MIDDLETON.

O Marlowe ! canst thou rise with power no more?

What is't comes hither, like a gust of wind?

CECILIA rushes in.

CECILIA.

Where where ? O, then, 'tis true-and he is dead!

All's over now-there's nothing in the world—

For he who raised my heart up from the dust,
And show'd me noble lights in mine own soul,
Has fled my gratitude and growing love—

I never knew how deep it was till now!

Through me, too!-do not curse me !-I was the causeYet do not curse me-No! no! not the cause,

But that it happen'd so. This is the reward
Of Marlowe's love !-why, why did I delay ?
O, gentlemen, pray for me! I have been

Lifted in heavenly air-and suddenly

The arm that placed me, and with strength sustain'd me, Is snatch'd up, starward: I can neither follow,

Nor can I touch the gross earth any more!

Pray for me, gentlemen !-but breathe no blessings-
Let not a blessing sweeten your dread prayers-

I wish no blessings-nor could bear their weight;
For I am left, I know not where or how :

But, pray for me-my soul is buried here.

(Sinks down upon the body.)

MIDDLETON.

"Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough!"

(Solemn music.)

VOL. III.

Dark Curtain.

Ν