is wholly, -utterly. P. 207 b. He said, See, sister, Hero's carcanet. Carcanet — a small chain or collar of jewels. P. 208 a. A rich disparent pentacle she wears. Mr. Dyce has no note on this line, but there are two words in it which seem to require explanation. Pentacle (from Low Latin pentaculum) was the name given to three triangles, intersected and made of five lines. It was worn as a preser- vative against demons, and when it was delineated on the body of a man, it was supposed to touch and point out the five places wherein our Saviour was wounded. But my brother, General Alexander Cunningham, informs me that this Pentacle or Pentagon is found on a coin of Tarsus of about 300 B.C., and he has HERO AND LEANDER. 349 himself an Indian seal of about 200 A.D. in which the device is inscribed over the word Ko-ma-da-ra. It has in fact been a favourite mystic symbol from a very early age, and is still cherished by the Freemasons. Disparent would seem to mean that the five points of the ornament radiated distinctly one from the other. " Pentacles, with characters," are mentioned by Benjonson in The Devil is an Ass. P. 208 a. One hand a mathematic crystal sways Which gathering in one light a thousand rays, &c. Chapman may possibly have meant a prism, but more probably one of those balls of rock crystal, such as are still employed by the professors of spiritualism, that "liturgy of the apes of the Dead Sea," as Mr. Carlyle calls it. " Dr. Lambe," who was murdered by the London mob in 1628 had one of these in his pocket. As Mr. Forster remarks in relating this event, "Imposture and quackery are the same in all ages." P. 208 b. His free soul, whose living subject stood Up to the chin in the Pierian flood. In this fine complimentary couplet subject is used for substance, or corporeal frame, from which Marlowe was freed by death. — See Note 57 b. P. 208 b. Tell it how much his late desires / tender If yet it know not. Tender is to hold in esteem. Shakspeare has ' ' I thank you, madam, that you tender her." P. 209 a. The Iberian city that wars hand did strike, By English force in princely Essex guide. Cadiz was captured June 21, 1596, by the force under the command of Essex and Howard of Effingham. But Raleigh was the life and soul of the enterprise. His letters to Cecil, recently discovered at Hatfield, show the wonderful toil he went through in organizing the expedition. P. 209 a. When Peace assured her towers had fortified. This must mean that the towers of Cadiz were not sudden makeshifts, but fortified scientifically and deliberately in the leisure of an assured peace. P. 209 a. So fared fair Hero in the expugnedyW. Our old writers used the word in several forms. Chapman elsewhere has expugner, and Sandys expugnation. We still have the word impugn, but have altered the pronunciation. P. 209 a. And not show that without that was intire. I at first thought that intire must mean solely in possession ; but I find Spenser so fre- quently using it as simply inside that I have little doubt that Chapman so intended it. P. 209 b. A loose and rorid vapour, that is fit 7" event his searching beams. Rorid, from the Latin, is dewy. It is used by Sir Thomas Browne, but has happily ceased to exist. Another form, rory, is employed by Fairfax. The editors make no attempt to explain this passage. Event, I suppose, means vent forth ; or evert may be the proper reading. P. 209 b. Base fools I when every moorish fool can teach. Chapman is here playing on the words fool and fowl, as he had previously done on . 35o NOTES. gilt and guilt. Mr. Dyce was the first to point out that moorish meant inhabitant of the moors, like the lapwing, and not a native of Morocco. Mr. Bell, however, has persisted in printing it Moorish. P. 210 a. Exceeding large, and of black cypres made. In Kersey's Dictionary, cypress is defined to be "a sort of fine curled Stuff, partly silk and partly hair." This reads as if it would have been eminently uncomfortable to wear. It was, I suppose, crape, which however is made entirely from silk. P. 210 a. All tools that enginous despair could frame. Enginous from engine, generally ingine, the Latin ingenium. P. 210 b. With child of sail, and did hot fight begin. We still make use of the image of sails " bellying out." Dryden has— "The bellying canvas strutted with the gale." P. 210 b. Shall slick-tongued Fa?ne, patched tip with voices rude. Slick is smooth, and evidently the same as sleek. P. 2ii a. Ah me ! hath heaven s straight fingers no mote graces ? Straight for strait. In Kersey s Dictionary, we have only the first way of spelling, with the definition right, direct, narrow. P. 211 b. Of heaven' s great essences found such imperance. This is one of the many forms which our poets delighted to make out of the word empire. It here means commanding power. THE FOURTH SESTIAD. P. 212. The argument. 1 Leander's counterfeit presents. Counterfeit was a. portrait, a likeness. It was a favourite word of Shakspeare's. In Timon of Athens we have — " Thou draw'st a counterfeit best in all Athens ;" and who does not remember in Hamlet (that greatest achievement of the human intellect, which has so many lines that are, what Campbell calls ' ' mottoes of the heart"), ' ' Looke heere upon this Picture, and on this, The counterfet presentment of two Brothers." P. 212 a. On whose bright top Peristera did stand. Pcristcra is the Greek word for a dove. P. 213 a. She feared she pricked Leander as she wrought. Mr. Dyce quotes some pretty lines containing the same idea from Skelton : 1 ' But whan I was sowing his beke Methought my sparrow did speke, And opened his pretty byll, Sayinge, Mayd, ye are in wyli Agayne me for to kyll. Ye prycke me in the head." HERO AND LEANDER. 351 P. 213 a. Beneath all these she wrought a fisherman. Mr. Dyce says, "This description of the fisherman, as well as the picture which follows it, are borrowed (with alterations) from the first Idyl of Theocritus." P. 213 b. To still their eyas thoughts with i?idtcstry. "An eyess," says Kersey, "is a young' hawk newly taken out of the nest." Nares says a nias is the proper word, and derived direct from the French un oiseau niais. Yet ey is the Saxon for egg, and eyrie is the ' ' place where hawks build and hatch their young." Here eyas means immature, untried. P. 215 a. The swans and turtles ihat in coupled pheres. Phere, or Fere, is a companion. It is used by Burns. P. 215 a. Graceful AEdone that sweet pleasure loves And ruff-foot Chreste with the tufted crown. Of the names of these doves sEdone means Pleasure ; Chreste perhaps Crested ; Leucote, Whiteness ; and Dapsilis, Abundant. P. 215 a. The swans did in the solid food, her glass, Proin their fair plumes. Proin, from the Fr. provigner, was an old form of prune, or preen. King James I. of Scotland has — "And, efter this, the birdis everichone Take up ane other sang full loud and clere ; — Weproyne and play without dout and dangere." P. 215 a. Coyness and pure deceits for purities. Another reading is — Coynes and impure deceits for purities, which I am half inclined to think the more correct of the two. P. 215 b. Fro?n the sweet conduits of her favour fell. Favour was constantly used for face, countenance. Bacon speaks of " a youth of fine favour and shape ;" and Sidney of "laying a foul complexion upon a filthy favour, setting forth both in sluttishness." P. 215 b. Did sing as woful Epicedians. Epicedians means singers of dirges. P. 215 b. Which was her torn robe and enforced hair. Chapman had previously called the hair ravished, and enforced has much the same meaning. In his translation of the Iliad he has — "A sucking hind calf which she trussed with her enforcive seres (claws)." P. 216 a. Her name was Eronusis. The editor of the Select Early English Poets (1821) says that Eronusis is probably a compound of epws love, and voaos or vovaos Ionice (disease, mischief, plague). P. 216 b. To such as wore his laurel anademe. Anadem was a crown of flowers or other materials. Chapman concludes his Homeric Hymns with — "Make me of palm, or yew, an anadem." 352 NOTES. FIFTH SESTIAD. P. 217 a. For young Alcmane and bright Mya sent. Mr. Robert Bell says, "Former editors very naturally ask whether these names are not mistakes for Alcmoeon and Maia." P. 218 b. But many a dart And many an amorous thought enthrilled his heart. The old editions read enthralled, but the word dart shows that enthrilled — i.e., thrilled through, or pierced through, must be the right reading. It is believed that slaves were called thralls from the circumstance of their ears being thrilled or drilled through. P. 218 b. Women are most won, when men merit least: If Merit look not well, Love bids stand by; Love's special lesson is to please the eye. Here are three consecutive lines, each of which might have been quoted as "saws of might." They appear to me to be not the least in Chapman's style. P. 218 b. And with rude hands enforced their shining spoil. See Note 215 b. P. 219 a. Oh, what a hell was heaven, &>c. Surely this is written by the author of Doctor Faustus. P. 219 a. Weeping about it, telling with remorse. Remorse is here used purely for pity, as in Measure for Measure: — " If so your heart were touched with that rcmoise As mine is to him." P. 219 b. First like the flower That jf uno's milk did spring, the silver lily. Spring is here used for cause to spring. We had previously had, p. 214 a, This picture wrought, and sprung Leandrian sects. And a little further on, 221 b (last line) — This ditty that the torchy evening sprung. The word in this sense is familiar to every man who has had a gun in his hand ; and is also preserved in the springing of a mine. P. 220 b. The odd disparent number they did choose. Disparent (see Note 208 a) must here mean distinct from others. P. 221 a. To intimate that even the daintiest piece. The use of this word is remarkable. I suppose the full expression would be piece of creation. P. 221 b. Sharp-visagcd Adolesche that was strayed. Adolesche means a garrulous one. HERO AND LEANDER. 353 SIXTH SESTIAD. P. 223 a. In warping profit or a traitorous sleight Hoops round his rotten body with devotes, And pricks his descant face full of false notes. To warp is sometimes used for to weave by our old writers, so I imagine warping profit means weaving schemes of self-interest. Mr. Dyce makes no attempt to explain the second line. I can only guess that devotes means such little images as Louis XI. wore in his cap ; or the vestimenta uvida, "the damp and dropping weeds" which Horace vowed " to the stern god of sea" if he escaped from the wiles of the damsel who was simplex munditiis. The third line is couched in the technical terms of music. P. 223 b. Whips and calls For everything he lacks. Whips may mean knocks with his whip upon the table or floor ; or perhaps whips out of the room. I cannot perceive the meaning of " doth repair more tender fawns, " and my predecessors give no help in any part of this long description. It is highly humorous and graphic, but surely not in poetic keeping. P. 225 a. And to another crooked reach doth fall Of half a bird-bolt's shoot. Bird-bolt, says Nares, "a short, thick arrow with a broad flat end, used to kill birds without piercing." Marston calls it " a gross knobbed bird-bolt." The flight of such a projectile would of course be short. P. 225 a. Ill favoured storms must chide Thy sacred favour. Chide is to quarrel with ; and favour is countenance, or beauty. P. 225 c Our painted fools, and cock-horse peasantry. t Cock-horse is upstart. Taylor, the water-poet, has "A knave, that for his wealth doth worship get Is like the devil that's a-cock-horse set. " P. 225 b. Whom the kind waves so licorously cleapt. Cleapt for dipt — i.e., embraced. Shakspeare has — " Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about." P. 226 a. The bating fame from that dear food it eat. Bating, for abating. Mr. Dyce, in his latest edition only, altered the word to baiting, and explained it as if the flame were " taking bait (refreshment), feeding." He may have been right. A A Ovid's Elegies-, &c. [The following enumeration of the early editions of this portion of Marlowe's Works is extracted from Mr. W. C. Hazlitt's valuable Handbook to Early English Literature. i. Epigrammes and Elegies, by I. D. and C. M. At Middleborugh [circa 1597] i2mo. A. 2 leaves : B — G in fours, or half sheets. British Museum. This is the same which sold at Bindley 's sale for £% \Zs. 6d. The last leaf of the portion containing the Epigrams is occupied by verses headed ignoto. On E occurs a new title : Certaine of Ovid's Elegies. By C. Marlow. At Middleborugh. The last leaf of D is blank. It can scarcely be necessary to mention that J. D. are the initials of Sir John Davies, author of Nosce te- ipsum. 2. All Ovid's Elegies. 3 Bookes. By C. M. Epigrams by J. D. At Middle- bovrgh. n. d. i2mo. There were several impressions of this book, which it is suspected, continued to be printed with Middleburgh on the title, and without date, as late as 1640. It is an usual error to suppose that all these editions appeared prior to 1600. Only the first is of any peculiar scarcity and value. 3. All Ovid's Elegies. 3 Bookes. By C. M. Epigrams by J. D. At Middle- bovrgh. [circa 1630] 8vo. P. 228 b. Girt my shine brow with sea-bank myrtle sprays. Nares says that Spenser has once used shine for sheen " evidently for the convenience of the rhyme," but it is here employed by Marlowe without any such exigency. In the original it is fiaventia tempora. Mr. Dyce rescued the two last words from the strange " myrtle's praise" of all former editions. P. 228 b, [ / saw a brandished fire increase in strength, Which being not shaked / saw it die at length. Mr. Dyce restored this word shaked, which in all editions except the first had been printed slackt or slaked. But the brandished fire, jactatas fiammas, proceeded from a torch which requires shaking to keep it alight. Ovid's line is — " Et vidi nullo concutiente mori." P. 229 a. And give wounds infinite at every turn. The first edition reads wordes ; but Ovid wrote — " Turn quoque praeteriens vulnera multa dabis." P. 229 b. (Soon may you plough the little land I have ; I gladly grant my parents given to save). This parenthesis is hardly to be understood without a reference to the original — " Nee meus innumeris renovatur campus aratris ; Temperat et sumptus parcus uterque parens." OVID'S ELEGIES, &c. 355 F. 230 a. Take and return each secret amorous glance. The old editions read receive, but Mr. Dyce, consulting Ovid, made this judicious change — " Excipe furtivas et refer ipsa, notas." P. 230 a. Even in his face his offered gobbets cast. Jeremy Taylor makes use of this old word in speaking of "Cisalpine suckets or gobbets of condited bull's flesh." The old editions have goblets ! Mr. Dyce restored the true reading. Dryden renders it " reject his greasy kindness, &c." P. 230 b. At night thy husband clips thee : I will weep And to the doors sight of thyself will keep. Clips means embraces, but Marlowe has altogether misunderstood Ovid's meaning. His words are Node vir includet, ' ' thy husband will lock thee up at night." Dryden renders this much more intelligibly — ' ' Tucked underneath his arm he leads you home, He locks you in : I follow to the door, His fortune envy, and my own deplore." P. 230 b. If thou gives t kisses I shall all disclose, Say they are mine and hands on thee impose. Marlowe is here very tame compared to Dryden — " Do not, O do not that sweet mouth resign, Lest I rise up in arms, and cry 'tis mine ; I shall thrust in betwixt, and void of fear The manifest adulterer will appear ;" which is exactly the Fiam manifestus amator. P. 230 b. To me to-morrow constantly deny it. The meaning of this will appear clearer by the original and Dryden's version — " Cras mihi constanti voce dedisse nega." "Coax me to-morrow by forswearing all." P. 231 a. Not one wen in her body could I spy. Marlowe has gone out of his way to put wen for the simple blemish of Ovid — " In toto nusquam corpore menda fuit." P. 231 a. I dinged her naked body, down she fell. To cling was sometimes used for to clasp, to embrace. All editions except the first read "faire white " instead of "naked ;" but nudam is Ovid's word. P. 231 b. Before I be divided from my gear. " Ante vel a membris dividar ipse meis." P. 232 a. Careless farewell, with my fault not distained. Ovid wrote nee admisso turpis amante, and evidently intended the negative to apply to admisso and not to turpis. P. 232 a. So, chaste Minerva, did Cassandra fall Deflowered except within thy temple wall. I think that here also Marlowe has misunderstood Ovid, who by nisi vittatis A A 2 356 NOTES. capillis only meant — " except that her head was not bound by the vitta," or fillet, which Cassandra would wear as a priestess ; but which could hardly have adorned the Arnica, as Dr. Smith states—" It was not worn by libertince even of fair cha- racter, much less by meretrices ; hence it was looked upon as an iusigne pudoris." In the top line of the next column in mea dispendia is rendered to mine own self. P. 232 b. Like poplar leaves blown with a stormy flaw. hflaw was a sudden and violent gust of wind. So Hamlet — " O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter 'sfaw." P. 233 a. Put in their place the kembed hairs again. " Pone recompositas in statione comas." P. 233 a. Give ear — there is an old trot, Dipsas hight. " Audiat — est qucedam, nomine Dipsas, amis." P. 233 a. Her name comes from the thing, she being wise, &c. Dipsas means thirsty. Mr. Dyce remarks that wise is a strange translation of sobria. I suspect it was one of the thousand and one euphemisms for inebriated. P. 233 a. Great grandsires from their ancient graves she chides. To chide was sometimes used without any reference to scolding. Shakspeare has — " Never did I hear such gallant chiding." Ovid's word is simply evocat. P. 233 b. Of horn the bow was that approved their side. Without the Latin it would never be guessed that side meant manly vigour. " Qui latus argueret, corneus arcus erat." P. 233 b. Time flying slides he?ice closely and deceives us. " Labitur occulte fallitque volatilis astas." P. 234 a. Receive him soon lest patient use he gain. " Mox recipe : ut nullum patic?idi colligat usum." P. 234 a. Oft thou wilt say " live well." As Mr. Dyce remarks, this was the rendering of scepe mihi dices vivas bene, the accepted reading of Marlowe's time. It now stands viva. P. 234 b. The keeper's hands and corps-du-gard to pass. Hands should, I have no doubt, be bands, the Latin word meaning both. Corps- du-gard is a happy rendering of vigilumque catervas. Marlowe never misses an opportunity of bringing in military terms. P. 235 a. Whom Trojan ships fetched from Europa/ar. Had Marlowe possessed a better edition of Ovid he would have written Eurotas, the river of Laconia. P. 235 b. Knights of the post of perjuries make sale, The unjust judge for bribes becomes a stale. Knightts of the post ( conducti testes) were hireling witnesses dubbed Knights at the whipping-/^/. The term was probably newly invented in Marlowe's time, as " OVID'S ELEGIES, &c. 357 Nash, in 1592, appears to think it requires an explanation. "A Knight of the Post, quoth he, for so I am tearmed ; a fellowe that will sweare you anything for twelve pence." Pope employs it in the well-known line — " Knight of the post, corrupt, or of the shire." A stale was a bait or decoy. Ovid's words are simply — Non bene selccti judicis area patet. P. 236 a. Napt, free-born, whose cunning hath no border. Free-born is the rendering of neque ancillas inter habenda. The word border must here be used for limit. P. 236 a. What need she tire her hand to hold the quill. The word tire was printed try till altered by Mr. Dyce — " Quid digitos opus est graphis lassare tenendo." P. 237 b. Oft in the morn, her hairs not yet digested. Marlowe follows the Latin a little too closely — ScBpe etiam, nondum digestis mane capillis. P. 237 b. In crooked trammels crispy curls to make. Mr. Dyce adheres to the old reading of trannels, although he admits that the explanations given in the dictionaries to which he refers you " do not suit the present passage." A trannel seems to have been a pin or a bodkin ; but the word trammel in another form was certainly used as ringlets or locks — "Or like Aurora when with pearl she sets Her long discheveld rose-crowned trammelets." Witt's Recreations. P. 238 a. Praising for me some unknown Guelder dame. In the original it is — " Nescio quam pro me laudat nunc iste Sygambram." One would think that this and the preceding lines had been written in 1869. P. 238 a. War's dusty honours are refused being young. Two of the old editions read rustie honours, but the original settles the question, even without Ben Jonson's corresponding line to confirm it — " Prsemia militiae pu Iverulcnta sepie." P. 238 b. Then though death rakes my bones in funeral fire. The oldest edition reads rocks for rakes, and Mr. Dyce adheres to it. I have seen thousands of human bodies burned, and can understand the latter word, but not the former. The Latin word, adederit, gives no help. P. 238 *. The same by B. I. Ben Jonson introduces this version "neck and crop" in hisPoelaster, putting it into the mouth of no less a person than Ovid himself. The Poetaster was produced in 1601, and the verses in this shape were published about 1597. Gifford assumes that the preceding version is also by Ben Jonson, and on the strength of this assumption accuses Chapman of stealing from him in order to exalt the fame of Marlowe ! And still working on the assumption, he adds, ' ' it certainly affords a curious instance of 358 NOTES. the laxity of literary morality in those days, when a scholar could assert his [meaning another's] title to a poem of forty-two lines, of which thirty at least are literally borrowed, and the remainder only varied for the worse." — Gifford 's Ben Jonson, ii. 397. If the "free souls" of Marlowe, Chapman, and Ben Jonson {see p. 208 b), were cognisant of the publication of this piece of posthumous championship, how they must have enjoyed it ! The fact is, that either translation of this Elegia XV. is below, rather than above, the average level of Marlowe's versions. P. 239 b. The frost-drad myrtle shall impale my head. "Sustineamque coma metuentem frigora myrtum." P. 240 a. Snakes leap by verse from caves of broken mountains. Mr. Dyce may well observe, " this is a marvellous translation of" " Carmine dissiliunt, abruptis faucibus, angues," of which the accepted translation appears to be that ' ' by the power of verse (incantation) serpents burst, their jaws being rent asunder." P. 240 b. There where the porch doth Danaus' fact display. Fact (if the right reading) stands here for guilt : as in the Winter s Tale — "As you were past all shame (Those of your fact are so), so past all truth." — See post, 261 b. Oddly enough, in discussing this passage of Shakspeare, Nares says, " Pack is cer- tainly wrong," and I am inclined to think that this very word is what Marlowe used. The portico under the temple of Apollo, on the Palatine Hill, was adorned with the statues of Danaus and his forty-nine guilty daughters, to whom the word pack, as a translation of agmen, might very well be applied. Ovid's words are — "Ilia, quae Danai porticus agmen habet." P. 241 a. Counterfeit tears, and thee lewd hangman call. " Et simulet lachrymas, carnificemque vocet. P. 241 b. I mean not to defend the scapes of any. •' Non ego mendosos ausim defendere mores." P. 241 b. If any eye me with a modest look. Mr. Dyce says, "Our author's copy of Ovid read in me disjecta," instead of se. P. 242 a. Methinks she would be nimble. The earliest edition reads quick. The Latin word is mobilis. P. 242 b. Poor wench, / saw when thou didst think I slumbered. Mr. Dyce thought that the word miser m. Ovid's line justified him in changing wench to wretch, altogether ignoring the word poor — " Ipse miser vidi cum me dormire putares." P. 242 b. Or such as lest long years should turn the dye, Arachne stains Assyrian ivory. Dye is here used for natural colour. There is no mention of Arachne in the original, but simply Mceonis femina. Mr. Dyce says, "Marlowe, I presume, was induced to give this extraordinary version of the line by recollecting that in the Sixth Book OVID'S ELEGIES, &c. 359 of Ovid's Metamorphoses Arachne is termed Mceonis, while her father is mentioned as a dyer." Maeonia was an ancient name of Lydia. P. 243 a. I know no master of so great hire sped. — (Also p. 244 a.) Marlowe's line is not easy to understand without the Latin — ■ " Nescio quis pretium grande magister habet." P. 243 a. Go, godly birds, striking your breasts bewail. The old editions have goodly, which was very properly altered by Mr. Dyce — " Ite, pice volucres, et plangite pectora pennis." P. 243 a. Why, Philomel, dost Tereus lewdness mourn ? The word lewd had a very wide meaning. Here it stands for scelus. See Note, 241 a, where it is employed as an appropriate epithet for a hangman ! Shakspeare has a noun of his own— lewdster. P. 243 b. The puttock hovers Around the air, the cadess rain discovers. The puttock is the kite or buzzard, miluus. The cadess is the jackdaw, graculus. P. 243 b. There lives ihephamix one alone bird ever. The use of the word alone in this way is very effective. Johnson gives an instance of it from Bentley — "God, by whose alone power and conservation we all live and move, and have our being. " The adverb alonely is very often found in our old writers. P. 244 a. A grave her bones hides : on her corps small grave. Marlowe's Ovid had magnus instead of parvus in this line. I have thought it best to alter the word in the text. " Ossa tegit tumulus : tumulus pro corpore parvus." P. 244 b. But being present, might that work the best. It is impossible to recognise the original in this curiously mistaken translation — "At quanto, si forte refers, praesentior ipse." [" But how much, if by chance you remember, more ready-witted was I."] P. 245 a. His sword laid by, safe, tho rude places yields. Marlowe, not having any Dr. Smith's dictionary to refer to, naturally enough thought the line " Tutaque deposito poscitur ense rudis" referred to the soldier of three lines above, whereas it was a gladiator, not a miles, who obtained repose through the substitution of the rudis (or wooden sword) for the ensis. P. 245 b. Let merchants seek wealth, and with perjured lips, Being wrecked, carouse the sea tired by their ships. This has always hitherto been printed— ' ' Let merchants seek wealth with perjured lips, And being wrecked carouse the sea tired by their ships." 360 NOTES. On this Mr. Dyce remarks, "A very clumsy translation of " Quaerat avarus opes ; et quae lassarit arando JEquova., perjuro naufragus ore bibat. "J. M[itford], in the Gent. Mag., in January, 1841, pronounced this distich of Marlowe to be wanting both in metre and sense ; but as to the metre the second line was perhaps intended for an Alexandrine ; and as to the sense it becomes plain enough when we turn to the original." I venture to think that, by simply trans- ferring a little word from the second line to the first, I have restored both sense and metre. P. 246 a. Lo country gods and known bed to forsake. It is worth while to annex Ovid's line — " Ecce fugit notumque torum, sociosque Penates." Seven lines lower down the "sucking shore" is bibuli litoris. P. 246 a. ' ' Let others tell this, and what each one speaks Believe : no tempest the believer wreaks. Mr. Dyce on this has a note, "wreaks, i.e. wrecks (for the rhyme)." But surely this is quite erroneous. Wreaks was frequently used for recks — "My master is of churlish disposition, And little wreakes to finde the way to heaven By doing deeds of hospitalitie." As You Like It. First Folio, p. 192 a. And Mr. Dyce, in his edition of Shakspeare, alters this word to recks. P. 247 a. She, secretly from me, such harm attempted. Former editions have ' ' secretly with me, " but the original clam me rendered the misprint obvious. P. 247 a. And where swift Nile in his large channel skipping, By seven huge mouths into the sea is slipping. In the old editions both lines have slipping. It was quite plain that in one "skipping" should be substituted. Mr. Dyce thought in the second. I think in the first. The celer Nilus, when confined to one channel, bounds along ; but when frittered away in the Delta, glides quietly into the Mediterranean. P. 247 a. Where the French rout engirt themselves with bays. The original of this mysterious line is — "Qua cingit lauros Gallica turma tuas." The priests of Cybele were called Galli. Marlowe's mistake was natural enough. P. 247 b. Life is no light price of a small surcease. "Est pretium parvse non leve vita mora." P. 248 a. And whoe'er see her, worthily lament. Mr. Dyce exclaims, "Vilely rendered;" and certainly one would hardly guess, without the original, that worthily lament stands for call out, she deserved it, or its vulgar form of served her right. " Et clamant ' Merito' qui modo cunque vident." OVID'S ELEGIES, &c. 361 P. 249 a. And falling valleys be the smooth ways crown. Mr. Dyce pronounces this to be "very far from plain," but Marlowe was using crown in the sense it bears in the Scotch phrase, " the crown of the causeway." P. 249 a. Venus with Vulcan, though, smith's tools laid by, With his stump foot he halts ill-favouredly. " Vulcano Venerem : quamvis iacude relicta Turpiter obliquo claudicet ille pede. " P. 250 a. Fat love, and too much fulsome, me annoys. Ovid's phrase is pinguis amor, which Dryden happily renders Gross easy love. P. 250 b. Who covets lawful things, takes leaves from woods, And drinks stolen waters in surrounding foods . Dryden 's translation of these two lines is characteristic of his own times if not of Ovid's. 1 ' Let him who loves an easy Whetstone whore, Pluck leaves from trees, and drink the common shore." Why are these translations omitted by Mr. Robert Bell in his otherwise valu- able edition of Dryden ? P. 251 a. Then with htige steps came violent Tragedy, Stern was her front, her cloak on ground did lie. The old editions have her looks, very properly altered by Mr. Dyce to her cloak — ' ' Venit et ingenti violenta Tragcedia passu : Fronte comae torva, palla jacebat humi." P. 251 b. The maid to hide me in her bosom let not. Let not is did not forbid. " Ancillae missam delituisse sinu." P. 252 a. b. Envious garment, so good legs to hide ! The more thou look'st, the more the gown s envied. Mr. Dyce says this is wrongly translated, but I hardly see where. Perhaps he means that thou art should be substituted for the gown's in the second line. " Invida vestis eras, quae tarn bona crura tegebas : Quoque magis spectes, invida vestis eras." P. 252 b. While thus I speak, black dost her white robes ray. To ray would seem originally to have meant to streak, from which came the meaning of to defile. But I am not aware of an instance in which the original idea does not peep through. " With botes on his legs all durtie and rayed :" here it is distinct from dirty, and means splashed. And the Latin word which Marlowe here translates is sparsa. P. 252 b. Now comes the pomp : themselves let all men cheer. Alas for the tuition at Canterbury and Cambridge ! "Sed jam pompa venit : lingitis animisque favete." P. 253 a. She smiled and with quick eyes behight some grace. " Risit, et argutis quiddam promisit ocellis." 362 NOTES. - P. 253 a. Comely tall was she, comely tall she s yet. " Longa decensque fuit : longa decensque manet." P. 253 b. Her own request to her own torment turned. Mr. Dyce says this is " a wrong version of" — " Officio est llli poena reperta suo," but this very slight departure from the original is evidently intentional. P. 254 a. I know not what men think should thee so move. Here Ovid means " men think it must be something quite out of the usual that has so taken thee" — " Nescio quid, quod te ceperit, esse putant." Nescio quid was used much as je ne sais quoi now is. P. 254 a. She is not chaste that's kept but a dear whore ; Thy fear is than her body valued more. Ovid's meaning is, " Let it be that she is not chaste, whom her husband guards, but an adulteress ; she is beloved : this fear causes her value rather than her beauty." " Non proba sit, quam vir servat, sed adultera. Cara est Ipse timor pretium corpore majus habet." P. 255 a. In mid Bithynia 'tis said Inachus Grew pale, and, in cold fords, hot lecherous. Marlowe's copy of Ovid must have been very faulty here. The accepted reading has a totally different meaning — " Inachus in Melie Bithynide pallidus isse Dicitur, et gelidis incaiuisse vadis." P. 255 a. Strayed barefoot through sole places on a time. " Errabat nudo per loca sola pede." P. 255 b. Shame that should make me blush I have no more. Ovid meant simply "Let this disgrace be ended which marks my features." "Desit famosus, qui notet ora, pudor." P. 256 a. To this I fondly loves of floods told plainly. These line for line translations are frequently curiously illustrative of the sense in which our ancestors used particular words. *' Huic ego vae ! demens narrabam fluminum amores." P. 256 b. With virgin wax hath some imbast my joints f " Sagave Punicea. defixit nomina cera." P. 256 b. The bc7iefit which lewdly / foreslowed. The use of the word lewdly in this place is particularly noteworthy. " Credo etiam magnos, quo sum tarn turpiler usus." OVID'S ELEGIES, &c. 363 P. 256 b. So in a spring thrives he that told so much. The allusion is to Tantalus. It is quite necessary to give the original— " Sic aret mediis taciti vulgator in undis." P. 257 a. Either thou art witched with blood of 'frogs new dead. Mr. Dyce says that Marlowe's Ovid had ranis for lanis. ' ' Aut te trajectis JEdea. venefica lanis Devovet." P. 257 b. At thy deaf doors sing verse in my abuses. "Ad rigidas canto carmen inane fores." P. 258 a. They manage peace and raiv war's bloody jaws. The striking expression, " war's bloody jaws," is entirely Marlowe's own. " hi pacem crudaque bellagerant." P. 258 a. For me she doth keeper and husband fear. This is hopelessly unlike Ovid's line — " Me prohibet custos : in me timet ilia maritum." P. 259 a. The godly sweet Tibullus doth increase. Mr. Dyce says " No one could possibly find out the meaning of this line without the assistance of the original." " Auxisti numeros, culte Tibulle, pios." P. 259 a. A little boy drunk teat-distilling showers. The editor of 1826 thought this ought to be tea-distilling showers. P. 259 b. Ida the seat of groves, did sing with corn. The Canterbury schoolmasters must have been lax about " quantities," or Marlowe could not have made the amusing blunder of translating cdnebat "did sing, " instead of " grew white." P. 259 b. Victorious wreaths at length my temples greet. Ovid's meaning is very different from this. " Venerunt capiti cornua sera meo." i.e., be had found himself "possessed of means of offence," like the young bull of Hoiaes cuifrons turgidacornibus. Mr. Riley mentions a French translator of Ovid who I ?s rendered this most ludicrously. ' ' Trop tard ! helas ! j'ai connu l'outrage fait a mon front !" P. 260 b. What day was hat which all sad haps to bring White birds to lovers did not always sing. This rendering is neither happy nor correct. The negative in the second line belongs to white, not to always. " Quis fuit ille dies, quo tristia semper amanti Omina non albas concinuistis aves." 364 NOTES. P. 260 b. And men enthralled by mermaids' singing charms. The ambigua virgo of Ovid is supposed to be the Sphinx. " Ambigua captos virginis ore viros," P. 260 b. Heaven-star, Electra, that bewailed her sisters. Mr. Dyce says, " Whatever text our translator may have followed here, he has mis- taken electra for a proper name, and made nonsense of the whole line." " Flere genis electra tuas, Auriga, sorores." i.e., " that thy sisters, O Charioteer (Phaeton) weep amber from their eyelids." P. 261 b. Which fact and country wealth Halcsusjled. Fact here stands for crime, see ante, 240 b. Country should be father 's. " Et scelus etpatrias fugit Halesus opes." Epigrams by J. D. P. 263 b. Ep. iii. Or through a grate doth show his double face. Malone understands from this line that Davies means what, in his days, was called a private box. From a print prefixed to Kirkman's Drolls 1673 ne was induced to think that the boxes, for which a lower price was paid, were placed at each side of the stage balcony. P. 264 a. Ep. vi. Yet my Lord Chancellor's tomb he hath not seen, Nor the new waterwork, nor the elephant. The Lord Chancellor whose tomb this "valorous young gallant" had not seen was Sir Christopher Hatton. It was erected in St. Paul's Cathedral, and Bishop Cor- bet says was "higher than the host and altar." The new waterwork was at London Bridge. The Elephant was an object of great wonder and long remembered . A curious illustration of this is found in The Metamorphosis of the Walnut-tree of Borestall, written about 1645, where the poet brings trees of all descriptions to the funeral, particularly a gigantic oak — " The youth of these our tymes that did behold This motion strange of this unweildy plant, Now boldly brag with us that are more old, That of our age they no advantage want, Though in our youths we saw a?i elephant." The really charming poem from which these lines are quoted will be found in The Pastorals and other Workes of William Basse, which were intended to have been Imprinted at Oxford in 1653, but which have remained unknown till 1869, when Mr. F. W. Cosens, of Clapham Park, entrusted the MS. to Mr. Collier, who has printed it in a beautiful little 4to of 130 pages— the latest (but we are glad to think not by any means the last) service rendered to old English literature by this un- wearied and unweariable labourer. P. 265 b. Ep. xx. The going to Saint Quintin's and New-haven. New-haven was our ancestors' name for Havre de Grace. EPIGRAMS BY J. D. 365 P. 266 b. Ep. xxiv. Of curtains, parapets and palisadoes. This line has hitherto stood — " Of parapets, curtains and palisadoes." It would almost seem that Davies was quizzing Marlowe himself in this epigram. P. 267 a. Ep. xxix. Heywood that did in Epigrams excel. I take the following copy of a title-page from Mr. Hazlitt's Hand-book. "John Heywoode's Woorkes. A dialogue conteynyng the number of the effectuall pro- verbes in the Englishe tounge, compact in a matter concernynge two maner of maryages. With one hundred of Epigrammes ; and three hundred of Epigrammes upon three hundred proverbs : and a fifth hundred of Epigrams. Wheronto are now newly added a syxt hundred of Epigrams by the sayde John Heywood. Londini, 1562." P. 267 b. Ep. xxx. He first taught him that keeps the monuments At Westminster his formal tale to tell. The keeper might have had a better teacher than Dacus, as Sir Walter Raleigh mentions in one of his recently published letters to Cecil that he had taken the French Ambassador to see the "Monuments at Westminster" — the other sight being the Bear Garden ! No horse has ever been so celebrated by poets as Banks' Curtal. One scene of his performances was the roof of St. Paul's Cathedral ! What would Dean Milman have said if Mr. Rarey had made an application to him for the same purpose, and quoted precedent? And as for "apes," Gifford says that " the apes of these days are mere clowns to their progenitors. One is recorded who would knit his brows if the Pope's name was mentioned." For Dacus see note post 270 b. P. 267 b. Ep. xxxiii. To make himself his wench but one half hour. The word himself has always hitherto been printed myself. The change seems almost necessary for the sense. P. 268 a. Ep. xxxvi. Yet that vile medicine it doth far excel Which by Sir Thomas More hath been propounded. Sir Thomas Mores unsavoury Epigramma is entitled "Medicinae ad tollendos foetores anhelitus, provenientes a cibis quibusdam." It is given at length by Mr. Dyce, and certainly deserves the epithet vile. P. 269 b. Ep. xlii. Lycus which lately is to Venice gone Shall if he do return gain three for one. Mr. Dyce says, ' ' In our author's days it was a common practice for persons, before setting out on their travels, to deposit a sum of money, on condition of receiving large interest for it at their return ; if they never returned the deposit was forfeited." P. 269 b. Ep. xliii. To Paris Garden doth himself withdraw ******* To see old Harry Hunkes and Sacarson. The theatre at Paris Garden stood almost exactly at what is now the Surrey starting place of Blackfriars Bridge. In 1632 Donald Lupton in his London and the Country Carbonadoed says of it, "Here come few that either regard their credit or loss of time ; the swaggering Roarer ; the amusing Cheater ; the rotten Bawd ; the swear- ing Drunkard ; and the bloody Butcher have their rendezvous here, and are of the chiefe place and respect." Harry Hunkes and Sacarson were two celebrated 366 NOTES. Bears. M alone conjectures that they were called after their masters. In The Merry Wives of Windsor Slender boasts ' ' I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times and have taken him by the chain." P. 270 a. Ep. xlv. Dae us 7vith some good colour and pretence Terms his love's beauty " silent eloquence." Samuel Daniel in his Complaint 0/ Rosamond, 1592, talks of the "silent rhe- torique " and " dumb eloquence" of a lady's " perswading eyes," and very pretty and poetical phrases they are ; but important in this place only as determining the name of the writer to whom Epigram xxx. is addressed. P. 270 b. And so is Lepidus his printed dog. Mr. Dyce quotes an epigram by Sir John Harington which identifies him with Lepidus, whose "printed dog," Bungey by name, figures on the title-page of that writer's Orlando Furioso. 1591. P. 278 b. Not yet the adverse reaking southern pole. " Nee polus adversi calidus qua mergitur Austri." P. 278 b. 0/ these garboils whence springs a long discourse. Garboil from French garbouille, tumult or commotion. Shakspeare uses it more than once. P. 279 a. A town with one poor church set them at odds. "Tunc erat : exiguum dominos commisit asylum. Marlowe's version makes one think of those one horse towns spoken of in American newspapers. P. 280 a. At night in dreadful vision fearful Rome. Fearful is full of fear — trepidantis patrice. P. 280 b. The thunder-hoofed horse in a crooked line. The epithet applied to the war horse is happier than the rest of the translation. Lucan meant that the cavalry crossed up the stream not to scape but to break the force of the current for the infantry to cross more easily. In Central Asia where everybody rides, and bridges are unknown, the taking of horses across rivers is a pro- fession by itself, and during our occupation of Afghanistan these " Sporters with Water" as they are called, drove a roaring trade. P. 281 b. Envy denies all ; with thy blood must thou A by thy conquest past : It is not easy to recognise the original in this version — " Livor edax tibi cuncta negat : gentesque subactas Vix impune feres." First Book of Lucan. Lucans First Booke. Translated line for line by Chr. Marlow. At London, printed by P. Short, and are to be sold by Walter Burre at the Signe of the Flower de Luce in Paules Churchyard, 1600. 4:0. [At Heber's sale it leeched £7 ?s] FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN. 367 P. 282 a. Babbling Marcellus, Cato whom fools reverence. " Marcellusque loquax, et nomina vana Catones." P. 282 b. And jaded King of Pontus poisoned slain. In the 1600 edition the equivalent of lassi Pontica regis is printed JADED King of Pontus, which makes a good scriptural name for a monarch. P. 283 b. And Vangions, -who, like those of Sarmata, Wear open slops. It is worth while to append the original Latin — " Et qui te laxis imitantur Sarmata braccis Vangiones." P. 285 a. The earth went off her hinges ; and the Alps Shook the old snow from off their trembling laps. This is one of Marlowe's mighty lines. Mr. Dyce, in my opinion very tastelessly, changes laps to tops to bring it nearer the Latin. " Veteremque/tf§7.r nutantibus Alpes Discussere nivem." The whole passage is very grandly rendered — so grandly indeed that Shakspeare, who evidently had it in his mind, has not excelled it in the speech of Calphurnia, or its echo in Hamlet. P. 285 b. Defiled the day : and wild beasts were seen. There is something wanting here, and a reference to the original, where sub node is found without any equivalent in Marlowe, shows that the line must in all proba- bility have been written — " Defiled the day : at night wild beasts were seen, &c." P. 285 b. And Marius' head above cold Tav'ron peering. Teverone is the modern name of the Anio. P. 286 a. And which (ah me!) ever pretendeth ill. Here, as before, Marlowe uses pretendeth for portendeih. P. 286 b. And first his cleyes ; why art thou thus enraged f Cleyes for claws is used by Ben Jonson in the form of cleis. Gifford says the word " is common enough in our old poets : it is a genuine term, and though now con- founded with claws, was probably restricted at first to some specific class of animals." Gawain Douglas has it in an intermediate form — •' And in thare crukit clewis grippis the pray." 368 NOTES. The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus. FROM THE QUARTO OF 1604. These notes have already extended to so great a length that I do not feel justified in making them longer still, by adding to what has been given in elucidation of the other impression of this play. It is as well however to mention that in the stage direction, in the awful and pathetic closing scene (306 b), I have added the words in brackets — Thunder, lightning [a?id rain] to indicate the connexion between thunder and lightning, and the desire to " Be changed into little water-drops, And fall into the Ocean." Additional Note to Tamburlaine the Great. Since the notes to this Play were printed off I have been favoured by Mr. John Payne Collier with the copy of the title-page of an edition which has never yet been noticed by any writer on Marlowe's Works. I have therefore given it in the exact shape in which it was transmitted to me. Tamburlaine the Great Who, from the state of a Shepheard in Scythia, by his rare and wonderfull conquests, be came a most puissant and mightie M onarque. As it was acted by the right Honorable the Lord Admyrall his Servauntes [a pink] Printed at London by Richard Johnes : at the Rose and Crowne, next above St Andrewes Church in Hoi borne. 1597. APPENDIX. A. The Atheist 's Tragedie. This ballad is printed from a manuscript copy in the possession of Mr. J. P. Collier. The " Friend once gay and greene" is, of course, Robert Greene; Wormall is the anagram of Marlow. All you that have got eares to heare, He now is gone to his account, Now listen unto mee ; And gone before his time, Whilst I do tell a tale of feare : Did not his wicked deedes surmount A true one it shall bee : All precedent of crime. A truer storie nere was told, But he no warning ever tooke As some alive can showe ; From others' wofull fate, ' Tis of a man in crime grown olde, And never gave his life a looke Though age he did not know. Untill it was to late. This man did his owne God denie He had a friend, once gay and greene, And Christ his onlie son, Who died not long before, And did all punishment defie, The wofull 'st wretch was ever seene, So he his course might run. The worst ere woman bore. Both day and night would he blas- Unlesse this WORMALL did exceede pheme, And day and night would sweare, Even him in wickednesse, Who died in the extreemest neede As if his life was but a dreame, And terror's bitternesse. Not ending in dispaire. Yet Wormall ever kept his course, A poet was he of repute, Since nought could him dismay ; And wrote full many a playe, He knew not what thing was remorse Now strutting in a silken sute, Unto his dying day. Then begging by the way. Then had he no time to repent He had alsoe a player beene The crimes he did commit, Upon the Curtaine-stage, And no man ever did lament But brake his leg in one lewd scene, For him, to dye unfitt. When in his early age. Ah, how is knowledge wasted quite He was a fellow to all those On such want wisedome true, That did God's laws reject, And that which should be guiding light Consorting with the Christians' foes But leades to errors newe ! And men of ill aspect. Well might learned Cambridge oft re- Ruffians and cutpurses hee ,&* i. Had ever at his backe, He ever there was bred : And led a life most foule and free, The tree she in his minde had set To his eternall wracke. Brought poison forth instead. B B 37Q APPENDIX. His lust was lawlesse as his life, And brought about his death ; For, in a deadlie mortall strife, Striving to stop the breath Of one who was his rivall foe, Willi his owne dagger slaine, He groaned, and word spoke ne\ moe, Pierc'd through the eye and braine. Thus did he come to suddaine ende That was a foe to all, And least unto himselfe a friend, And raging passion's thrall. Had he been brought up to the trade His father follow'd still, This exit he had never made, Nor playde a part soe ill. Take warning ye that playes doe make, And ye that doe them act ; Desist in time for Wormall's sake, And thinke upon his fact. Blaspheming Tambolin must die, And Faustus meete his ende ; Repent, repent, or presentlie To hell ye must discend. What is there, in this world, of worth That we should prize it soe? Life is but trouble from our birth, The wise do say and know. Our lives, then, let us mend with speed, Or we shall suerly rue The end of everie hainous deede, In life that shall insue. Finis. Ign. B. A Note, Contayninge the Opinion of one Christofer Marlye, concernynge his damnable Opinions and Judgment of Relygion and Scorne of God's Worde. From MS. Harl. 6853, fol. 320. This paper was first printed by Ritson in his Observations on Warton's Hist, of E. P., p. 40. In a volume, now in the Bodleian Library, Malone has written as follows: — " This Richard Bame or Banes was hanged at Tyburn on the 6th of Dec. 1594. See the Stationers' Register, Book B, p. 316. "It is obvious to remark upon this testimony, that it is not -upon oath', that it contains some declarations which it is utterly incredible that Marlowe should have made (as that concerning his intention to coin, which he must have known to be penal) ; that Bane does not appear to have been confronted with the person accused, or cross-examined by him or any other person ; and that the whole rests upon his single assertion. This paper, however, may derive some support from the verses quoted at the other side [of the page in Malone's book] from TJie Returne from Parnassus, which was written about 10 years after Marlowe's death." That the Indians and many Authors of Antiquitei have assuredly written of aboue 16 thovvsande years agone, wher Adam is proved to have leyved within 6 thowsande veers. He ajfmneth That Moyses was but a Juggler, and that one Heriots can do more than hee. That Moyses made the Jewes to tra- vell fortie veers in the wildernes (which iorny might have ben don in lesse then one yeer) er they came to the promised APPENDIX. 371 lande, to the intente that those whoe wer privei to most of his subtileteis might perish, and so an everlastinge supersticion remayne in the hartes of the people, That the firste beginnynge of Religion was only to keep men in awe. That it was an easye matter for Moyses, beinge brought vp in all the artes of the Egiptians, to abvse the J ewes, beinge a rvde and gross people. That he [Christ] was the sonne of a carpenter, and that yf the Jewes a- monge whome he was borne did crvci- fye him, thei best knew him and whence he came. That Christ deserved better to dye then Barabas, and that the Jewes made a good choyce, though Barrabas were both a thiefe and a murtherer. That yf ther be any God or good Religion, then it is in the Papistes, be- cavse the service of God is performed with more ceremonyes, as elevacion of the masse, organs, singinge men, shaven crownes, &c. That all protestantes ar hipocriticall Asses. That, yf he wer put to write a new religion, he wolde vndertake both a more excellent and more admirable me- thode, and that all the new testament is fllthely written. That all the Appostels wer fishermen and base fellowes, nether of witt nor worth, that Pawle only had witt, that he was a timerous fellow in biddinge men to be subiect to magistrates against his conscience. That he had as good right to coyne as the Queen of Englande, and that he was acquainted with one Poole, a prisoner in newgate, whoe hath gre it skill in mixta) e of nicttalls, and, having* learned some thinges of him, he menl, thorough help of a cvnnyhgc stampe- maker., to coyne french crownes, pisto- lettes, and englishe shi Hinges. That, yf Christ had "instituted the Sacramentes with more ceremonyall reverence, it wold have ben had in more admiracion, that it wolde have ben much better beinge administred in a Tobacco pype. That one Richard Cholmelei hath confessed that he was perswaded by Marloes reason to become an Athieste. Theis thinges, with many other, shall by good and honest men be proved to be his opinions and common speeches, and that this Marloe doth not only holde them himself, but almost in every com- pany he commeth, perswadeth men to Athiesme, wi Hinge them not to be af rayed of bugbeares and hobgoblins, andvtterly scornynge both God and his ministers, as I Richard Be me [sic] will justify both by my othe and the testimony of many honest men, and almost all men with ■whome he hath conversed any tyme will testefy the same : and, as I thincke, all men in christianitei ought to endevor that the mouth of so dangerous a member may be stopped. He sayeth moreover that he hath coated [quoted] a number of contra- rieties out of the scriptures, which he hath geeven to some great men, whoe in convenient tyme shal be named. When theis thinges shalbe called in question, the witnesses shall be produced. Rychard Bame. (Endorsed) Copye of Marloes blasphemyes as sent to her H'jghness]e. INDEX TO THE NOTES. A BOVE (or about), 200 b. 346 -^ Aby thy conquest past, 281 b. 366 Cato whom fools reverence, 282 a. 367 Catzerie, no b. 327 Actors, best of, 87 323 Cavalieros, 39 b. 316 Adolesche, 221 b. 352 Censures, 86. 323 >Edone, 215 a. 351 Censured, 198 b. 345 Affect, 186 a. 341 Champion, 8 a. 312 31 a. 315 41 b. 316 Agood, 99 £. 325 Channel (bone), 34 b. 315 Air [for hair), 173 a. 338 Channel (kennel), 120 b. 329 142 a. 332 Albertos Magnus, 61 a. 320 149 a. 333 Alcmane (Alcmseon), 217 a. 352 Cherup through the bills, 197 a. 344 Alone (adjective), 243 £. 359 Che sera, sera, 60 a. 319 Anademe, 216 b. 351 Chide, 225 a. 353 And actions (or audacious), 207 b. 348 Chides, evocat, 233 b. 356 Antwerp Bridge, dob. 320 Chreste, 215 a. 351 Arachne, 242 b. 358 Argins, 41 b. 316 43 a:. 316 Cleapt (embraced), 225 a. 353 Cleyes (claws), 286 b. 367 Argumentum testimonii, 161 a. 335 Clips (mistranslation), 230. b. 355 Arms (to give), 46 a. 317 Cloak (altered from looks), 251 a. 361 Art (? heart), 76 b. 322 "As you like it," 198 b. 346 Clouts, 9 b. 312 Cock-horse peasantry, 225 a. 353 Coil, 186 b. 341 Coll (or coil), 188 b. 341 Collier's son, 161 a. 335 "DANDY, 120 a. 329 ■^ Barbarian steeds, 33 a. 315 Comely tall was she, 253 a. 362 Conceived by Mars, 174 b. 338 Basilisks, 18 a. 314 Consort of Music, 21 b, 314 Basse, William, 264 a. 364 Consummate, 36 b. 315 Bassoes, 12 £. 312 Convertite, 91 b. 324 Bastones, 15 a. 313 Corps du gard, 234 b. 356 Bating (? baiting), 226 a:. 353 Corps' small grave, 244 a. 359 Batten, 104 b. 326 Counterfeit, 212, 350 Behight, promisit, 253 a;. 361 Counterscarp, 41 b. 316 B. J. (Ben Jonson), 238 b. 357 Counting-house, 88 a. 323 Being present, 244 b. 359 Country gods, 246 a. 360 Bets, 87 323 Bird-bolt's shoot, 225 a. 353 Country wealth, 261 b. 364 Covered-ways, 41 b. 316 43 a. 316 Border (limit), 236 a. 357 Coyness and pure deceits, 215 a. 351 Boss, 16 b. 313 Crooked line, 280 b. 366 Brandished fire, 228 b. 354 Cross-biting, no b. 327 Brave, 5 a. 311 Crown, smooth way's, 249 a. 361 Brave ! 99 a. 325 Broth by the Eye, 104 b. 326 Crucifying children, 106 a. 326 Crystal, mathematic, 208 a. 348 Bugs, 46 b. 317 Cullion, 127 b. 330 Burgonets, 158 b. 334 Custom, 89 a. 324 Burst, 53 a. 318 Cypres (crape) 210 a. 350 Bussorah, 42 £. 316 T^ACUS (Samuel Daniel), 267 b. 365 270 a. 1J 366 CANONIZE, 61 a. 320 ^ Carbonades, 21 b. 314 Danged down, 206 b. 248 Carcanet, 207 b. 348 Dapsilis, 215 a. 351 Carouse the sea, 245 b. 359 Dead sea, 132 b. 331 Deaf doors, 257 b. 363 Cassandra, 232 rt.3 55 Cast, 115 a. 328 147 3. 332 1503.333 " Death (for Deaths) 45 b. 317 INDEX TO THE NOTES. 373 Defend (prohibit), 155 a. 335 Defiled the day, 285 b. 367 Descant face, 223 a. 353 Devotes, 223 a. 353 Diameter, 204 a. 347 Dichotomist, 160 b. 335 Digested hair, 237 b. 357 Dipsas (Thirsty one), 233 a. 356 Dis (Pluto), 206 b. 348 Discoloured, 198 a. 345 Discontent, 202 b. 346 Disparent, 208 a. 348 220 b. 352 Distained, 232 a. 355 Division (to run), no b. 327 Dryden, 250 b. 361 Dusty honours, 238 a. 357 ECSTASY, 93 a. 324 Ecus (crowns), 147 a. 334 Electra, 260 b. 364 Elizabeth Woodville. 203 a. 347 Emperious, 165 b. 336 Enforced, 215 b. 351 2i8£. 352 Enginous despair, 210a. 250 Enthrilled his heart, 218 <5. 352 Entrance, 159 a. 334 Envied, 1200. 329 176 a. 339 Envious garment, 252 a.b. 361 Epicedians, 215 b. 351 Eronusis, 216 a. 351 Euphrates, 28 a. 314 Europa (for Eurotas), 235*1. 356 ' Every Man in his Humour,' 1993. 346 Exhibition, 167 a. 337 Expugned, 209 a. 348 Eyas thoughts, 213 b. 351 T?ACT, 240*5. 358 Factious, 167 a. 337 Fair, 7 a. 311 False, 8 a. 312 45 b. 317 Farewell, 192 b. 342 Fat love, 250 a. 361 Favour (countenance), 215 b. 351 225 a. ' 353 Fear not, 31 a. 315 Fearful Rome, 28:) a. 366 Fet (fetched), 185 £. 341 205 £. 348 Fellows (for follow us), 184 b. 341 Females' miss, 49 a. 317 Fire, 64 b. 320 Fisherman, 213 a. 351 Flaw, 232 b. 356 Fleet, 54 b. 318 123^.330 190 a. 342 Foil, 17 a. 313 38 a. 316 Follow us (for fellows;, 184 b. 341 Followers (successors), 42 £. 316 Fond, fondly, 93 b. 324 146 a. 332 256 a. 362 For being (not to be), 48 b. 317 Foul and favourless, 182 a. 340 Free-born, 236 a. 357 French rout, 247 a. 360 Frogs (blood of), 257 a. 363 Frost-drad myrtle, 239 £. 358 Fury (for Troy), 183 £ 340 QAPIONS, 43 £. 317 Gallop amain, 198 a. 34 Garboils, 278 b. 366 Gear, membra, 231b. 355 Get a deity, 60 a. 319 Glorious, 19 a. 314 Glose, 201 a. 346 Gobbets (not goblets), 230 a. 355 Godly birds, 243 a. 359 Golden cross, 100 b. 325 Grate (private box), 263 b. 364 Graven (buried), 207a. 348 Guelder dame, 238 a. 357 f fJAD I wist,' 135 a. 331 x ■* Halycon, 88 b. 324 Hale, fjga. 339 Hannibal, 194 b. 343 Harness, 66 a. 321 179 £. 339 Harry Hunkes, 269 b. 365 Hate (for Fate), 117 b. 328 Haught, 136 a. 331 Helen of Troy, 81 a. 322 Her own request, 253 b. 362 Her (for Their), 191 a. 342 Hermosa placer, &c, 96 a. 325 Heywood, 86 323 267 a. 365 Himself (for Myself), 267 b. 365 Horse courser, 78 a. 322 Hoves (hoofs). 204 a. 347 Hugy, 15 b. 313 31a. 314. TBERIAN City (Cadiz), 209 a. 348 ■*■ Ida did sing with corn, 259 b. 363 ' I know not what,' 254 a. 362. Imbast, 256 b. 362. Imperance, 211 b 350. In (for On), 10 £. 312 Inachus, 255 a. 362 Incensed, 165 a. 336 Incony, 112 a. 328 Inhabited, 15 a. 313 Injury (verb), 3 b. 310 Intire (inside), 209 a. 348 Invention, 3 b. 310 Ivory bowers, 38 a. 316 JACOB'S Staff, 43 b. 316 Jaded King of Pontus, 228 b. 367 Jaws (for Paws), 45 a. 317 Jesses, 1293. 330 Jet, 127 b. 330 Jig, 131 b. 331 374 INDEX TO THE NOTES. "TZ EEP, 157 a. 334 -1*- Keeper's hands ? bands\ 234 b. 356 Kembed hairs, 233 a. 356 Kenn'd or keen'd , 193/'. 343 Kerns, 131 a. 331 Kicking colts, 51 a. 318 Kings spare , 53 a. 318 Knights of the post. 235 a. 356 T ADV Vanity, 98 a. 325 •*-' Leaguer, 35 b. 315. Leave ! 18© 3. 340 Lep for Leap', 203 a. 347 Lepidus, his printed dog, 2-ob. 366 Let, 33 £. 315 Let not (did not forbid', 251 b. 361 Leucote, 215 a. 351 Lewd hangman, 241 a. 358 Lewdly curious use of , 256 b. 362 Lewdness, scclits, 243a. 359 Liefest, 194 a. 343 Linstock, 116 a. 328 'Live well,' 234 a. 356 Loose for Lose', 182 b. 340 Lord Chancellor's tomb, 264 a. 364 Lown, 123 b. 330 Luffed and tacked, 97 a. 325 TV/TAILS, 5 a. 311 x -1 Malice ,verb', 3<5. 310 Malta road, 105 a. 326. Manage ;arms), \\b. 312 12 b. 313 16 a. 313 z-ja. 313 32rt. 315 Marcellus, 282 a. 367 Maro the way he cut}, 69 a. 321 Mated, 2 b. 310 Mate, 59 «. 319 Media, 3 b. 310 Merchandize unsold, 107 a. 326 Merchants, 6 a. 311 Mere, 207 b. 348 Mermaids, 260 b. 364 Midnight matins, 161 b. 335 Milton, 62 £. 320 Montfaucon, 159 b. 334 Moorish fool, 209 b. 348 More, Sir Thomas, his "medicine," 268a. 365. Mortimer, 132 b. 331 Monuments at Westminster, 267 b. 365 Movings of her feet, 176 a. 338 Much ! 73 a. 321 Muffes, 30 b. 314 31 a. 314 Muschatoes, 109 a. 327 Muscovite, 161 b. 334 Mushroom, 126 a. 335 Mya maia', 217 a. 352 Myrtle sprays, 228 b. 354 N ECK-VERSE, 109 a. 327 New-haven ^ Havre), 265 b. 364 Newly clad, 182 b. 340 Nile, skipp:ng and slipping, 247 a. 360 Nimble (tnobilis), 242 a. 358. ' Baraba-', 99 a. 325 Nosterils, 50 3. 317 Not whilst I live, 146 a. 332 /~\ARS, 182 £. 340 190 b. 342 ^ Old Trot (qiuedatn a?ius), 233a. 356 One poor church, 279 a. 366 Open slops, 283 b. 367 "DAISED poi?ed\ 202 b. 347 ■*■ Packed conspired', 190a. 341 Pale as ashes, 169 a. 337 Palisadoes, 266(5. 365 Parbreak, 25 b. 314 Paris Garden, 269 b. 365 Parle, 5 a. 311 30^.314 31a. 314 32 < Pashas 3. 313 Pass, 2 b. 310 124 a. 330 146 a. 332 Passionate, 129 a. 330 Patient use, 234 a. 356 Peace assured, 209 a. 348 Peal of ordnance, 42 a. 316 Pelops' shoulder, 197 b. 345 Pentacle, 208 a. 348 Peristera, 212 a. 350 Perkins, Richard, 87 323 Phytius, 58 b. 318 Piece, 221 a. 352 Pierian flood, 208 b. 348 Pilling, 173. 313 Pin, 9 b. 312 Pitch, 7 a. 311 Plage, 22 b. 314 31 b. 315 Plates, 98 a. 325 Platform, 192 a. 342 Poets Jbest of), 87 323 Port, -ja. 311 53 b. 318 Prest, 30 a. 315 Prest at hand, 183 b. 340 Pretendeth, 103 b. 326 286 a. 367 Prevail ;avail 195 b. 343 Pricked Leander, 213 a. 350 Princess-priest, 174 b. 338 Prior (for Governor,', 103 a. 326 Proin their fair plumes, 215 a. 351 Purchase, 11 a. 312 Put thereby 'or put then by), 200a. 346 Pyramides, 1823. 340 Pythagoras' Metempsychosis, 84 b. 322 Q ITT, n a. 312 Quod tumeraris, 62 a. "OAKES MY BONES, 238 b. 357 ■*■*■ Ravens, 95 a. 324 Ray .verb) 252 b. 361 INDEX TO THE NOTES. 375 Reaking (calidus), 2jSb. 366 Ream (realm) no b. 327 Reduce, 93 a. 324 Regiment, -$a. 310 n b. 312 120 b. 329 139-5. 332 145 a. 332 Remorse, 219 a. 352 Remorse and Pity, 205 a. 347 Renied, 12 b. 313 Renowned, 6 a. 311 Rent, 35 £. 315 46 a. 317 Repair, 36 a. 315 Resolve, 3 a. 310 4 b. 310 171 b. 337 177^ 339 Resolved, 101 a. 325 Retorqued thoughts, 25 b. 314 Return (not Receive), 230 a. 355 Rhyming, 1 310 Ringled bit, 204 a. 347 Rivelled gold, 182 b. 340 Rivo Castiliano ! in b. 328 Rock (or Rockt) 197 a. 344 Rorid vapour, 209 b. 348 Roses, 202 b. 347 Rouse, 74 a. 322 Rout, 137 (5. 331 Rude places, 245 a. 359 Rushes, 203 a. 347 Rutters, 30 b. 314 31 a. 314 C ACARSON, 269 b. 365 ^ Sacks, n b. 312 St. Mark's Place, 69 b. 321 Sarell, 15 b. 313 Scald, 7«. 312 Scapes (imndosos mores), 241 b. 358 Secretly from me, 247 a. 360 Sect, 93 £. 324 Section, 167 «. 337 Sees (for seize), 134 £. 331 Self-place, 65 b. 321 Sennet, 71. 3. 321 Senseless light, 16 b. 313 Services (pears), igob. 342 Set, 159 b. 335 Shades (? shapes), 176a. 339 Shaked (not slaked), 228 b. 354 Shame that should make me blush, 255 b. 362 She is not chaste, 254 a. 362. Shine (adjective), 228 b. 354 Side (manly vigour), 233 £. 356 Silverlings, SSb. 323 Singer, Mr., 205 b. 348 Sinewy, 7 a. 311 Skelton (similar idea), 213 a. 350 Slack muse, 197 b. 345 Slick-tongued, 210 b. 350 Sluice, 114 a. 328 Smiths' tools, 249 a. 361 Snakes leap by verse, 240*2:. 358 Snicle hand too fast, m b. 328 Snow in water, 207 a. 348 Soil, 185 £. 341 Sole places, 255 a. 36a Sollars, 107 a. 326 Sore, 144 a. 332 Sort, 1693. 337 Tj6b. 339 Sort out, 129 a. 330 Spring (ftiake to spring), 214 a:. 219 b. 352 Stale, 235 a. 356 State, 73 a. 322 States, 3 a. 310 Stavesaker, 63 b. 320 Stems. 6 a. 311 Stern (rudder), 191 b. 342. Stomach, 121 b. 330 Straight or Strait, 211 a. 350 Stump foot, 249 a. 361 Subjects, 57*. 318 Sucking shore (bibuli litoris), 246 a. 360 Suez Canal, 57 a. 318 Supping with the Devil, 104 b. 326 Surcease, 247 b. 360 Surprised, 174 a. 338 HPAINT, 1.74 b. 338 •*• Tainted, 34 a. 315 Tale (reckoning), ma. 327 Tall soldier, 166 b. 337 Tanais, 140 a. 332 Tantalus, 256 b. 363 Tav'ron (Teverone), 285 b. 367 Teat-distilling, 259 a. 363 Tell, 88*. 323 Tender, 208*. 348 Terminus, 66 b. 321 Tester, 73 b. 322 Their (for there), 163 a. 335 Themselves let all men cheer, 252 b. 361 They (for we.), 77 b. 322 Thirling, 198 a. 345 Three for one, 269 b. 365 Thunder-hoofed, 280*. 366 Tibullus, 259 a. 363 Tires, 12 a. 312 195 a. 343 Tire (for try), 236 a. 357 Tottered (tattered), no b. 327 Trains, 138 b. 332 Trammels, 237*. 357 Trembling laps, 285 a. 367 Troy (for Fury), 183*. 340 Turk (Ithamore), 107*. 326 Turk of Tenpence, 109 b. 327 Turkish fleet, 96 a. 325 Twigger, 190*. 342 TJNFORESEEN hypocrisy, 94a. 324. ^ Unicorn, 7 a. 311 Unsoiled, 100*. 325 Unto myself, 90 a. 324 Unvalued, 4«. 310 "\7"AIL, 96 a. 325 Vailed ^to the ground), 1983. 345 Vailing, 6a. 311 37^ INDEX TO THE NOTES. Valurous, 4 b. 310 Varvels, 129 b. 330 Victorious wreaths, 259 b. 363 WAGERS, 87 323 Warping, 223 a. 353 War's bloody jaws, 258 a. 363 Waterwork, 264 a. 364 Wen {merda), 231 a. 355 Wench, 242 b. 358 Whereas, 57 a. 318 Whips, 223 b. 353 Whist, 187 a. 341 200 £. 346 White-birds, 260 £. 363 Wigmore, 131 £. 331 Will, 169 £. 337 189 £. 341 Wind {/or wound), 180a. 339 Wise, 233a. 356 With child of sail, z\ob. 350 Worthily lament {clamant 'Merito'), 248a. 360 Wounds {not words), 229a. 354 Wreaks, i.e. recks, not wrecks, 246 a. 360 'ANZIBAR, 353. 315 ' Zoacum, 37 b. 315