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the statute.-I warrant you, he's as yeomanly a Mar. 'Tis I, my lords, who humbly on my knco man as you shall see: mark you, masters, here's Must yield her orisons to mighty Jove a plain honest man, without welt or guard.I--- For lifting up his handmaid to this state; But I pray you, sir, do you coine lately from Brought from her homely cottage to the court, hell?

And grac'd with kings, princes, and emperors Dev. Ay, marry: how then ?

To whom (next to the noble Lincoln Earl) Miles. Faith, 'tis a place I have desired long to I vow obedience, and such humble love see: have you not good tippling-houses there? As may a handmaid to such mighty men, May not a man have a lusty fire there, a pot of P. Elin. Thou martial man that wears the good ale, a pair? of cards, a swinging piece of

Almain crown, chalk, and a brown toast that will clap a white And you the western potentates of might, waistcoat on a cup of good drink?

The Albion princess, English Edward's wife, Dev. All this you may have there.

Proud that the lovely star of Fressingfield, Miles. You are for me, friend, and I am for Fair Margaret, Countess to the Lincoln Earl, you. But, I pray you, may I not have an office Attends on Elinor,-gramercies, lord, for her, there?

'Tis I give thanks for Margaret to you all, Dev. Yes, a thousand : what wouldst thou be? And rest for her due bounden to yourselves.

Miles. By my troth, sir, in a place where I may K. Hen. Seeing the marriage is solemnised, profit myself. I know liell is a hot place, and Let's march in triumph to the royal feast.-men are marvellous dry, and much drink is spent | But why stands Friar Bacon here so mute? there; I would be a tapster.

Bacon. Repentant for the follies of my youth, Der. Thou shalt.

That magic's secret mysteries misled, Miles. There's nothing lets3 me from going And joyful that his royal marriage with you, but that 'tis a long journey, and I have Portends such bliss unto this matchless realın. never a horse.

K. Hen. Why, Bacon, Dev. Thou shalt ride on my back.

What strange event shall happen to this land? Miles. Now surely here's a courteous devil, Or what shall grow from Edward and his queen? that, for to pleasure his friend, will not stick to Bacon. I find? by deep prescience of mine art, make a jade of himself.-But I pray you, good- Which once I temper'd in my secret cell, man friend, let me move a question to you.

That here where Brute? did build his Troynovant, Dev. What's that?

From forth the royal garden of a king Miles. I pray you, whether is your pace a trot Shall flourish out so rich and fair a bud, or an amble?

Whose brightness shall deface proud Phoebus' Der. An amble.

flower, Miles. 'Tis well; but take heed it be not a And overshadow Albion with her leaves. trot: but no matter, I'll prevent it.

Till then Mars shall be master of the field, [Puts on spurs.

But thon the stormy threats of wars shall cease: Dev. What dost ?

The horse shall stamp as careless of the pike, Miles. Marry, friend, I put on my spurs; for if

Drums shall be turn' to timbrels of delight; I find your pace either a trot or else uneasy, I'll With wealthy favours plenty shall enrich put you to a false gallop; I'll make you feel the The strand that gladded wandering Brute to see, benefit of my spurs.

And peace from heaven shall harbour in these Dev. Get up upon my back.

leaves [Miles mounts on the Devil's back. That gorgeous beautify this matchless flower: Miles. O Lord, here's even a goodly marvel, Apollo's heliotropion then shall stoop, when a man rides to hell on the devil's back! And Venus' hyacinth shall vail 3 her top; [Exeunt, the devil roaring. Juno shall shut her gilliflowers up,

And Pallas' bay shall 'bash her brightest green; Enter the Emreror with a pointless sword ; next

Ceres' carnation, in consórt with those, the KING OF CASTILE carrying a scord with a

Shall stoop and wonder at Diana's rose. point; LACY carrying the globe ; PRINCE ED

K. Hen. This prophecy is mystical. WARD; WARREN carrying a rod of gold with a dore on it; ERMSBY with a crown and sceptre; That make fair England like that wealthy isle

But, glorious commanders of Europa's love, PRIXCESS Elisor with MARGARET Countess of Circled with Gihon and first Euphrates, Lincoln on her left hand; King HENRY, Bacon,

In royalizing Henry's Albion and Lords attending.

With presence of your princely mightiness, P. Edw. Great potentates, earth's miracles for Let's march: the tables all are spread, state,

And viands, such as England's wealth affords, Think that Prince Edward humbles at your feet, Are ready set to furnish out the boards. And, for these favours, on his martial sword

You shall have welcome, mighty potentates : He vows perpetual homage to yourselves,

It rests to furnish up this royal feast, Yielding these honours unto Elinor.

Only your hearts be frolic; for the time K. Hen. Gramercies, lordings; old Plantagenet,

Craves that we taste of naught but jouissance: That rules and sways the Albion diadem, Thus glories England over all the west. With tears discovers these conceived joys,

[Exeunt omnes. And vows requital, if his men-at-arms,

Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.s The wealth of England, or due honours done To Elinor, may quite his favourites.

"I find, &c.--an obvious compliment to Queen ElizaBut all this while what say you to the dames

beth, but not half so fulsome and extravagant as many That shine like to the crystal lamps of heaven?

at the conclusion of plays acted previous to her death.

--DODSLEY (ed. 1825). Emp. If but a third were added to these two,

2 Brutus, grandson of Æneas, the fabulous founder of They did surpass those gorgeous images

New Troy or London. That gloried Ida with rich beauty's woalth. 3 rail-lower; Fr. araler, to descend, let down, aral,

down; Lat. ad, to, tallis, a valley.

* jouissance, Fr.-enjoyment. 1 relt or guard. Wells are borders or edging, guards 5 Omme tulit, &c.--Green's favourite motio, from trimmings or facings.

Horace's Ars Poet., 343. "He who mixes the useful ? pair-pack.

3 lets-hinders. with the agreeable carries the applause of all.'

CHRISTOPHER MARLOW E.

[The materials for a biography of Christopher Marlowe are even scantier than in the case of the three dramatists whom we have previously noticed. The facts of his life can be told in a very few words. He was the son of John Marlowe, a shoemaker, and was born at Canterbury in February 1563-4. Probably through the influence of Sir Roger Manwood, a Kentish gentleman, and Chief Baron of the Exchequer, Marlowe was admitted to the King's School at Canterbury ; after remaining at which for a number of years, he proceeded to Cambridge, matriculating as Pensioner of Benet College, March 17, 1580-1. Here he took his degree of B.A. in 1583, and that of M.A. in 1587, previous to which he had probably written his tragedy of Tamberlaine the Great. It must have been shortly after, if not some time previous to 1587, that Marlowe went to London, where, according to an early biographer, his first connection with the drama was as an actor. This vocation, however, he had ere long to resign, as, according to a curious ballad entitled The Atheist's Tragedie, written shortly after Marlowe's death, and of which he is the hero,

• He brake his leg in one lewd scene,

When in his early age.' From this time till his early and sad death in 1593, he gained his livelihood entirely by his pen, writing dramas, poems, and translations. In the words of the ballad above-mentioned

A poet was he of repute,

And wrote full many a play;
Now strutting in a silken suit,

Then begging by the way.' There can be no doubt that he gave himself up unrestrainedly to the riotous living indulged in by so many of his contemporaries, spending his time and his money in the company of such wild spirits as Peele, Greene, and Nash. In the burial register of the parish church of St. Nicholas, Deptford, is the following entry :-“Christopher Marlow, slaine by ffrancis Archer, the 1 of June, 1593.' The manner of his death is told by William Vaughan, in The Golden Grove (A.D. 1600). “It so happened, that at Deptford, a little village about three miles from London, as he (Marlowe) meant to stab with his poignard one named Ingram (Archer) that had invited him thither to a feast, and was then playing at tables ; he (Archer) quickly perceiving it, so avoided the thrust, that withal drawing out his dagger for his own defence, he stabbed this Marlowe into the eye in such sort, that his brains coming out at the dagger's point, he shortly after died.' Another authority says that it was Marlowe's own dagger which Archer turned against him; and from Meres's Wit's Treasury we learn that Archer was 'a bawdy serving man, a rival of his lewd love.' Marlowe appears to have paid little heed to the warning of his former companion Greene, whose wretched death occurred only a year before. Appended to Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, is an address, "To those gentlemen, his quondam acquaintance, who spend their wits in making plays.' As throwing some light on Marlowe's life and character, we shall quote here the part which refers to him :

'If wofull experience may mooue you, gentlemen, to beware, or vnheard-of wretchednes intreat you to take heed, I doubt not but you will look backe with sorrow on your time past,

G

and endeuour with repentance to spend that which is to come. Wonder not (for with thee will I first beginne), thou famous gracer of tragedians [i.e. Marlowe), that Green, who hath said with thee, like the foole in his heart, “ There is no God,” should now giue glorie vnto his greatnesse ; for penetrating is his power, his hand lyes heauy vpon me, He hath spoken vnto me with a voyce of thunder, and I haue felt He is a God that can punish enemies. Why should thy excellent wit, his gift, be so blinded that thou shouldest giue no glory to the giuer? Is it pestilent Machiuilian policie that thou hast studied ? O peevish follie! what are his rules but meere confused mockeries, able to extirpate in small time the generation of mankinde? for if sic volo, sic iubeo, holde in those that are able to commaund, and if it be lawfull fas et nefas, to doo any thing that is beneficiall, onely tyrants should possesse the earth, and they, striuing to exceed in tiranny, should ech to other be a slaughterman, till, the mightyest outliuing all, one stroke were left for Death, that in one age man's life should end. The brocher of this dyabolicall atheisme is dead, and in his life had neuer the felicitie he aymed at, but, as he beganne in craft, liued in feare, and ended in dispaire. Quam inscrutabilia sunt Dei judicia! This murderer of many brethren had his conscience seared like Cayne ; this betrayer of Him that gaue his life for him inherited the portion of Judas; this apostate perished as ill as Julian : and wilt thou, my friend, be his disciple ! Looke vnto mee, by him perswaded to that libertie, and thou shalt finde it an infernall bondage. I know the least of my demerits merit this miserable death ; but wilfull striuing against knowne truth exceedeth all the terrors of my soule. Deferre not (with mee) till this last point of extremitie; for little knowest thou how in the end thou shalt be visited.'

Here it will be seen that Greene charges Marlowe with atheism. The same charge is repeated by Beau in his Theatre of God's Judgments (1597), who also asserts that he wrote a book against the Trinity, “affirming the Holy Bible to be but vain and idle stories, and all religion but a device of policy.' Similar charges were brought against him by contemporary and immediately succeeding writers, and their truth has generally been believed in to a greater or less extent by most of his biographers. What weight is to be given to these assertions it is impossible now to say ; but altogether the evidence leads us to believe that Marlowe was an avowed disbeliever in the divine authorship of the Bible, and the supernatural origin of Christianity, and that he rather liked to parade his disbelief in an offensive and coarse manner ; but whether he professed to have any rational ground for this scepticism, or whether it was merely the result of bitterness, conceit, and licentiousness, we cannot make out. He, as was the case with most of his companions, certainly led the life of one who neither believed in God, nor respected himself nor his fellow-men ; but whose only creed was eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die.'

Marlowe appears to have been a favourite with his companions, among whom he was familiarly known as ‘Kit Marlowe,' and even by his contemporaries his surpassing genius seems to have been recognised. Peele, in the prologue to the Honour of the Garter, apostrophizes him thus :

• Unhappy in thine end, Marley, the Muses' darling for thy verse, Fit to write passions for the souls below,

If any wretched souls in passion speak.' Marlowe's dramas, like those of most of his contemporaries, are very unequal in merit, they are wanting in coherence, and in orderliness and definiteness of plan, and are occasionally marked by bombast and silliness. As a whole, however, they are characterized by such extraordinary vigour, power, and passion, so great boldness and exuberant richness of imagination, and by such well-marked, consistent, and striking portraiture of character, as to entitle him in these respects to be placed above all his contemporaries, and among the very few who were second to Shakespeare. Had Marlowe lived longer, and given his high powers fair play—which he never did—he would undoubtedly, in the words of Dyce, 'have made a much nearer approach in tragedy to Shakespeare than has yet been made by any of his countrymen.' We have selected from Marlowe's dramas his Edward the

1 'Probably Francis Kennet, A.M., of Winmendham in Norfolk, who was bred at Benet College, and in 1589 was burnt for holding detestable opinions concerning Christ.'-MALONE.

Second, written, according to Warton, in the year 1590, and first printed in 1598. As a whole it is considered the most perfectly constructed of his plays ; 'there is no overdoing of character, no turgidity of language.' "The reluctant pangs of abdicating royalty,' says Charles Lamb, 'in Edward, furnished hints which Shakespeare scarce improved in his Richard II. ; and the death-scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene ancient or modern with which I am acquainted.' The tragedy of Faustus, probably written about 1587 or 1588, is altogether so remarkable, and contains passages of such superabundant power, that any selection from Marlowe, or any collection of specimens of the Elizabethan drama, would be altogether defective without it. We have therefore selected the greater part of it for publication, from the earliest known edition, that of 1604, amending it in a few places from that of 1616; even this early edition, however, had been touched up and added to by the playwrights of the time, as ‘in consequence of having been repeatedly performed, it had somewhat palled upon the audience. The words of Hazlitt are specially applicable to Faustus : "There is a lust of power, a hunger and thirst after unrighteousness, a glow of the imagination, unhallowed by anything but its own energies. His thoughts burn within him like a furnace with bickering flames, or throwing out black smoke and mists, that hide the dawn of genius, or, like a poisonous mineral, corrode the heart. 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.' In the details of the story, Marlowe followed closely the prose romance entitled History of Doctor Faustus, published some time before. Besides those already mentioned, the other dramas attributed to Marlowe are The Jew of Malta, written about 1589, but not published till 1633 ; The Massacre at Paris, written not long before the author's death, and first published about 1596. Marlowe appears also to have commenced a tragedy entitled Dido, which was finished for the stage by Nash, after his death. These are all the dramas that can be certainly attributed to Marlowe, although it is not improbable that others of his composition have either been lost or have been attributed to others. Marlowe also translated Hero and Leander, Ovid's Elegies, and the first book of Lucan.]

THE TROUBLESOME REIGN AND LAMENTABLE DEATH

OF EDWARD THE SECOND, KING OF ENGLAND:

WITH THE TRAGICAL FALL OF PROUD MORTIMER: AND

ALSO THE LIFE AND DEATH OF PEIRS GAVESTON, THE
GREAT EARL OF CORNWALL, AND MIGHTY FAVOURITE
OF KING EDWARD THE SECOND:1

AS IT WAS PUBLICLY ACTED BY THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF

PEMBROKE HIS SERVANTS.

WRITTEN BY CHRI. MARLOW, GENT.

Imprinted at London by Richard Bradocke, for William Jones, dwelling near Holborn conduit,

at the sign of the Gun. 1598.

Dramatis Persone. King EDWARD THE SECOND.

BEAUMONT. PRINCE EDWARD, his Son, afterwards King Educard TRUSSEL. the Third.

GURNEY. KENT, Brother to King Edward the Second. MATREVIS. GAVESTON.

LIGHTBORN. ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.

Sir JOHN OF HAINAULT. BISHOP OF COVENTRY.

LEVUNE, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER.

RICE AP HOWEL. WARWICK.

Abbot. LANCASTER,

Monks. PEMBROKE.

Herald. ARUNDEL.

Lords, Poor Men, JAMES, Mower, Champion, LEICESTER,

Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants.
BERKELEY.
MORTIMER the elder.

QUEEN ISABELLA, wife to King Edward the Second. MORTIMER the younger, his Nephew.

Nieco to King Edward the Second, Daughter to SPENSER the elder.

the Duke of Gloucester. SPENSER the younger, his Son.

Ladies. BALDOCK.

The Scene lies in England and France.

The king, upon whose bosom let me die,
Enter GAVESTON, reading a letter.

And with the world be still at enmity.
Gav. My father is deceas'd. Come, Gavestone, What need the arctic people love star-light,
And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend. To whom the sun shines both by day and night?
Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight! Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers!
What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston

My kuee shall bow to none but to the king. Than live and be the favourite of a king! As for the multitude, that aro but sparks, Sweet prince, I come! these, these thy amorous

Rak'd up in embers of their poverty, lines

[France, Tanti, -I'll fawna first on the wind, Might have enforc'd me to have swin from That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away. And, like Leander, gasp'd upon the sand,

Enter three Poor Mer. So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine

But how now! what are these? The sight of London to my exil'd eyes

Poor Men. Such as desiro your worship's Is as Elysium to a new-come soul:

service. Not that I love the city or the men,

Gar. What caust thou do? But that it harbours him I hold so dear,

| Tanti-compare Fuimus Troes, 1603: 1 The action of this play includes the whole of the

"No kingly menace or censorious frowne reign of Edward 11., comiencing with the recall of

Doo I regard. Tunti for all your power." Gaveston, which happened before the funeral of

Sie F 3-DICE. Edward 1.

fawon-Dodsley reads 'fan.'

arms.

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