sed in four lines, which savour rather of the Rambler's dogmatism than the Reflector's ingenuous, good humoured quaintness. "Rape, murder, and superlatives," are indeed there, yet many, many redeeming passages may be found, containing descriptions full of a certain amorous splendour without gaudiness, and scathing threats thundered from furnace hearts without rant. Many of Eleazar's very ravings are written with prodigious gusto and relish; and it may be said of Marlow, as it has been said of Kean the actor, that he has a devil."—" There is a good deal of the same intense passion as in Faustus, the same recklessness of purpose, and the same smouldering fire within." In support of these remarks, it is hoped, the reader will not object to a few quotations; in which he can hardly fail to observe the variety and melody of Marlow's versification, with one or two exceptions, where the text is probably corrupt. The queen endeavouring to sooth Eleazar with her sugared blandishments, says,

"Smile upon me! and these two wanton boys, These pretty lads that do attend on me,

Shall call thee Jove, shall wait upon thy cup
And fill thee nectar: their enticing eyes
Shall serve as crystal, wherein thou may'st see
To dress thyself, if thou wilt smile on me.-
Smile on me, and with coronets of pearl,

And bells of gold, circling their pretty arms
In a round ivory fount these two shall swim,
And dive to make thee sport: bestow one smile,
And in a net of twisted silk and gold

In my all-naked arms thyself shall lie."

The old king expiring, and blind with the mists of death, desires an attendant to call his daughter, who is lying drowned in tears at the bed's foot.

"( King Philip. Come hither, Isabella! reach a hand,Yet now it shall not need; instead of thine

Death, shoving thee back, clasps his hands in mine,
And bids me come away

His younger son, Prince Philip, upbraids his mother and the courtiers with her lusts.

"Call not me your son!

My father, while he liv'd, tir'd his strong arms
In bearing Christian armour 'gainst the Turks,
And spent his brains in warlike stratagems,
To bring confusion on damn'd infidels :
Whilst you, that snorted here at home, betrayed
His name to everlasting infamy ;—

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Whilst you at home suffered his bed-chamber
To be a brothelry,-whilst you at home,
Suffer'd his queen to be a concubine,

And wanton red-cheek'd boys to be her bawds;
Whilst she, reeking in that letcher's arms————
Eleazar. Me!

Phil. Villain, 'tis thee! thou hell-begotten fiend! At thee I stare!

Act the third opens with the following address to Night.

"Queen. Fair eldest child of Love! thou spotless

Night,

Empress of Silence, and the queen of Sleep,

Who with thy black cheeks' pure complexion,
Mak'st lovers' eyes enamoured of thy beauty!-
Thou'rt like my Moor!-

Eleazar, raging for the death of his wife Maria, fancies king Fernando to be the murderer.

"Eleaz. Now, by the proud complexion of my cheeks,

Ta'en from the kisses of the amorous Sun,

Were he ten thousand kings that slew my love,
Thus should my hand, plum'd with Revenge's wings,
Requite mine own dishonour and her death.

[Stabs the king.

The king being slain, the Moorish prince thus solicits the crown of Castile.-—

"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 Damon. 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.

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