His poetry, his simple, sensuous, passionate bursts of high poetry. For this we must prize him; in this we must find our satisfaction and refreshment. Marlowe has not yet got the ear of Europe. In England even, few comparatively give him high regard; abroad, he still counts as a barbarian. Germans may sympathise, perhaps, with one who first touched their great Faust-legend; the French have never seen more in him than a wild pioneer and road-breaker for Shakespeare. A distinguished modern Italian poet and critic, in verses made by him while reading Marlowe, expressed the belief that his author seemed to have been inspired by the fumes of beer. Truly a fine criticism, a subtle inference this, to deem all Marlowe's "mighty lines" as but the outcome of beer! From such a singular judgment we may conclude that foreigners, with their curious slowness to appreciate any Anglo-Saxon poets but Byron and Shakespeare, have not yet got at the true Marlowe. In England, even, he is not known enough. I shall hope that this little set of extracts may recommend him; may prove to be "infinite riches in a little room; may really help to make his fame wider and more bright, of whom it was once written : "What mortall soule with Marlo might contend That could 'gainst reason force him stoope or bend? His rare conceyts and sweet-according rimes. Live with the living in eternitie !" P. E. P. TAMBURLAINE PROCLAIMS HIS SCHEME OF CONQUEST. FIRST PART.-ACT I., SCENE 2. Ther. Where is this Scythian Tamburlaine ? Tamb. Whom seek'st thou, Persian? I am Tamburlaine. Ther. Tamburlaine ! A Scythian shepherd so embellished With nature's pride and richest furniture! His looks do menace heaven and dare the gods; His fiery eyes are fix'd upon the earth, As if he now devis'd some stratagem, Or meant to pierce Avernus' darksome vaults (A) Tamb. Noble and mild this Persian seems to be, If outward habit judge the inward man. Tech. His deep affections make him passionate. Tamb. With what a majesty he rears his looks!— In thee, thou valiant man of Persia, I sce the folly of thy emperor. Art thou but captain of a thousand horse, Draw forth thy sword, thou mighty man-at-arms, And Jove himself will stretch his hand from heaven He sends this Soldan's daughter rich and brave, If thou wilt stay witli me, renowmed man, Those thousand horse shall sweat with martial spoil And Christian merchants, that with Russian stems 1 Shall vail to us as lords of all the lake ; HIS PORTRAIT. ACT II., SCENE 2. Cos. Thus far are we towards Theridamas, Men. Of stature tall, and straightly fashioned, Are fix'd his piercing instruments of sight, |