"Eleaz. Mendoza sweats to wear Spain's diadem,Philip hath sworn confusion to this realm,

They both are up in arms; war's flames do shine
Like lightning in the air.-Wherefore, my lords!
Look well on Eleazar!-Value me,

Not by my sun-burnt cheeks, nor by my birth,
But by my loss of blood,

Which I have sacrific'd in Spain's defence.
Then look on Philip and the Cardinal!—

Look on those gaping curs*, whose wide throats
Stand stretch'd wide open like the gates of death
To swallow you, your country, children, wives.
Philip cries, Fire and blood!' the Cardinal

Cries likewise Fire and blood!'-I'll quench those flames.

Rod. Lay by these ambages! What seeks the Moor?
Eleaz. A kingdom! Castile's crown!.

The reader will be reminded of Coriolanus' sovereign contempt of "the tag," in perusing Eleazar's proud vaunt of the divinity of a hero.

"Eleaz. to Queen. Are these your fears? Thus blow
them into air.

I rush'd amongst the thickest of their crowds,
And with a countenance majestical,

Like the imperious Sun, dispers'd their clouds.—
I have perfum'd the rankness of their breath,

*Monsters would be better both for sense and rhythm.

And by the magic of true eloquence
Transform'd this many-headed Cerberus,
This pied camelion,—this beast multitude,

Whose power consists in number, pride in threats
Yet melt like snow when majesty shines forth."

In a very spirited style is likewise the whole of the first scene*, Act V.

Faustus is well censured by Hazlitt, who esteems it, on the whole, as Marlow's greatest work. “Faustus himself is a rude sketch, but it is a gigantic one. 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." Milton may have had in his eye the following passages:—

“ Faustus to the Dæmon. Where are you damn’d?
Mephistophiles. In Hell.—

Faust. How comes it then that thou art out of Hell?
Mephis. 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,

* Most ludicrously divided into three by the editor of "Old English Plays,” 6 vols. 8vo. 1814.

Am not tormented by a thousand Hells
In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss?—

*

*

*

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd

*

In one set place, but where we are is Hell-
And where Hell is, there must we ever be.
And, to be short, when all the world dissolves,
And every creature shall be purified,

All places shall be Hell that are not Heaven."

These are noble lines-Lord Byron's obligations to them in his "Manfred" have been noted.— The last hour of Faustus' life is spent in such mental torture, as "thicks the" reader's "blood with cold."-" It is indeed an agony and fearful colluctation."

(The clock strikes eleven.)
(Faustus solus.) Oh! Faustus!

Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,
And then thou must be damn'd 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 lentè, lentè, 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? (Distractly) See where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!

One drop of blood will save me.—Oh! my Christ— [Attempts to pray.

Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ!

Yet will I call on him-Oh! spare me, Lucifer!
Where is it now?—'tis gone! and see—

A threat'ning 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 reign'd 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.

(The clock chimes 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 sav'd!
No end is limited to damned souls.
Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?
Or why is this immortal that thou hast?

Curs'd be the parents that engendered me—
No, Faustus! curse thyself, curse Lucifer,
That hath depriv'd 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.
O soul! be chang'd into small water-drops,
And fall into the ocean-ne'er be found.

(Thunder.) Enter DEMONS.

Oh! mercy,

Heaven! look not so fierce on me! Adders and serpents! let me breathe awhile!— Oh! Mephistophiles *!—"

(Rolling thunder.)

[They all disappear.

The foregoing horrible picture demands such a relief as will gently lead the shaken mind to a calmer region, and hush it into a meek-eyed

A to

*In these extracts I have ventured on one or two trifling emendations, which were much needed. lerably correct edition of the plays of Marlow, Thomas Heywood, Chapman, Decker, &c. &c. would be a real blessing. It is not possible to exceed the blunders committed or disregarded in the " Old English Plays," on which work an acute critique appeared in the Monthly Review, N. S. vol. lxxv. p. 225.