Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

the statute. I warrant you, he's as yeomanly a man as you shall see: mark you, masters, here's a plain honest man, without welt or guard. But I pray you, sir, do you come lately from hell?

Dev. Ay, marry: how then?

Miles. Faith, 'tis a place I have desired long to see: have you not good tippling-houses there? May not a man have a lusty fire there, a pot of good ale, a pair of cards, a swinging piece of chalk, and a brown toast that will clap a white waistcoat on a cup of good drink?

Dev. All this you may have there. Miles. You are for me, friend, and I am for you. But, I pray you, may I not have an office there?

Dev. Yes, a thousand: what wouldst thou be? Miles. By my troth, sir, in a place where I may profit myself. I know hell is a hot place, and men are marvellous dry, and much drink is spent there; I would be a tapster.

Der. Thou shalt.

Miles. There's nothing lets me from going with you, but that 'tis a long journey, and I have never a horse.

Dev. Thou shalt ride on my back.

Miles. Now surely here's a courteous devil, that, for to pleasure his friend, will not stick to make a jade of himself.-But I pray you, goodman friend, let me move a question to you. Dev. What's that?

Miles. I pray you, whether is your pace a trot or an amble?

Der. An amble.

Miles. 'Tis well; but take heed it be not a trot: but no matter, I'll prevent it.

Dev. What dost?

[Puts on spurs. Miles. Marry, friend, I put on my spurs; for if I find your pace either a trot or else uneasy, I'll put you to a false gallop; I'll make you feel the benefit of my spurs.

Dev. Get up upon my back.

[MILES mounts on the Devil's back. Miles. O Lord, here's even a goodly marvel, when a man rides to hell on the devil's back!

[Exeunt, the devil roaring. Enter the EMPEROR with a pointless sword; next the KING OF CASTILE carrying a sword with a point; LACY carrying the globe; PRINCE EDWARD; WARREN carrying a rod of gold with a dove on it; ERMSBY with a crown and sceptre; PRINCESS ELINOR with MARGARET Countess of Lincoln on her left hand; KING HENRY, BACON, and Lords attending.

P. Edw. Great potentates, earth's miracles for state,

Think that Prince Edward humbles at your feet,
And, for these favours, on his martial sword
He vows perpetual homage to yourselves,
Yielding these honours unto Elinor.

K. Hen. Gramercies, lordings; old Plantagenet,
That rules and sways the Albion diadem,
With tears discovers these conceived joys,
And vows requital, if his men-at-arms,
The wealth of England, or due honours done
To Elinor, may quite his favourites.
But all this while what say you to the dames
That shine like to the crystal lamps of heaven?
Emp. If but a third were added to these two,
They did surpass those gorgeous images
That gloried Ida with rich beauty's wealth.

[blocks in formation]

Mar. "Tis I, my lords, who humbly on my knee
Must yield her orisons to mighty Jove
For lifting up his handmaid to this state;
Brought from her homely cottage to the court,
And grac'd with kings, princes, and emperors,
To whom (next to the noble Lincoln Earl)
I vow obedience, and such humble love
As may a handmaid to such mighty men.
P. Elin. Thou martial man that wears the
Almain crown,

And you the western potentates of might,
The Albion princess, English Edward's wife,
Proud that the lovely star of Fressingfield,
Fair Margaret, Countess to the Lincoln Earl,
Attends on Elinor,-gramercies, lord, for her,-
'Tis I give thanks for Margaret to you all,
And rest for her due bounden to yourselves.

K. Hen. Seeing the marriage is solemnised,
Let's march in triumph to the royal feast.-
But why stands Friar Bacon here so mute?

Bacon. Repentant for the follies of my youth, That magic's secret mysteries misled, And joyful that his royal marriage Portends such bliss unto this matchless realm. K. Hen. Why, Bacon,

What strange event shall happen to this land? Or what shall grow from Edward and his queen?

Bacon. I find by deep prescience of mine art,
Which once I temper'd in my secret cell,
That here where Brute did build his Troynovant,
From forth the royal garden of a king
Shall flourish out so rich and fair a bud,
Whose brightness shall deface proud Phoebus'
flower,

And overshadow Albion with her leaves.
Till then Mars shall be master of the field,
But then the stormy threats of wars shall cease:
The horse shall stamp as careless of the pike,
Drums shall be turn'd to timbrels of delight;
With wealthy favours plenty shall enrich
The strand that gladded wandering Brute to see,
And peace from heaven shall harbour in these
leaves

That gorgeous beautify this matchless flower:
Apollo's heliotropion then shall stoop,
And Venus' hyacinth shall vail3 her top;
Juno shall shut her gilliflowers up,
And Pallas' bay shall 'bash her brightest green;
Ceres' carnation, in consórt with those,
Shall stoop and wonder at Diana's rose.

K. Hen. This prophecy is mystical.-
But, glorious commanders of Europa's love,
That make fair England like that wealthy isle
Circled with Gihon and first Euphrates,
In royalizing Henry's Albion

With presence of your princely mightiness,-
Let's march: the tables all are spread,
And viands, such as England's wealth affords,
Are ready set to furnish out the boards.
You shall have welcome, mighty potentates:
It rests to furnish up this royal feast,
Only your hearts be frolic; for the time
Craves that we taste of naught but jouissance:♦
Thus glories England over all the west.

[Exeunt omnes.

Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.

1 I find, &c.—an obvious compliment to Queen Elizabeth, but not half so fulsome and extravagant as many at the conclusion of plays acted previous to her death. -DODSLEY (ed. 1825).

2 Brutus, grandson of Eneas, the fabulous founder of New Troy or London.

3 rail-lower; Fr. avaler, to descend, let down, aral, down; Lat. ad, to, vallis, a valley.

4 jouissance, Fr.-enjoyment.

5 Omme tulit, &c.-Green's favourite motto, from Horace's Ars Poet., 343. He who mixes the useful with the agreeable carries the applause of all.'

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE.

[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 genera tion 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.'

[ocr errors]

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 imagi nation, 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.

[blocks in formation]

Enter GAVESTON, reading a letter.

Gar. My father is deceas'd. Come, Gavestone,
And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend.
Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight!
What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston
Than live and be the favourite of a king!
Sweet prince, I come! these, these thy amorous
lines
[France,
Might have enforc'd me to have swum from
And, like Leander, gasp'd upon the sand,

So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine

arms.

The sight of London to my exil'd eyes

Is as Elysium to a new-come soul:

Not that I love the city or the men,

But that it harbours him I hold so dear,

1 The action of this play includes the whole of the reign of Edward II., commencing with the recall of Gaveston, which happened before the funeral of Edward I.

The king, upon whose bosom let me die,
And with the world be still at enmity.
What need the arctic people love star-light,
To whom the sun shines both by day and night?
Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers!
My knee shall bow to none but to the king.
As for the multitude, that are but sparks,
Rak'd up in embers of their poverty,-
Tanti, -I'll fawn first on the wind,
That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away.
Enter three Poor Men.

But how now! what are these?
Poor Men. Such as desire your worship's

service.

Gav. What canst thou do?

1 Tanti-compare Fuimus Troes, 1603:

No kingly menace or censorious frowne
Doc I regard. Tanti for all your power.'
Sig. F 3-DYCK
fawn-Dodsley reads 'fan.'

« ZurückWeiter »