UN EXPURGATED EDITJ< .:>!:;GO V m && , " >cteo Ac THE fME1(fMAI < D SERIES, EDITED BY HAVELOCK ELLIS. THE BEST PLAYS OF THE OLD DRAMATISTS. CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. In Half-Crown Monthly Volumes uniform with the present Work. THE MERMAID SERIES. IHE BEST PLAYS OF THE OLD DRAMATISTS. Th: following will be among the earlier Volumes of the Series : MARLOWE. Edited by HAVELOCK ELLIS. With a General Introduction by J. A. SYMONDS. MASSINGER. Edited by ARTHUR SYMONS. MIDDLETON. With an Introduction by A. C. SWINBURNE. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER (2 voK). Edited by J. ST. LOK STRACHEY. DEKKER. Edited by ERNEST RHYS. WEBSTER & CYRIL TOURNEUR. EditedbyJ. A. SYMONDS. SHIRLEY. Edited by EDMUND GOSSE. OTWAY. Edited by the Hon. RODEN NOEL. FORD. Edited by HAVELOCK ELLIS. THOMAS HEYWOOD. Edited by J. A. SYMONDS. From the pictwe al Duhvich Colleqe Vn ilted "bj Chardon 3aAt THE BEST PLAYS OF THE OLD DRAMATISTS. CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE EDITED BY HAVELOCK ELLIS. WITH A GENERAL INTRODUCTION ON THE ENGLISH DRAMA DURING THE REIGNS OF ELIZABETH AND JAMES /. BY J. A. SYMONDS. I lie and dream of your full MSRMAID wins." Beaumont, UNEXPURGATtD EDITION. LONDON : V1ZETELLY& CO., 42, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. 1887. " What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have been So nimble, and so full, of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole w'.t in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life." Master Francis Beaumont to Ben Jonson. " Souls of Poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern ? " Keats. LONDON : BRAHBUFY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. CONTENTS. GENERAL INTRODUCTION . CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE . TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT ,, PART THE FIRST . ,, PART THE SECOND . THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS THE JEW OF MALTA . . . . EDWARD THE SECOND . APPENDIX I'AGE vii i 8? 169 229 321 423 GENERAL INTRODUCTION. ON THE DRAMA OF ELIZABETH AND JAMES CONSIDERED AS THE MAIN PRODUCT OF THE RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND. O much has been written about the origins of the Drama in England, that it will suffice to touch but briefly on this topic. The English, like other Euro- pean nations, composed and acted Miracle Plays upon the events of sacred history and the main doctrines of the Church. Embracing the whole drama of humanity, from the Creation of the World to the Last Judg- ment, these Miracles, of which we possess several well-preserved specimens, might rather be regarded as immense epics scenically presented to an audience, than as plays with a plot and action. Yet cer- tain episodes in the lengthy cycle, such for example as the Entrance of Noah into the Ark, the Sacrifice of Isaac, Nativity of our Lord, the story of the Woman taken viii GENERAL INTRODUCTION. in Adultery, and the Repentance of Magdalen, detached themselves from the main scheme, and became the subjects of free dramatic handling. In this way the English people were familiarized at an early period with tragedy and comedy in the rough, while preparation was made for the emergence of the secular Drama as a specific form of art. Before this happened, however, a second stage had to be accomplished. Between the Miracle Play and the Drama intervened the Morality and the Interlude. The former was a peculiar species of representation, in which abstract conceptions and the personages of allegory were introduced in action under the forms of men and women. The tone of such pieces remained purely didactic, and their machinery was clumsy ; yet their authors found it impossible to deal dramatically with Youth and Pleasure, Sin, Grace, and Repentance, the Devil and Death, without developing dialogue, marking character, and painting the incidents of real life. Thus the Morality led to the Interlude, which completed the disengagement of the drama from religious aims, and brought various types of human nature on the stage. The most remark- able specimen of this kind now extant may be mentioned. It is the elder Heyvvood's Three P's, in which a Pardoner, a Pedlar, and a Palmer, three characteristic figures among contemporary vagrants and impostors, are vividly delineated. From the Interlude to Farce and Comedy there was but a GENERAL INTRODUCTION. ix short step to take ; and in England the earliest plays, properly so-called, were of a humorous des- cription. At the same time, tragedy began to form itself out of serious pieces detached in detail from the Miracle Plays. Godly Queen Esther, King Darius, The Conversion of St. Paul, and so forth, smoothed the way for secul-ar dramas upon subjects chosen from history and legend. The process of dramatic evolution which I have briefly sketched, had reached this point before the new learning of the Italian Renaissance penetrated English society. The people were accustomed to scenic representations, and had traced the outlines of what was afterwards to become the Romantic or Shakespearian drama. At this point the attention of cultivated people was directed to the Latin and Italian theatre. Essayists like Sir Philip Sidney, poets like Lord Buckhurst and Thomas Norton, tried by their precepts and their practice to introduce the classical style of dramatic composition into England. They severely criticized the rhymed plays in which the populace delighted, the involved tales roughly versified for declamation by actors in the yards of inns, nd the incongruous blending of rude farce with pathetic or passionate incident. It seemed for a time as though these " courtly makers " might divert the English Drama from its spontaneously chosen path into the precise and formal channels of pedantic imitation. The aris- tocracy and learned coteries delighted in tragedies x GENERAL INTRODUCTION. like Gorboduc, or The Misfortunes of Arthur, which followed the model of Seneca, and competed with famous Italian masterpieces. But neither the nobility nor the universities were destined to control the theatre in England. That had already become a possession of the people ; and the people remained true to the traditions of their native though un- cultivated type of art. What men like Sidney, Sackville, Norton and Hughes, effected, was in the main a certain heightening of the sense of dramatic dignity. They forced playwrights to regard princi- ples of composition, propriety of diction, and har- mony of parts, to some extent at least, in the construction of both tragedies and comedies. Furthermore, they indicated blank verse, or the unrhymed decasyllabic iambic, as the proper metre for the stage. Meanwhile our drama continued to advance upon the romantic as opposed to the classical type of art ; and since the phrase romantic is one of great importance, I must pause to explain in what sense I use it. Three personages in one of the earlier comedies preserved to us are introduced discussing the English theatre. One of these .observes that though plays are represented every day in Lon- don, they are " neither right comedies nor right tragedies," but " representations of histories without any decorum." The phrase, although contemp- tuous, was accurate ; for the Romantic Drama observed no rules and cared for no scholastic GENERAL INTRODUCTION, xi precedents. It only aimed at presenting a tale or history in scenes ; and the most accurate definition of the plays which it produced is that they were stories told in dialogue by actors on the stage. Nothing that had the shape and interest of a story came amiss to the romantic playwright ; and his manner did not greatly differ in the treatment of pure farce, pathetic episode, or chronicle of past events. Thus there sprang up several species of dramatic composition in England, marked by a common artistic handling. These may be briefly enumerated as chronicle plays on English history, biographical plays on the lives of English worthies, tragedies borrowed from Roman history and Italian novels, tragedies based on domestic crimes' of recent occurrence, comedies imitated from Latin and modern European literature, broad realistic farces, fanciful pieces partaking of the nature of the Masque or Ballet, pastorals of the Arcadian type, and classical mythologies. The one point, as I have already remarked, which the playwright kept steadily in view, was to sustain the interest of his audience, and to excite their curiosity by a succes- sion of entertaining incidents. He did not mind mixing tragedy with comedy or kings with peasants, and set at naught the so-called unities of classical tradition. His paramount object was to feel and make his audience feel the reality of life exceedingly, and to evoke living men and women from the miscellaneous mass of fables which lay xit GENERAL INTRODUCTION. open to him in classical, medieval, and modern literature. Some spirited lines of the younger Heywood may here be quoted, as aptly describing the vast tracts over which the dramatists in their first ardour ranged in search of subjects : " To give content to this most curious age, The gods themselves we have brought down to the stage, And figured them in planets ; made even Hell Deliver up the Furies, by no spell, (Saving the Muse's rapture); further, we Have trafficked by their help ; no history We have left unrifled, our pens have been dipped As well in opening each hid manuscript, As tracts more vulgar, whether read or sung In our domestic or more foreign tongue ; Of fairy elves, nymphs of the sea and land, The lawns and groves, no number can be scanned Which we have not given feet to, nay, 'tis known That when our chronicles have barren grown Of story, we have all invention stretched, Dived low as to the centre, and then reached Unto \h& primuin mobile above, (Nor 'scaped things intermediate) for your love ; These have been acted often, all have passed Censure, of which some live, and some are cast." A group of cultivated men, chiefly members of the Universities, began soon after 1580 to give something like the form of high art to our romantic drama. These were Richard Edwards, George Whetstone, John Lyly, Robert Greene, George Peele, Thomas Lodge, and Thomas Nash. It is not my business to characterize their works in detail, since they will probably be made the subjects of special treatment in this series. Their chief GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xiii importance, however, may be indicated. This con- sists in their having contributed to the formation of Marlowe's dramatic style. It was he who irrevo- cably decided the destinies of the romantic drama ; and the whole subsequent evolution of that species, including Shakespeare's work, can be regarded as the expansion, rectification and artistic ennoblement of the type fixed by Marlowe's epoch-making tragedies. In very little more than fifty years from the publication of Tamburlaine, our drama had run its course of unparalleled energy and splendour. Expanding like a many-petalled flower of marvel- lous complexity and varied colours, it developed to the utmost every form of which the romantic species is capable, and left to Europe a mass of work invariably vivid, though extremely unequal, over which of course the genius of Shakespeare rules supreme. He stands alone, and has no second ; but without the multifarious excellences of Jonson, Webster, Heywood, Beaumont, Fletcher, Ford, Massinger, and a score whom it would be tedious to enumerate, the student would have to regard Shakespeare as an inexplicable prodigy, instead of as the central sun of a luminous sidereal system. In the short space of this prefatory essay, I can- not attempt to sketch the history of the drama, or to criticize the various schools of style which were formed in the course of its passage from maturity to decadence. It must be enough for me to indi- cate in what way the genius of the English nation xiv GENERAL INTRODUCTION. expressed itself through this form of art at the epoch when the Reformation had been accomplished, the attacks of Spain repulsed, and the new learning of the Renaissance assimilated. England, alone of European nations, received the influences of both Renaissance and Reformation simultaneously. These two great movements of the modern intellect, which closed the Middle Ages, and opened a new period of mental culture for the Western nations, have to be regarded as distinct because their issues were different, and they were severally accomplished by Latin and Teutonic races. Yet both Renaissance and Reformation had a common starting-point in humanism ; both needed the revival of learning for their motive force ; both effected a liberation of the spirit from authority, superstition and decadent ideals. In the one case this liberation of the modern spirit expressed itself through new conceptions of social culture, new theories of the state, new systems of education, new arts, new sciences, and new philosophies. It was the emancipation of the reason ; and we call it Renaissance. In the other case it assumed a more religious and political aspect, issuing in the revival of pure Christianity, revolt against the Papacy as a dominant force, and assertion of national inde- pendence. It was the emancipation of the con- science ; and we call it Reformation. No sooner had these two movements been defined, than they entered on a phase of mutual hostility ; not indeed GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xv because they were essentially antagonistic, or because they could not show a common origin, but because they expressed the tendencies of broadly differing races, and had in view divergent ideals. The Italians, to whom we owe the Renaissance, were careless about ecclesiastical reform, and sceptical as to the restoration of Christianity from its primitive sources. The Germans, who started the Reformation, were so preoccupied with things of deeper moment, that they sacrificed the culture of the Renaissance. Then Reformation generated Counter- Reformation. The Catholic reaction, led by Rome and championed by Spain, set in. Europe was involved in a series of religious wars, which impeded the tran- quil evolution of. the intellect on either line. So much had to be prefaced in order to explain the mental position of England. Some time before the Catholic Powers assumed their attitude of panic-stricken and belligerent re- action, Henry VIII. committed the nation to Pro- testantism ; and at the same time the new learning began to penetrate society. The English people cast off obedience to Rome in doctrine, and as- sumed Italian humanism, simultaneously. The Reformation had been adopted by the consent of King, Lords and Commons ; and this change in the state-religion, though it was not confirmed without reaction, agitation, and bloodshed, cost the nation comparatively little disturbance. The new learning, xvi GENERAL INTRODUCTION. derived from the revival of antiquity, had already permeated Italian and French literature. Classical erudition had been adapted to the needs of modern thought ; the chief Greek and Latin authors had been translated into modern languages ; the masterpieces of antiquity were interpreted and made intelligible. English scholars, trained upon the new method by private tutors or in the now regenerated public schools, began at once to trans- late the poets and historians of antiquity and of Italy into the vernacular. French books were widely read ; the best authors of Spain were assi- milated ; and Germany supplied her legendary stores and grotesque satires to the growing culture of our race. Meanwhile the authorized version of the Bible, which had recently been given to the public, proved the dignity and flexibility of the mother- tongue, and supplied the laity at once with the ori- ginal sources of sacred erudition. Before the date of Marlowe these vast collections had been made, and we were in possession of all the materials for build- ing up a mighty edifice of literary art. Little at this period had been accomplished in pure poetry. It is true that Wyat, Surrey and Sidney had accli- matized the sonnet ; that blank verse had been introduced ; and that Spenser was just giving his noble epic to the world. But the people in its youth- ful vigour under Tudor Sovereigns, conscious of a great deliverance from Rome, and of a bracing struggle with reactionary powers in Europe, needed GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xvii some wider, some more comprehensive sphere for the display of its native genius ; and this it found in the romantic drama, to which, notwithstanding the efforts of students and polite persons, it adhered with the pertinacity of instinct. This drama, its own original creation, stood to the English nation in the place of all the other arts. It became for us the embodiment of that Renaissance which had given sculpture, painting, architecture and a gorgeous undergrowth of highly-coloured poetry to the Italians. England, sharing the impulse com- municated to thought by southern Renaissance and northern Reformation, needed no sesthetical outlet but the drama, and had to expend her forces upon no distracting struggles of religion. Just as the Romantic Drama was a home- product of the English people, so the method of presenting plays in London, and the material conditions of the stage, were eminently homely. It had been customary during the Middle Ages to exhibit Miracles upon wooden platforms or move- able waggons, which were set up in the market- places of towns, or on the turfed enclosures of abbatial buildings. Moralities and Interludes were shown publicly during civic entertainments, or privately at the request of companies assembled in some noble dwelling ; a portion of the hall being devoted for the nonce to wandering actors. The interesting history- play of Sir Thomas More gives a lively picture of the way in Mar. /' xviii GENERAL INTRODUCTION. which the Moral Interlude was exhibited before a select audience of the Chancellor's family. Mean- while, when secular dramas, intended for the delectation of the people at large, began to emerge from the Moralities, it became customary to use the yards of inns, bear-gardens, and such places for their performance. This led by gradual degrees to the establishment of regular theatres, which, though they were violently opposed by the muni- cipal authorities, and inveighed against from the pulpit, contrived to root themselves in the suburbs, along the further bank of the Thames, and in the fields toward Shoreditch. Even the best London "theatres between the years 1580 and 1630 were simple wooden buildings, round or hexagonal in shape. The larger stood open to the air ; the smaller were roofed in. The former had the name of public, the latter of private houses. Per- formances took place in the afternoon, usually at three o'clock. Scenery was almost wholly lacking : thus if Thebes or Verona had to be imagined by the audience, a sign-post bore the name of Thebes or Verona upon a tower of lath and plaster. The stage itself projected so far into the pit or yard, as it was called, that the actors were brought close to the spectators beneath and around them. Play- goers who could afford this luxury, were accommo- dated with stools upon the stage ; others might take boxes or rooms, as they were then termed, just above the heads of the groundlings standing GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xix in the circular space of the yard. Prices varied from threepence for entrance only to about two shillings for the most expensive places in the best theatres. No actresses appeared upon the English boards, and all female parts were played by boys. It was also usual for the choristers of St. Paul's or of the Chapel Royal to perform whole dramas. Some of Jonson's colossal Comedies were first given to the public by these " Children ; " and I may remind students of Shakespeare's Hamlet that the companies of adult actors regarded them as formidable competitors. 1 In reading any master- piece of the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods, these facts should never be forgotten. To the simplicity of the theatres, the absence of scenical resources, and the close contact of the players with their audience, we may ascribe many peculiarities of our Romantic Drama notably its disregard of the unities of time and place, and its eloquent appeals by descriptive passages to the imagination. Its marvellous fecundity in second-rate artistic work, hastily produced and readily neglected, may also be referred to similar circumstances. These considerations explain the extraordinary force, variety, and imaginative splendour of the works poured forth with such prolific energy for the humble theatres of London during the fifty years which followed the great date of 1587. It was a golden time, between the perils of the Armada and 1 Hamlet, Act 2, sc. 2. xx GENERAL INTRODUCTION. the convulsions of the Great Rebellion, just long enough to round and complete a monument of art representative of our national life at its most brilliant period. In order to comprehend the English Renaissance, we must not be satisfied with studying only Shakespeare. We must learn to know his predecessors, contemporaries, and suc- cessors ; that multitude of men inferior to him in stature, but of the same lineage ; each of whom in greater or less degree was inspired with the like genius ; each of whom possessed a clairvoyance into human nature and a power of presenting it vividly to the imagination which can be claimed by no similar group of fellow-workers in the history of any literature now known to us. What, made the play-wrights of that epoch so great as to deserve the phrase which Dryden found for them " Theirs was the giant race before the flood " was that they lived and wrote in fullest sympathy with the whole people. The public to which they appealed was the English nation, from Elizabeth upon the throne down to the lowest ragamuffin of the streets. In the same wooden theatres met lords and ladies, citizens and prentices, sailors and working-men, pickpockets, country-folk, and captains from the wars. The men who wrote for this mixed audience were hampered by no cum- brous stage-properties, by no crushing gorgeous- ness of scenery, by no academical propriety, by no courtly etiquette, by no interference from agents GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xxi of police or spies of a jealous hierarchy. So long as they preserved decorum in the elementary decencies of morals and religion, their hands were free ; and they had the whole spirit of a vividly alive and warmly interested race to stimulate their genius. It is not to be wondered in these circum- stances that men of minor talents rose above their mediocrity ; that sturdy giants like Jonson grew to Titans ; or that a Webster and a Fletcher climbed the clouds at times and took their seat among the gods. If we now ask what is the distinctive mark of this Drama, we may answer in two words : spon- taneity and freedom. It has the spontaneity of an art-product indigenous and native to our soil, though all the culture of the Classics and the Renaissance contributed to make it wealthy. It has the freedom of a great race conscious of their adolescent vigour, the freedom of combatants victorious in a struggle only less momentous than that of Hellas against Persia, the freedom of a land bounded upon all sides by the ocean, the freedom of high-spirited men devoted to a mistress who per- sonified for them the power and majesty of Britain- Its freedom is freedom from pedantry, from servility to scholastic rules, from observance of foreign or antiquated models ; freedom from the dread of political or ecclesiastical oppression ; freedom from courtly obsequiousness and class-prejudices. In use of language, moulding of character, copying xxii GENERAL INTRODUCTION. of manners, and treatment of dramatic themes, no less than in the minor technicalities of versification, each writer stamps a recognizable mint-mark on his own work, without regard to precedent or what the lettered world will think of him. Critics who appreciate the niceties and proprieties which can to some extent be secured by Academical super- vision, may complain that the English Drama suffered from this spontaneity and freedom that it would have attained to fairer proportions if the playwrights had aimed more at correctness, and that posterity could have foregone seven-tenths of their performances if the remaining three-tenths had exhibited maturer art and more patient execution. To deny an underlying truth in this criticism, would be idle. We are bound to acknowledge that the fine qualities of spontaneity and freedom, here displayed so liberally, have their corresponding faults of carelessness, incomplete- ness, and indifference to form. The masterpieces of our Romantic Drama, when the majority of Shakespeare's plays have been excepted, are few in number, so few indeed that they will be adequately represented in the "Mermaid Series." Yet it remains true that even the rank jungle of mediocre work surviving from that epoch is permeated with the same life and freshness, the same juvenile audacity, the same frank touch on nature, the same keen insight into human motives and emotions, as those rarer pieces of accomplished art which GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xxiii deserve to be classed with the monuments of Attic tragedy. It is this stupendous mass of plays, evolved upon the same lines and vivified by one national spirit, which makes our Drama unique. The spontaneity and freedom, again, of which I have been speaking, form so conspicuous a note of Elizabethan literature that when the genius of our race and language takes a new direction under conditions favourable to liberty, as may be seen at large in the history of the present century, poets turn their eyes instinctively to the old dramatists, assimilate their audacities, and do not shun their imperfections. We must, therefore, accept the whole crop of the fifty years from 1587 onwards, en masse, and must study each type of it attentively not demanding too many masterpieces from the total aggregate, nor over-valuing each special product, but recog- nizing the fact that here we possess a quite excep- tional set of specimens for the scientific investigation of a vigorous artistic epoch. In spite of time and neglect, in spite of the fire of London, in spite of Warburton's too-celebrated cook, in spite of maimed editions and atrocious printers' errors, in spite lastly of Puritanical animosity, we have still at our disposal documents for building up the English Drama as a whole, which fail us in the records of any other national Drama of equal magnitude. What would not the scholar give if he could inter- pret the superiority of yEschylus, Sophocles, xxiv GENERAL INTRODUCTION. Euripides, and Aristophanes, in the same way as he can interpret the superiority of Shakespeare and Jonson, by the light of a long series of supple- mentary tragedies and comedies, expressive of one patriotic impulse, from which the greater no less than the minor dramatists of the age in question derived their productive energy ? Regarding then this total mass of plays as the subject-matter of a single critical enquiry, we find first a stage of preparation leading up from the Moralities, through Lyly, Peele, Greene, Nash, and Lodge, to Marlowe. Marlowe fixes the specific type of the Romantic Drama for England. And here the first chapter in our history of the period may be said to close. Dramatic style is created and defined. A second chapter opens with a new set of playwrights, who represent the prime and accomplishment of English theatrical art. Shake- speare reigns supreme here, employing the highest human genius to give the most perfect form to Marlowe's type. Next him towers the saturnine and humorous Titan, Ben Jonson, who broke a path for himself, and ranged only lesser than the greatest, because he separated his spirit from the dominant spirit of the age. What a crowd of worthy coadjutors gather round them ! The un- named authors of Arden of Feversham, and A Yorkshire Tragedy, those grim examples of the poignant realistic manner. Honest Dekker, with his easy-going sensibilities and facile touch on GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xxv human feeling. Ponderous Chapman, smouldering into flame by flashes. Heywood, the master of homely English life, the gentlest of all poets who have swept the chords of passion. Marston, that biting satirist and tense sententious builder of blank verse. As we advance, the crowd thickens ; and a third stage in the evolution of the Drama discloses for us writers who have learned from all their predecessors. Here we meet with Beaumont and Fletcher, inventors of heroical romance, gifted with inexhaustible resources in the rhetoric of tragical and comical situations, abounding in ex- quisite lyrical outpourings of unpremeditated song. Webster rises to Shakespeare's shoulder by his sincerity, nobility, and unerring truth to life in its most thrilling moments. Tourneur, infected by some rankling plague-spot of the soul, approaches him in sombre force ; while Ford, behind them, delves with style of steel on plates of bronze his monumental scenes of spiritual anguish. Massinger, equable student of all literary manners, brings these to a focus in his work of lucid but less pungent craftsmanship. Middleton plays with searching lambent light of talent over the broad dramatic field. Cartwright, Brome, Randolph, Marmion proclaim themselves followers of Jonson in a special kind of comedy. Day invents his own delicate domain of allegorical fancy. Shirley, with more of genial inspiration and a richer vein, follows the same track as Massinger. Sturdy xxvi GENERAL INTRODUCTION. journeymen, like the Rowleys, can be counted almost by the score. And thus we are led onward to a fourth stage this time, one of decadence in which the Crownes and Davenants and Wilsons warn us by their incoherent and exaggerated work- manship, illuminated with occasional sparkles of genuine talent, that every growth of art has its declining no less than its ascending and flourishing periods. Lastly, when we remember that these mutations were accomplished in some fifty years, that every chord in human nature had been touched, that all the resources of our language had been tried, and that the English heroic metre of blank verse had been adapted to the expression of a myriad varying thoughts and feelings, we shall pause astonished by the prodigality of mental vigour in that fruitful epoch. The object of the series to which this inadequate essay forms an introduction, will have been accom- plished, if the English of the Victorian age be induced to study the best pieces of Shakespeare's fellow-workers, and to comprehend how full and how superb a picture they present of the large and noble life of our Elizabethan ancestors. Only in this way can the reading public understand the truth of what I have attempted to establish, namely, that the Drama is the chief artistic utterance of the Renaissance in England, and that in England the Renaissance was permeated with the free pure honest stalwart spirit of the Reformation. Only in GENERAL INTRODUCTION. xxvii this way too will they be able to appreciate the panegyric written of our drama by one of Eng- land's greatest rhetoricians, whose words shall form an apt conclusion to this essay. It is De Quincey who says : " No literature, not excepting even that of Athens, has ever presented such a multiform theatre, such a carnival display, mask and anti- mask, of impassioned life breathing, moving, acting, suffering, laughing : Quicquicl agunt homines : votum, timor, ira, voluptas, Gaudia, discursus all this, but far more truly -and more adequately than was or could be effected in that field of composition which the gloomy satirist contem- plated whatsoever in fact our medieval ancestors exhibited in the ' Dance of Death,' drunk with tears and laughter, may here be reviewed, sceni- cally draped, and gorgeously coloured. What other national Drama can pretend to any com- petition with this ? " JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS. CHILIS TOT HE\ ZMA^LOWE. ARLY in the sixteenth century Erasmus, accompanied by Colet, visited Canterbury. Long after- wards he remembered the cathe- dral and its vast towers that rise ' into the sky " so as to strike awe even at a distant approach," the sweet music of the belfs heard from afar, the " spacious majesty " of the newly completed nave. Here, fifty years later, was born Christopher, sometime called Kit, Marlowe. 1 Meanwhile the spirit of Erasmus, and still more the ruder spirit of Colet, had heralded a revolu- tionary influx of new life. At the head of the movement was set by Providence, in a mood of Rabelaisian gaiety, the figure of Henry VIII. Like another Tamburlaine, Henry VIII. had carried off the rich treasures of Canterbury, the gold and the 1 Thomas Heywood wrote in 1635 : " Mario, renowned for his rare art and wit, Could ne'er attain beyond the name of Kit," xxx CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. jewels, in six-and-twenty carts. The stream of pilgrims no longer passed along the familiar roads ; nothing remained of the shrine of St. Thomas but the bare stones, much as we see them now, worn away by the adoration of so many ages. All that was long ago ; in those days events came fast, and Elizabethan men had a trick of speaking of the near past as remote and antique. On the 26th day of February, 1564, according to the register of the parish church of St. George the Martyr, "was christened Christofer, thesonne of John Marlowe." 1 We cannot tell the boy's dreams among the Kentish hills and fields, or beneath the jewelled windows of the great church in the city that not only still bore about it the lustre of its former sanctity, but was also the chief halting-place of princes and ambassadors who journeyed from the continent to the court of Elizabeth. Perhaps these things touched the youth little ; his own life was too vivid to be concerned much with the antique sanctities at which Colet had laughed. Nor had he mixed largely with men ; he rarely describes the actual external world of men and women ; he had little of Ben Jonson's precise observation, and nothing of Shakespeare's gentle laughter. But every page he wrote reveals a peculiarly intense full-blooded inner life, the quintessence of youthful desires and youthful dreams. His father, it has 1 Shakespeare was christened exactly two months later. Chapman, Green, Peele, and Lyly were all, probably, born some ten years earlier ; Nash and Chettle about the same time as Marlowe ; Heywood about 1570 ; Ben Jonson in 1573. CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. xxxi now been ascertained, besides being " Clarke of St. Maries," was a shoemaker (Christopher appears to have been the second child and eldest son), and shoemakers have sometimes possessed and left to their children a strangely powerful endowment of idealism. He was educated at the King's School, Canterbury. In March, 1581, he matriculated as Pensioner of Benet College (now Corpus Christi), Cambridge ; not having been elected, it seems, to either of the scholarships recently founded at Benet College for King's School boys. In 1583 he obtained his Bachelor's degree. Six years later, in 1589, Francis Kett, a fellow of Marlowe's college, was burnt at Norwich for heresies in regard to certain articles of the Christian faith, such as the Trinity and Christ's divinity. The youthful Marlowe, with his thirst for emancipation, could not fail to fall under the influence of this audacious Francis Kett. How were the years after 1583 spent? There is no reliable evidence. It was asserted, on the unsupported evidence of a late and often inaccurate authority, that he became an actor. It has been conjectured, 1 as of Chapman, that he trailed a pike in the Low Countries, like Ben Jonson. The Eliza- 1 By Colonel Cunningham, who points out that Marlowe's " familiarity with military terms and his fondness for using them are most remarkable," and that at " his home at Canterbury he was in the very track of the bold spirits who [in 1585] followed Leicester and Sidney to the wars of the Low Countries." It may also be pointed out, however, that Marlowe displays, especially in Tambur- laine, a remarkably extensive (though not always accurate) knowledge of Llizabethan geography. His interest in military affairs and in the geography of the world were both manifes'a'ions of the spirit of adventure then in the air. xxxii CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. bethan dramatists had the full Renaissance delight in facts and in the grasp of technical detail ; they appear to have been nearly as careful about their " documents " as contemporary French novelists ; the broad and genial realism of men like Ben Jonson and Middleton and Dekker, sprang from actual contact with the life around them, and young Marlowe's bold spirit may, possibly, have been touched by the impulse of adventure which at that time drew Englishmen into all parts of the world. About the year 1588, Tamburlaine was acted. 1 There is no hesitation in this first work. The young "god of undaunted verse," set free " From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits, And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, " is at once a perfect master of his " great and thunder- ing speech." Gorboduc had been written in blank verse twenty-five years before, and there had been other essays in the use of this new medium of expression ; on the whole, however, it had remained cold and artificial and ill-received. It is an immense leap from the tame pedestrian linesof Gorboduc to the organised verse, with its large swelling music, of Tamburlaine. It was not till later, however, that Marlowe realised the full power and variety of which blank verse is capable. The strong melody of his early verse is simple and little varied ; the chief variation being a kind of blank verse couplet, generally introduced near the end of a speech, in 1 Alleyn took the part of Tamburlaine. For a brief account of this famous actor, whose name is so intimately associated with Marlowe's works, see Appendix. CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. xxxiii which a tumultuous crescendo is followed by a grave and severely iambic line : "And sooner shall the sun fall from his sphere, Than Tamburlaine be slain or overcome." In its later more developed form, Marlowe's "mighty line" is the chief creation of English literary art ; Shakespeare absorbed it, and gave it out again with its familiar cadences in Romeo and Juliet, and later with many broad and lovely modifications. It has become the life-blood of our literature ; Marlowe's place is at the heart of English poetry, and his pulses still thrill in our verse. He obtained his material for Tamburlaine chiefly from Pedro Mexia's Spanish life of Timur, which was published at Seville in 1543, and translated into Italian, French and English. The English translation, known as Fortescue's Foreste, appeared in 1571. Marlowe appears to have supplemented this source by the help of the Vita Magni Tamerlanis of Petrus Perondinus. There is abundant evidence to show the swift and extraordinary popularity of the new play, the work of the first great poet who uses our modern English speech ; for Spenser was archaic even in his own day. The public were intoxicated with the high astounding terms " the swelling bom- bast of a bragging blank verse," as Nash called it of the Scythian conqueror ; not less, perhaps, with the novelty of the play's scenical effects ; and for many years a host of writers, including Shake" speare, laughed at those royal and pampered jades Mar. <- xxxiv CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. of Asia that could not draw but twenty miles a day. The new perfection, however grateful to the old, could not help treading on its heels. For us, however, the wonder of Tambnrlaine, and of Marlowe's work generally, lies in the vivid and passionate blood, in the intensely imaginative form, with which he has clothed the dry bones of his story. He had no power of creative imagina- tion ; Shakespeare borrows his stories, but he freely turns them to his own ends ; Marlowe nearly always clings to his story, but he makes it alive with his own soaring passion. With the exception of Edivard II., which stands alone, Marlowe's dramas are mostly series of scenes held together by the poetic energy of his own dominating personality. He is his own hero, and the san- guinary Scythian utters the deepest secrets of the artist's heart. " What is beauty ? " he asks him- self. " If all the pens that ever poets held Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes ; If all the heavenly quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit ; If these had made one poem's period, And all combined in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest. " Tamburlaine is a divinely strong and eager- hearted poet, and these words are the key to his career. He sees for ever an unattainable loveliness CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. xxxv beckoning him across the world, and how can his ardent blood rest " attemptless, faint and destitute ? " " Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest, Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, " the rest is Scythian bathos. Like Shelley, in some prior state of existence he had loved an Antigone, and he cannot stay. But like Keats also he has an intense feeling for the imaginative show and colour of things, of milk-white steeds laden with the heads of slain men, and " Besmeared with blood that makes a dainty show," of naked negroes, of bassoes clothed in crimson silk, of Turkey carpets beneath the chariot wheels, and of a hundred kings or more with " so many crowns of burnished gold." He is intoxicated with the physical splendours of imagination, with the vast and mysterious charm of old-world cities, of Bagdad and Babylon and Samarcand. " ' And ride in triumph through Persepolis ! ' Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles ? Usumcasane and Theridamas, Is it not -passing brave to be a king, ' And ride in triumph through Persepolis?' " With this song of radiant joy in the unattain- able, young Kit Marlowe, like another Christopher, sailed to discover countries yet unknown, to attain the "sweet fruition " of his crown. xxxvi CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. Not long after Tamburlaine, appeared the Tragical History of Doctor Faustus^ The legend of a man who sells his soul to the Devil seems to have appeared about the sixth century, and to have floated down the Middle Ages in many forms ; in one form it was used by Calderon in El Magico Prodigioso. In the early part of the sixteenth century it became identified with a Doctor Faustus, who practised necromancy, and was the friend of Paracelsus and Cornelius Agrippa. Conrad Muth the Humanist came across a magician at Erfurt called Georgius Faustus Hemitheus of Heidel- berg. Trithemius, in 1506, found a Faustus junior who boasted that if all the works of Plato and Aristotle were burnt he could restore them from memory. Melanchthon knew a Johannes Faustus bom at Knutlingen, in Wurtemberg, not far from his own home, who studied magic 2 at 1 The exact date is very doubtful. Mr. Bullen, in his generally admirable edition of Marlowe, thinks that the " Ballad of the life and death of Doctor Faustus the great Cungerer," licensed to be printed in Feb. 1589 (and supposed to be identical with the Roxburghe ballad with this title), was probably founded on the play. The ballad tells us that Faustus was educated by his uncle, who left his wealth to him, and gives details of his death. These and other points are not mentioned in the play, but they occur in the original prose History of Dr. Faustus, on which the ballad was certainly founded. The writer of the ballad passes by the most impressive scenes in the play, and we cannot assume that he was acquainted with it, although Professor Ward (in the full and interesting notes to his valuable edition of the play) while recognising the striking discrepancies, puts them aside with the curiously inadequate argument that ballads were often founded on plays. 2 It must be recollected that in the sixteenth century "magic" frequently included chemistry and other sciences. The services rendered to science by Paracelsus and Agrippa are scarcely yet generally recognised. CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. xxxvii Cracow, and afterwards " roamed about, and talked of secret things." The first literary version of the story of Faust was the Volksbuch which, published by Spiess in 1587, at Frankfort-on-the- Main, soon after appeared in England as The History of the Damnable Life and Deserved Death of Dr. John Faustus. To this translation of the Faust-book Marlowe generally adhered ; that is to say, in the incidents of the drama, and their sequence, he followed his authority. The weari- some comic passages, which Marlowe may or may not have written, are copied with special fidelity. Marlowe's play was probably the first dramatisa- tion of the Faust legend ; it became immediately popular, not only in England but abroad. Faustus, as well as the Jew of Malta, was acted in German by an English company in 1608, during the Carnival, at Graetz, and remained a favourite at Vienna throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Faustus was remodelled into a sort of Don Juan by the Jesuits, it is said, who disliked his scepticism and in this form he came into Goethe's hands. Goethe's opinion of Marlowe's Faustus we know. He had thought of translating it ; when it was mentioned he burst out with an exclamation of praise : ' How greatly it is all planned.' The three chief versions of the old legend the Volksbuch with its medieval story in a Protestant garb, Marlowe's Renaissance rendering and Goethe's modern Faust are all representative. The Volks- buch records Faust's histor w from his birth to his final xxxviii CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. dismemberment by the Devil, in the calmly epical fashion of a medieval legend ; all his clownish tricks are narrated with great enjoyment, but the general atmosphere is moral and Protestant. Mar- lowe changed the point of view ; Faust is no longer an unintelligible magician looked at from the out- side, but a living man thirsting for the infinite ; the sinner becomes a hero, a Tamburlaine, no longer eager to " ride in triumph through Persepolis," who at the thought of vaster delights has ceased to care for the finite splendours of an earthly crown. " A god is not so glorious as a king. I think the pleasure they enjoy in Heaven Cannot compare with kingly joys in earth," once exclaimed Tamburlaine's follower, Theri- damas. Faustus, in his study, realising what magic promises, thinks otherwise : " Emperors and kings Are but obeyed in their several provinces ; Nor can they raise the wind or rend the clouds ; But his dominion that exceeds in this Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man ; A sound magician is a demigod. " Marlowe's Faustus is not impelled like the Faustus of the legend by the desire of " worldly pleasure," nor, like Goethe's, by the vanity of knowledge ; it is power, power without bound, that he desires, all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life, -a world of profit and delight Of power, of honour, and omnipotence." CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. xxxix This gives him a passionate energy, an emotional sensibility which Goethe's more shifting, sceptical and complex Faust lacks. For Marlowe, also, magic was a possible reality. A very remarkable characteristic of Marlowe's Faustus, and of his work generally, which has not been sufficiently emphasised, 1 is the absence of material horror. " His raptures were all air and fire." In nothing has he shown himself so much a child of the Renaissance as in this repugnance to touch images of physical ugliness. Perondinus insists on Tamburlaine's lameness, of which Marlowe says no word ; the Volksbuck is crammed with details concerning the medieval Hell ; Mar- lowe's conception of Hell is loftier than Dante's or Milton's. In reply to the question of Faustus : " How comes it then that thou art out of Hell ? " Mephistophilis replies : " 'SYhy 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, Am not tormented with ten thousand Hells, In being deprived of everlasting bliss ? " Such reticence as this was entirely out of the line of dramatic tradition, and even the able revisers of the edition of Faustus published in 1616, contrived to bring in a plentiful supply of horrors, not only in the account of the death of Faustus, but as a description of Hell souls toasted on burning forks, broiling live quarters, sops of flaming fire. 1 Professor Ward, however, points out the art with which, in Edward II., Marlowe avoids exciting "the sense of the loath- some." xl CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. I have already mentioned how closely Marlowe adhered to the incidents of the prose History and their sequence ; such slight additions as he makes are always for the better, as the opening scene in the study, in which Goethe follows him. It is in the selection of the serious incidents from the placid prose narrative that Marlowe's genius for the tragic poetry of intense emotion is especially revealed. Perhaps the passage of Marlowe which most profoundly influenced Shakespeare and other . poets is, not the awful and intense scene with which the poem closes, but the address to Helen. The scene that contains this wonderful passage, aflame with impassioned loveliness, corresponds in its bare outlines exactly to that chapter of the prose History in which the Doctor, after dinner one day under- takes to brings Helen of Troy before the students. " This lady appeared before them," according to the narrative, " in a most rich gown of purple velvet, costly imbroidered ; her hair hanging down loose, as fair as the beaten gold, and of such length that it reached down to her hams, having most amorous cole-black eyes, a sweet and pleasant round face, with lips as red as any cherry ; her cheeks of a rose- colour, her mouth small, her neck white like a swan ; tall and slender of personage ; in sum, there was no imperfect place in her; she looked round about her with a rolirig hawke's eye, a smiling and wanton countenance, which near-hand inflamed the hearts of all the students, but that they persuaded them- selves she was a spirit, which made them lightly pass away such fancies : and thus fair Helena and CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. xli Faustus went out again one with another." After- wards Helena becomes his " common concubine and bed-fellow," and has a child called Justus Faustus, who, together with his mother, after the death of Faustus vanished away. That was all. It was to this material that Marlowe set his spirit. In Goethe's great and complex work the story is refined away ; Goethe was compelled to treat magic and Hell with irony. Marlowe was the first to spiritualise as well as to dramatise the story ; at the same time its substance has not become a symbol merely, as with Goethe, who soon flings himself free of the legend. Marlowe's Faustus, revealing the conflicting stress of new and old, remains a chief artistic embodiment of an intellectual attitude dominant at the Renaissance. The vigorous design and rich free verse of the Jew of Malta show a technical advance on Faustus. Only Milton, as Mr. Swinburne has somewhere remarked, has surpassed the opening soliloquy of Barabas. But after the second act the play declines ; the large conception of the Jew with his immense lust of wealth only rivalled by his love for his daughter, topples over into harsh and extravagant caricature. Marlowe seems to have worked hastily here, and when Shakespeare, a few years later, took up the same subject, although he treated it in the same spirit, the Merchant of Venice by force of his sweetness, humanity and humour, easily rises to a much higher pitch of art. The Jew uf Malta shows the transition between Marlowe the youthful tragic poet, with his intense xlii CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. and fascinating personality, and Marlowe the mature dramatist. In Edward II. Marlowe reached the summit of his art. There is little hereof that amour de I' impossible, which is, as Mr. Symonds observes, his charac- teristic note ; his passionate poetry is subdued with severe self-restraint in a supreme tragic creation. It has long been a custom among critics to compare Edivard II. with Richard II. This is scarcely fair to Shakespeare ; the melodramatic and careless murder of Richard cannot be mentioned in presence of the chastened tragedy and highly- wrought pathos of Edward's last days ; the whole of Shakespeare's play, with its exuberant eloquence, its facile and diffuse poetry, is distincly inferior to Marlowe's, both in organic structure and in dramatic characterisation. It was not till ten years later that Shakespeare came near to this severe reticence, these deep and solemn tragic tones. Besides the three parts of Henry VI. in which Marlowe had a considerable share, two short and fragmentary plays, not included in this volume, remain to notice. The Massacre at Paris deals, very freely, with contemporary French history, and could not have been an early work ; * it has come to us in a mutilated and corrupt condition. But when all allowance has been made it remains, by general consent, the very worst of Marlowe's dramas. It contains scarcely one powerful passage. The 1 Henry III., with whose assassination the play ends, died on the 2nd August, 1589. It has been suggested that the existing version of this play is one of those short-hand piracies which seem to have been common. CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. xliii Tragedy of Dido, written by Marlowe and Nash, was published a year after the former's death. It is probably an early work of Marlowe's, so far as it is his at all, and it must have been elaborated and considerably enlarged by Nash in a manner that is sometimes a caricature, perhaps not quite uncon- sciously, of Marlowe's manner. Dido must be compared to Hero and Leander rather than to any of Marlowe's dramas. There is a certain mellifluous sweetness in the best scenes, such as that in which Dido makes love to ^Eneas in the cave in which they had sought shelter from the storm. Dido, tineas ! ^. Dido ! Dido. Tell me, dear love, how found you out this cave ? sF.n. By chance, sweet queen, as Mars and Venus met. . Dido. Why that was in a net, where we are loose ; And yet I am not free,- O, would I were ! ALn. Why, what is it that Dido may desire And not obtain, be it in human power ? Dido. The thing that I will die before I ask, And yet desire to have before I die. sEn. It is not aught /Eneas may achieve ? Dido. /Eneas ! no ; although his eyes do pierce. sn. What, hath larbus angered her in aught ? And will she be avenged on his life ? Dido. Not angered me, except in angering thee. sEn. Who, then of all so cruel may he be That should detain thy eyes in his defects ? Dido. The man that I do eye where'er I am ; Whose amorous face, like Paean, sparkles fire, Whenas he butts his beams on Flora's bed. Prometheus hath put on Cupid's shape, And I must perish in his burning arms : . Base concubine, must thou be placed by me, That am the empress of the mighty Turk ? 1 Floating. 2 Here "lure" most probably means "light," (Fr. lueur] ; still it may refer to a well-known term in falconry, signifying a decoy, formed of leather and feathers, used to call the young hawks, and which, when thrown into the air, had the appearance of a flying bird. Mar. E 5o TAMBURLAINE THP: GREAT. [ACT in. Zeno. Disdainful Turkess and unreverend boss ! ' Call'st thou me concubine, that am betrothed Unto the great and mighty Tamburlaine ? Zab. To Tamburlaine, the great Tartarian thief! Zeno. Thou wilt repent these lavish words of thine, When thy great basso-master and thyself Must plead for mercy at his kingly feet, And sue to me to be your advocate. Zab. And sue to thee ! I tell thee, shameless girl, Thou shalt be laundress to my waiting maid ! How lik'st thou her, Ebea ? Will she serve? Ebea. Madam, perhaps, she thinks she is too fine, But I shall turn her into other weeds, And make her dainty fingers fall to work, Zeno. Hear'st thou, Anippe, how thy drudge doth talk ? And how my slave, her mistress, menaceth ? Both for their sauciness shall be employed To dress the common soldiers' meat and drink, For we will scorn they should come near ourselves. Anip. Yet sometimes let your highness send for them To do the work my chambermaid disdains. \They sound to the battle within. Zeno. Ye gods and powers that govern Persia, And made my lordly love her worthy king, Now strengthen him against the Turkish Bajazeth, And let his foes, like flocks of fearful roes Pursued by hunters, fly his angry looks, That I may see him issue conqueror ! Zab. Now, Mahomet, solicit God himself, And make him rain down murdering shot from Heaven To dash the Scythians' brains, and strike them dead, That dare to manage arms with him 1 Cotgrave in his Dictionary has: "A fat bosse. Fcmme lien grasse et grosse; line coche." SCENE in.] PART THE FIRST. 51 That offered jewels to thy sacred shrine, When first he warred against the Christians ! [ They sound again to the battle within, Zeno. By this the Turks lie weltering in their blood, And Tamburlaine is Lord of Africa. Zab, Thou art deceived. I heard the trumpets sound, As when my emperor overthrew the Greeks, And led them captive into Africa. Straight will I use thee as thy pride deserves Prepare thyself to live and die my slave. Zeno. If Mahomet should come from Heaven and swear My royal lord is slain or conquered, Yet should he not persuade me otherwise But that he lives and will be conqueror. Re-enter BAJAZETH, pursued by TAMBURLAINE; they fight, and BAJAZETH is overcome. Tamb. Now, king of bassoes, who is conqueror? Baj. Thou, by the fortune of this damned foil. 1 Tamb. Where are your stout contributory kings? Re-enter TECHELLES, THERIDAMAS, and USUMCASANE. Tech. We have their crowns their bodies strow the field. Tamb. Each, man a crown ! Why kingly fought i' faith. Deliver them into my treasury. Zeno. Now let me offer to my gracious lord His royal crown again so highly won. Tamb. Nay, take the crown from her, Zenocrate, And crown me Emperor of Africa. Zab. No, Tamburlaine : though now thou gat the best, Thou shalt not yet be lord of Africa. 1 Defeat. E 2 52 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT in. Thcr. Give her the crown, Turkess : you were best. [He fakes if from her. Zab. Injurious villains ! thieves ! runagates ! Plow dare you thus abuse my majesty ? Ther. Here, madam, you are Empress; she is none. [Gives it to ZENOCRATE. Tamb. Not now, Theridamas ; her time is past. The pillars that have bolstered up those terms, Are fallen in clusters at my conquering feet. Zab. Though he be prisoner, he may be ransomed. Tamb. Not all the world shall ransom Bajazeth. Baj. Ah, fair Zabina ! we have lost the field ; And never had the Turkish emperor So great a foil by any foreign foe. Now will the Christian miscreants be glad, Ringing with joy their superstitious bells, And making bonfires for my overthrow. But, ere I die, those foul idolaters Shall make me bonfires with their filthy bones. For though the glory of this day be lost, Afric and Greece have garrisons enough To make me sovereign of the earth again. Tamb. Those walled garrisons will I subdue, And write myself great lord of Africa. So from the East unto the furthest West Shall Tamburlaine extend his puissant arm. The galleys and those pilling l brigandines, That yearly sail to the Venetian gulf, And hover in the Straits for Christians' wreck, Shall lie at anchor in the isle Asant, 2 Until the Persian fleet and men of war, Sailing along the oriental sea, Have fetched about the Indian continent, 1 Plundering. 2 Zante. Bttllen. SCENE III.] PART THE FIRST. 53 Even from Persepolis to Mexico, And thence unto the straits of Jubalter ; l Where they shall meet and join their force in one Keeping in awe the bay of Portingale, 2 And all the ocean by the British shore ; And by this means I'll win the world at last. Baj. Yet set a ransom on me, Tamburlaine. Tamb. What, think'st thou Tamburlaine esteems thy gold? I'll make the kings of India, ere I die, Offer their mines to sue for peace to me, And dig for treasure to appease my wrath. Come, bind them both, and one lead in the Turk ; The Turkess let my love's maid lead away. [ They bind them. Baj. Ah, villains ! dare you touch my sacred arms ? O Mahomet ! O sleepy Mahomet ! Zab. O cursed Mahomet, that makes us thus The slaves to Scythians rude and barbarous ! Tamb. Come, bring them in; and for this happy conquest, Triumph and solemnise a martial feast. \_Excunt. 1 Gibraltar. 2 Biscay. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. Enter the SOLDAN of EGYPT, CAPOLIN, Lords, and a Messenger. )OLD. Awake, ye men of Memphis ! hear the clang Of Scythian trumpets ! hear the basilisks, 1 That, roaring, shake Damascus' turrets down ! The rogue of Volga holds Zenocrate, The Soldan's daughter, for his concubine, And with a troop of thieves and vagabonds, Hath spread his colours to our high disgrace, While you, faint-hearted, base Egyptians, Lie slumbering on the flowery banks of Nile, As crocodiles that unaffrighted rest, While thundering cannons rattle on their skins. Mess. Nay, mighty Soldan, did your greatness see The frowning looks of fiery Tamburlaine, That with his terror and imperious eyes, Commands the hearts of his associates, It might amaze your royal majesty. Sold. Villain, I tell thee, were that Tamburlaine 1 Pieces of ordnance, so called from their fancied resemblance to the fabulous serpent of that name. Cunningham. SCENE I.] PART THE FIRST. 55 As monstrous as Gorgon 1 prince of hell, The Soldan would not start a foot from him. But speak, what power hath he ? Mess. Mighty lord, Three hundred thousand men in armour clad, Upon their prancing steeds disdainfully, With wanton paces trampling on the ground : Five hundred thousand footmen threatening shot, Shaking their swords, their spears, and iron bills, Environing their standard round, that stood As bristle-pointed as a thorny wood : Their warlike engines and munition Exceed the forces of their martial men. Sold. Nay, could their numbers countervail the stars, . Or ever-drizzling drops of April showers, Or withered leaves that Autumn shake th down, Yet would the Soldan by his conquering power So scatter and consume them in his rage, That not a man should live to rue their fall. Capo. So might your highness, had you time to sort Your fighting men, and raise your royal host ; But Tamburlaine, by expedition, Advantage takes of your unreadiness. Sold. Let him take all the advantages he can. Were all the world conspired to fight for him, Nay, were he devil, as he is no man, Yet in revenge of fair Zenocrate, Whom he detaineth in despite of us, This arm should send him down to Erebus, To shroud his shame in darkness of the night. Mess. Pleaseth'your mightiness to understand, His resolution far exceedeth all. The first day when he pitcheth down his tents, 1 i.e. Demogorgon. 56 TAMDURLA1NE THE GREAT. [ACT iv. White is their hue, and on his silver crest, A snowy feather spangled white he bears, To signify the mildness of his mind, That, satiate with spoil, refuseth blood. But when Aurora mounts the second time As red as scarlet is his furniture ; Then must his kindled wrath be quenched with blood, Not sparing any that can manage arms ; But if these threats move not submission, Black are his colours, black pavilion ; His spear, his shield, his horse, his armour, plumes, And jetty feathers, menace death and hell ! Without respect of sex, degree, or age, He razcth all his foes with fire and sword. Sold'. Merciless villain ! peasant, ignorant Of lawful arms or martial discipline ! Pillage and murder are his usual trades. The slave usurps the glorious name of war. See, Capolin, the fair Arabian king, That hath been disappointed by this slave Of my fair daughter, and his princely love, May have fresh warning to go war with us, And be revenged for her disparagement. \_Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter TAMBURLAINE, TECHELLES, THERIDAMAS, USUM- CASANE, ZENOCRATE, ANIPPE, two Moors drawing BAJAZETH in a cage, and 'LKvmh following him. Tamb. Bring out my footstool. [BAJAZETH is taken out of the cage. Baj. Ye holy priests of heavenly Mahomet, SCENE ii.] PART THE FIRST. 57 That, sacrificing, slice and cut your flesh, Staining his altars with your purple blood ; Make Heaven to frown and every fixed star To suck up poison from the moorish fens, And pour it in this glorious l tyrant's throat ! Tamil. The chiefest God, first mover of that sphere, Enchased with thousands ever-shining lamps, Will sooner burn the glorious frame of Heaven, Than it should so conspire my overthrow. But, villain ! thou that wishest this to me, Fall prostrate on the low disdainful earth, And be the footstool of great Tamburlaine, That I may rise into my royal throne. Baj\ First shalt thou rip my bowels with thy sword, And sacrifice my soul to death and hell, Before I yield to such a slavery. Tamb. Base villain, vassal, slave to Tamburlaine ! Unworthy to embrace or touch the ground, That bears the honour of my royal weight ; Stoop, villain, stoop ! Stoop ! for so he "bids That may command thee piecemeal to be torn, Or scattered like the lofty cedar trees Struck with the voice of thundering Jupiter. Baj. Then, as I look down to the damned fiends, Fiends look on me ! and thou, dread god of hell, With ebon sceptre strike this hateful earth, And make it swallow both of us at once ! [TAMBURLAINE steps upon him to mount his throne. Tamb. Now clear the triple region of the air, And let the majesty of Heaven behold Their scourge and terror tread on emperors. Smile stars, that reigned at my nativity, And dim the brightness of your neighbour lamps ! 1 Boastful. 58 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT iv. Disdain to borrow light of Cynthia ! For I, the chiefest lamp of all the earth, First rising in the East with mild aspect, But fixed now in the meridian line, Will send up fire to your turning spheres, And cause the sun to borrow light of you. My sword struck fire from his coat of steel, Even in Bithynia, when I took this Turk ; As when a fiery exhalation, Wrapt in the bowels of a freezing cloud Fighting for passage, makes the welkin crack, And. casts a flash of lightning to the earth : But ere I march to wealthy Persia, Or leave Damascus and the Egyptian fields, As was the fame of Clymene's brain sick son, That almost brent the axle-tree of Heaven, So shall our swords, our lances, and our shot Fill all the air with fiery meteors : Then when the sky shall wax as red as blood It shall be said I made it red myself, To make me think of nought but blood and war. Zab. Unworthy king, that by thy cruelty Unlawfully usurp'st the Persian seat, Dar'st thou that never saw an emperor, Before thou met my husband in the field, Being thy captive, thus abuse his state, Keeping his kingly body in a cage, That roofs of gold and sun-bright palaces Should have prepared to entertain his grace ? And treading him beneath thy loathsome feet, Whose feet the kings of Africa have kissed. Tech. You must devise some torment worse, my lord, To make these captives rein their lavish tongues. Tamb. Zenocrate, look better to your slave. SCENE II.] PART THE FIRST, 59 Zeno. She is my handmaid's slave, and she shall look That these abuses flow not from her tongue : Chide her, Anippe. Anip. Let these be warnings for you then, my slave, How you abuse the person of the king ; Or else I swear to have you whipt, stark-naked. Baj. Great Tamburlaine, great in my overthrow, Ambitious pride shall make thee fall as low, For treading on the back of Bajazeth, That should be horsed on four mighty kings. Tcimb. Thy names, and titles, and thy dignities Are fled from Bajazeth and remain with me, That will maintain it 'gainst a world of kings. Put him in again. \They put him back info the cage. Baj. Is this a place for mighty Bajazeth ? Confusion light on him that helps thee thus ! Tamb. There, whiles he lives, shall Bajazeth be kept ; And, where I go, be thus in triumph drawn ; And thou, his wife, shalt feed him with the scraps My servitors shall bring thee from my board ; For he that gives him other food than this, Shall sit by him and starve to death himself; This is my mind and I will have it so. Not all the kings and emperors of the earth, If they would lay their crowns before my feet, Shall ransom him, or take him from his cage. The ages that sliall talk of Tamburlaine, Even from this day to Plato's wondrous year, 1 Shall talk how I have handled Bajazeth ; These Moors, that drew him from Bithynia, To fair Damascus, where we now remain, Shall lead him with us wheresoe'er we go. Techelles, and my loving followers, 1 See Plato's T:in~u$, 60 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT iv. Now may we see Damascus' lofty towers, Like to the shadows of Pyramides, That with their beauties grace the Memphian fields : The golden statue of their feathered bird That spreads her wings upon the city's walls Shall not defend it from our battering shot : The townsmen mask in silk and cloth of gold, And every house is as a treasury : The men, the treasure, and the town is ours. Ther. Your tents of white now pitched before the gates, And gentle flags of amity displayed, I doubt not but the governor will yield, Offering Damascus to your majesty. Tamb. So shall he have his life and all the rest : But if he stay until the bloody flag Be once advanced on my vermilion tent, He dies, and those that kept us out so long. And when they see us march in black array, With mournful streamers hanging down their heads, Were in that city all the world contained, Not one should 'scape, but perish by our swords. Zeno. Yet would you have some pity for my sake, Because it is my country, and my father's. Tamb. Not for the world, Zenocrate ; I've sworn. Come ; bring in the Turk. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter the SOLDAN, the KING of ARABIA, CAPOLIN, and Soldiers with colours flying. Sold. Methinks we march as Meleager did, Environed with brave Argolian knights, SCENE in.] PART THE FIRST, 61 To chase the savage Calydonian boar, Or Cephalus with lusty Theban youths Against the wolf that angry Themis sent To waste and spoil the sweet Aonian fields, A monster of five hundred thousand heads, Compact of rapine, piracy, and spoil. The scum of men, the hate and scourge of God, Raves in ^gyptia and annoyeth us. My lord, it is the bloody Tamburlaine, A sturdy felon and a base-bred thief, By murder raised to the Persian crown, That dares control us in our territories. To tame the pride of this presumptuous beast, Join your Arabians with the Soldan's power, Let us unite our royal bands in one, And hasten to remove Damascus' siege. It is a blemish to the majesty And high estate of mighty emperors, That such a base usurping vagabond Should brave a king, or wear a princely crown. K. of Arab. Renowned Soldan, have you lately heard The overthrow of mighty Bajazeth About the confines of Bithynia? The slavery wherewith he persecutes The noble Turk and his great emperess ? Sold. I have, and sorrow for his bad success ; But noble lord of great Arabia, Be so persuaded that the Soldan is No more dismayed with tidings of his fall, Than in the haven when the pilot stands, And views a stranger's ship rent in the winds, And shivered against a craggy rock ; Yet in compassion to his wretched state, A sacred vow to Heaven and him I make, 62 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. (ACT iv. Confirming it with Ibis' holy name. That Tamburlaine shall rue the day, the hour, Wherein he wrought such ignominious wrong Unto the hallowed person of a prince, Or kept the fair Zenocrate so long As concubine, I fear, to feed his lust. K. of Arab. Let grief and fury hasten on revenge ; Let Tamburlaine for his offences feel Such plagues as we and Heaven can pour on him. I long to break my spear upon his crest, And prove the weight of his victorious arm ; For Fame, I fear, hath been too prodigal In sounding through the world his partial praise. Sold. Capolin, hast thou surveyed our poweis ? Capol. Great Emperors of Egypt and Arabia, The number of your hosts united is A hundred and fifty thousand horse ; Two hundred thousand, foot, brave men-at-arms, Courageous, and full of hardiness. As frolic as the hunters in the chase Of savage beasts amid the desert woods. K. of Arab. My mind presageth fortunate success; And Tamburlaine, my spirit doth foresee The utter ruin of thy men and thee. Sold. Then rear your standards ; let your sounding drums Direct our soldiers to Damascus' walls. Now, Tamburlaine, the mighty Soldan comes, And leads with him the great Arabian king, To dim thy baseness and obscurity, Famous for nothing but for theft and spoil ; To raze and scatter thy inglorious crew Of Scythians and slavish Persians. \_Excunt. SCENE iv.] PART THE FIRST. 63 SCENE IV. A Banquet set out ; to it come TAMBURLAINE, all in scarlet ZENOCRATE, THERIDAMAS, TECHELLES, USUMCA- SANE, BAJAZETH in his cage, ZABINA, and others. Tamb. Now hang our bloody colours by Damascus, Reflexing hues of blood upon their heads, While they walk quivering on their city walls, Half dead for fear before they feel my wrath, Then let us freely banquet and carouse Full bowls of wine unto the god of war That means to fill your helmets full of gold, And make Damascus spoils as rich to you, As was to Jason Colchos' golden fleece. And now, Bajazeth, hast thou any stomach ? Baj. Ay, such a stomach, cruel Tamburlaine, as I could willingly feed upon thy blood-raw heart. Tamb. Nay thine own is easier to come by ; pluck out that : and 'twill serve thee and thy wife : Well, Zeno- crate, Techelles, and the rest, fall to your victuals. Baj. Fall to, and never may your meat digest ! Ye Furies, that can mask invisible, Dive to the bottom of Avernus' pool, And in your hands bring hellish poison up And squeeze it in the cup of Tamburlaine ! Or, winged snakes of Lerfla, cast your stings, An4 leave your venoms in this tyrant's dish ! Zab. And may this banquet prove as ominous As Prague's x to the adulterous Thracian king, That fed upon the substance of his child. Zeno. My lord, how can you tamely suffer these Outrageous curses by these slaves of yours ? 1 i.e. Procne. 64 TAMBURLA1NE THE GREAT. [ACT iv. Tamb. To let them see, divine Zenocrate, I glory in the curses of my foes, Having the power from the imperial Heaven To turn them all upon their proper heads. Tech. I pray you give them leave, madam ; this speech is a goodly refreshing to them. Ther. But if his highness would let them be fed, it would do them more good. Tamb. Sirrah, why fall you not to ? are you so daintily brought up, you cannot eat your own flesh ? Baj. First, legions of devils shall tear thee in pieces. Usum. Villain, know'st thou to whom thou speakest ? Tamb. O, let him alone. Here ; eat, sir ; take it from my sword's point, or I'll thrust it to thy heart. [BAJAZETH takes it and stamps upon it. Ther. He stamps it under his feet, my lord. Tamb. Take it up, villain, and eat it ; or I will make thee slice the brawns of thy arms into carbonadoes l and eat them. Usum. Nay, 'twere better he killed his wife, and then she shall be sure not to be starved, and he be provided for a month's victual beforehand. Tamb. Here is my dagger : despatch her while she is fat, for if she live but a while longer, she will fall into a consumption with fretting, and then she will not be worth the eating. Ther. Dost thou think that Mahomet will suffer this ? Tech. 'Tis like he will when he cannot let 2 it. Tamb. Go to ; fall to your meat. What, not a bit ! Belike he hath not been watered to day; give him some drink. [They give BAJAZETH water to drink, and he flings it upon the ground. 1 Rashers. 2 Hinder. SCENE iv.J PART THE FIRST. 65 Tamb. Fast, and welcome, sir, while, 1 hunger make you eat. How now, Zenocrate, do not the Turk and his wife make a goodly show at a banquet ? Zeno. Yes, my lord. Ther, Methinks, 'tis a great deal better than a consort 2 of music. Tamb. Yet music would do well to cheer up Zenocrate. Pray thee, tell, why thou art so sad ? If thou wilt have a song, the Turk shall strain his voice. But why is it ? Zeno. My lord, to see my father's town besieged, The country wasted where myself was born, How can it but afflict my very soul ? If any love remain in you, my lord, Or if my love unto your majesty May merit favour at your highness' hands, Then raise your siege from fair Damascus' walls, And with my father take a friendly truce. Tamb. Zenocrate, were Egypt Jove's own land, Yet would I with my sword make Jove to stoop. I will confute those blind geographers That make a triple region in the world, Excluding regions which I mean to trace, And with this pen 3 reduce them to a map, Calling the provinces cities and towns, After my name and thine, Zenocrate. Here at Damascus will I make the point That shall begin the perpendicular ; And would'st thou have me buy thy father's love With such a loss ? Tell me, Zenocrate. Zeno. Honour still wait on happy Tamburlaine ; Yet .give me leave to plead for him my lord. Tamb. Content thyself : his person shall be safe 1 Until. 2 Band. :i Meaning his sword. Mar. F 66 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT iv. And all the friends of fair Zenocrate, If with their lives they may be pleased to yield, Or may be forced to make me Emperor ; For Egypt and Arabia must be mine. Feed, you slave ; thou may'st think thyself happy to be fed from my trencher. Baj. My empty stomach, full of idle heat, Draws bloody humours from my feeble parts, Preserving life by hastening cruel death. My veins are pale ; my sinews hard and dry ; My joints benumbed ; unless I eat, I die. Zab. Eat, Bajazeth : and let us live In spite of them, looking some happy power Will pity and enlarge us. Tamb. Here, Turk ; wilt thou have a clean trencher ? Baj. Ay, tyrant, and more meat. Tamb. Soft, sir ; you must be dieted ; too much cat- ing will make you surfeit. Ther. So it would, my lord, 'specially having so small a walk and so little exercise. \A second course of crowns is brought in. Tamb. Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane, here are the cates you desire to finger, are they not ? Ther. Ay, my lord : but none save kings must feed with these. Tech. 'Tis enough for us to see them, and for Tam- burlaine only to enjoy them. Tamb. Well ; here is now to the Soldan of Egypt, the King of Arabia, and the Governor of Damascus. Now take these three crowns, and pledge me, my contributory kings. I crown you here, Theridamas, King of Argier; Techelles, King of Fez ; and Usumcasane, King of Moroccus. How say you to this, Turk ? These are not your contributory kings. SCENE iv.] PART THE FIRST. 67 Baj. Nor shall they long be thine, I warrant them. Tamb. Kings of Argier, Moroccus, and of Fez, You that have marched with happy Tamburlaine As far as from the frozen plage ] of Heaven, Unto the watery morning's ruddy bower, And thence by land unto the torrid zone, Deserve these titles I endow you with, By valour and by magnanimity. Your births shall be no blemish to your fame, For virtue is the fount whence honour springs, And they are worthy she investeth kings. Ther. And since your highness hath so well vouch- safed ; If we deserve them not with higher meeds Than erst our states and actions have retained Take them away again and make us slaves. Tamb. Well said, Theridamas ; when holy fates Shall 'stablish me in strong ^Egyptia, We mean to travel to the antarctic pole, Conquering the people underneath our feet, And be reno.vned as never emperors were. Zenocrate, I will not crown thee yet, Until with greater honours I be graced. \Exeunt. 1 Shore : Fr. plage. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Enter the GOVERNOR of DAMASCUS, with several Citizens, and four Virgins, having branches of laurel in their hands. :OV. Still doth this man, or rather god of war, Batter our walls and beat our turrets down ; And to resist with longer stubborn- ness Or hope of rescue from the Soldan's power, Were but to bring our wilful overthrow, And make us desperate of our threatened lives. We see his tents have now been altered With terrors to the last and cruellest hue. His coal-black colours everywhere advanced, Threaten our city with a general spoil ; And if we should with common rites of arms Offer our safeties to his clemency, I fear the custom, proper to his sword, Which he observes as parcel of his fame, Intending so to terrify the world, By any innovation or remorse Will never be dispensed with .till our deaths ; SCENE i.] PART THE FIRST. 69 Therefore, for these our harmless virgins' sakes, Whose honours and whose lives rely on him, Let us have hope that their unspotted prayers, Their blubbered 1 cheeks, and hearty, humble moans, Will melt his fury into some remorse, 2 And use us like a loving conqueror. \st Virg. If humble suits or imprecations, 3 (Uttered with tears of wretchedness and blood Shed from the heads and hearts of all our sex, Some made your wives and some your children) Might have entreated your obdurate breasts To entertain some care of our securities Whiles only danger beat upon our walls. These more than dangerous warrants of our death Had never been erected as they be, Nor you depend on such weak helps as we. Gov. Well, lovely virgins, think our country's care, Our love of honour, loath to be inthralled To foreign powers and rough imperious yokes, Would not with too much cowardice or fear, (Before all hope of rescue were denied) Submit yourselves and us to servitude. Therefore in that your safeties and our own, Your honours, liberties, and lives were weighed In equal care and balance with our own, Endure as we the malice of our stars, The wrath of Tamburlaine and power of wars j Or be the means the overweighing heavens Have kept to qualify these hot extremes, And bring us pardon in your cheerful looks. 2nd Virg. Then here before the majesty of Heaven And holy patrons of ^Egyptia, J The word formerly conveyed no kind of ludicrous impression. 8 Pity. 3 Prayers. 70 TAMDURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT v. With knees and hearts submissive we entreat Grace to our words and pity to our looks That this device may prove propitious, And through the eyes and ears of Tamburlaine Convey events of mercy to his heart ; Grant that these signs of victory we yield May bind the temples of his conquering head, To hide the folded furrows of his brows, And shadow his displeased countenance With happy looks of ruth and lenity. Leave us, my lord, and loving countrymen ; What simple virgins may persuade, we will. Gov. Farewell, sweet virgins, on whose safe return Depends our city, liberty, and lives. \Exeunt GOVERNOR and Citizens ; the Virgins remain. Enter TAMBURLAINE, all in black and very melancholy, TECHELLES, THERIDAMAS, USUMCASANE, with others. Tamb. What, are the turtles frayed out of their nests ? Alas, poor fools ! must you be first shall feel The sworn destruction of Damascus? They knew my custom ; could they not as well Have sent ye out, when first my milk-white flags, Through which sweet Mercy threw her gentle beams, Reflexing them on your disdainful eyes, As now, when fury and incensed hate Flings slaughtering terror from my coal-black tents, And tells for truth submission comes too late ? \st Virg. Most happy King and Emperor of the earth, Image of honour and nobility, For whom the powers divine have made the world, And on whose throne the holy Graces sit; In whose sweet person is comprised the sum SCENE i.] PART THE FIRST. 71 Of Nature's skill and heavenly majesty; Pity our plights ! O pity poor Damascus ! Pity old age, within whose silver hairs Honour and reverence evermore have reigned ! Pity the marriage bed, where many a lord, In prime and glory of his loving joy, Embraceth now with tears of ruth and blood The jealous body of his fearful wife, Whose cheeks and hearts so punished with conceit, To think thy puissant', never-stayed arm, Will part their bodies, and prevent their souls From heavens of comfort yet their age might bear, Now wax all pale and withered to the death, As well for grief our ruthless governor Hath thus refused the mercy of thy hand, (Whose sceptre angels kiss and furies dread,) As for their liberties, their loves, or lives ! O then for these, and such as we ourselves, For us, our infants, and for all our bloods, That never nourished thought against thy rule, Pity, O pity, sacred Emperor, The prostrate service of this wretched town, And take in sign thereof this gilded wreath ; Whereto each man of rule hath given his hand, And wished, as worthy subjects, happy means To be investers of thy royal brows Even with the true Egyptian diadem ! Tamb. Virgins, in vain you labour to prevent That which mine honour swears shall be performed. Behold my sword ! what see you at the point ? i st Virg. Nothing but fear, and fatal steel, my lord. Tamb, Your fearful minds are thick and misty then ; For there sits Death ; there sits imperious Death Keeping his circuit by the slicing edge. 72 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT v. But I am pleased you shall not see him there ; He now is seated on my horsemen's spears, And on their points his fleshless body feeds. Techelles, straight go charge a few of them . To charge these dames, and show my servant, Death, Sitting in scarlet on their armed spears. Virgins. O pity us ! Tamb. Away with them, I say, and show them Death, [ The Virgins are taken out, I will not spare these proud Egyptians, Nor change my martial observations For all the wealth of Gihon's golden waves, Or for the love of Venus, would she leave The angry god of arms and lie with me. They have refused the offer of their lives, And know my customs are as peremptory As wrathful planets, death, or destiny. Re-enter TECHELLES. What, have your horsemen shown the virgins Death ? Tech. They have, my lord, and on Damascus' walls Have hoisted up their slaughtered carcases. Tamb. A sight as baneful to their souls, I think, As are Thessalian drugs or mithridate : l But go, my lords, put the rest to the sword. \_Exeunt all except TAMBURLAINE. Ah, fair Zenocrate ! divine Zenocrate ! Fair is too foul an epithet for thee, That in thy passion 2 for thy country's love, And fear to see thy kingly father's harm, With hair dishevelled wip'st thy watery cheeks ; And, like to Flora in her morning pride, 1 An antidote distilled from poisons. Sullen. 2 Sorrow. SCENE I.] PART THE FIRST. 73 Shaking her silver tresses in the air, Rain'st on the earth resolved pearl in showers, And sprinklest sapphires on thy shining face, Where Beauty, mother to the Muses, sits And comments volumes with her ivory pen, Taking instructions from thy flowing eyes ; Eyes that, when Ebena steps to Heaven, In silence of thy solemn evening's walk, Make, in the mantle of the richest night, The moon, the planets, and the meteors, light ; There angels in their crystal armours fight A doubtful battle with my tempted thoughts For Egypt's freedom, and the Soldan's life ; His life that so consumes Zenocrate, Whose sorrows lay more siege unto my soul, Than all my army to Damascus' walls : And neither Persia's sovereign, nor the Turk Troubled my senses with conceit of foil So much by much as doth Zenocrate. What is beauty, saith my sufferings, then ? If all the pens that ever poets held Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes ; If all the heavenly quintessence they still 2 From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit ; 1 Swinburne has written of the lines which follow the above : " In the most glorious verses ever fashioned by a poet to express with subtle and final truth the supreme aim and the supreme limit of his art, Marlowe has summed up all that can be said or thought on the office and the object, the means and the end, of this highest form of spiritual ambition." 2 i.e., Distil. 74 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT v. If these had made one poem's period, And all combined in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest. But how unseemly is it for my sex, My discipline of arms and chivalry, My nature, and the terror of my name, To harbour thoughts effeminate and faint ! Save only that in beauty's just applause, With whose instinct the soul of man is touched ; And every warrior that is wrapt with love Of fame, of valour, and of victory, Must needs have beauty beat on his conceits : I thus conceiving and subduing both That which hath stooped the chiefest of the gods, Even from the fiery-spangled veil of Heaven, To feel the lowly warmth of shepherds' flames, And mask in cottages of strowed reeds, Shall give the world to note for all my birth, That virtue solely is the sum of glory, And fashions men with true nobility. Who's within there ? Enter Attendants. Hath Bajazeth been fed to-day ? Atten. Ay, my lord. Tamb. Bring him forth ; and let us know if the town be ransacked. \_Excimt Attendants. .E;//*r TECHELLES, THERIDAMAS,USUMCASANE, and others Tech. The town is ours, my lord, and fresh supply Of conquest and of spoil is offered us. Tamb. That's well, Techelles ; what's the news ? SCENE i.J PART THE FIRST, 75 Tech. The Soldan and the Arabian king together, March on us with such eager violence, As if there were no way but one with us. 1 Tamb. No more there is not, I warrant thee, Techelles. Attendants bring in BAJAZETH in his cage, followed by ZABINA; then exeunt. Ther. We know the victory is ours, my lord ; But let us save the reverend Soldan's life, For fair Zenocrate that so laments his state. Tamb. That will we chiefly see unto, Theridamas, For sweet Zenocrate, whose worthiness Deserves a conquest over every heart. And now, my footstool, if I lose the field, You hope of liberty and restitution ? Here let him stay, my masters, from the tents, Till we have made us ready for the field. Pray for us, Bajazeth ; we are going. [Exeunt TAMBURLAINE, TECHELLES, USUM- CASANE, and Persians. Baj. Go, never to return with victory. Millions of men encompass thee about, And gore thy body with as many wounds ! Sharp, forked arrows light upon thy horse ! Furies from the black Cocytus lake, Break up the earth, and with their firebrands Enforce thee run upon the baneful pikes ! Volleys of shot pierce through thy charmed skin, And every bullet dipt in poisoned drugs ! Or, roaring cannons sever all thy joints, Making thee mount as high as eagles soar ! Zab. Let all the swords and lances in the field Stick in his breast as in their proper rooms ! 1 i. e. As if we must lose our lives. 76 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT v. At every pore let blood come dropping forth, That lingering pains may massacre his heart, And madness send his damned soul to hell ! Baj. Ah, fair Zabina ! we may curse his power ; The heavens may frown, the earth for anger quake : But such a star hath influence on his sword, As rules the skies and countermands the gods More than Cimmerian Styx or destiny ; And then shall we in this detested guise, With shame, with hunger, and with horror stay, Griping our bowels with retorqued 1 thoughts, And have no hope to end our ecstasies. Zab. Then is there left no Mahomet, no God, No fiend, no fortune, nor no hope of end To our infamous monstrous slaveries. Gape earth, and let the fiends infernal view A hell as hopeless and as full of fear As are the blasted banks of Erebus, Where shaking ghosts with ever-howling groans Hover about the ugly ferryman, To get a passage to Elysium ! Why should we live ? O, wretches, beggars, slaves ! Why live we, Bajazeth, and build up nests So high within the region of the air By living long in this oppression, That all the world will see and laugh to scorn The former triumphs of our mightiness In this obscure infernal servitude ? Baj. O life, more loathsome to my vexed thoughts Than noisome parbreak 2 of the Stygian snakes, Which fills the nooks of hell with standing air, Infecting all the ghosts with cureless griefs ! O dreary engines of my loathed sight, 1 Bent back. 2 Vomit. SCENE I.] PART THE FIRS "I. 77 That see my crown, my honour, and my name Thrust under yoke and thraldom of a thief, Why feed ye still on day's accursed beams And sink not quite into my tortured soul ? You see my wife, my queen, and emperess, Brought up and propped by the hand of fame, Queen of fifteen contributory queens, Now thrown to rooms of black abjection, Smeared with blots of basest drudgery, And villainess 1 to shame, disdain, and misery. Accursed Bajazeth, whose words of ruth, (That would with pity cheer Zabina's heart, And make our souls resolve 2 in ceaseless tears ;) Sharp hunger bites upon, and gripes the root, From whence the issues of my thoughts do break ; poor Zabina ! O my queen ! my queen ! Fetch me some water for my burning breast, To cool and comfort me with longer date, That in the shortened sequel of my life 1 may pour forth my soul into thine arms With words of love, whose moaning intercourse Hath hitherto been stayed with wrath and hate Of our expressless banned inflictions. Zab. Sweet Bajazeth, I will prolong thy life, As long as any blood or spark of breath Can quench or cool the torments of my grief. \_Exit. Baj. Now, Bajazeth, abridge thy baneful days, And beat thy brains out of thy conquered head, Since other means are all forbidden me, That may be ministers of my decay. O, highest lamp of ever-living Jove, Accursed day ! infected with my griefs, Hide now thy stained face in endless night, 1 Slave. 2 Dissolve. 73 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT v. And shut the windows of the lightsome heavens ! Let ugly Darkness with her rusty coach, Engirt with tempests, wrapt in pitchy clouds, Smother the earth with never-fading mists ! And let her horses from their nostrils breathe Rebellious winds and dreadful thunder-claps ! That in this terror Tamburlaine may live, And my pined soul, resolved in liquid air, May still excruciate his tormented thoughts ! Then let the stony dart of senseless cold Pierce through the centre of my withered heart, And make a passage for my loathed life ! \He brains himself against the cage. Re-enter Zab. What do mine eyes behold ? my husband dead ! His skull all riven in twain ! his brains dashed out, The brains of Bajazeth, my lord and sovereign : O Bajazeth, my husband and my lord ! O Bajazeth ! O Turk ! O Emperor ! Give him his liquor? not I. Bring milk and fire, and my blood I bring him again. Tear me in pieces give me the sword with a ball of wild-fire upon it. Down with him ! Down with him ! Go to my child ! Away ! Away ! Away ! Ah, save that infant ! save him, save him! I, even I, speak to her. The sun was down streamers white, red, black here, here, here ! Fling the meat in his face Tamburlaine. Tamburlaine ! Let the soldiers be buried. Hell ! Death, Tamburlaine, Hell ! Make ready my coach, 1 my chair, my jewels. I come ! I come ! I come ! \She runs against the cage and brains herself. 1 Shakespeare apparently had this passage in his mind when he made Ophelia exclaim, " Come, my coach/' &c. SCENE I.] PART THE FIRST, 79 Enter ZENOCRATE with ANIPPE. Zeno. Wretched Zenocrate ! that liv'st to see Damascus' walls dyed with Egyptians' blood, Thy father's subjects and thy countrymen ; The streets strowed with dissevered joints of men And wounded bodies gasping yet for life : But most accurst, to see the sun-bright troop Of heavenly virgins and unspotted maids, (Whose looks might make the angry god of arms To break his sword and mildly treat of love) On horsemen's lances to be hoisted up And guiltlessly endure a cruel death : For every fell and stout Tartarian steed, That stampt on others with their thundering hoofs, When all their riders charged their quivering spears, Began to check the ground and rein themselves, Gazing upon the beauty of their looks. Ah Tamburlaine ! wert thou the cause of this That term'st Zenocrate thy dearest love ? Whose lives were dearer to Zenocrate Than her own life, or aught save thine own love. But see another bloody spectacle ! Ah, wretched eyes, the enemies of my heart, How are ye glutted with these grievous objects, And tell my soul more tales of bleeding ruth ! See, see, Anippe, if they breathe or no. Anippe. No breath, nor sense, nor motion in them both; Ah, madam ! this their slavery hath enforced, And ruthless cruelty of Tamburlaine. Zeno. Earth, cast up fountains from thy entrails, And wet thy cheeks for their untimely deaths ! Shake with their weight in sign of fear and grief! Blush, Heaven, that gave them honour at their birth 8o TAMDURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT v. And let them die a death so barbarous ! Those that are proud of fickle empery And place their chiefest good in earthly pomp, Behold the Turk and his great Emperess ! Ah, Tamburlaine ! my love ! sweet Tamburlaine ! That fight'st for sceptres and for slippery crowns, Behold the Turk and his great Emperess ! Thou, that in conduct of thy happy stars Sleep'st every night with conquests on thy brows, And yet would'st shun the wavering turns of war, In fear and feeling of the like distress Behold the Turk and his great Emperess ! Ah, mighty Jove and holy Mahomet, Pardon my love ! O, pardon his contempt Of earthly fortune and respect of pity, And let not conquest, ruthlessly pursued, Be equally against his life incensed In this great Turk and hapless Emperess ! And pardon me that was not moved with ruth To see them live so long in misery ! Ah, what may chance to thee, Zenocrate ? Anippe. Madam, content yourself, and be resolved Your love hath Fortune so at his command, That she shall stay and turn her wheel no more, As long as life maintains his mighty arm That fights for honour to adorn your head. Enter PHILEMUS, a Messenger. Zeno. What other heavy news now brings Philemus ? Phil. Madam, your father, and the Arabian king, The first affecter of your excellence, Comes now, as Turnus 'gainst ^Eneas did, Armed with lance into the Egyptian fields, Ready for battle 'gainst my lord, the king. SCKXK i.] PART THE FIRST. 81 Zeno. Now shame and duty, love and fear present A thousand sorrows to my martyred soul. Whom should I wish the fatal victory When my poor pleasures are divided thus And racked by duty from my cursed heart ? My father and my first-betrothed love Must fight against my life and present love ; Wherein the change I use condemns my faith, And makes my deeds infamous through the world : But as the gods, to end the Trojans' toil Prevented Turnus of Lavinia And fatally enriched /Eneas' love, So for a final issue to my griefs, To pacify my country and my love Must Tamburlaine by their resistless pow'rs With virtue of a gentle victory Conclude a league of honour to my hope ; Then, as the Powers divine have pre-ordained, With happy safety of my father's life Send like defence of fair Arabia. [Trumpets sound to the battle within : afterwards^ the KING (//ARABIA enters wounded. K. of Arab. What cursed power guides the murdering hands Of this inf kmous tyrant's soldiers. That no escape may save their enemies, Nor fortune keep themselves from victory ? Lie down, Arabia, wounded to the death, And let Zenocrate's fair eyes behold That, as for her thou bear'st these wretched arms, Even so for her thou diest in these arms, Leaving thy blood for witness of thy love. Zeno. Too deaf a witness for such love, my lord. Behold Zenocrate ! the cursed object, Mar. (. 82 TAMBURLA1NE THE GREAT. [ACT v. Whose fortunes never mastered her griefs ; Behold her wounded, in conceit, for thee, As much as thy fair body is for me. K. of Arab. Then shall I die with full, contented heart, Having beheld divine Zenocrate, Whose sight with joy would take away my life As now it bringeth sweetness to my wound, If I had not been wounded as I am. Ah ! that the deadly pangs I surfer now, Would lend an hour's licence to my tongue, To make discourse of some sweet accidents Have chanced thy merits in this worthless bondage ; And that I might be privy to the state Of thy deserved contentment, and thy love ; But, making now a virtue of thy sight, To drive all sorrow from my fainting soul, Since death denies me farther cause of joy, Deprived of care, my heart with comfort dies, Since thy desired hand shall close mine eyes. [He dies. Re-enter TAMBURLAINE, leading the SOLDAN, TECHELLES, THERIDAMAS, USUMCASANE, ivith others. Tamb. Come, happy father of Zenocrate, A title higher than thy Soldan's name. Though my right hand have thus enthralled thee, Thy princely daughter here shall set thee free ; She that hath calmed the fury of my sword, Which had ere this been bathed in streams of blood As vast and deep as Euphrates or Nile. Zeno. O sight thrice welcome to my joyful soul, To see the king, my father, issue safe From dangerous battle of my conquering love ! Sold. Well met, my only dear Zenocrate, Though with the loss of Egypt and my crown. SCENE I.] . PART THE FIRST. 83 Tamb. 'Twas I, my lord, that got the victory, And therefore grieve not at your overthrow, Since I shall render all into your hands, And add more strength to your dominions Than ever yet confirmed the Egyptian crown. The god of war resigns his room to me, Meaning to make me general of the world : Jove, viewing me in arms, looks pale and wan, Fearing my power should pull him from his throne. Where'er I come the Fatal Sisters sweat, And grisly Death, by running to and fro, To do their ceaseless homage to my sword ; And here in Afric, where it seldom rains, Since I arrived with my triumphant host, Have swelling clouds, drawn from wide-gasping wounds, Been oft resolved in bloody purple showers, A meteor that might terrify the earth, And make it quake at every drop it drinks. Millions of souls sit on the banks of Styx Waiting the back' return of Charon's boat ; Hell and Elysium swarm with ghosts of men, That I have sent from sundry foughten fields, To spread my fame through hell and up to Heaven. And see, my lord, a sight of strange import, Emperors and kings lie breathless at my feet : The Turk and his great Empress, as it seems, Left to themselves while we were at the fight, Have desperately despatched their slavish lives : With them Arabia, too, hath left his life : All sights of power to grace my victory ; And such are objects fit for Tamburlaine ; Wherein, as in a mirror, may be seen His honour, that consists in shedding blood, When men presume (o manage arms with him. G 2 84 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT v. Sold. Mighty hath God and Mahomet made thy hand, Renowned Tamburlaine ! to whom all kings Of force must yield their crowns and emperies ; And I am pleased with this my overthrow, If, as beseems a person of thy state, Thou hast with honour used Zenocrate. Tamb. Her state and person want no pomp, you see ; And for all blot of foul inchastity I record Heaven her heavenly self is clear : Then let me find no farther time to grace Her princely temples with the Persian crown. But here these kings that on my fortunes wait, And have been crowned for proved worthiness, Even by this hand that shall establish them, Shall now, adjoining all their hands with mine, Invest her here the Queen of Persia. What saith the noble Soldan and Zenocrate ! Sold. I yield with thanks and protestations Of endless honour to thee for her love. Tamb. Then doubt I not but fair Zenocrate Will soon consent to satisfy us both. Zerio. Else should I much forget myself, my lord. Ther. Then let us set the crown upon her head, That long hath lingered for so high a seat. Tech. My hand is ready to perform the deed ; For now her marriage-time shall work us rest. (/sum. And here's the crown, my lord ; help set it on. Tamb. Then sit thou down, divine Zenocrate ; And here we crown thee Queen of Persia, And all the kingdoms and dominions That late the power of Tamburlaine subdued. As Juno, when the giants were suppressed, That darted mountains at her brother Jove, So looks my love, shadowing in her brows SCENE I.] PART THE FIRST. Triumphs and trophies for my victories ; Or, as Latona's daughters, bent to arms, Adding more courage to my conquering mind. To gratify the sweet Zenocrate, Egyptians, Moors, and men of Asia, From Barbary unto the western India, Shall pay a yearly tribute to thy sire : And from the bounds of Afric to the banks Of Ganges shall his mighty arm extend. And now, my lords and loving followers, That purchased kingdoms by your martial deeds, Cast off your armour, put on scarlet robes, Mount up your royal places of estate, Environed with troops of noblemen, And there make laws to rule your provinces. Hang up your weapons on Alcides' post, For Tamburlaine takes truce with all the world. Thy first-betrothed Ipve, Arabia, Shall we with honour, as beseems, entomb With this great Turk and his fair Emperess. Then, after all these solemn exequies, We will our rites of marriage solemnise. TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. PART THE SECOND. THE PROLOGUE. THE general welcomes Tamburlaine received, When lie arrived last upon the stage, Hath made our poet pen his Second Part, Where death cuts off the progress of his pomp, And murderous fates throw all his triumphs down. But what became of fair Zenocrate, And with how many cities' sacrifice He celebrated her sad funeral, Himself in presence shall unfold at large. DRAMATIS PERSON &. TAMBURLAINE, King of Persia. CALYPHAS, } AMYRAS, His sons. CELEBINUS, ) TECHKLLES, King of Fez. THERIDAMAS, King of Argier. USUMCASANE, King of Morocco. ORCANES, King of Natolia. KING of JERUSALEM. KING of TREBIZOND. KING of SoRiA. 1 KING of AMASIA. GAZELLUS, Viceroy of Byron. URIBASSA. SIGISMUND, King of Hungary. FREDERICK, i Lords of Buda and Bohemia. rJALDWIN, CALLAPINE, Son of BAJAZETH. ALMEDA, his Keeper. PERDICAS, Servant to CALYPHAS. GOVERNOR of BABYLON. MAXIMUS. CAPTAIN of BALSERA. His Son. Physicians. Another Captain. Lords, Citizens, Soldiers, &c. ZENOCRATE, Wife of TAMBURLAINE. OLYMPIA, Wife of the Captain of Balsera. Turkish Concubines. 1 Cunningham and Bullen have Syria, and Dyce, Soria. The latter points out that Tyre, since the Arab dominion in the East, has been known as Sor ; hence Soria, which is several times referred to in the play. THE GT^EAT. PART THE SECOND. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Enter ORCANES, King of Natalia, GAZELLUS, Viceroy of Byron, URIBASSA, and their Train, with drums and trumpets. RC. Egregious viceroys of these eastern parts, Placed by the issue of great Bajazeth, And sacred lord, the mighty Callapine, Who lives in Egypt, prisoner to that slave Which kept his father in an iron cage ; Now have we marched from fair Natolia Two hundred leagues, and on Danubius' banks Our warlike host, in complete armour, rest, Where Sigismund, the king of Hungary, Should meet our person to conclude a truce. What ! shall we parley with the Christian ? Or cross the stream, and meet him in the field ? 93 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT i. Gaz. King of Natolia, let us treat of peace ; We are all glutted with the Christians' blood, And have a greater foe to fight against, Proud Tamburlaine, that, now in Asia, Near Guyron's head doth set his conq'ring feet, And means to fire Turkey as he goes. ' 'Gainst him, my lord, you must address your power. Uri. Besides, King Sigismund hath brought from Christendom, More than his camp of stout Hungarians, Sclavonians, Almain rutters, 1 Muffes, and Danes. That with the halbert, lance, and murdering axe, Will hazard that we might with surety hold. Ore. Though from the shortest northern parallel, Vast Grantland 2 compassed with the Frozen Sea, (Inhabited with tall and sturdy men, Giants as big as hugy Polypheme,) Millions of soldiers cut the arctic line, Bringing the strength of Europe to these arms, Our Turkey blades shall glide through all their throats, And make this champion 3 mead a bloody fen. Danubius' stream, that runs to Trebizon, Shall carry, wrapt within his scarlet waves, As martial presents to our friends at home, The slaughtered bodies of these Christians. The Terrene Main, wherein Danubius falls, 4 Shall, by this battle, be the Bloody Sea. The wandering sailors of proud Italy Shall meet those Christians, fleeting with the tide, Beating in heaps against their argosies, And make fair Europe, mounted on her bull, 1 Troopers : Germ. Reiter. - Greenland. 3 Champaign. 4 It is hardly necessary to remark that the Danube falls into the Black Sea, and not into the Mediterranean. SCENE I.] PART THE SECOND. 91 Trapped with the wealth and riches of the world, Alight, and wear a woful mourning weed. Gaz. Yet, stout Orcanes, Prorex of the world, Since Tamburlaine hath mustered all his men, Marching from Cairo northward with his camp, To Alexandria, and the frontier towns, Meaning to make a conquest of our land, 'Tis requisite to parley for a peace With Sigismund the King of Hungary, And save our forces for the hot assaults Proud Tamburlaine intends Natolia. Ore. Viceroy of "Byron, wisely hast thou said. My realm, the centre of our empery, Once lost, all Turkey would be overthrown, And for that cause the Christians shall have peace. Sclavonians, Almain rutters, Muffes, and Danes, Fear 1 not Orcanes, but groat Tamburlaine ; Nor he, but fortune, that hath made him great. We have revolted Grecians, Albanese, Sicilians, Jews, Arabians, Turks, and Moors, Natolians, Syrians, black Egyptians, Illyrians, Thracians, and Bithynians, Enough to swallow forceless Sigismund, Yet scarce enough to encounter Tamburlaine. He brings a world of people to the field, From Scythia to the oriental plage Of India, where raging Lantchidol 2 Beats on the regions with his boisterous blows, That never seaman yet discovered. All Asia is in arms with Tamburlaine, Even from the midst of fiery Cancer's tropic, 1 i.e., Frighten. 2 Lantchidol is that part of the Indian Ocean which lies between Java and New Holland. Broughton. 92 TAMBVRLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT I. To Amazonia under Capricorn ; And thence as far as Archipelago, All Afric is in arms with Tamburlaine ; Therefore, viceroy, the Christians must have peace. Enter SIGISMUND, FREDERICK, BALDWIN, and their Train, with drums and trumpets. Sig. Orcanes, (as our legates promised thee,) We, with our peers, have crossed Danubius' stream, To treat of friendly peace or deadly war. Take which thou wilt, for as the Romans used, I here present thee with a naked sword ; Wilt thou have war, then shake this blade at me ; If peace, restore it to my hands again, And I will sheath it, to confirm the same. Ore. Stay, Sigismund ! forget'st thou I am he That with the cannon shook Vienna walls, And made it dance upon the continent, As when the massy substance of the earth Quivers about the axle-tree of Heaven ? Forget'st thou that I sent a shower of darts, Mingled with powdered skot and feathered steel, So thick upon the blink-eyed burghers' heads, That thou thyself, then county palatine, The King of Boheme, and the Austric Duke, Sent heralds out, which basely on their knees In all your names desired a truce of me ? Forget'st thou, that to have me raise my siege, Waggons of gold were set before my tents, Stampt with the princely fowl, that in her wings, Carries the fearful thunderbolts of Jove ? How canst thou think of this, and offer war ? Sig. Vienna was besieged, and I was there, Then county palatine, but now a king, SCENE I.] PART THE SECOND. 93 And what we did was in extremity. But now, Orcanes, view my royal host, That hides these plains, and seems as vast and wide, As doth the desert of Arabia To those that stand on Bagdet's lofty tower ; Or as the ocean, to the traveller That rests upon the snowy Apennines ; And tell me whether I should stoop so low, Or treat of peace with the Natolian king. Gaz. Kings of Natolia and of Hungary, We came from Turkey to confirm a league, And not to dare each other to the field. A friendly parley might become you both. Fred. And we from Europe, to the same intent, Which if your general refuse or scorn, Our tents are pitched, our men stand in array, Ready to charge you ere you stir your feet. Ore. So prest 1 are we ; but yet, if Sigismund Speak as a friend, and stand not upon terms, Here is his sword, let peace be ratified On these conditions, specified before, Drawn with advice of our ambassadors. Sig. Then here I sheathe it, and give thee my hand, Never to draw it out, or manage arms Against thyself or thy confederates, But whilst 1 live will be a truce with thee. Ore. But, Sigismund, confirm it with an oath, And swear in sight of Heaven and by thy Christ. Sig. By him that made the world and saved my soul, The Son of God and issue of a Maid, Sweet Jesus Christ, I solemnly protest And vow to keep this peace inviolable. 1 Ready. Fr. /;#. 94 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT I. Ore. By sacred Mahomet, the friend of God, Whose holy Alcoran remains with us, Whose glorious body, when he left the world, Closed in a coffin mounted up the air, And hung on stately Mecca's temple-roof, I swear to keep this truce inviolable ; Of whose conditions and our solemn oaths, Signed with our hands, each shall retain a scroll As memorable witness of our league. Now, Sigismund, if any Christian king Encroach upon the confines of thy realm, Send word, Orcanes of Natolia Confirmed this league beyond Danubius' stream, And they will, trembling, sound a quick retreat ; So am I feared among all nations. Sig. If any heathen potentate or king Invade Natolia, Sigismund will send A hundred thousand horse trained to the war, And backed by stout landers of Germany, The strength and sinews of the Imperial seat. Ore. I thank thee, Sigismund ; but, when I war, All Asia Minor, Africa, and Greece, Follow m/ standard and my thundering drums. Come, let us go and banquet in our tents ; I will despatch chief of my army hence To fair Natolia and to Trebizon, To stay my coming 'gainst proud Tamburlaine. Friend Sigismund, and peers of Hungary, Come, banquet and carouse with us a while, And then depart we to our territories. \Exeunt SCENE II.] PART THE SECOND. 95 SCENE II. Enter CALLAPINE with ALMEDA, his Keeper. Call. Sweet Almeda, pity the ruthful plight Of Callapine, the son of Bajazeth, Born to be monarch of the western world, Yet here detained by cruel Tamburlaine. Aim. My lord, I pity it, and with all my heart Wish you release ; but he whose wrath is death, My sovereign lord, renowned Tamburlaine, Forbids you farther liberty than this. Call. Ah, were I now but half so eloquent To paint in words what I'll perform in deeds, 1 know thou vvould'st depart from hence with me. Aim. Not for all Afric : therefore move me not. Call. Yet hear me speak, my gentle Almeda. Aim. No speech to that end, by your favour, sir. Call. By Cairo runs Aim. No talk of running, I tell you, sir. Call. A little farther, gentle Almeda. Aim. Well, sir, what of this ? Call. By Cairo runs to Alexandria bay Uarote's streams, wherein at anchor lies A Turkish galley of my royal fleet, Waiting my coming to the river side, Hoping by some means I shall be released, Which, when I come aboard, will hoist up sail, And soon put forth into the Terrene sea, Where, 'twixt the isles of Cyprus and of Crete, We quickly may in Turkish seas arrive. Then shalt thou see a hundred kings and more, Upon their knees, all bid me welcome home, Amongst so many crowns of burnished gold, 96 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT 1. Choose which thou wilt, all are at thy command ; A thousand galleys, manned with Christian slaves, I freely give thee, which shall cut the Straits, And bring armados from the coasts of Spain Fraughted with gold of rich America ; The Grecian virgins shall attend on thee, Skilful in music and in amorous lays, As fair as was Pygmalion's ivory girl Or lovely 16 metamorphosed. With naked negroes shall thy coach be drawn, And as thou rid'st in triumph through the streets The pavement underneath thy chariot wheels With Turkey carpets shall be covered, And cloth of Arras hung about the walls, Fit objects for thy princely eye to pierce. A hundred bassoes, clothed in crimson silk, Shall ride before thee on Barbarian steeds ; And when thou goest, a golden canopy Enchased with precious stones, which shine as bright As that fair veil that covers all the world, When Phoebus, leaping from the hemisphere, Descendeth downward to the Antipodes, And more than this for all I cannot tell. Aim. How far hence lies the galley, say you ? Call. Sweet Almeda, scarce half a league from hence. Aim. But need 1 we not be spied going aboard? Call. Betwixt the hollow hanging of a hill, And crooked bending of a craggy rock, The sails wrapt up, the mast and tacklings down, She lies so close that none can find her out. Aim. I like that well : but tell me, my lord, if I should let you go, would you be as good as your word ? shall I be made a king for my labour ? 1 Musi. SCENE in.] PART THE SECOND. 97 Call. As I am Callapine the Emperor, And by the hand of Mahomet I swear Thou shalt be crowned a king, and be my mate. Aim. Then here I swear, as I am Almeda Your keeper under Tamburlaine the Great, (For that's the style and title I have yet,) Although he sent a thousand armed men To intercept this haughty enterprise, Yet would I venture to conduct your grace, And die before I brought you back again. Call. Thanks, gentle Almeda ; then let us haste, Lest time be past, and lingering let 1 us both. Aim. When you will, my lord ; I am ready. Call. Even straight ; and farewell, cursed Tamburlaine. Now go I to revenge my father's death. \Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter TAMBURLAINE, ZENOCRATE, and their three Sons, CALYPHAS, AMYRAS, and CELEBINUS, with drums and triimpets. Tamb. Now, bright Zenocrate, the world's fair eye, Whose beams illuminate the lamps of Heaven, Whose cheerful looks do clear the cloudy air, And clothe it in a crystal livery ; Now rest thee here on fair Larissa plains, Where Egypt and the Turkish empire part Between thy sons, that shall be emperors, And every one commander of a world. Zeno. Sweet Tamburlaine, when wilt thou leave these arms, 1 Hinder. Mar. H 98 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT I. And save thy sacred person free from scathe, And dangerous chances of the wrathful war ? Tamb. When Heaven shall cease to move on both the poles, And when the ground, whereon my soldiers march, Shall rise aloft and touch the horned moon, And not before, my sweet Zenocrate. Sit up, and rest thee like a lovely queen ; So, now she sits in pomp and majesty, When these, my sons, more precious in mine eyes, Than all the wealthy kingdoms I subdued, Placed by her side, look on their mother's face : But yet methinks their looks are amorous. Not martial -as the sons of Tamburlaine : Water and air, being symbolised in one, Argue their want of courage and of wit ; Their hair as white as milk and soft as down, (Which should be like the quills of porcupines As black as jet and hard as iron or steel) Bewrays they are too dainty for the wars ; Their fingers made to quaver on a lute, Their arms to hang about a lady's neck, Their legs to dance and caper in the air, 1 Would make me think them bastards not my sons, But that I know they issued from thy womb That never looked on man but Tamburlaine. Zeno. My gracious lord, they have their mother's looks, But when they list their conquering father's heart. This lovely boy, the youngest of the three, Not long ago bestrid a Scythian steed, Trotting the ring, and tilting at a glove, Which when he tainted 2 with his slender rod, 1 Bullen (following Cunningham) omitted this line. 2 Touched. SCENE in.] PART THE SECOND. 99 He reined him straight and made him so curvet, As I cried out for fear he should have fallen. Tamb. Well done, my boy, thou shalt have shield and lance, Armour of proof, horse, helm, and cur tie-axe, And I will teach thee how to charge thy foe, And harmless run among the deadly pikes. If thou wilt love the wars and follow me, Thou shalt be made a king and reign with me, Keeping in iron cages emperors. If thou exceed thy elder brothers' worth And shine in complete virtue more than they, Thou shalt be king before them, and thy seed Shall issue crowned from their mother's womb. Cel. Yes, father : you shall see me, if I live, Have under me as many kings as you, And march with such a multitude of men, As all the world shall tremble at their view. Tamb. These words assure me, boy, thou art my son. When I am old and cannot manage arms, Be thou the scourge and terror of the world. Amy. Why may not I, my lord, as well as he, Be termed the scourge and terror of the world ? Tamb. Be all a scourge and terror to the world, Or else you are not sons of Tamburlaine. Cal. But while my brothers follow arms, my lord, Let me accompany my gracious mother ; They are enough to conquer all the world, And you have won enough for me to keep. Tamb. Bastardly boy, sprung from some coward's loins, And not the issue of great Tamburlaine ; Of all the provinces I have subdued, Thou shalt not have a foot unless thou bear A mind courageous and invincible : loo TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT I. For he shall wear the crown of Persia Whose head hath deepest scars, whose breast most wounds, Which being wroth sends lightning from his eyes, And in the furrows of his frowning brows Harbours revenge, war, death, and cruelty ; For in a field, whose superficies Is covered with a liquid purple veil And sprinkled with the brains of slaughtered men, My royal chair of state shall be advanced ; And he that means to place himself therein, Must armed wade up to the chin in blood. Zeno. My lord, such speeches to our princely sons Dismay their minds before they come to prove The wounding troubles angry war affords. CeL No, madam, these are speeches fit for us, For if his chair were in a sea of blood I would prepare a ship and sail to it, Ere I would lose the title of a king. Amy. And I would strive to swim through pools of blood, Or make a bridge of murdered carcases, Whose arches should be framed with bones of Turks, Ere I would lose the title of a king. Tamb. Well, lovely boys, ye shall be emperors both, Stretching your conquering arms from East to West j And, sirrah, if you mean to wear a crown, When we shall meet the Turkish deputy And all his viceroys, snatch it from his head, And cleave his pericranium with thy sword. Cat. If any man will hold him, I will strike And cleave him to the channel 1 with my sword. Tamb. Hold him, and cleave him too, or I'll cleave thee, For we will march against them presently. Theridamas, Techelles, and Casane 1 Collar-bone. SCENE in.] PART THE SECOND. 101 Promised to meet me on Larissa plains With hosts apiece against this Turkish crew ; For I have sworn by sacred Mahomet To make it parcel of my empery ; The trumpets sound, Zenocrate ; they come. Enter THERIDAMAS and his Train, with drums and trumpets. Tamb. Welcome, Theridamas, King of Argier. Ther. My lord, the great and mighty Tamburlaine, Arch monarch of the world, I offer here My crown, myself, and all the power I have, In all affection at thy kingly feet. Tamb. Thanks, good Theridamas. Ther. Under my colours march ten thousand Greeks ; And of Argier's and Afric's frontier towns Twice twenty thousand valiant men-at-arms, All which have sworn to sack Natolia. Five hundred brigandines are under sail, Meet for your service on the sea, my lord, That launching from Argier to Tripoli, Will quickly ride before Natolia, And batter down the castles on the shore. Tamb. Well said, Argier ; receive thy crown again. Enter TECHELLES and USUMCASANE together. Tamb. Kings of Moroccus and of Fez, welcome. Usum. Magnificent and peerless Tamburlaine ! I and my neighbour King of Fez have brought To aid thee in this Turkish expedition, A hundred thousand expert soldiers : From Azamor x to Tunis near the sea Is Barbary unpeopled for thy sake, 1 A maritime town of Morocco. 102 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT i. And all the men in armour under me, Which with my crown I gladly offer thee. Tamb. Thanks, King of Moroccus, take your crown again. Tech. And, mighty Tamburlaine, our earthly god, Whose looks make this inferior world to quake, I here present thee with the crown of Fez, And with an host of Moors trained to the war, Whose coal-black faces make their foes retire, And quake for fear, as if infernal Jove Meaning to aid thee in these Turkish arms, Should pierce the black circumference of hell With ugly Furies bearing fiery flags, And millions of his strong tormenting spirits. From strong Tesella unto Biledull T All Barbary is unpeopled for thy sake. Tamb. Thanks, King of Fez ; take here thy crown again. Your presence, loving friends, and fellow kings, Makes me to surfeit in conceiving joy. If all the crystal gates of Jove's high court Were opened wide, and I might enter in To see the state and majesty of Heaven, It could not more delight me than your sight. Now will we banquet on these plains awhile, And after march to Turkey with our camp, In number more than are the drops that fall, When Boreas rents a thousand swelling clouds ; And proud Orcanes of Natolia With all his viceroys shall be so afraid, That though the' stones, as at Deucalion's flood, Were turned to men, he should be overcome. Such lavish will I make of Turkish blood, 1 Tesella, now Tesegdelt, an impregnable village of Morocco, lies to the south of Mogador, and Biledull, i.e. Bileclulgerid (the land of dates), is situated southward of the Barbary State?- SCENE in.] PART THE SECOND. 103 That Jove shall send his winged messenger To bid me sheath my sword and leave the field ; The sun unable to sustain the sight, Shall hide his head in Thetis' watery lap, And leave his steeds to fair Bootes' charge ; For half the world shall perish in this fight. But now, my friends, let me examine ye ; How have ye spent your absent time from me ? Usum. My lord, our men of Barbary have marched Four hundred miles with armour on their backs, And lain in leaguer 1 fifteen months and more ; For, since we left you at the Soldan's court, We have subdued the southern Guallatia, And all the land unto the coast of Spain ; We kept the narrow Strait of Jubalter, And made Canaria call us kings and lords ; Yet never did they recreate themselves, Or cease one day from war and hot alarms, And therefore let them rest awhile, my lord. Tamb. They shall, Casane, and 'tis time i' faith. Tech. And I have marched along the river Nile To Machda, where the mighty Christian priest, Called John the Great, 2 sits in a milk-white robe, Whose triple mitre I did take by force, And made him swear obedience to my crown, From thence unto Cazates did I march, Where Amazonians met me in the field, With whom, being women, I vouchsafed a league, And with my power did march to Zanzibar, The eastern part of Afric, where I viewed The Ethiopian sea, rivers and lakes, But neither man nor child in all the land ; Therefore I took my course to Manico, 1 The camp of a besieging force. 2 Prester John, 104 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT I. Where unresisted, I removed my camp ; And by the coast of Byather, at last I came to Cubar, where the negroes dwell, And conquering that, made haste to Nubia. There, having sacked Borno l the kingly seat, I took the king and led him bound in chains Unto Damasco, where I stayed before. Tamb. Well done, Techelles. What saith Theridamas Ther. I left the confines and the bounds of Afric, And thence I made a voyage into Europe, Where by the river Tyras I subdued Stoka, Podolia, and Codemia; Thence crossed the sea and came to Oblia 2 And Nigra Sylva, where the devils dance, Which in despite of them, I set on fire. From thence I crossed the gulf called by the name Mare Majore 3 of the inhabitants. Yet shall my soldiers make no period, Until Natolia kneel before your feet. Tamb. Then will we triumph, banquet and carouse ; Cooks shall have pensions to provide us cates, And glut us with the dainties of the world ; Lachryma Christi and Calabrian wines Shall comnxon soldiers drink in quaffing bowls, Ay, liquid gold (when we have conquered him) Mingled with coral and with orient pearl. Come, let us banquet and carouse the whiles. \Excunt. 1 With regard to the above places on Techelles' line of march, Manico, i.e. Manica, is in the Mozambique territory; by Byather Biafra is supposed to have been meant, while Borno, i.e. Bornu, is an extensive kingdom in the eastern part of Central Africa. 2 Tyras is now the Dniester, Stoka is a confluent of the Danube, Podolia is a Russian province, and Codemia, now Kodyma, is a confluent of the Bug. Oblia, i.e. Olbia, a Greek colony in Scythia, is now Stomogil on the Bug. 3 The old name of the Black Sea. So called by Marco Polo. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. Enter SIGISMUND, FREDERICK, BALDWIN, and their Train. >IG. Now say, my lords of Buda and Bohemia, What motion is it that inflames your thoughts, And stirs your valours to such sudden arms ? , Fred. Your majesty remembers, I am sure, What cruel slaughter of our Christian bloods These heathenish Turks and Pagans lately made, Betwixt the city Zula and Danubius ; How through the midst of Varna and Bulgaria, And almost to the very walls of Rome, They have, not long since, massacred our camp. It resteth now, then, that your majesty Take all advantages of time and power, And work revenge upon these infidels. Your highness knows, for Tamburlaine's repair, That strikes a terror to all Turkish hearts, Natolia hath dismissed the greatest part Of all his army, pitched against our power, Betwixt Cutheia and Orminius' mount, 1 And sent them marching up to Belgasar, 1 Probably Armenyes, in Transylvania. 106 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT n. Acantha, 1 Antioch, and Csesarea, To aid the Kings of Soria, and Jerusalem. Now then, my lord, advantage take thereof, And issue suddenly upon the rest ; That in the fortune of their overthrow, We may discourage all the pagan troop, That dare attempt to war with Christians. Sig. But calls not then your grace to memory The league we lately made with King Orcanes, Confirmed by oath and articles of peace, And calling Christ for record of our truths ? This should be treachery and violence Against the grace of our profession. Bald. No whit, my lord, for with such infidels, In whom no faith nor true religion rests, We are not bound to those accomplishments The holy lawsof Christendom enjoin ; But as the faith, which they profanely plight, Is not by necessary policy To be esteemed assurance for ourselves, So that we vow to them should not infringe Our liberty of arms or victory. Sig. Though I confess the oaths they undertake Breed little strength to our security. Yet those infirmities that thus defame Their faiths, their honours, and their religion, Should not give us presumption to the like. Our faiths are sound, and must be consummate, Religious, righteous, and inviolate. Fred. Assure your grace 'tis superstition To stand so strictly on dispensive faith ; And should we lose the opportunity That God hath given to venge our Christians' death 1 Query Acanthus, near Mount Athos. SCENE II.] PART THE SECOND. 107 And scourge their foul blasphemous Paganism, As fell to Saul, to Balaam, and the rest, That would not kill and curse at God's command, So surely will the vengeance of the Highest, And jealous anger of His fearful arm, Be poured with rigour on our sinful heads, If we neglect this offered victory. Sig. Then arm, my lords, and issue suddenly, Giving commandment to our general host, With expedition to assail the Pagan, And take the victory our God hath given. \Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter ORCANES, GAZELLUS, and URIBASSA, with their Trains. Ore. Gazellus, Uribassa, and the rest, Now will we march from proud Orminius' mount, To fair Natolia, where our neighbour kings Expect our power and our royal presence, To encounter with the cruel Tamburlaine, That nigh Larissa sways a mighty host, And with the thunder of his martial tools Makes earthquakes in the hearts of men and Heaven. Ga~. And now come we to make his sinews shake, With greater power than erst his pride hath felt. An hundred kings, by scores, will bid him arms, And hundred thousands subjects to each score, Which, if a shower of wounding thunderbolts Should break out of the bowels of the clouds, And fall as thick as hail upon our heads, In partial aid of that proud Scythian, Yet should our courages and steeled crests, io8 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT n. And numbers, more than infinite, of men, Be able to withstand and conquer him. \ Uri. Methinks I see how glad the Christian king Is made, for joy of your admitted truce, That could not but before be terrified With unacquainted power of our host. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Arm, dread sovereign, and my noble lords ! The treacherous army of the Christians, Taking advantage of your slender power, Comes marching on us, and determines straight To bid us battle for our dearest lives. Ore. Traitors ! villains ! damned Christians ! Have I not here the articles of peace, And solemn covenants we have both confirmed, He by his Christ, and I by Mahomet ? Gaz. Hell and confusion light upon their heads, That with such treason seek oiir overthrow, And care so little for their prophet, Christ ! Ore. Can there be such deceit in Christians, Or treason in the fleshly heart of man, Whose shape is figure of the highest God ! Then, if there be a Christ, as Christians say, But in their deeds deny him for their Christ, If he be son to everliving Jove, And hath the power of his outstretched arm ; If he be jealous of his name and honour, As is our holy prophet, Mahomet ; Take here these papers as our sacrifice And witness of thy servant's perjury. \He tears to pieces the articles of peace. 1 " If the sky fall, we'll uphold it on our lances," was the boast of the French at the battle of Nicopolis, at which Sigismund was defeated by Bajazet. SCENE in.] PART THE SECOND. 109 Open, thou shining veil of Cynthia, And make a passage from the empyreal Heaven, That he that sits on high and never sleeps, Nor in one place is circumscriptible, But everywhere fills every continent With strange infusion of his sacred vigour, May in his endless power and purity, Behold and venge this traitor's perjury ! Thou Christ, that art esteemed omnipotent, If thou wilt prove thyself a perfect God, Worthy the worship of all faithful hearts, Be now revenged upon this traitor's soul , And make the power I have left behind, (Too little to defend our guiltless lives,) Sufficient to discomfort and confound The trustless force of those false Christians. To arms, my lords ! On Christ still let us cry ! If there be Christ, we shall have victory. SCENE III. Alarms of battle within. Enter SIGISMUND, -wounded. Sig. Discomfited is all the Christian host, And God hath thundered vengeance from on high, For my accursed and hateful perjury. O, just and dreadful punisher of sin, Let the dishonour of the pains I feel, In this my mortal well-deserved wound, End all my penance in my sudden death ! And let this death, wherein to sin I die, Conceive a second life in endless mercy ! [He dies. no TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT n. Enter ORCANES, GAZELLUS, URIBASSA, and others. Ore. Now lie the Christians bathing in their bloods, And Christ or Mahomet hath been my friend. Gaz. See here the perjured traitor Hungary, Bloody and breathless for his villany. Ore. Now shall his barbarous body be a prey To beasts and fowls, and all the winds shall breathe Through shady leaves of every senseless tree Murmurs and hisses for his heinous sin. Now scalds his soul in the Tartarian streams, And feeds upon the baneful tree of hell, That Zoacum, 1 that fruit of bitterness, That in the midst of fire is ingraffed, Yet flourishes as Flora in her pride, With apples like the heads of damned fiends. The devils there, in chains of quenchless flame, Shall lead his soul through Orcus' burning gulf, From pain to pain, whose change shall never end. What say'st thou yet, Gazellus, to his foil Which we referred to justice of his Christ, And to his power, which here appears as full As rays of Cynthia to the clearest sight ? Gaz. 'Tis but the fortune of the wars, my lord, Whose power is often proved a miracle. Ore. Yet in my thoughts shall Christ be honoured, Not doing Mahomet an injury, Whose power had share in this our victory ; And since this miscreant hath disgraced his faith, And died a traitor both to Heaven and earth, We will both watch and ward shall keep his trunk Amidst these plains for fowls to prey upon. Go, Uribassa, give it straight in charge. 1 The description of this tree is taken from the Koran, chap. 37. SCENE iv.] PART THE SECOND. in Uri. I will, my lord. \Exit. Ore. And now, Gazellus, let us haste and meet Our army, and our brothers of Jerusalem, Of Soria, Trebizond, and Amasia, And happily, with full Natolian bowls Of Greekish wine, now let us celebrate Our happy conquest and his angry fate. \Exeunt. SCENE IV. ZENOCRATE is discovered lying in her bed of sfote, with TAMBURLAINE sitting by her. About her bed are three PHYSICIANS tempering potions. Around are THERI- DAMAS, TECHELLES, USUMCASANE, and her three Sons. Tamb. Black is the beauty of the brightest day ; The golden ball of Heaven's eternal fire, That danced with glory on the silver waves, Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams ; And all with faintness, and for foul disgrace, He binds his temples with a frowning cloud, Ready to darken earth with endless night. Zenocrate, that gave him light and life, Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers And tempered every soul with lively heat, Now by the malice of the angry skies, Whose jealousy admits no second mate, Draws in the comfort of her latest breath, All dazzled with the hellish mists of death. Now walk the angels on the walls of Heaven, As sentinels to warn the immortal souls To entertain divine Zenocrate. Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps That gently looked upon this loathsome earth, ii2 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT n. Shine downward now no more, but deck the Heavens, To entertain divine Zenocrate. The crystal springs, whose taste illuminates Refined eyes with an eternal sight, Like tried silver, run through Paradise, To entertain divine Zenocrate. The cherubins and holy seraphins, That sing and play before the King of kings, Use all their voices and their instruments To entertain divine Zenocrate. And in this sweet and curious harmony, The God that tunes this music to our souls, Holds out his hand in highest majesty To entertain divine Zenocrate. Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts Up to the palace of th' empyreal Heaven, That this my life may be as short to me As are the days of sweet Zenocrate. Physicians, will no physic do her good ? Phys. My lord, your majesty shall soon perceive : And if she pass this fit, the worst is past. Tamb. Tell me, how fares my fair Zenocrate ? Zeno. I fare, my lord, as other empresses, That, when this frail and transitory flesh Hath sucked the measure of that vital air That feeds the body with his dated health, Wade with enforced and necessary change. Tamb. May never such a change transform my love, In whose sweet being I repose my life, Whose heavenly presence, beautified with health, Gives light to Phoebus and the fixed stars ! Whose absence makes the sun and moon as dark As when, opposed in one diameter, Their spheres are mounted on the serpent's head, SCENE iv.] PART THE SECOND. 113 Or else descended to his winding train. Live still, my love, and so conserve my life, Or, dying, be the author of my death ! Zeno. Live still, my lord ! O, let my sovereign live And sooner let the fiery element Dissolve and make your kingdom in the sky, Than this base earth should shroud your majesty : For should I but suspect your death by mine, The comfort of my future happiness, And hope to meet your highness in the Heavens, Turned to despair, would break my wretched breast, And fury would confound my present rest. But let me die, my love ; yet let me die ; With love and patience let your true love die ! Your grief and fury hurts my second life. Yet let me kiss my lord before I die, And let me die with kissing of my lord. But since my life is lengthened yet a while, Let me take leave of these my loving sons, And of my lords, whose true nobility Have merited my latest memory. Sweet sons, farewell ! In death resemble me, And in your lives your father's excellence. Some music, and my fit will cease, my lord. [They call for music, Tamb. Proud fury, and intolerable fit, That dares torment the body of my love, And scourge the scourge of the immortal God : Now are those spheres, where Cupid used to sit, Wounding the world with wonder and with love, Sadly supplied with pale and ghastly death, Whose darts do pierce the centre of my soul. Her sacred beauty hath enchanted Heaven ; And had she lived before the siege of Troy, H4 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT n. Helen (whose beauty summoned Greece to arms, And drew a thousand ships to Tenedos) 1 Had not been named in Homer's Iliad ; Her name had been in every line he wrote. Or had those wanton poets, for whose birth Old Rome was proud, but gazed a while on her, Nor Lesbia nor Corinna had been named ; Zenocrate had been the argument Of every epigram or elegy. \_The music sounds. ZENOCRATE dies. What ! is she dead ? Techelles, draw thy sword And wound the earth, that it may cleave in twain, And we descend into the infernal vaults, To hale the Fatal Sisters by the hair, And throw them in the triple moat of hell, For taking hence my fair Zenocrate. Casane and Theridamas, to arms ! Raise cavalieros 2 higher than the clouds, And with the cannon break the frame of Heaven ; Batter the shining palace of the sun, And shiver all the starry firmament, For amorous Jove hath snatched my love from hence, Meaning to make her stately queen of Heaven. What God soever holds thee in his arms, Giving thee nectar and ambrosia, Behold me here, divine Zenocrate, Raving, impatient, desperate, and mad, Breaking my steeled lance, with which I burst The rusty beams of Janus' temple-doors, Letting out Death and tyrannising War, 1 "Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" See " Doctor Faustus" scene xiv. , p. 223. 2 Cavalier is the word still used for a mound for cannons elevated above the rest of the works of a fortress, as a horseman is raised above a foot-soldier. Cunningham. SCENE IV.] PART THE SECOND. 115 To march with me under this bloody flag ! And if thou pitiest Tamburlaine the Great, Come down from Heaven, and live with me again ! Ther. Ah, good my lord, be patient ; she is dead, And all this raging cannot make her live. If words might serve, our voice hath rent the air ; If tears, our eyes have watered all the earth ; If grief, our murdered hearts have strained forth blood ; Nothing prevails, for she is dead, my lord. Tamb. " For she is dead ! " Thy words do pierce my soul ! Ah, sweet Theridamas ! say so no more ; Though she be dead, yet let me think she lives, And feed my mind that dies for want of her. Where'er her soul be, thou [To the body] shalt stay with me, Embalmed with cassia, ambergris, and myrrh, Not lapt in lead, but in a sheet of gold, And till I die thou shalt not be interred. Then in as rich a tomb as Mausolus' We both will rest and have one epitaph Writ in as many several languages As I have conquered kingdoms with my sword. This cursed town will I consume with fire, Because this place bereaved me of my love : The houses, burnt, will look as if they mourned ; And here will I set up her statua, And march about it with my mourning camp Drooping and pining for Zenocrate. \_The scene closes. i 2 ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter the KINGS of TREBIZOND and SORIA, one bearing a sword, and the other a sceptre ; next ORCANES King of NATOLIA and the KING of JERUSALEM with the imperial crown ; after them enters CALLAPINE, and after him other Lords and ALMEDA. ORCANES and the KING 0/~ JERUSALEM crown CALLAPINE, and the others give him the sceptre.. RC. Callapinus Cyricelibes, otherwise Cybelius, son and successive heir to the late mighty emperor, Bajazeth, by the aid of God and his friend Maho- met, Emperor of Natolia, Jerusalem, Trebizond, Soria, Amasia, Thracia, Illyria, Carmania, and all the hundred and thirty king- doms late contributory to his mighty father. Long live Callapinus, Emperor of Turkey ! Call. Thrice worthy kings of Natolia, and the rest, I will requite your royal gratitudes With all the benefits my empire yields ; And were the sinews of the imperial seat So knit and strengthened as when Bajazeth My royal lord and father filled the throne, Whose cursed fate hath so dismembered it, SCENE I.J PART THE SECOND. 117 Then should you see this thief of Scythia, This proud, usurping King of Persia, Do us such honour and supremacy, Bearing the vengeance of our father's wrongs, As all the world should blot his dignities Out of the book of base-born infamies. And now I doubt not but your royal cares Have so provided for this cursed foe, That, since the heir of mighty Bajazeth, (An emperor so honoured for his virtues,) Revives the spirits of all true Turkish hearts, In grievous memory of his father's shame, We shall not need to nourish any doubt, But that proud fortune, who hath followed long The martial sword of mighty Tamburlaine, Will now retain her old inconstancy, And raise our honours to as high a pitch, In this our strong and fortunate encounter ; For so hath heaven provided my escape, From all the cruelty my soul sustained, By this my friendly keeper's happy means, That Jove, surcharged with pity of our wrongs, Will pour it down in showers on our heads, Scourging the pride of cursed Tamburlaine. On. I have a hundred thousand men in arms ; Some, that in conquest of the perjured Christian, Being a handful to a mighty host, Think them in number yet sufficient To drink the river Nile or Euphrates, And for their power enow to win the world. K. offer. And I as many from Jerusalem, Judaea, Gaza, and Scalonia's 1 bounds, That on Mount Sinai with their ensigns spread, 1 Scalonia, i.e. Ascalon. n8 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT in. Look like the parti-coloured clouds of Heaven That show fair weather to the neighbour morn. K. of Treb. And I as many bring from Trebizond, Chio, Famastro, and Amasia, All bordering on the Mare Major sea, Riso, 2 Sancina, and the bordering towns That touch the end of famous Euphrates, Whose courages are kindled with the flames, The cursed Scythian sets on all their towns, And vow to burn the villain's cruel heart. K. of Sor. From Soria with seventy thousand strong Ta'en from Aleppo, Soldino, Tripoli, And so on to my city of Damasco, I march to meet and aid my neighbour kings ; All which will join against this Tamburlaine, And bring him captive to your highness' feet. Ore. Our battle then in martial manner pitched, According to our ancient use, shall bear The figure of the semicircled moon, Whose horns shall sprinkle through the tainted air The poisoned brains of this proud Scythian. Call. Well then, my noble lords, for this my friend That freed me from the bondage of my foe, I think it requisite and honourable, To keep my promise and to make him king, That is a gentleman, I know, at least. Aim. That's no matter, sir, for being a king ; for Tamburlaine came up of nothing. K. offer. Your majesty may choose some 'pointed time, Performing all your promise to the full ; 'Tis nought for your majesty to give a kingdom. Call. Then will I shortly keep my promise, Almeda. Aim. Why, I thank your majesty. [Exeunt. 1 The Black Sea. 2 Evidently Rizeli, a town near Trebizond, SCENE n.J PART THE SECOND. 119 SCENE II. Enter TAMBURLAINE, with his three Sons and USUMCA- SANE;/0#r Attendants bearing the hearse oj "ZENO- CRATE ; the drums sounding a doleful march ; the town burning. Tamb. So burn the turrets of this cursed town, Flame to the highest region of the air, And kindle heaps of exhalations, That being fiery meteors may presage Death and destruction to the inhabitants ! Over my zenith hang a blazing star, That may endure till Heaven be dissolved, Fed with the fresh supply of earthly dregs, Threatening a dearth and famine to this land ! Flying dragons, lightning, fearful thunderclaps, Singe these fair plains and make them seem as black As is the island where the Furies mask, Compassed with Lethe, Styx, and Phlegethon, Because my dear'st Zenocrate is dead. Cal. This pillar, placed in memory of her, Where in Arabian, Hebrew, Greek, is writ : This town, being burnt by Tamburlaine the Great, Forbids the world to build it up again. Amy. And here this mournful streamer shall be placed, Wrought with the Persian and th' Egyptian arms, To signify she was a princess born, And wife unto the monarch of the East. Cel. And here this table as a register Of all her virtues and perfections. Tamb. And here the picture of Zenocrate, To show her beauty which the world admired ; Sweet picture of divine Zenocrate, J 120 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT in. That, hanging here, will draw the gods from Heaven, And cause the stars fixed in the southern arc, (Whose lovely faces never any viewed That have not passed the centre's latitude,) As pilgrims, travel to our hemisphere, Only to gaze upon Zenocrate. Thou shall not beautify Larissa plains, But keep within the circle of mine arms. At every town and castle I besiege, Thou shall be set upon my royal lent ; And when I meet an army in the field, Those looks will shed such influence in my camp As if Bellona, goddess of the war, Threw naked swords and sulphur-balls of fire Upon the heads of all our enemies. And now, my lords, advance your spears again : Sorrow no more, my sweet Casane, now ; Boys, leave to mourn ! this town shall ever mourn, Being burnt to cinders for your mother's death. Cal. If I had wept a sea of tears for her, It would not ease the sorrows I sustain, Amy. As is thai town, so is my hearl consumed Wilh grief and sorrow for my mother's death. Cel. My mother's death hath mortified my mind, And sorrow stops the passage of my speech. Tamb. But now, my boys, leave off and list to me. That mean to teach you rudiments of war ; I'll have you learn to sleep upon the ground, March in your armour ihorough walery fens, Sustain the scorching heat and freezing cold, Hunger and thirsl, right adjuncts of the war, And after this to scale a castle wall, Besiege a forl, lo undermine a town, And make whole cilies caper in ihe air. SCENE ii.J PART THE SECOND. 121 Then next the way to fortify your men ; In champion grounds, what figure serves you best, For which the quinque-angle form is meet, Because the corners there may fall more flat Whereas the fort may fittest be assailed, And sharpest where the assault is desperate. The ditches must be deep ; the counterscarps l Narrow and steep ; the walls made high and broad ; The bulwarks and the rampires large and strong, With cavalieros and thick counterforts, And room within to lodge six thousand men. It must have privy ditches, countermines, And secret issuings to defend the ditch ; It must have high argins ~ and covered ways, To keep the bulwark fronts from battery, And parapets to hide the musketers ; Casemates to place the great artillery ; And store of ordnance, that from every flank May scour the outward curtains of the fort, Dismount the cannon of the adverse part, Murder the foe, and save the walls from breach. When this is learned for service on the land, By plain and easy demonstration I'll teach you how to make the water mount, That you may dry-foot march through lakes and pools, Deep rivers, havens, creeks, and little seas, And make a fortress in the raging waves, Fenced with the concave of monstrous rock, Invincible by nature of the place. When this is done then are ye soldiers, And worthy sons of Tamburlaine the Great. 1 That side of the ditch nearest the besiegers. " Argine (Ital. ) is an earthwork, and here means the glacis. The covered way is the protected road between the argin and the counter- scarp -, Cunningham. 122 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT in. Cal. My lord, but this is dangerous to be done ; We may be slain or wounded ere we learn. Tamb. Villain ! Art thou the son of Tamburlaine, And fear'st to die, or with a curtle-axe To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound ? Hast thou beheld a peal of ordnance strike A ring of pikes, mingled with shot 1 and horse, Whose shattered limbs, being tossed as high as Heaven, Hang in the air as thick as sunny motes, And canst thou, coward, stand in fear of death ? Hast thou not seen my horsemen charge the foe, Shot through the arms, cut overthwart the hands, Dyeing their lances with their streaming blood, And yet at night carouse within my tent, Filling their empty veins with airy wine, That, being concocted, turns to crimson blood, And wilt thou shun the field for fear of wounds ? View me, thy father, that hath conquered kings, And, with his horse, marched round about the earth, Quite void of scars, and clear from any wound, That by the wars lost not a drop of blood, And see him lance his flesh to teach you all. \He cuts his arm. A wound is nothing, be it ne'er so deep ; Blood is the god of war's rich livery. Now look I like a soldier, and this wound As great a grace and majesty to me, As if a chain of gold, enamelled, Enchased with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, 1 " Mingled with shot " means with musketeers. Eullen proposed to read "foot" instead of "shot," but the alteration is unnecessary. In A New Way to Pay Old Debts (near the end) Massinger uses the word "shot " in a similar sense : " Say there were a squadron Of pikes, lined through with shot, when I am mounted Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them ?" SCENE II.] PART THE SECOND. 123 And fairest pearl of wealthy India, Were mounted here under a canopy, And I sate down clothed with a massy robe, That late adorned the Afric potentate, Whom I brought bound unto Damascus' walls. Come, boys, and with your fingers search my wound, And in my blood wash all your hands at once, While I sit smiling to behold the sight. Now, my boys, what think ye of a wound ? Cat. I know not what I should think of it ; methinks it is a pitiful sight. Cel. 'Tis nothing : give me a wound, father. Amy. And me another, my lord. Tamb. Come, sirrah, give me your arm. Cel. Here, father, cut it bravely, as you did your own. Tamb. It shall suffice thou darest abide a wound ; My boy, thou shalt not lose a drop of blood Before we meet the army of the Turk : But then run desperate through the thickest throngs, Dreadless of blo\vs, of bloody wounds, and death ; And let the burning of Larissa-walls, My speech of war, and this my wound you see, Teach you, my boys, to bear courageous minds, Fit for the followers of great Tamburlaine ! Usumcasane, now come let us march Towards Techelles and Theridamas, That we have sent before to fire the towns The towers and cities of these hateful Turks, And hunt that coward, faint-heart runaway, With that accursed traitor Almeda, Till fire and sword have found them at a bay. Usuin. I long to pierce his bowels with my sword, That hath betrayed my gracious sovereign, That cursed and damned traitor Almeda. 124 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT HI. Tamb. Then let us see if coward Callapine Dare levy arms against our puissance, That we may tread upon his captive neck, And treble all his father's slaveries. \_Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter TECHELLES, THERIDAMAS, and their Train. Ther. Thus have we marched northward from Tam- burlaine, Unto the frontier point of Soria ; And this is Balsera, their chiefest hold, 1 Wherein is all the treasure of the land. Tech. Then let us bring our light artillery, Minions, falc'nets, and sakers ~ to the trench, Filling the ditches with the walls' wide breach, And enter in to seize upon the hold. How say you, soldiers ? shall we or not? Sold. Yes, my lord, yes ; come, let's about it. Ther. But stay awhile ; summon a parley, drum. It may be they will yield it quietly, Knowing two kings, the friends to Tamburlaine, Stand at the walls with such a mighty power. A parley sounded. The CAPTAIN appears on the walls, with OLYMPIA his Wife, and his Son. Copt. What require you, my masters ? Ther. Captain, that thou yield up thy hold to us. Capt. To you ! Why, do you think me. weary of it ? Tech. Nay, captain, thou art weary of thy life, If thou withstand the friends of Tamburlaine ! 1 Fortress. - These were all small pieces of ordnance. SCENE in.] PART THE SECOND. 125 Thcr. These pioners of Argier in Africa, Even in the cannon's face, shall raise a hill Of earth and faggots higher than the fort, And over thy argins and covered ways Shall play upon the bulwarks of thy hold Volleys of ordnance, till the breach be made That with his ruin fills up all the trench, And when we enter in, not Heaven itself Shall ransom thee, thy wife, and family. Tech. Captain, these Moors shall cut the leaden pipes, That bring fresh water to thy men and thee, And lie in trench before thy castle walls, That no supply of victual shall come in, Nor any issue forth but they shall die ; And, therefore, captain, yield it quietly. Capt. Were you, that are the friends of Tamburlaine, Brothers of holy Mahomet himself, I would not yield it : therefore do your worst : Raise mounts, batter, intrench, and undermine, Cut off the water, all convoys that come, 1 Yet I am resolute, and so farewell. [CAPTAIN, OLYMPIA, and their Son retire from the walls. Ther. Pioners, away ! and where I stuck the stake, Intrench with those dimensions I prescribed. Cast up the earth towards the castle wall, Which, till it may defend you, labour low, And few or none shall perish by their shot. Pio. We will, my lord. \Examt Pioners. Tech. A hundred horse shall scout about the plains To spy what force comes to relieve the hold. Both we, Theridamas, will entrench our men, And with the Jacob's staff 2 measure the height 1 " Can" in the old editions. 2 A mathematical instrument. 126 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT ITT. And distance of the castle from the trench, That we may know if our artillery Will carry full point-blank unto their walls. Ther. Then see the bringing of our ordnance Along the trench into the battery, Where we will have gabions of six feet broad To save our cannoniers from musket shot. Betwixt which shall our ordnance thunder forth, And with the breach's fall, smoke, fire, and dust, The crack, the echo, and the soldier's cry, Make deaf the ear and dim the crystal sky. Tech. Trumpets and drums, alarum presently ; And, soldiers, play the men ; the hold is yours. \Excnnf. SCENE IV. Alarm within. Enter the CAPTAIN, with OLYMPIA, and his Son. Olymp. Come, good my lord, and let us haste from hence Along the cave that leads beyond the foe ; No hope is left to save this conquered hold. Capt. A deadly bullet, gliding through my side, Lies heavy on my heart ; I cannot live. I feel my liver pierced, and all my veins, That there begin and nourish every part, Mangled and torn, and all my entrails bathed In blood that straineth from their orifex. Farewell, sweet wife ! sweet son, farewell ! I die. [ He dies. Olymp. Death, whither art thou gone, that both we live ? Come back again, sweet Death, and strike us both ! One minute end our days ! and one sepulchre SCENE iv.] PART THE SECOND. 127 Contain our bodies ! Death, why com'st thou not ? Well, this must be the messenger for thee : [Drawing a dagger. Now, ugly Death, stretch out thy sable wings, And carry both our souls where his remains. Tell me, sweet boy, art thou content to die ? These barbarous Scythians, full of cruelty, And Moors, in whom was never pity found, Will hew us piecemeal, put us to the wheel, Or else invent some torture worse than that ; Therefore die by thy loving mother's hand, Who gently now will lance thy ivory throat, And quickly rid thee both of pain and life. Son. Mother, despatch me, or I'll kill myself; For think you I can live and see him dead ? Give me your knife, good mother, or strike home : The Scythians shall not tyrannise on me : Sweet mother, strike, that I may meet my father. [She stabs him and he dies. Olymp. Ah, sacred Mahomet, if this be sin, Entreat a pardon of the God of Heaven, And purge my soul before it come to thee. \_She burns the bodies of her Husband and Son and then attempts to kill herself. Enter THERIDAMAS, TECHELLES, and all their Train. Ther. How now, madam, what are you doing ? Olymp. Killing myself, as I have done my son, Whose body, with his father's, I have burnt, Lest cruel Scythians should dismember him. Tech. 'Twas bravely done, and, like a soldier's wife. Thou shall with us to Tamburlaine the Great, Who, when he hears how resolute thou art, Will match thee with a viceroy or a king. 128 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT in. Olymp. My lord deceased was dearer unto me Than any viceroy, king, or emperor ; And for his sake here will I end my days. T/ier. But, lady, go with us to Tamburlaine, And thou shalt see a man, greater than Mahomet, In whose high looks is much more majesty Than from the concave superficies Of Jove's vast palace, the empyreal orb, Unto the shining bower where Cynthia sits, Like lovely Thetis, in a crystal robe ; That treadeth fortune underneath his feet, And makes the mighty god of arms his slave ; On whom Death and the Fatal Sisters wait With naked swords and scarlet liveries : Before whom, mounted on a lion's back, Rhamnusia bears a helmet full of blood, And strews the way with brains of slaughtered men ; By whose proud side the ugly Furies run, Hearkening when he shall- bid them plague the world ; Over whose zenith, clothed in windy air, And eagle's wings joined to her feathered breast, Fame hovereth, sounding of her golden trump, That to the adverse poles of that straight line, Which measureth the glorious frame of Heaven, The name of mighty Tamburlaine is spread, And him, fair lady, shall thy eyes behold. Come ! Olymp. Take pity of a lady's ruthful tears, That humbly craves upon her knees to stay And cast her body in the burning flame, That feeds upon her son's and husband's flesh. Tech. Madam, sooner shall fire consume us both, Than scorch a face so beautiful as this, In frame of which Nature hath showed more skill SCENE v.] PART THE SECOND. 129 Than when she gave eternal chaos form, Drawing from it the shining lamps of Heaven. Ther. Madam, I am so far in love with you, That you must go with us no remedy. . Olymp. Then carry me, I care not, where you will, And let the end of this my fatal journey Be likewise end to my accursed life. Tech. No, madam, but the beginning of your joy : Come willingly therefore. Ther. Soldiers, now let us meet the general, Who by this time is at Natolia, Ready to charge the army of the Turk. The gold and silver, and the pearl, we got, Rifling this fort, divide in equal shares : This lady shall have twice as much again Out of the coffers of our treasury. \Exeunt > SCENE V. Enter CALLAPINE, ORCANES, ALMEDA, and the KINGS of JERUSALEM, TREBIZOND, and SORIA, ivith their Trains. To them enters a Messenger. Mes. Renowned emperor, mighty Callapine, God's great lieutenant over all the world ! Here at Aleppo, with a host of men, Lies Tamburlaine, this King of Persia, (In numbers more than are the quivering leaves Of Ida's forest, where your highness' hounds, With open cry, pursue the wounded stag,) Who means to girt Natolia's walls with siege, Fire the town, and overrun the land. Call. My royal army is as great as his, Afar, K 130 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT in. That, from the bounds of Phrygia to the sea Which washeth Cyprus with his brinish waves, Covers the hills, the valleys, and the plains. Viceroys and peers of Turkey, play the men ! Whet all your swords, to mangle Tamburlaine, His sons, his captains, and his followers ; By Mahomet ! not one of them shall live ; The field wherein this battle shall be fought For ever term the Persian's sepulchre, In memory of this our victory ! Ore. Now, he that calls himself the scourge of Jove, The emperor of the world, and earthly god, Shall end the warlike progress he intends, And travel headlong to the lake of hell, Where legions of devils, (knowing he must die Here, in Natolia, by your highness' hands,) All brandishing their brands of quenchless fire, Stretching their monstrous paws, grin with their teeth And guard the gates to entertain his soul. Call. Tell me, viceroys, the number of your men, And what our army royal is esteemed. K. offer. From Palestina and Jerusalem, Of Hebrews threescore thousand fighting men Are come since last we showed your majesty. Ore. So from Arabia Desert, and the bounds Of that sweet land, whose brave metropolis Re-edified the fair Semiramis, Came forty thousand warlike foot and horse, Since last we numbered to your majesty. K. of Treb. From Trebizond, in Asia the Less, Naturalised Turks and stout Bithynians Came to my bands, full fifty thousand more (That, fighting, know not what retreat doth mean, SCENE v.] PART THE SECOND. 131 Nor e'er return but with the victory,) Since last we numbered to your majesty. K. of Sor. Of Sorians from Halla is repaired, And neighbour cities of your highness' land, Ten thousand horse, and thirty thousand foot, Since last we numbered to your majesty ; So that the royal army is esteemed Six hundred thousand valiant fighting men. Call. Then welcome, Tamburlaine, unto thy death. Come, puissant viceroys, let us to the field, (The Persians' sepulchre,) and sacrifice Mountains of breathless men to Mahomet, Who now, with Jove, opens the firmament To see the slaughter of our enemies. Enter TAMBURLAINE with his three Sons, USUMCASANE, and others. Tamb. How now, Casane ? See a knot of kings, Sitting as if they were a-telling riddles. Usum. My lord, your presence makes them pale and wan : Poor souls ! they look as if their death were near. Tamb. And so he is, Casane ; I am here ; But yet I'll save their lives, and make them slaves. Ye petty kings of Turkey, I am come, As Hector did into the Grecian camp, To overdare the pride of Grsecia, And set his warlike person to the view Of fierce Achilles, rival of his fame : I do you honour in the simile ; For if I should, as Hector did Achilles, (The worthiest knight that ever brandished sword). Challenge in combat any of you all, I see how fearfully ye would refuse, And fly my glove as from a scorpion. 132 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT in. Ore. Now thou art fearful of thy army's strength, Thou would'st with overmatch of person fight ; But, shepherd's issue, base-born Tamburlaine, Think of thy end ! this sword shall lance thy throat. Tamb. Villain ! the shepherd's issue (at whose birth Heaven did afford a gracious aspect, And joined those stars that shall be opposite Even till the dissolution of the world, And never meant to make a conqueror So famous as is mighty Tamburlaine,) Shall so torment thee and that Callapine, That, like a roguish runaway, suborned That villain there, that slave, that Turkish dog, To /alse his service to his sovereign, As ye shall curse the birth of Tamburlaine. Call. Rail not, proud Scythian ! I shall now revenge My father's viJe abuses, and mine own. K. qfjer. By Mahomet ! he shall be tied in chains, Rowing with Christians in a brigandine About the Grecian isles to rob and spoil, And turn him to his ancient trade again : Methinks the slave should make a lusty thief. Call. Nay, when the battle ends, all we will meet, And sit in council to invent some pain That most may vex his body and his soul. Tamb. Sirrah, Callapine ! I'll hang a clog about your neck for running away again ; you shall not trouble me thus to come and fetch you ; But as for you, viceroys, you shall have bits, And, harnessed like my horses, draw my coach ; And when ye stay, be lashed with whips of wire. I'll have you learn to feed on provender And in a stable lie upon the planks. Ore. But, Tamburlaine, first thou shalt kneel to us, And humbly crave a pardon for thy life. SCENE v.] PART THE SECOND. 133 K. of Treb. The common soldiers of our mighty host Shall bring thee bound unto the general's tent. K. of Sor. And all have jointly sworn thy cruel death, Or bind thee in eternal torments' wrath. Tamb. Well, sirs, diet yourselves ; you know I shall have occasion shortly to journey you. Cel. See, father, How Almeda the jailor looks upon us. Tamb. Villain ! traitor ! damned fugitive ! I'll make thee wish' the earth had swallowed thee, See'st thou not death within my wrathful looks ? Go, villain, cast thee headlong from a rock, Or rip thy bowels, and rend out thy heart To appease my wrath ! or else I'll torture thee, Searing thy hateful flesh with burning irons And drops of scalding lead, while all thy joints Be racked and beat asunder with the wheel ; For, if thou liv'st, not any element Shall shroud thee from the wrath of Tamburlaine. Call. Well, in despite of thee he shall be king. Come, Almeda ; receive this crown of me, I here invest thee king of Ariadan Bordering on Mare Roso, 1 near to Mecca. On. What ! Take it, man. Aim. Good my lord, let me take it. \To Tamburlaine. Call. Dost thou ask him leave ? Here ; take it. Tamb. Go to, sirrah, take your crown, and ma .e up the half dozen. So, sirrah, now you are a king, you must give arms. Ore. So he shall, and wear thy head in his scutcheon. Tamb. No ; let him hang a bunch of keys on his standard to put him in remembrance he was a jailor, that when I take him, I may knock out his brains with 1 The Red Sea. 134- TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT n them, and lock you in the stable, when you shall come sweating from my chariot. K. of Treb. Away ; let us to the field, that the villain may be slain. Tamb. Sirrah, prepare whips and bring my chariot to my tent, for as soon as the battle is done, I'll ride in triumph through the camp. Enter THERIDAMAS, TECHELLES, and their Train. How now, ye petty kings ? Lo, here are bugs 1 Will make the hair stand upright on your heads, And cast your crowns in slavery at their feet. Welcome, Theridamas and Techelles, both ! See ye this rout, and know ye this same king ? Ther. Ay, my lord ; he was Callapine's keeper. Tamb. Well, now ye see he is a king ; look to him, Theridamas, when we are fighting, lest he hide his crown as the foolish King of Persia did. K. of Sor. No, Tamburlaine; he shall not be put to that exigent, I warrant thee. Tamb. You know not, sir But now, my followers and my loving friends, Fight as you ever did, like conquerors, The glory of this happy day is yours. My stern aspect shall make fair victory, Hovering betwixt our armies, light on me Loaden with laurel wreaths to crown us all. Tech. I smile to think how, when this field is fought And rich Natolia ours, our men shall sweat With carrying pearl and treasure on their backs. Tamb. You shall be princes all, immediately ; Come, fight ye Turks, or yield us victory. Ore. No ; we will meet thee, slavish Tamburlaine. \Exeunt. Bugbears. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. Alarums within. AMYRAS and CELEBINUS issue from the tent where CALYPHAS sits asleep. MY. Now in their glories shine the golden crowns Of these proud Turks, much like so many suns That half dismay the majesty of Heaven. Now, brother, follow we our father's sword, That flies with fury swifter than our thoughts, And cuts down armies with his conquering wings. Cel. Call forth our lazy brother from the tent, For if my father miss him in the field, Wrath, kindled in the furnace of his breast, Will send a deadly lightning to his heart. Amy. Brother, ho ! what given so much to sleep ! You cannot leave it, when our enemies' drums And rattling cannons thunder in our ears Our proper ruin and our father's foil ? Cal. Away, ye fools ! my father needs not me, Nor you in faith, but that you will be thought More childish-valorous than manly-wise. If half our camp should sit and sleep with me, My father were enough to scare the foe. 136 TAMBURLAINE THE GREAT. [ACT iv. You do dishonour to his majesty, To think our helps will do him any good. Amy. What, dar'st thou then be absent from the field, Knowing my father hates thy cowardice, And oft hath warned thee to be still in field, When he himself amidst the thickest troops Beats down our foes, to flesh our taintless swords ? Cal I know, sir, what it is to kill a man ; It works remorse of conscience in me ; I take no pleasure to be murderous, Nor care for blood when wine will quench my thirst. - Ccl. O cowardly boy ! Fie ! for shame come forth ! Thou dost dishonour manhood and thy house. Cal. Go, go, tall * stripling, fight you for us both, And take my other toward brother here, For person like to prove a second Mars. 'Twill please my mind as well to hear you both Have won a heap of honour in the field And left your slender carcases behind, As if I lay with you for company. Amy. You will not go then ? Cal. You say true. Amy. Were all the lofty mounts of Zona Mundi That fill the midst of farthest Tartary Turned into pearl and proffered for my stay, I would not bide the fury of my father, When, made a victor in these haughty arms, He comes and finds his sons have had no shares In all the honours he proposed for us. Cal. Take you the honour, I will take my ease ; My wisdom shall excuse my cowardice. I go into the field before I need ! [Alarums. AMYRAS and CELEBINUS run oui. 1 Brave, bold. SCENE ii.] PART THE SECOND. 137 The bullets fly at random where they list ; And should I go and kill a thousand men, I were as soon rewarded with a shot, And sooner far than he that never fights ; And should I go and do no harm nor good, I might have harm which all the good I have, Joined with my father's crown, would never cure. I'll to cards. Perdicas ! Enter PERDICAS. Perd. Here, my lord. Cal. Come, thou and I will go to cards to drive away the time. Perd. Content, my lord ; but what shall we play for ? Cal. Who shall kiss the fairest of the Turk's concu- bines first, when my father hath conquered them. Perd. Agreed, i' faith. \Theyplay. Cal. They say I am a coward, Perdicas, and I fear as little their taratantaras, their swords or their cannons, as I do a naked lady in a net of gold, and, for fear I should be afraid, would put it off and come to bed with me. Perd. Such a fear, my lord, would never make ye retire. Cal. I would my father would let me be put in the front of such a battle once to try my valour. \Alarms wtthinJ] What a coil they keep ! I believe there will be some hurt done anon amongst them. [Exeunt. SCENE II. ,/ Agrippa gives directions for the operations of sciomancy. " Ward, 3 Troopers. Germ. Reiters. 4 On the contrary, Laplanders are almost dwarfs, Marlowe falls into a similar error in Tamburlaine. See ante, p. 90. N 2 i8o THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE i. Faust. Valdes, as resolute am I in this As thou to live ; therefore object it not. Corn. The miracles that magic will perform Will make thee vow to study nothing else. He that is grounded in astrology, Enriched with tongues, well seen in minerals, Hath all the principles magic doth require. Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be renowned, And more frequented for this mystery Than heretofore the Delphian Oracle. The spirits tell me they can dry the sea, And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks, Ay, all the wealth that our forefathers hid Within the massy entrails of the earth ; Then tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want ? Faust. Nothing, Cornelius ! O this cheers my soul ! Come show me some demonstrations magical, That I may conjure in some bushy grove, And have these joys in full possession. Vald. Then haste thee to some solitary grove, And bear wise Bacon's and Albanus' J works, The Hebrew Psalter and New Testament; And whatsoever else is requisite We will inform thee ere our conference cease. Corn. Valdes, first let him know the words of art ; And then, all other ceremonies learned, Faustus may try his cunning by himself. Vald. First I'll instruct thee in the rudiments, And then wilt thou be perfecter than I. 1 Diintzer suggests that Marlowe refers to Pietro d'Abano, an Italian physician and alchemist who narrowly escaped burning by the Inquisition. He was bom about 1250 and died about 1316, and wrote a work called Conciliator Differentiarinn Philosophorum et Medicorum. "Albanus" was changed by Mitford into " Alber- tus," the schoolman, whose works were considered to possess magical properties. SCENE ii. J DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 181 Faust. Then come and dine with me, and after meat, We'll canvas every quiddity thereof ; For ere I sleep I'll try what I can do : This night I'll conjure tho' I die therefore. \_Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter two Scholars. 1 \st Schol. I wonder what's become of Faustus that was wont to make our schools ring with sic probo ? 2nd Schol, That shall we know, for see here comes his Enter WAGNER. ist Schol. How now, sirrah ! Where's thy master? Wag. God in heaven knows ! 2nd Schol. Why, dost not thou know ? Wag. Yes, I know. But that follows not. isf Schol. Go to, sirrah ! leave your jesting, and tell us where he is. Wag. That follows not necessary by force of argument, that you, being licentiates, should stand upon : therefore acknowledge your error and be attentive. 2nd Schol. Why, didst thou not say thou knewest ? Wag. Have you any witness on't ? isf Schol. Yes, sirrah, I heard you. Wag. Ask my fellows if I be a thief. 2nd Schol. Well, you will not tell us ? Wag. Yes, sir, I will tell you ; yet if you were not dunces, you would never ask me such a question ; for is not he corpus naturale ? and is not that mobile ? then wherefore should you ask me such a question ? But that 1 It has been suggested that the scene is before Faustus's house, as Wagner presently speaks of his master being within at dinner. 1 8- THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE in. I am by nature phlegmatic, slow to wrath, and prone to lechery (to love, I would say), it were not for you to come within forty feet of the place of execution, although I do not doubt to see you both hanged the next sessions. Thus having triumphed over you, I will set my counte- nance like a precisian, and begin to speak thus : Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at dinner, with Vakles and Cornelius, as this wine, if it could speak, would inform your worships ; and so the Lord bless you, preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren, my dear brethren. [Exit. \s4 Schol. Nay, then, I fear he has fallen into that damned Art, for which they two are infamous through the world. 2nd Schol. Were he a stranger, and not allied to me, yet should I grieve for him. But come, let us go and inform the Rector, and see if he by his grave counsel can reclaim him. ist Schol. O, but I fear me nothing can reclaim him. znd Schol. Yet let us try what we can do. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter FAUSTUS to conjure. 1 Faust. Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth Longing to view Orion's drizzling look, Leaps from the antarctic world unto the sky, And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath, 2 Faustus, begin thine incantations, 1 The scene is supposed to be a grove. See the conversation between Faustus and Valdes towards the end of Scene I. 3 Bullen points out that the above four lines are repeated verbatim in the first scene of Taming of a Shrew, 1594. SCENE in.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 183 And try if devils will obey thy best, Seeing thou hast prayed and sacrificed to them. Within this circle is Jehovah's name, Forward and backward anagrammatised, The breviated names of holy saints, Figures of every adjunct to the Heavens, And characters of signs and erring l stars, By which the spirits are enforced to rise : Then fear not, Faustus, but be resolute, And try the uttermost magic can perform. Sint mi hi Dei Acherontis propitii ! Valeat numen triplex Jehovtz ! Ignei, aen'i, aquatani spiritus, salvete ! Orientis princcps Bdzebub^ infcrni ardcntis monarcha, et Demo- go?~gon, propitiamns TOS, nt appareat ct surgat Mephisto- philis. Quid tu moraris ? z per Jehovam, Gehennam, et con- secratain aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nuncfacio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus Mephistophilis ! Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. I charge thee to return and change thy shape ; Thou art too ugly to attend on me. Go, and return an old Franciscan friar ; That holy shape becomes a devil best. [Exit MEPHIS. I see there's virtue in my heavenly words ; Who would not be proficient in this art ? How pliant is this Mephistophilis, Full of obedience and humility ! Such is the force of magic and my spells : Now Faustus, thou art conjuror laureat, That canst command great Mephistophilis : Qui/i regis Mephistophilis fratris imagine. 1 i.e. Wandering. 2 "Quid tu moraris?" preparatory to a weightier invocation, suggested by Mr. Fleay and Mr. Bullen, in place of ' 'quod tumeraris. " 184 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE in. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS like a Franciscan Friar. 1 Meph. Now, Faustus, what would'st thou have me to do? Faust. I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, To do whatever Faustus shall command, Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. Meph. I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave : No more than he commands must we perform. Faust. Did not he charge thee to appear to me ? Meph. No, I came hither of mine own accord. Faust. Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee ? Speak. Meph. That was the cause, but yet per accldens ; For when we hear one rack the name of God, Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ, We fly in hope to get his glorious soul ; Nor will we come, unless he use such means Whereby he is in danger to be damned : Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity, And pray devoutly to the Prince of Hell. Faust. So Faustus hath Already done ; and holds this principle, There is no chief but only Belzebub, To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself. This word " damnation " terrifies not him, 1 In the prose History we read : " After Dr. Faustus had made his promise to the devill, in the morning betimes he called the spirit before him, and commanded him that he should alwayes come to him like a fryer after the order of Saint Francis, with a bell in his hand like Saint Anthony, and to ring it once or twice before he appeared, that he might know of his certaine coming. " SCENE in.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 185 For he confounds hell in Elysium ; His ghost be with the old philosophers ! But, leaving these vuin trifles of men's souls, Tell me what is that Lucifer thy lord ? Meph. Arch-regent and commander of all spirits. Faust. Was not that Lucifer an angel once ? Meph. Yes, Faustus, and most dearly loved of God. Faust. How comes it then that he is Prince of devils ? Meph. O, by aspiring pride and insolence ; For which God threw him from the face of Heaven. Faust. And what are you that live with Lucifer? Meph. Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, Conspired against our God with Lucifer, And are for ever damned with Lucifer. Faust. Where are you damned ? Meph. In hell. Faust. How comes it then that thou art out of hell? Meph. 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, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, In being deprived of everlasting bliss ? O Faustus ! leave these frivolous demands, Which strike a terror to my fainting soul. Faust. What, is great Mephistophilis so passionate For being deprived of the joys of Heaven ? Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude, And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess. Go bear these tidings to great Lucifer : Seeing Faustus hath incurred eternal death By desperate thoughts against Jove's deity, Say he surrenders up to him his soul, So he will spare him four and twenty years, Letting him live in all voluptuousness ; i 86 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE iv. Having thee ever to attend on me ; To give me whatsoever I shall ask, To tell me whatsoever I demand, To slay mine enemies, and aid my friends, And always be obedient to my will. Go and return to mighty Lucifer, And meet me in my study at midnight, And then resolve 1 me of thy master's mind. Meph. I will, Faustus. [xit. Faust. Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistophilis. By him I'll be great Emperor of the world, And make a bridge thorough the moving air, To pass the ocean with a band of men : I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore, And make that country continent to Spain, And both contributory to my crown. The Emperor shall not live but by my leave, Nor any potentate of Germany. Now that I have obtained what I desire, I'll live in speculation of this art Till Mephistophilis return again. \Exit. SCENE IV. Enter WAGNER and Clown. 2 Wag, Sirrah, boy, come hither. Clown. How, boy ! Swowns, boy ! I hope you have seen many boys with such pickadevaunts 3 as I have ; boy, quotha ! 1 i.e. Inform me. 2 It is suggested by Dyce that the scene is probably a street. 3 Beards cut to a sharp point (Fr. pic-d-devant}. SCENE iv.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 187 Wag. Tell me, sirrah, hast thou any comings in ? Clown. Ay, and goings out too. You may see else. Wag. Alas, poor slave ! see how poverty jesteth in his nakedness ! the villain is bare and out of service, and so hungry that I know he would give his soul to fhe devil for a shoulder of mutton, though 'twere blood-raw. Clown. How ? My soul to the Devil for a shoulder of mutton, though 'twere blood-raw ! Not so, good friend. By'r Lady, I had need have it well roasted and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear. Wag. Well, wilt thou serve us, and I'll make thee go like Qui mihi discipulus ? * Clown. How, in verse ? Wag. No, sirrah ; in beaten silk and stavesacre. 2 Clown. Huw, how, 'Knave's acre ! 3 I, I thought that was all the land his fattier left him. Do you hear ? I would be sorry to rob you of your living. Wag. Sirrah, I say in stavesacre. Clown. Oho ! Oho ! Stavesacre ! Why then belike if I were your man I should be full of vermin. Wag. So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no. But, sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me for seven years, or I'll turn all the lice about thee into familiars, and "they shall tear thee in pieces. '-" Clown. Do you hear, sir ? You may save that labour : they are too familiar with me already : swowns ! they are as bold with my flesh as if they had paid for their meat and drink. 1 Dyce points out that these are the .first words of W. Lily's "Ad discipulos carmen de moril>ns" 2 A ranunculaceous plant (Delphinium staphisagria), still used for destroying lice. 3 Knave's Acre (Poultney Street) described by Strype as narrow, and chiefly inhabited by dealers in old goods and glass bottles. 1 88 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE iv. Wag. Well, do you hear, sirrah ? Hold, take these guilders. [Gives money. Clown. Gridirons ! what be they ? Wag. Why, French crowns. Clown. Mass, but in the name of French crowns, a man were as good have as many ^English counters. And what should I do with these ? Wag. Why, now, sirrah, thou art at an hour's warning, whensoever and wheresoever the Devil shall fetch thee. Clown. No, no. Here, take your gridirons again. Wag. Truly I'll none of them. Clown. Truly but you shall. Wag. Bear witness I gave them him. Clown. Bear witness I give them you again. Wag. Well, I will cause two devils presently to fetch thee away Baliol and Belcher. Clown. Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and I'll knock them, they were never so knocked since they were devils ! Say I should kill one of them, what would folks say ? " Do you see yonder tall fellow in the round slop 1 he has killed the devil." So I should be called Kill-devil all the parish over. Enter two Devils : the Clown runs up and down crying. Wag. Baliol and Belcher! Spirits, away ! [ISxtunfDzvils. Clown. What, are they gone ? A vengeance on them, they have vile long nails ! There was a he-devil, and a she-devil ! I'll tell you how you shall know them ; all he-devils has horns, and all she-devils has clifts and cloven feet. Wag. Well, sirrah, follow me. Clown. But, do you hear if I should serve you, would you teach me to raise up Banios and Belcheos ? 1 Wide breeches, trunk hose. SCENE v.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 189 Wag. I will teach thee to turn thyself to anything ; to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or anything. Clown. How ! a Christian fellow to a dog or a cat, a mouse or a rat ! No, no, sir. If you turn me into any- thing, let it be in the likeness of a little pretty frisking flea, that I may be here and there and everywhere. Oh, I'll tickle the pretty wenches' plackets ; I'll be amongst them, i' faith. Wag. Well, sirrah, come. Clown. But, do you hear, Wagner? Wag. How ! Baliol and Belcher ! Clown. O Lord ! I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep. Wag. Villain call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be diametarily fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigiis nostris insistere. [Exit. Clown. God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian. Well, I'll follow him : I'll serve him, that's flat [Exit. SCENE V. FAUSTUS discovered in Ms Study. Faust. Now, Faustus, must Thou needs be damned, and canst thou not be saved : What boots it then to think of God or Heaven ? Away with such vain fancies, and despair : Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub ; Now go not backward : no, Faustus, be resolute : Why waver'st thou ? O, something soundeth in mine ears "Abjure this magic, turn to God again !" Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again. To God? He loves thee not I9o THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE v. The God thou serv'st is thine own appetite, Wherein is fixed the love of Belzebub ; To him I'll build an altar and a church, And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babe?. Enter Good Angel and Evil Angel. G. Ang. Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art. Faust. Contrition, prayer, repentance ! What of them ? G. Ang. O, they are means to bring thee unto Heaven. E. Ang. Rather, illusions fruits of lunacy, That makes men foolish that do trust them most. G. Ang. Sweet Faustus, think of Heaven, and heavenly things. E. Ang. No, Faustus, think of honour and of wealth. \_Exeunt Angels. Faust. Of wealth ! Why the signiory of Embden shall be mine. When Mephistophilis shall stand by me, What God can hurt thee ? Faustus, thou art safe : Cast no more doubts. Come, Mephistophilis, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer ; Is't not midnight ? Come, Mephistophilis ; Vent, veni, Mephistophile ! Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. Now tell me, what says Lucifer thy lord ? Meph. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives, So he will buy my service with his soul. Faust. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee. Meph. But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood, For that security craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to hell. Faust. Stay, Mephistophilis ! and tell me what good Will my soul do thy lord. SCENE v.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 191 Meph. Enlarge his kingdom. Faust. Is that the reason why he tempts us thus ? Meph. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. Faiist. Why, have you any pain that tortures J others ? Meph. As great as have the human souls of men. But tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul ? And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee, And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask. Faust. Ay, Mephistophilis, I give it thee. Meph. Then, Faustus. stab thine arm courageously, And bind thy soul that at some certain day Great Lucifer may claim it as his own ; And then be thou as great as Lucifer. Fattst. [stabbing his arm.] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night ! View here the blood that trickles from mine arm, And let it be propitious for my wish. Meph. But, Faustus, thou must Write it in manner of a deed of gift Faust. Ay, so I will. [ Writes .] But, Mephistophilis, My blood congeals, and I can write no more. Meph. I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. [Exit. Faust. What might the staying of my blood portend ? Is it unwilling I should write this bill ? Why streams it not that I may write afresh ? Faustus gives to thee his soul. Ah, there it stayed. Why should'st thou not ? Is not thy soul thine own ? Then write again, Faustus gives to thee his soul. 1 "You" is of course the antecedent of " that." Sullen. IQ2 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE v. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with a chafer of coals. Meph. Here's fire. Come, Faustus, set it on. 1 Faust. So now the blood begins to clear again ; Now will I make an end immediately. [ Writes. Meph. O what will not I do to obtain his soul. \Aside. Faust. Consummatum est : this bill is ended, And Faustus hath bequeathed his soul to Lucifer. But what is this inscription on mine arm ? Homo, fuge I Whither should I fly ? If unto God, he'll throw me down to hell. My senses are deceived ; here's nothing writ : I see it plain ; here in this place is writ Homo, fuge ! Yet shall not Faustus fly. Meph. I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind. {Exit. Re-entsr MEPHISTOPHILIS with Devils, who give crowns and rich apparel to FAUSTUS, dance, and depart. Faust. Speak, Mephistophilis, what means this show ? Meph. Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind withal, And to show thee what magic can perform. Faust. But may I raise up spirits when I please ? Meph. Ay, Faustus, and do greater things than these. Faust. Then there's enough for a thousand souls. Here, Mephistophilis, receive this scroll, A deed of gift of body and of soul : But yet conditionally that thou perform All articles prescribed between us both. Meph. Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer To effect all promises between us made. 1 The sixth chapter of the prose History is headed "How Dr. Faustus set his blood in a saucer on warme ashes and writ as r ol- loweth.'' SCENE v.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. ! 93 Faust. Then hear me read them : On these conditions following. First, that Faustus may be a spirit in form and substance. Secondly, that Mephistophilis shall be his servant, and at his command. Thirdly, shall do for him and bring him whatsoever he desires. 1 Fourthly, that he shall be in his chamber or house invisible. Lastly, that he shall appear to the said John Faustus, at all times, and in what form or shape sower he pleases. I, John Faustus, of Wertenberg, Doctor, by these presents do give both body and soul to Lucifer, Prince of the East, and his minister, Mephistophilis ; and furthermore grant unto them, that twenty-four years being expired, the articles above written inviolate, full pozver to fetch er carry the said John Faustus, body and soul, flesh, blood, or goods, into their habitation wheresoever. By me, John Faustus. Meph. Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as your deed? Faust. Ay, take it, and the Devil give thee good on't ! Meph. Now, Faustus, ask what thou wilt. Faust. First will I question with thee about hell. Tell me where is the place that men call hell ? Meph. Under the Heavens. Faust. Ay, but whereabout ? Meph. Within the bowels of these elements, Where we are tortured and remain for ever; Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place ; for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be : And, to conclude, when all the world dissolves, 1 The words "he desires" are not in the old quartos. Dyce first pointed out that in the prose History of Dr. Faustus, the third article runs thus : That Mephistophilis should bring him anything and do for him whatsoever " a later edition adding "he desired," and another "he requireth." Mar. O 194 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE v. And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that is not Heaven. Faust. Come, I think hell's a fable. Meph. Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind. Faust. Why, think'st thou then that Faustus shall be damned ? Meph. Ay, of necessity, for here's the scroll Wherein thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer. Faust. Ay, and body too ; but what of that ? Think'st thou that Faustus is so fond 1 to imagine That, after this life, there is any pain ? Tush ; these are trifles, and mere old wives' tales. Meph. But, Faustus, I am an instance to prove the contrary, For I am damned, and am now in hell. Faust. How ! now in hell ? Nay, an this be hell. I'll willingly be damned here ; What ? walking, disputing, &c. ? But, leaving off this, let me have a wife, The fairest maid in Germany ; For I am wanton and lascivious, And cannot live without a wife. Meph. How a wife ? I prithee, Faustus, talk not of a wife. Faust. Nay, sweet Mephistophilis, fetch me one, for I will have one. Meph. Well thou wilt have one. Sit there till I come : I'll fetch thee a wife in the Devil's name. \Exit. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with a Devil dressed like a woman, with fireworks. Meph. Tell me, Faustus, how dost thou like thy wife ? 1 Foolish. SCENE v.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 195 Faust. A plague on her for a hot whore ! Meph. Tut, Faustus, Marriage is but a ceremonial toy ; And if thou lovest me, think no more of it. I'll cull thee out the fairest courtesans, And bring them every morning to thy bed ; She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall have, Be she as chaste as was Penelope, As wise as Saba, 1 or as beautiful As was bright Lucifer before his fall. Here, take this book, peruse it thoroughly : \Givesabook. The iterating - of these lines brings gold ; The framing of this circle on the ground Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder and lightning ; Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself, And men in armour shall appear to thee, Ready to execute what thou desir'st. Faust. Thanks, Mephistophilis ; yet fain would I have a book wherein I might behold all spells and incantations, that I might raise up spirits when I please. Meph. Here they are, in this book. [Turns to tliem. Faust. Now would I have a book where I might see all characters and planets of the heavens, that I might know their motions and dispositions. Meph. Here they are too. [ Turns to them. Faust: Nay, let me have one book more, and then I have done, wherein I might see all plants, herbs, and trees that grow upon the earth. Mepk. Here they be. Faust. O, thou art deceived. Meph. Tut, I warrant thee. [Turns to them. Exeunt. 1 i.e. Saboea, the Queen of Sheba. - Repeating. 1 96 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE i. SCENE VI. Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS. Faust. When I behold the heavens, then I repent, And curse thee, wicked Mephistophilis, Because thou hast deprived me of those joys. Meph. Why, Faustus, Thinkest thou Heaven is such a glorious thing ? I tell thee 'tis not half so fair as thou, Or any man that breathes on earth. Faust. How prov'st thou that ? Meph. 'Twas made for man, therefore is man more excellent. Faust. If it were made for man, 'twas made for me ; I will renounce this magic and repent. Enter Good Angel and Evil Angel. G. Ang. Faustus, repent ; yet God will pity thee. E. Ang. Thou art a spirit ; God can not pity thee. Faust. Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit ? Be I a devil, yet God may pity me ; Ay, God will pity me if I repent. E. Ang. Ay, but Faustus never shall repent. \Exeunt Angels. Faust. My heart's so hardened I cannot repent. Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven, But fearful echoes thunder in mine ears " Faustus, thou art damned ! " Then swords and knives, Poison, gun, halters, and envenomed steel Are laid before me to despatch myself, And long ere this I should have slain myself, Had not sweet pleasure conquered deep despair. 1 The scene is supposed to be a room in Faustus's house. SCENE vi.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 197 Have not I made blind Homer sing to me Of Alexander's love and CEnon's death ? And hath not he that built the walls of Thebes With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, Made music with my Mephistophilis ? Why should I die then, or basely despair ? I am resolved : Faustus shall ne'er repent Come, Mephistophilis, let us dispute again, And argue of divine astrology. Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon ? Are all celestial bodies but one globe, As is the substance of this centric earth ? Meph, As are the elements, such are the spheres Mutually folded in each other's orb, And, Faustus, All jointly move upon one axletree Whose terminine is termed the world's wide pole ; Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter Feigned, but are erring stars. Faust. But tell me, have they all one motion both, situ et tempore. Meph. All jointly move from east to west in twenty- four hours upon the poles of the world; but differ in their motion upon the poles of the zodiac. Faust. Tush ! These slender trifles Wagner can decide ; Hath Mephistophilis no greater skill ? Who knows not the double motion of the planets ? The first is finished in a natural day ; The second thus : as Saturn in thirty years ; Jupiter in twelve ; Mars in four ; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year; the moon in twenty eight days. Tush, these are freshmen's suppositions. But tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intdligentia ? 198 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE vi. Meph. Ay. Faust. How many heavens, or spheres, are there ? Meph. Nine : the seven planets, the firmament, and the empyreal heaven. Faust. Well, resolve me in this question : Why have we not conjunctions, oppositions, aspects, eclipses, all at one time, but in some years we have more, in some less? Meph. Per inaqualem motum respectu totius. Faust. Well, I am answered. Tell me who made the world. Meph. I will not. Faust. Sweet Mephistophilis, tell me. Meph. Move me not, for I will not tell thee. Faust. Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me any- thing ? Meph. Ay, that is not against our kingdom ; but this is. Think thou on hell, Faustus, for thou art damned. Faust. Think, Faustus, upon God, that made the world. Meph. Remember this. {Exit. Faust. Ay, go, accursed spirit, to ugly hell. 'Tis thou hast damned distressed Faustus' soul. Is't not too late ? Re-enter Good Angel and Evil Angel. E. Ang. Too late. G. Ang. Never too late, if Faustus can repent. E. Ang. If thou repent, devils shall tear thee in pieces. G. Ang. Repent, and they shall never raze thy skin. [Exeunt Angels. Faust. Ah, Christ my Saviour, Seek to save distressed Faustus' soul ! SCENE vi.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 199 Enter LUCIFER, BELZEBUB, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. Luc. Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just ; There's none but I have interest in the same. Faust. O, who art thou that look'st so terrible ? Luc. I am Lucifer, And this is my companion-prince in hell. Faust. O Faustus ! they are come to fetch away thy soul ! Luc. We come to tell thee thou dost injure us ; Thou talk'st of Christ contrary to thy promise ; Thou should'st not think of God : think of the Devil. 1 Faust. Nor will I henceforth : pardon me in this, And Faustus vcws never to look to Heaven, Never to name God, or to pray to him, To burn his Scriptures, slay his ministers, And make my spirits pull his churches down. Luc. Do so, and we will highly gratify thee. Faustus, we are come from hell to show thee some pastime : sit down, and thou shall see all the Seven Deadly Sins appear in their proper shapes. Faust. That sight will be as pleasing unto me, As Paradise was to Adam the first day Of his creation. Luc. Talk not of Paradise nor creation, but mark this show : talk of the Devil, and nothing else : come away ! Enter the Seven Deadly Sins. Now, Faustus, examine them of the -: r several names and dispositions. Faust. What art thou the first ? Pride. I am Pride. I disdain to have any parents. 1 I venture to relegate the meaningless line which follows : ' And of his dam too," for which no editor considers Marlowe responsible, to a foot-note. 200 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE vi. I am like to Ovid's flea : 1 I can creep into every corner of a wench ; sometimes, like a periwig, I sit upon her brow ; or like a fan of. feathers, I kiss her lips ; indeed I do what do I not ? But, fie, what a scent is here ! I'll not speak another word, except the ground were per- fumed, and covered with cloth of arras. Faust, What art thou the second ? Covet. I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl in an old leathern bag ; and might I have my wish I would desire that this house and all the people in it were turned to gold, that I might lock you up in my good chest. O, my sweet gold ! Faust. What art thou the third ? Wrath. I am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother : I leapt out of a lion's mouth when I was scarce half an hour old ; and ever since I have run up and down the world with this case 2 of rapiers, wounding myself when I had nobody to fight withal. I was born in hell ; and look to it, for some of you shall be my father. Faust, What art thou the fourth ? Envy. I am Envy, begotten of a chimney sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt. I am lean with seeing others eat. O that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone ! then thou should'st see how fat I would be. But must thou sit and I stand ! Come down with a vengeance ! Faust. Away, envious rascal ! What art thou the fifth ? Glut. Who, I, sir ? I am Gluttony. My parents are all dead, and the devil a penny they have left me, but a 1 An allusion to the mediaeval Carmen de Pulice, formerly ascribed to Ovid. Bullen. 2 A pair of rapiers worn in a single sheath, and used one in each hand. SCENE vi.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 201 bare pension, and that is thirty meals a day and ten bevers ! a small trifle to suffice nature. O, I come of a royal parentage ! My grandfather was a Gammon of Bacon, my grandmother was a Hogshead of Claret-wine ; my godfathers were these, Peter Pickleherring, and Mar- tin Martlemas-beef; 2 O, but my godmother, she was a jolly gentlewoman, and well beloved in every good town and city ; her name was Mistress Margery March-beer. 3 Now, Faustus, thou hast heard all my progeny, wilt thou bid me to supper ? Faust. No, I'll see thee hanged : thou wilt eat up all my victuals. Glut. Then the Devil choke thee ! Faust. Choke thyself, glutton ! Who art thou the sixth? Sloth. I am Sloth. I was begotten on a sunny bank, where I have lain ever since ; and you have done me great injury to bring me from thence : let me be carried thither again by Gluttony and Lechery. I'll not speak another word for a king's ransom. Faust. What are you, Mistress Minx, the seventh and last? Lech. VVho, I, sir ? I am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better than an ell of fried stockfish ; and the first letter of my name begins with L. 4 Luc. Away to hell, to hell ! Now, Faustus, how dost thou like this ? {Exeunt the Sins. Faust. O, this feeds my soul ! 1 Refreshments taken between meals. 2 Martlemas or Martinmas was the customary time for hanging up provisions, which had been previously salted, to dry. Our ancestors lived chiefly upon salted meat in the spring, owing to the winter-fed cattle not being fit for use. St. Martin's day is November nth. 3 The March brewing was much esteemed in those days, as it is in Germany at the present time. 4 All the quartos have " Lechery." The change which was first proposed by Collier has been adopted by Dyce and other editors. 202 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE vi. Luc. Tut, Faustus, in hell is all manner of delight. Faust. O might I see hell, and return again, How happy were I then ! Luc. Thou shalt ; I will send for thee at midnight. In meantime take this book ; peruse it throughly, And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt. Faust. Great thanks, mighty Lucifer ! This will I keep as chary as my life. Luc. Farewell, Faustus, and think on the Devil. Faust. Farewell, great Lucifer ! \Exeunt LUCIFER and BELZEBUB. Come, Mephistophilis. \_Exeunt. Enter CHORUS. HORUS. Learned Faustus, To know the secrets of astronomy, Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament, Did mount himself to scale Olympus' top, Being seated in a chariot burning bright, Drawn by the strength of yoky dragons' necks. He now is gone to prove cosmography, And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome, To see the Pope and manner of his court, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, That to this day is highly solemnised. 1 \_Exif. 1 In the edition of 1616 the speech of the Chorus is ingeniously expanded as follows : Chor. Learned Faustus, To find the secrets of Astronomy Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament, SCENE vii.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 203 SCENE VII. Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHisxoPHiLi?. 1 Faust. Having now, my good Mephistophilis, Passed with delight the stately town of Trier, 2 Environed round with airy mountain-tops, With walls of flint, and deep entrenched lakes, Not to be won by any conquering prince ; From Paris next, coasting the realm'of France, We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine, Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines ; Then up to Naples, rich Campania, Whose buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye, The streets straight forth, and paved with finest brick, Quarter the town in 'four equivalents : There saw we learned Maro's golden tomb, Did mount him up to scale Olympus' top ; Where, sitting in a chariot burning brignr, Drawn by the strength of yoked dragons' necks, He views the clouds, the planets, and the stars, The tropic zones, and quarters of the sky, P"rom the bright circle of the horned moon Even to the height of Frimum Mobile ; And, whirling round with this circumference, Within the concave compass of the pole, From east to west his dragons swiftly glide, And in eight days did bring him home again. Not long he stayed within his quiet house, To rest his bones after his weary toil ; But new exploits do hale him out again : And, mounted then upon a dragon's back, That with his wings did part the subtle air, He now is gone to prove cosmography, That measures coasts and kingdoms of the earth ; And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome, To see the Pope and manner of his court, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, The which this day is highly solemnised. \_E*it. This represents the revisers of the play at their best. 1 The scene is the Pope's Privy Chamber. 2 Treves. 204 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE VH. The way he cut, an English mile in length, Thorough a rock of stone in one night' s space ; 1 From thence to Venice, Padua, and th e rest, In one 2 of which a sumptuous temple stands, That threats the stars with her aspiring top. 3 Thus hitherto has Faustus spent his time : But tell me, now, what resting-place is this ? Hast thou, as erst I did command, Conducted me within the walls of Rome ? Meph. Faustus, I have ; and because we will not be unprovided, I have taken up his Holiness' privy-chamber for our use. Faust. I hope his Holiness will bid us welcome. Meph. Tut, 'tis no matter, man, we'll be bold with his good cheer. And now, my Faustus, that thou may'st perceive What Rome containeth to delight thee with, Know that this city stands upon seven hills That underprop the groundwork of the same : Just through the midst runs flowing Tiber's stream, With winding banks that cut it in two parts : OVer the which four stately bridges lean, That make safe passage to each part of Rome : Upon the bridge called Ponte Angelo Erected is a castle passing strong, Within whose walls such store of ordnance are, 1 Virgil was regarded as a magician in the Middle Ages. 2 The prose History shows the "sumptuous temple " to be St. Mark's at Venice. 3 In the edition of 1616 the two following lines are added : " Whose frame is paved with sundry coloured stones, And rooft aloft with curious work in gold." The addition is an interesting example of the close fashion in which the revisers clung to the prose History, wherein we read " how all the pavement was set with coloured stones, and all the rood or loft of the church double gilded over." SCENE vii.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 205 And double 1 cannons formed of carved brass, As match the days within one complete year ;' Besides the gates and high pyramides, 2 Which Julius Caesar brought from Africa. Faust. Now by the kingdoms of infernal rule, Of Styx, of Acheron, and the fiery lake Of ever-burning Phlegethon, I swear That I do long to see the monuments And situation of bright- splendent Rome : Come therefore, let's away. Meph. Nay, Faustus, stay; I know you'd see the Pope, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, Where thou shalt see a troop of bald-pate friars, Whose summum bonum is in belly-cheer. Faust. Well, I'm content to compass them some sport, And by their folly make us merriment. Then charm me, Mephistophilis, that I May be invisible, to do what I please Unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome. [MEPHISTOPHILIS charms him. Meph. So, Faustus, now Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discerned. Sound a sonnet? Enter the POPE and tJie CARDINAL of LORRAIN to the banquet, with Friars attending. Pope. My Lord of Lorrain, wilt please you draw near ? Faust. Fall to, and the devil choke you an you spare ! 1 This may mean simply large cannons, or as Ward points out, cannon with double bores. Two cannons with triple bores were taken from the French at Malplaquet, and are now in the Woolwich Museum. 2 Evidently obelisks are here meant, although the word "pyra- mides " was formerly applied to church spires. 3 Written in half a dozen other forms Sennet, Senet, Synnet, Cynet, Signet and Signate. Nares defines it as "a particular set of notes on the trumpet or cornet, different from a flourish." 206 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE VH. Pope. How now ! Who's that which spake ? Friars, look about. \st Friar. Here's nobody, if it like your Holiness. Pope. My lord, here is a dainty dish was sent me from the Bishop of Milan. Faust. I thank you, sir. \_Snatches the dish. Pope. How now ! Who's that which snatched the meat from me ? Will no man look ? My Lord, this dish was sent me from the Cardinal of Florence. Faust. You say true ; I'll ha't. [Snatches the dish. Pope. What, again ! My lord, I'll drink to your grace. Faust. I'll pledge your grace. \Snatches the cup. C. of Lor. My lord, it may be some ghost newly crept out of purgatory, come to beg a pardon of your Holiness. Pope. It may be so. Friars, prepare a dirge to lay the fury of this ghost. Once again, my lord, fall to. [The POPE crosses himself. Faust. What, are you crossing of yourself? Well, use that trick no more I would advise you. \T1ie POPE crosses himself again. Well, there's the second time. Aware the third, I give you fair warning. \The POPE crosses himself again, and FAUSTUS hits him a box of the ear; and they all run away. Come on, Mephistophilis, what shall we do ? Meph. Nay, I know not We shall be cursed with bell, book, and candle. Faust. How ! bell, book, and candle, candle, book, and bell, Forward and backward to curse Faustus to hell ! Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, an ass bray, Because it is Saint Peter's holiday. SCENE vil.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 207 Re-enter the Friars to sing the Dirge. ist Friar. Come, brethren, let's about our business with good devotion. They sing: Cursed be he that stole away his Holiness' meat from the table ! Maledicat Dominus ! Cursed be he that struck his Holiness a blow on the face ! Maledicat Dominus ! Cursed be he that took Friar Sandelo a blow on the pate ! Maledicat Dominus ! Cursed be he that disturbeth our holy dirge ! Maledicat Dominus ! Cursed be he that took away his Holiness' wine ! Maledicat Dominus ! Et omnes sancti ! Amen ! [MEPHISTOPHILIS and FAUSTUS beat the Friars, and fling fireworks among them : and so exeunt. Enter CHORUS. HORUS. When Faustus had with plea- sure ta'en the view Of rarest things, and royal courts of kings, He stayed his course, and so returned home ; [grief, Where such as bear his absence but with I mean his friends, and near'st companions, Did gratulate his safety with kind words, And in their conference of what befell, Touching his journey through the world and air, They put forth questions of Astrology, Which Faustus answered with such learned skill, As they admired and wondered at his wit. 2o8 THE .TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE vin. Now is his fame spread forth in every land ; Amongst the rest the Emperor is one, Carolus the Fifth, at whose palace now Faustus is feasted 'mongst his noblemen. What there he did in trial of his art, I leave untold your eyes shall see performed. [Exit. SCENE VIII. Enter ROBIN the Ostler with a book in his hand. 1 Robin. O, this is admirable ! here I ha' stolen one of Dr. Faustus's conjuring books, and i' faith I mean to search some circles for my own use. Now will I make all the maidens in our parish dance at my pleasure, stark naked before me ; and so by that means I shall see more than e'er I felt or saw yet. Enter RALPH calling ROBIN. Ralph. Robin, prithee come away ; there's a gentle- man tarries to have his horse, and he would have his things rubbed and made clean : he keeps such a chafing with my mistress about it ; and she has sent me to look thee out ; prithee come away. Robin. Keep out, keep out, or else you are blown up ; you are dismembered, Ralph : keep out, for I am about a roaring piece of work. Ralph. Come, what dost thou with that same book ? Thou can'st not read. Robin. Yes, my master and mistress shall find that I can read, he for his forehead, she for her private study ; she's born to bear with me, or else my art fails. 1 The scene is supposed to be an inn-yard. SCENE ix.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 209 Ralph. Why, Robin, what book is that? Robin. What book ! why the most intolerable book for conjuring that e'er was invented by any brimstone devil. Ralph. Can'st thou conjure with it ? Robin. I can do all these things easily with it ; first, I can make thee drunk with ippocras 1 at any tabern 2 in Europe for nothing ; that's one of my conjuring works. Ralph. Our Master Parson says that's nothing. Robin. True, Ralph ; and more, Ralph, if thou hast any mind to Nan Spit, our kitchenmaid, then turn her and wind her to thy own use as often as thou wilt, and at midnight. Ralph. O brave Robin, shall I have Nan Spit, and to mine own use? On that condition I'd feed thy devil with horsebread 3 as long as he lives, of free cost. Robin. No more, sweet Ralph : let's go and make clean our boots, which lie foul upon our hands, and then to our conjuring in the Devil's name. \Exennt. SCENE IX. Enter ROBIN and RALPH with a silver goblet. Robin. Come, Ralph, did not I tell thee we were for ever made by this Doctor Faustus' book ? ecce signutn, here's a simple purchase 4 for horsekeepers ; our horses shall eat no hay as long as this lasts. Ralph. But, Robin, here come the vintner. Robin. Hush ! I'll gull him supernaturally. 1 ' ' Hippocrates, a medicated drink composed usually of red wine, but sometimes white, with the addition of sugar and spices." Nares. 2 Tavern. 3 It was a common practice among our ancestors to feed horses on bread. Nares quotes from Gervase Markham a recipe for making horse-loaves. Sullen. * Booty. Mar. 1- 210 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE xi. Enter Vintner. Drawer, I hope all is paid : God be with you ; come, Ralph. Vint. Soft, sir ; a word with you. I must yet have a goblet paid from you, ere you go. Robin. I, a goblet, Ralph ; I, a goblet ! I scorn you, and you are but a 1 &c. I, a goblet ! search me. Vint. I mean so, sir, with your favour. [Searches him. Robin. How say you now ? Vint. I must say somewhat to your fellow. You, sir ! Ralph. Me, sir ! me, sir ! search your fill. [Vintner searches him.\ Now, sir, you may be ashamed to burden honest men with a matter of truth. Vint. Well, t'one of you hath this goblet about you. Robin. You lie, drawer, 'tis afore me. [Aside.] Sirrah you, I'll teach you to impeach honest men ; stand by ; I'll scour you for a goblet ! stand aside you had best, I charge you in the name of Belzebub. Look to the goblet, Ralph. [Aside to RALPH. Vint. What mean you, sirrah ? Robin. I'll tell you what I mean. [Reads from a book.~\ Sanctobulorum Periphrasticon Nay, I'll tickle you, vintner. Look to the goblet, Ralph. [Aside to RALPH. [Reads :] Polypragmos Belseborams framanto pacostiphos tostu, Mephistophilis, &c. Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS, sets squibs at theit backs, and then exit. They run about. Vint. nomine Domini! what meanest thou, Robin? thou hast no goblet. 1 The actor was at liberty to supply the abuse. Mr. Bullen mentions that in an old play, the Try all of Chevalry (1605), the stage direc- tion occurs, " Exit Clown, speaking anything." SCENE x.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 21 1 Ralph. Peccatum pcccatorum ! Here's thy goblet, good vintner. [ Gives the goblet to Vintner, who exit. Robin. Misericordia pro nobis ! What shall I do ? Good Devil, forgive me now, and I'll never rob thy library more. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. Meph. Monarch of hell, under whose black survey Great potentates do kneel with awful fear, Upon whose altars thousand souls do lie, How am I vexed with these villains' charms ? From Constantinople am I hither come Only for pleasure of these damned slaves. Robin. How from Constantinople ? You have had a great journey : will you take sixpence in your purse to pay for your supper, and begone ? Meph. Well, villains, for your presumption, I transform thee into an ape, and thee into a dog ; and so begone. {Exit. Robin. How, into an ape ; that's brave ! I'll have fine sport with the boys. I'll get nuts and apples enow. Ralph. And I must be a dog. Robin. I'faith thy head will never be out of the pottage pot. {Exeunt. Enter EMPEROR, FAUSTUS, and a Knight with Attendants. 1 ' Emp. Master Doctor Faustus, I have heard strange report of thy knowledge in the black art, how that none 1 The scene is an apartment in the Emperor's palace. Much of the text of this scene is closely borrowed from the prose History. P 2 212 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE x. in my empire nor in the whole world can compare with thee for the rare effects of magic : they say thou hast a familiar spirit, by whom thou canst accomplish what thou list. This therefore is my request, that thou let me see some proof of thy skill, that mine eyes may be witnesses to confirm what mine ears have heard reported : and here I swear to thee by the honour of mine imperial crown, that, whatever thou doest, thou shall be no ways pre- judiced or endamaged. Knight. I'faith he looks much like a conjuror. \_Aside, Faust. My gracious sovereign, though I must confess myself far inferior to the report men have published, and nothing answerable to the honour of your imperial majesty, yet for that love and duty binds me thereunto, I am content to do whatsoever your majesty shall com- mand me. Emp. Then, Doctor Faustus, mark what I shall say. As I was sometime solitary set Within my closet, sundry thoughts arose About the honour of mine ancestors, How they had won by prowess such exploits, Got such riches, subdued so many kingdoms As we that do succeed, or they that shall Hereafter possess our throne, shall (I fear me) ne'er attain to that degree Of high renown and great authority ; Amongst which kings is Alexander the Great, Chief spectacle of the world's pre-eminence, The bright shining of whose glorious acts Lightens the world with his reflecting beams, As when I hear but motion made of him It grieves my soul I never saw the man. If therefore thou by cunning of thine art Canst raise this man from hollow vaults below, SCENE x.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 213 Where lies entombed this famous conqueror, And bring with him his beauteous paramour, Both in their right shapes, gesture, and attire They used to wear during their time of life, Thou shalt both satisfy my just desire, And give me cause to praise thee whilst I live. Faust. My gracious lord, I am ready to accomplish your request so far forth as by art, and power of my Spirit, I am able to perform. Knight. I'faith that's just nothing at all. [Aside. Faust. But, if it like your grace, it is not in my ability to present before your eyes the true substantial bodies of those two deceased princes, which long since are con- sumed to dust. Knight. Ay, marry, Master Doctor, now there's a sign of grace in you, when you will confess the truth. [Aside. Faust. But such spirits as can lively resemble Alex- ander and his paramour shall appear before your grace in that manner that they both lived in, in their most flourishing estate ; which I doubt not shall sufficiently content your imperial majesty. Emp. Go to, Master Doctor, let me see them pre- sently. Knight. Do you hear, Master Doctor? You bring Alexander and his paramour before the Emperor ! Faust. How then, sir ? Knight. I'faith that's as true as Diana turned me to a stag ! Faust. No, sir, but when Actaeon died, he left the horns for you. Mephistophilis, begone. [Exit MEPHISTO. Knight. Nay, an you go to conjuring, I'll begone. [Exit. Faust. I'll meet with you anon for interrupting me so. Here they are, my gracious lord. 214 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE x. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with Spirits in the shape of ALEXANDER and his Paramour. Emp. Master Doctor, I heard this lady while she lived had a wart or mole in her neck : how shall I know whether it be so or no ? Faust. Your highness may boldly go and see. Emp. Sure these are no spirits, but the true sub- stantial bodies of those two deceased princes. \Exeunt Spirits. Faust. Will't please your highness now to send for the knight that was so pleasant with me here of late ? Emp. One of you call him forth ! \Exit Attendant. Re-enter the Knight with a pair of horns on his head, How now, sir knight ! why I had thought thou had'st been a bachelor, but now I see thou hast a wife, that not only gives thee horns, but makes thee wear them. Feel on thy head. Knight. Thou damned wretch and execrable dog, Bred in the concave of some monstrous rock, How darest thou thus abuse a gentleman ? Villain, I say, undo what thou hast done ! Faust. O, not so fast, sir ; there's no haste ; but, good, are you remembered how you crossed me in my conference with the Emperor ? I think I have met with you for it Emp. Good Master Doctor, at my entreaty release him : he hath done penance sufficient. Faust. My gracious lord, not so much for the injury he offered me here in your presence, as to delight you with some mirth, hath Faustus worthily requited this injurious knight : which, being all I desire, I am content to release him of his horns : and, sir knight, hereafter SCENE xr.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 215 speak well of scholars. Mephistophilis, transform him straight. [MEPHISTOPHILIS removes the horns.'] Now, my good lord, having done my duty I humbly take my leave. Emp. Farewell, Master Doctor ; yet, ere you go, Expect from me a bounteous reward. [Exeunt, SCENE XI. Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHiSTOPHiLis. 1 Faust. Now, Mephistophilis, the restless course That Time doth run with calm and silent foot, Shortening my days and thread of vital life, Calls for the payment of my latest years : Therefore, sweet Mephistophilis, let us Make haste to Wertenberg. Meph. What, will you go on horseback or on foot ? Faust. Nay, till I'm past this fair and pleasant green, I'll walk on foot. Enter a Horse-Courser. 2 Horse C. I have been all this day seeking one Master Fustian : mass, see where he is ! God save you, Master Doctor ! Faust. What, horse-courser ! You are well met. Horse-C. Do you hear, sir? I have brought you forty dollars for your horse. Faust. I cannot sell him so : if thou likest him for fifty, take him. Horse-C. Alas, sir, I have no more. I pray you speak for me. 1 The scene is "a fair and pleasant green," presently alluded to by Faustus, and is supposed to change to a room in Faustus's house where the latter falls asleep in his chair. - Horse-dealer. 216 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE xi. Meph. I pray you let him have him : he is an honest fellow, and he has a great charge, neither wife nor child. Faust. Well, come, give me your money. [Horse- Courser gives FAUSTUS the money.] My boy will deliver him to you. But I must tell you one thing before you have him ; ride him not into the water at any hand. Horse- C. Why, sir, will he not drink of all waters? Faust. O yes, he will drink of all waters, but ride him not into the water : ride him over hedge or ditch, or where thou wilt, but not into the water. Horse-C. Well, sir. Now am I made man for ever : I'll not leave my horse for twice forty : if he had but the quality of hey-ding-ding, hey-ding-ding, I'd make a brave living on him : he has a buttock as slick 1 as an eel. [Aside.] Well, God b' wi' ye, sir, your boy will deliver him me : but hark you, sir; if my horse be sick or ill at ease, if I bring his water to you, you'll tell me what it is. Faust. Away, you villain ; what, dost think I am a horse-doctor? [Exit Horse- Courser. What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemned to die ? Thy fatal time doth draw to final end ; Despair doth drive distrust unto my thoughts : Confound these passions with a quiet sleep : Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the cross ; Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit [Sleeps in his chair. Re-enter Horse-Courser, all wet, crying. Horse-C. Alas, alas! Doctor Fustian quotha? mass, Doctor Lopus 2 was never such a doctor : has given me a purgation has purged me of forty dollars ; I shall never 1 Smooth. 2 Dr. Lopez, physician to Queen Elizabeth. He was hanged in 1594 for having received a bribe from the court of Spain to poison the Queen ; as Marlowe was dead before the doctor came into notoriety, he could hardly have written this. SCENE XL] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 217 see them more. But yet, like an ass as I was, I would not be ruled by him, for he bade me I should ride him into no water : now I, thinking my horse had had some rare quality that he would not have had me known of, I, like a venturous youth, rid him into the deep pond at the town's end. I was no sooner in the middle of the pond, but my horse vanished away, and I sat upon a bottle of hay, never so near drowning in my life. But I'll seek out my Doctor, and have my forty dollars again, or I'll make it the dearest horse ! O, yonder is his snipper-snapper. Do you hear ? you hey-pass, 1 where's your master ? Meph. Why, sir, what would you ? You cannot speak with him. Horse-C. But I will speak with him. Meph. Why, he's fast asleep. Come some other time. Horse-C. I'll speak with him now, or I'll break his glass windows about his ears. Meph. I tell thee he has not slept this eight nights. Horse-C. An he have not slept this eight weeks I'll speak with him. Meph. See where he is, fast asleep. Horse-C. Ay, this is he. God save you, Master Doctor, Master Doctor, Master Doctor Fustian ! Forty dollars, forty dollars for a bottle of hay ! Meph. Why, thou seest he hears thee not. Horse-C. So ho, ho ! so ho, ho ! [Hollas in his ear.] No, will you not wake? I'll make you wake ere I go. \Pulls FAUSTUS by the teg, and pulls it away.] Alas, I am undone ! What shall I do ? Faust. O my leg, my leg ! Help, Mephistophilis ! call the officers. My leg, my leg ! Meph. Come, villain, to the constable. 1 A J u ggl er>s term, like "presto, fly!" Hence applied to the juggler himself. Bullen. 2i8 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE xir. Horse- C. O lord, sir, let me go, and I'll give you forty dollars more. Meph. Where be they ? Horse-C. I have none about me. Come to my ostry 1 and I'll give them you. Meph, Begone quickly. [Horse-Courser runs away. Faust. What, is he gone ? Farewell he ! Faustus has his leg again, and the horse-courser, I take it, a bottle of hay for his labour. Well, this trick shall cost him forty dollars more. Enter WAGNER. How now, Wagner, what's the news with thee ? Wag. Sir, the Duke of Vanholt 2 doth earnestly entreat your company. Faust. The Duke of Vanholt ! an honourable gentle- man, to whom I must be no niggard of my cunning. Come, Mephistophilis, let's away to him. [Exntnf. SCENE XII. Enter the DUKE of VANHOLT, the DUCHESS, FAUSTUS, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. 3 Duke. Believe me, Master Doctor, this merriment hath much pleased me. Faust. My gracious lord, I am glad it contents you so well. But it may be, madam, you take no delight in this. I have heard that great-bellied women do long for some dainties or other : what is it, madam ? tell me, and you shall have it. Duchess. Thanks, good Master Doctor ; and for I see 1 Hostelry. 2 Anhalt in the Volksbuch, Anholt in the prose History. 3 The scene is the Court of the Duke of Anhalt. SCENE XIL] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 219 your courteous intent to pleasure me, I will not hide from you the thing my heart desires ; and were it now summer, as it is January and the dead time of the winter, I would desire no better meat than a dish of ripe grapes. Faust. Alas, madam, that's nothing ! Mephistophilis, begone. [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.] Were it a greater thing than this, so it would content you, you should have it. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with grapes. Here they be, madam ; wilt please you taste on them ? Duke. Believe me, Master Doctor, this makes me wonder above the rest, that being in the dead time of winter, and in the month of January, how you should come by these grapes. Faust. If it like your grace, the year is divided into two circles over the whole world, that, when it is here winter with us, in the contrary circle it is summer with them, as in India, Saba, and farther countries in the East ; and by means of a swift spirit that I have I had them brought hither, as you see. How do you like them, madam ; be they good ? Duchess. Believe me, Master Doctor, they be the best grapes that e'er I tasted in my life before. Faust. I am glad they content you so, madam. Dtike. Come, madam, let us in, where you must well reward this learned man for the great kindness he hath showed to you. Duchess. And so I will, my lord ; and, whilst I live, rest beholding 1 for this courtesy. Faust. I humbly thank your grace. Duke. Come, Master Doctor, follow us and receive your reward. [Exeunt. 1 Beholden. 220 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE xiv. SCENE XIII. Enter WAGNER. 1 Wag. I think my master shortly means to die, For he hath given to me all his goods : And yet, methinks, if that death were so near, He would not banquet, and carouse and swill Amongst the students, as even now he doth, Who are at supper with such belly-cheer As Wagner ne'er beheld in all his life. See where they come ! belike the feast is ended. [Exit. SCENE XIV. Enter FAUSTUS, with two or three Scholars and MEPHISTOPHILIS. ist Schol. Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifullest in all the world, we have determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived : there- fore, Master Doctor, if you will do us that favour, as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much beholding unto you. Faust. Gentlemen, For that I know your friendship is unfeigned, And Faustus' custom is not to deny The just requests of those that wish him well, You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece, No otherways for pomp and majesty, Than when Sir Paris crossed the seas with her, 1 This and the following scene are inside Faustus's house. SCENE xiv.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 221 And brought the spoils to rich Dardania. Be silent, then, for danger is in words. [Music sounds, and HELEN passeth over the stage. 2nd SchoL Too simple is my wit to tell her praise, Whom all the world admires for majesty. $rd SchoL No marvel though the angry Greeks pursued With ten years' war the rape of such a queen, Whose heavenly beauty passeth all compare. i st Schol. Since we have seen the pride of Nature's works, And only paragon of excellence, Let us depart ; and for this glorious deed Happy and blest be P'austus evermore. Faustus. Gentlemen, farewell the same I wish to you. \Exeunt Scholars. Enter an Old Man. Old Man. Ah, Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail To guide thy steps unto the way of life, By which sweet path thou may'st attain the goal That shall conduct thee to celestial rest ! Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears, Tears falling from repentant heaviness Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness, The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul With such flagitious crimes of heinous sins As no commiseration may expel, But -mercy, Faustus, of thy Saviour sweet, Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt. Faust. Where art thou, Faustus ? wretch, what hast thou done ? Damned art thou, Faustus, damned ; despair and die ! Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice Says " Faustus ! come ! thine hour is almost come ! " And Faustus now will come to do the right. [MEPHISTOPHILIS gives him a dagger 222 7 HE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE xiv. Old Man. Ah stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps ! I see an angel hovers o'er thy head, And, with a vial full of precious grace, Offers to pour the same into thy soul : Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. Faust. Ah, my sweet friend, I feel Thy words do comfort my distressed soul. Leave me a while to ponder on my sins. Old Man. I go, sweet Faustus, but with heavy cheer, Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul. [Exit. Faust. Accursed Faustus, where is mercy now ? I do repent ; and yet I do despair ; Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast : What shall I do to shun the snares of death ? Meph. Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul For disobedience to my sovereign lord ; Revolt, or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh. Faust. Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord To pardon my unjust presumption. And with my blood again I will confirm My former vow I made to Lucifer. Meph. Do it then quickly, with unfeigned heart, Lest greater danger do attend thy drift. [FAUSTUS stabs his arm and writes on a paper with his blood? Faust. Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age, That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer, With greatest torments that our hell affords. Meph. His faith is great : I cannot touch his soul ; But what I may afflict his body with I will attempt, which is but little worth. Faust. One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee, 1 This stage direction is not in the early editions : it was sug- gested by Dyce. SCENE xiv.] DOCTOR FA USTUS. 223 To glut the longing of my heart's desire, That I might have unto my paramour That heavenly Helen, which I saw of late, Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean These thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer. Meph. Faustus, this or what else thou shalt desire Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye. Re-enter HELEN. Faust. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships 1 And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. \Kisses her. Her lips suck forth my soul ; see where it flies ! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sacked : And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest : Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars ; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appeared to hapless Semele : More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azured arms : And none but thou shalt be my paramour. \_Exeunt. 1 Shakespeare surely remembered this line when he wrote of Helen in Troilus and Cressida, ii. 2 : " Why, she is a pearl Whose price hath launched above a thousand ships. " Bullen. See ante, p. 114 224 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE xvi. SCENE XV. Enter the Old Man. 1 Accursed Faustus, miserable man, That from thy soul exclud'st the grace of Heaven, And fly'st the throne of his tribunal seat ! Enter Devils. Satan begins to sift me with his pride : As in this furnace God shall try my faith, My faith, vile hell, shall triumph over thee. Ambitious fiends ! see how the heavens smile At your repulse, and laugh your. state to scorn ! Hence, hell ! for hence I fly unto my God. \Exeunt on one side Devils on the other, Old Man. SCENE XVI. Enter FAUSTUS with Scholars. - Faust. Ah, gentlemen ! ist Schol. What ails Faustus ? Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee, then had I lived still ! but now I die eternally. Look, comes he not, comes he not ? 2nd SchoL What means Faustus ? yd SchoL Belike he is grown into some sickness by being over solitary. ist SchoL If it be so, we'll have physicians to cure him. 'Tis but a surfeit. Never fear, man. Faust. A surfeit of deadly sin that hath damned both body and soul. 1 Dyce supposes the scene to be a room in the Old Man's house, and Bullen " a room of Faustus's house, whither the Old Man has come to exhort Faustus to repentance." ' The scene is a room in Faustus's house. SCENE xvi.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 225 znd Sc/iol. Yet, Faustus, look up to Heaven : remember God's mercies are infinite. Faust. But Faustus' offences can never be pardoned : the serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. Ah, gentlemen, hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches ! Though my heart pants and quivers to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years, oh, would I had never seen Wertenberg, never read book ! and what wonders I have done, all Ger- many can witness, yea, all the world : for which Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world, yea Heaven itself, Heaven, the seat of God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy ; and must remain in hell for ever, hell, ah, hell, for ever ! Sweet friends ! what shall become of Faustus being in hell for ever ? $rd Schol. Yet, Faustus, call on God. Faust. On God, whom Faustus hath abjured ! on God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed ! Ah, my God, I would weep, but the Devil draws in my tears. Gush forth blood instead of tears ! Yea, life and soul ! Oh, he stays my tongue ! I would lift up my hands, but see, they hold them, they hold them ! AJl. Who, Faustus ? Faust. Lucifer and Mephistophilis. Ah, gentlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning ! All. God forbid ! Faust. God forbade it indeed ; but Faustus hath done it : for vain pleasure of twenty-four years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own blood : the date is expired ; the time will come, and he will fetch me. \st Schol. Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, that divines might have prayed for thee ? Faust. Oft have I thought to have done so : but the Mar. - Q 226 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF [SCENE xvi. Devil threatened to tear me in pieces if I named God ; to fetch both body and soul if I once gave ear to divinity : and now 'tis too late. Gentlemen, away ! lest you perish with me. 2nd Schol. Oh, what shall we do to save Faustus ? Faust. Talk not of me, but save yourselves, and depart. yd Schol. God will strengthen me. I will stay with Faustus. \st Schol. Tempt not God, sweet friend ; but let us into the next room, and there pray for him. Faust. Ay, pray for me, pray for me ! and what noise soever ye hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. 2nd Schol. Pray thou, and we will pray that God may have mercy upon thee. Faust. Gentlemen, farewell : if I live till morning I'll visit you : if not Faustus is gone to hell. All. Faustus, farewell. \Exennt Scholars. The clock strikes eleren. Faust. Ah, Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damned 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 lente, lente, currite noctis equi ! ' 1 " At si, quern malis, Cephalum complexa teneres, Clamares ' lente currite noctis equi.' " OVID'S A mores, i. 13, 11. 39-40. " By an exquisite touch of nature the brain involuntarily sum- moning words employed for other purposes in happier hours Faust cries aloud the line which Ovid whispered in Corinna's arms." /. A, Symonds. SCENE xvi.] DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 227 The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damned. O, I'll leap up to my God ! Who pulls me down ? See, see where Christ's blood streams in the firmament ! One drop would save my soul half a drop : ah, my Christ ! Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ ! Yet will I call on him : O spare me, Lucifer ! Where is it now ? 'tis gone ; and see where God Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows ! Mountain and hills come, come and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of God ! No ! no ! Then will I headlong run into the earth Earth gape ! O no, it will not harbour me ! You stars that reigned at my nativity, Whose influence hath allotted death and hell, Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist Into the entrails of yon labouring clouds, That when they vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from their smoky mouths, So that my soul may but ascend to Heaven. \The dock strikes the half hour. Ah, half the hour is past ! 'twill all be past anon ! O God! If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul, Yet for Christ's sake whose blood hath ransomed me, Impose some end to my incessant pain ; 'Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years A hundred thousand, and at last be saved ! O, no end is limited to damned souls ! Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul ? Or why is this immortal that thou hast ? Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis ! were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Q 2 228 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. [SCENE xvi. Unto some brutish beast ! all beasts are happy, For, when they die, Their souls are soon dissolved in elements ; But mine must live, still to be plagued in hell. Curst be the parents that engendered me ! No, Faustus : curse thyself : curse Lucifer That hath deprived thee of the joys of Heaven. [ The clock strikes twelve. O, it strikes, it strikes ! Now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell. \Thunder and lightning, O soul, be changed into little water-drops, And fall into the ocean ne'er be found. [Enter Devils. My God ! my God ! look not so fierce on me ! Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile ! Ugly hell, gape not ! come not, Lucifer ! I'll burn my books ! Ah Mephistophilis ! [Exeunt Devils with FAUSTUS. Enter CHORUS. HO. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone ; regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise Only to wonder at unlawful things, Whose deepness doth entice such Torward wits To practise more than heavenly power permits. [Exit. THE JEW OF MALTA public that LTHOUGH J^he Jew of Malta was written between 1 588 and 1 592, there is no earlier edition of the play than the quarto of 1633. This was furnished with a brace of Prologues and Epilogues by Thomas Heyvvood, the dramatist, who tells the " by the best of poets in that age ' the play was ' ' writ many years agone, And in that age nought second unto none." The source of the story is unknown ; Mr. Symonds, arguing chiefly from its unrelieved cruelty, thinks it may be taken from some Spanish novel. Sta THE PROLOGUE. Enter MACHIAVEL. Machiavel. Albeit the world thinks Machiavel is dead, Yet was his soul but flown beyond the Alps, And now the Guise * is dead, is come from France, To view this land, and frolic with his friends. To some perhaps my name is odious, But such as love me guard me from their tongues ; And let them know that I am Machiavel, And weigh not men, and therefore not men's words. Admired I am of those that hate me most. Though some speak openly against my books, Yet they will read me, and thereby attain To Peter's chair : and when they cast me off, Are poisoned by my climbing followers. I count religion but a childish toy, And hold there is no sin but ignorance. Birds of the air will tell of murders past ! I am ashamed to hear such fooleries. Many will talk of title to a crown : What right had Caesar to the empery ? Might first made kings, and laws were then most sure When like the Draco's they were writ in blood. Hence comes it that a strong-built citadel Commands much more than letters can import ; Which maxim had but Phalaris observed, He had never bellowed, in a brazen bull, Of great ones' envy. Of the poor petty wights Let me be envied and not pitied ! But whither am I bound? 1 come not, I, To read a lecture here in Britain, But to present the tragedy of a Jew, Who smiles to see how full his bags are crammed, Which money was not got without my means. I crave but this grace him as he deserves, And let him not be entertained the worse Because he favours me. [Exit. 1 The Due de Guise, who had organised the Massacre of St. Bar- tholomew in 1572, and was assassinated in 1588. DRAMATIS PERSONS. FERNEZE, Governor of Malta. LODOWICK, his Son. SELIM CALYMATH, Son of the Grand Seignior. MARTIN DEL Bosco, Vice-Admiral of Spain. MATHIAS, a Gentleman. BARABAS, a wealthy Jew. ITHAMORE, BARABAS' slave. JACOMO, ) . BARNARDINE. \ PILIA-BORSA, a Bully. Two Merchants. Three Jews. Knights, Bassoes, Officers, Guard, Messengers, Slaves, and Carpenters. KATHARINE, mother of MATHIAS. ABIGAIL, Daughter of BARABAS. BELLAMIRA, a Courtesan. Abbess. Two Nuns. MACHIAVEL, 1 Speaker of the Prologue. SCENE. MAL TA. 1 This distinguished Florentine, degraded into a personification of unscrupulous policy, was frequently appealed to on the Eliza- bethan stage. THE JEW OF IMALTA. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. B ARAB AS discovered in his counting-house, with heaps of gold before him. AR. So that of thus much that return was made : And of the third part of the Persian ships, There was the venture summed and satis- fied. As for those Sabans, 1 and the men of Uz, That bought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece, Here have I purst their paltry silverlings. Fie ; what a trouble 'tis to count this trash Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay The things they traffic for with wedge of gold, Whereof a man may easily in a day 1 Old ed. "Samintes;" modern editors print " Samnites," be- tween whom and the " men of Uz" there can be no possible con- nection. We have Saba for Sabrea in Fanstiis [see p. 195]. Bullen. 234 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT i. Tell l that which may maintain him all his life. The needy groom that never fingered groat, Would make a miracle of thus much coin : But he whose steel-barred coffers are crammed full, And all his lifetime hath been tired, Wearying his fingers' ends with telling it, Would in his age be loth to labour so, And for a pound to sweat himself to death. Give me the merchants of the Indian mines, That trade in metal of the purest mould ; The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks Without control can pick his riches up, And in his house heap pearls like pebble-stones, Receive them free, and sell them oy the weight ; Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts, Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds, Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds, And seld-seen " costly stones of so great price, As one of them indifferently rated, And of a carat of this quantity, May serve in peril of calamity To ransom great kings from captivity. This is the ware wherein consists my wealth ; And thus methinks should men of judgment frame Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade, And as their wealth increaseth, so inclose \ Infinite riches in a little room. But now how stands the wind ? Into what corner peers my halcyon's bill ? 3 Ha ! to the east ? yes : see, how stand the vanes ? East and by south : why then I hope my ships 1 Count. - i.e. Seldom seen. 3 It was an ancient belief that a suspended stuffed halcyon (i.e. kingfisher) would indicate the quarter from which the wind blew. SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 235 I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles Are gotten up by Nilus' winding banks : Mine argosy from Alexandria, Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail, Are smoothly gliding down by Candy shore To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea. But who comes here ? Enter a Merchant. How now? Merch. Barabas, thy ships are safe, Riding in Malta-road : and all the merchants With other merchandise are safe arrived, And have sent me to know whether yourself Will come and custom * them. Bar. The ships are safe thou say'st, and richly fraught. Merch. They are. Bar. Why then go bid them come ashore, And bring with them their bills of entry : I hope our credit in the custom-house Will serve as well as I were present there. Go send 'em threescore camels, thirty mules, And twenty waggons to bring up the ware. But art thou master in a ship of mine, And is thy credit not enough for that ? Merch. The very custom barely comes to more Than many merchants of the town are worth, And therefore far exceeds my credit, sir. Bar. Go tell 'em the Jew of Malta sent thee, man : Tush ! who amongst 'em knows not Barabas ? Merch. I go. Bar. So then, there's somewhat come. Sirrah, which of my ships art thou master of ? 1 i.e. Enter them at the custom-house. 236 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. Merch. Of the Speranza, sir. Bar. And saw'st thou not Mine argosy at Alexandria ? Thou could'st not come from Egypt, or by Caire, But at the entry there into the sea, Where Nilus pays his tribute to the main, Thou needs must sail by Alexandria. Merch. I neither saw them, nor inquired of them : But this we heard some of our seamen say, They wondered how you durst with so much wealth Trust such a crazed vessel, and so far. Bar. Tush, they are wise ! I know her and her strength. But go, go thou thy ways, discharge thy ship, And bid my factor bring his loading in. [Exit Merch. And yet I wonder at this argosy. Enter a second Merchant. 2nd Merch. Thine argosy from Alexandria, Know, Barabas, doth ride in Malta-road, Laden with riches, and exceeding store Of Persian silks, of gold, and orient pearl. Bar. How chance you came not with those other ships That sailed by Egypt ? 2nd Merch. Sir, we saw 'em not. Bar. Belike they coasted round by Candy shore About their oils, or other businesses. But 'twas ill done of you to come so far Without the aid or conduct of their ships. 2nd Merch. Sir, we were wafted by a Spanish fleet, That never left us till within a league, That had the galleys of the Turk in chase. Bar. O ! they were going up to Sicily : Well, go, SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 237 And bid the merchants and my men despatch And come ashore, and see the fraught l discharged. 2nd Merch. I go. \_Exit. Bar. Thus trowls our fortune in by land and sea, And thus are we on every side enriched : These are the blessings promised to the Jews, And herein was old Abram's happiness : What more may Heaven do for earthly man Than thus to pour out plenty in their laps, Ripping the bowels of the earth for them, Making the seas their servants, and the winds To drive their substance with successful blasts ? Who hateth me but for my happiness ? Or who is honoured now but for his wealth ? Rather had I a Jew be hated thus, Than pitied in a Christian poverty : For I can see no fruits in all their faith, But malice, falsehood, and excessive pride, Which methinks fits not their profession. Haply some hapless man hath conscience, And for his conscience lives in beggary. They say we are a scattered nation : I cannot tell, but we have scambled - up More wealth by far than those that brag of faith. There's Kirriah Jairim, the great Jew of Greece, Obed in Bairseth, Nones in Portugal, Myself in Malta, some in Italy, Many in France, and wealthy every one ; Ay, wealthier far than any Christian. I must confess we come not to be kings ; That's not our fault : alas, our number's few, And crowns come either by succession, Or urged by force : and nothing violent 1 Freight. 2 Scrambled. 238 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. Oft have I heard tell, can be permanent. Give us a peaceful rule, make Christians kings, That thirst so much for principality. I have no charge, nor many children, But one sole daughter, whom I hold as dear As Agamemnon did his Iphigen : And all I have is hers. But who comes here ? Enter three Jews. ' ist Jew. Tush, tell not me ; 'twas done of policy. 2nd Jew. Come, therefore, let us go to Barabas, For he can counsel best in these affairs ; And here he comes. Bar. Why, how now, countrymen ! Why flock you thus to me in multitudes ? What accident's betided to the Jews ? ist Jew. A fleet of warlike galleys, Barabas, Are come from Turkey, and lie in our road : And they this day sit in the council-house To entertain them and their embassy. Bar. Why, let 'em come, so they come not to war ; Or let 'em war, so we be conquerors Nay, let 'em combat, conquer, and kill all ! So they spare me, my daughter, and my wealth. [Aside. i st. Jew. Were it for confirmation of a league, They would not come in warlike manner thus. 2nd Jeu>. I fear their coming will afflict us all. Bar. Fond 2 men ! what dream you of their multitudes. What need they treat of peace that are in league? The Turks and those of Malta are in league. Tut, tut, there is some other matter in't. \stjew. Why, Barabas, they come for peace or war. 1 The scene is here supposed to be shifted to a street or to the Exchange. i.e. Foolish. SCENE i.] THE JEW OP" MALTA, 239 Bar. Haply for neither, but to pass along Towards Venice by the Adriatic Sea; With whom they have attempted many times, But never could effect their stratagem. yd Jew. And very wisely said. It may be so. 2nd Jew. But there's a meeting in the senate-house, And all the Jews in Malta must be there. Bar. Hum ; all the Jews in Malta must be there ? Ay, like enough, why then let every man Provide him, and be there for fashion-sake. If anything shall there concern our state, Assure yourselves I'll look unto myself. [Aside. ist fat'. I know you will. Well, brethren, let us go. znd Jew. Let's take ou leaves. Farewell, good Barabas. Bar. Farewell, Zaareth ; farewell, Temainte. [Exeunt Jews. And, Barabas, now search this secret out ; Summon thy senses, call thy wits together : These silly men mistake the matter clean. Long to the Turk did Malta contribute ; Which tribute, all in policy I fear, The Turks have let increase to such a sum As all the wealth of Malta cannot pay ; And now by that advantage thinks belike To seize upon the town : ay, that he seeks. Howe'er the world go, I'll make sure for one, And seek in time to intercept the worst, Warily guarding that which I ha' got. Ego mihimet sum semper proximus} Why, let 'em enter, let 'em take the town. [Exit. 1 Misquoted from Terence's Andria, iv. I, 12. The words should be " Proximus sum egomet mihi." 240 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT i. SCENE II. Enter FERNEZE, Gwernor of Malta, Knights, and Officers; met by CALYMATH and Bassoes of the Turk. 1 Fern. Now, Bassoes,- what demand you at our hands ? ij-/ Bas. Know, Knights of Malta, that we came from Rhodes, From Cyprus, Candy, and those other Isles That lie betwixt the Mediterranean seas. Fern. What's Cyprus, Candy, and those other Isles To us, or Malta ? What at our hands demand ye ? Cal. The ten years' tribute that remains unpaid. Fern. Alas ! my lord, the sum is over-great, I hope your highness will consider us. Cal. I wish, grave governor, 'twere in my power To favour you, but 'tis my father's cause, Wherein I may not, nay, I dare not dally. Fern. Then give us leave, great Selim Calymath. {Consults apart with the Knights. Cal. Stand all aside, and let the knights determine, And send to keep our galleys under sail, For happily 3 we shall not tarry here ; Now, governor, say, how are you resolved ? Fern. Thus : since your hard conditions are such That you will needs have ten years' tribute past, We may have time to make collection Amongst the inhabitants of Malta for't. \st Bas. That's more than is in our commission. Cal. What, Callipine ! a little courtesy. Let's know their time, perhaps it is not long ; And 'tis more kingly to obtain by peace 1 The scene is supposed to be inside the council-house.- - Bashaws or Pashas. 3 i.e. Haply. SCENE II.] THE JEW OP MALTA. 241 Than to enforce conditions by constraint. What respite ask you, governor ? fern. But a month. Cal. We grant a month, but see you keep your promise. Now launch our galleys back again to sea, Where we'll attend the respite you have ta'en, And for the money send our messenger. Farewell, great governor and brave Knights of Malta. Fern. And all good fortune wait on Calymath ! [Exeunt CALYMATH and Bassoes. Go one and call those Jews of Malta hither : Were they not summoned to appear to-day ? Off. They were, my lord, and here they come. Enter BAR ABAS and three Jews. ist Knight. Have you determined what to say to them ? Fern. Yes, give me leave : and, Hebrews, now come near. From the Emperor of Turkey is arrived Great Selim Calymath, his highness' son, To levy of us ten years' tribute past, Now then, here know that it concerneth us Bar. Then, good my lord, to keep your quiet still, Your lordship shall do well to let them have it. Fern. Soft, Barabas, there's more 'longs to 't than so. To what this ten years' tribute will amount, That we have cast, but cannot compass it By reason of the wars that robbed our store ; And therefore are we to request your aid. Bar. Alas, my lord, we are no soldiers : And what's our aid against so great a prince ? \st Knight. Tut, Jew, we know thou art no soldier ; Thou art a merchant and a moneyed man, And 'tis thy money, Barabas, we seek. Mar. a 242 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT i. Bar, How, my lord ! my money ? Fern. Thine and the rest. For, to be short, amongst you't must be had. \st Jew. Alas, my lord, the most of us are poor. Fern. Then let the rich increase your portions. Bar. Are strangers with your tribute to be taxed ? 2nd Knight. Have strangers leave with us to get their wealth ? Then let them with us contribute. Bar. How ! equally ? Fern. No, Jew, like infidels. For through our sufferance of your hateful lives, Who stand accursed in the sight of Heaven, These taxes and afflictions are befallen, And therefore thus we are determined. Read there the articles of our decrees. Officer (reads) " First, the tribute-money of the Turks shall all be levied amongst the Jews, and each of them to pay one half of his estate." Bar. How, half his estate ? I hope you mean not mine. \_Aside. Fern. Read on. Off. (reading). " Secondly, he that denies a to pay shall straight become a Christian." Bar. How ! a Christian ? Hum, what's here to do ? [Aside. Off. (reading). " Lastly, he that denies this shall absolutely lose all he has." The three Jews. O my lord, we will give half. Bar. O earth-mettled villains, and no Hebrews born ! And will you basely thus submit yourselves To leave your goods to their arbitrament ? Fern. Why, Barabas, wilt thou be christened ? 1 Refuses. .SCENE ii.j THE JEW OF MALTA. 243 Bar. No, governor, I will be no convertite. 1 Fern. Then pay thy half. Bar. Why, know you what you did by this device ? Half of my substance is a city's wealth. Governor, it was not got so easily ; Nor will I part so slightly therewithal. Fern. Sir, half is the penalty of our decree, Either pay that, or we will seize on all. Bar. Corpo di Dio ! stay ! you shall have the half; Let me be used but as my brethren are. Fern. No, Jew, thou hast denied the articles, And now it cannot be recalled. [Exeunt Officers, on a sign from FERNEZE. Bar. Will you then steal my goods ? Is theft the ground of your religion ? Fern. No, Jew, we take particularly thine To save the ruin of a multitude : And better one want for the common good Than many perish for a private man : Yet, Barabas, we will not banish thee, But here in Malta, where thou gott'st thy wealth, Live still ; and, if thou canst, get more. Bar. Christians, what or how can I multiply ? Of naught is nothing made. ist Knight. From naught at first thou cam'st to little wealth, From little unto more, from more to most : If your first curse fall heavy on thy head, And make thee poor and scorned of all the world, 'Tis not our fault, but thy inherent sin. Bar. What, bring you Scripture to confirm your wrongs ? Preach me not out of my possessions. 1 i.e. Convert. 24+ THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT i Some Jews are wicked, as all Christians are : But say the tribe that I descended of Were all in general cast away for sin, Shall I be tried by their transgression ? The man that dealeth righteously shall live : And which of you can charge me otherwise ? Fern. Out, wretched Barabas ! Sham'st thou not thus to justify thyself, As if we knew not thy profession ? If thou rely upon thy righteousness, Be patient and thy riches will increase. Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness : And covetousness, O, 'tis a monstrous sin. Bar. Ay, but theft is worse : tush ! take not from me then, For that is theft ! and if you rob me thus, I must be forced to steal and compass more. ist Knight. Grave governor, listen not to his exclaims. Convert his mansion to a nunnery ; His house will harbour many holy nuns. Fern. It shall be so. Re-enter Officers. Now, officers, have you done ? Off. Ay, my lord, we have seized upon the goods And wares of Barabas, which being valued, Amount to more than all the wealth in Malta. And of the other we have seized half. Fern. Then we'll take order for the residue. Bar. Well then, my lord, say, are you satisfied ? You have my goods, my money, and my wealth, My ships, my store, and all that I enjoyed ; And, having all, you can request no more ; Unless your unrelenting flinty hearts SCENE ii.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 245 Suppress all pity in your stony breasts, And now shall move you to bereave my life. Fern. No, Barabas, to stain our hands with blood Is far from us and our profession. Bar. Why, I esteem the injury far less To take the lives of miserable men Than be the causers of their misery. You have my wealth, the labour of my life, The comfort of mine age, my children's hope, And therefore ne'er distinguish of the wrong. Fern. Content thee, Barabas, thou hast naught but right. Bar. Your extreme right does me exceeding wrong : But take it to you, i' the devil's name. fern. Come, let us in, and gather of these goods The money for this tribute of the Turk. \st Knight. 'Tis necessary that be looked unto : For if we break our day, we break the league, And that will prove but simple policy. \Exeunt all except BARABAS and the Jews. Bar. Ay, policy ! that's their profession, And not simplicity, as they suggest. The plagues of Egypt, and the curse of Heaven, Earth's barrenness, and all men's hatred Inflict upon them, thou great Primus Motor ! And here upon my knees, striking the earth, I ban their souls to everlasting pains And extreme tortures of the fiery deep, That thus have dealt with me in my distress. \st Jew. O yet be patient, gentle Barabas. Bar. O silly brethren, born to see this day ; Why stand you thus unmoved with my laments ? Why weep you not to think upon my wrongs ? Why pine not I, and die in this distress ? \st Jew. Why, Barabas, as hardly can we brook 246 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. The cruel handling of ourselves in this ; Thou seest they have taken half our goods. Bar. Why did you yield to their extortion ? You were a multitude, and I but one : And of me only have they taken all. ist Jew. Yet, brother Barabas, remember Job. Bar. What tell you me of Job? I wot his wealth Was written thus : he had seven thousand sheep, Three thousand camels, and two hundred yoke Of labouring oxen, and five hundred She-asses : but for every one of those, Had they been valued at indifferent rate, I had at home, and in mine argosy, And other ships that came from Egypt last, As much as would have bought his beasts and him, And yet have kept enough to live upon : So that not he, but I may curse the day, Thy fatal birth-day, forlorn Barabas ; And henceforth wish for an eternal night, That clouds of darkness may inclose my flesh, And hide these extreme sorrows from mine eyes : For only I have toiled to inherit here The months of vanity and loss of time, And painful nights, have been appointed me. 2nd Jew. Good Barabas, be patient. Bar. Ay, I pray, leave me in my patience. You, Were ne'er possessed of wealth, are pleased with want ; But give him liberty at least to mourn, That in a field amidst his enemies Doth see his soldiers slain, himself disarmed, And knows no means of his recovery : Ay, let me sorrow for this sudden chance ; 'Tis in the trouble of my spirit I speak ; Great injuries are not so soon forgot. SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 247 ist Jew. Come, let us leave him ; in his ireful mood Our words will but increase his ecstasy. 1 2nd Jew. On, then ; but trust me 'tis a misery To see a man in such affliction. Farewell, Barabas ! [Exeunt the three Jews. 2 Bar. Ay, fare you well. See the simplicity of these base slaves, Who, for the villains have no wit themselves, Think me to be a senseless lump of clay That will with every water wash to dirt : No, Barabas is born to better chance, And framed of finer mould than common men, That measure naught but by the present time. A reaching thought will search his deepest wits, And cast with cunning for the time to come : For evils are apt to happen every day. Enter ABIGAIL. But whither wends my beauteous Abigail ? O ! what has made my lovely daughter sad ? What, woman ! moan not for a little loss : Thy father hath enough in store for thee. Abig. Not for myself, but aged Barabas : Father, for thee lamenteth Abigail : But I will learn to leave these fruitless tears, And, urged thereto with my afflictions, With fierce exclaims run to the senate-house, And in the senate reprehend them all, And rend their hearts with tearing of my hair, Till they reduce 3 the wrongs done to my father. 1 Violent emotion. 2 Dyce suggests that on the Jews' departure the scene is supposed to shift to a street near Barabas's house., 3 i.e. Repair. 248 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. Bar. No, Abigail, things past recovery Are hardly cured with exclamations. Be silent, daughter, sufferance breeds ease, And time may yield us an occasion Which on the sudden cannot serve the turn. Besides, my girl, think me not all so fond ' As negligently to forego so much Without provision for thyself and me, Ten thousand portagues, 2 besides great pearls, Rich costly jewels, and stones infinite, Fearing the worst of this before it fell, I closely hid. Abig, Where, father? Bar. In my house, my girl. Abig. Then shall they ne'er be seen of Barabas : For they have seized upon thy house and wares. Bar. But they will give me leave once more, I trow, To go into my house. Abig. That may they not : For there I left the governor placing nuns, Displacing me ; and of thy house they mean To make a nunnery, where none but their own sect 3 Must enter in ; men generally barred. Bar. My gold ! my gold ! and all my wealth is gone ! You partial heavens, have I deserved this plague ? What, will you thus oppose me, luckless stars, To make me desperate in my poverty ? And knowing me impatient in distress, Think me so mad as I will hang myself, That I may vanish o'er the earth in air, And leave no memory that e'er I was ? No, I will live ; nor loathe I this my life : 1 Foolish. - Portuguese gold coins. 3 i.e. Sex. SCENE ii.J THE JEW OF MALTA. 249 And, since you leave me in the ocean thus To sink or swim, and put me to my shifts, I'll rouse my senses and awake myself. Daughter ! I have it : thou perceiv'st the plight Wherein these Christians have oppressed me : Be ruled by me, for in extremity We ought to make bar of no policy. Abig. Father, whate'er it be to injure them That have so manifestly wronged us, What will not Abigail attempt ? Bar. Why, so ; Then thus, thou told'st me they have turned my house Into a nunnery, and some nuns are there ? Abig. I did. Bar. Then, Abigail, there must my girl Entreat the abbess to be entertained. Abig. How, as a nun ? Bar, Ay, daughter, for religion Hides many mischiefs from suspicion. Abig. Ay, but, father, they will suspect me there. Bar. Let 'em suspect ; but be thou so precise As they may think it done of holiness. Entreat 'em fair, and give them friendly speech, And seem to them as if thy sins were great, Till thou hast gotten to be entertained. Abig. Thus, father, shall I much dissemble. Bar. Tush ! As good dissemble that thou never mean'st, As first mean truth and then dissemble it, A counterfeit profession is better Than unseen hypocrisy. Abig. Well, father, say that I be entertained, What then shall follow ? Bar. This shall follow then ; 250 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT i. There have I hid, close underneath the plank That runs along the upper- chamber floor, The gold and jewels which I kept for thee. But here they come ; be cunning, Abigail. Abig, Then, father, go with me. Bar. No, Abigail, in this It is not necessary I be seen : For I will seem offended with thee for't : Be close, my girl, for this must fetch my gold. [ They retire. Enter Friar JACOMO, Friar BARNARDINE, Abbess, and a Nun. f.Jac. Sisters, we now are almost at the new-made nunnery. Abb. The better ; for we love not to be seen : 'Tis thirty winters long since some of us Did stray so far amongst the multitude. F. Jac. But, madam, this house And waters of this new-made nunnery Will much delight y6u. Abb. It may be so ; but who comes here ? [ABIGAIL comes forward. Abig. Grave abbess, and you, happy virgins' guide, Pity the state of a distressed maid. Abb. What art thou, daughter ? Abig. The hopeless daughter of a hapless Jew, The Jew of Malta, wretched Barabas ; Sometime the owner of a goodly house, Which they have now turned to a nunnery. Abb. Well, daughter, say, what is thy suit with us ? Abig. Fearing the afflictions which my father feels Proceed from sin, or want of faith in us, I'd pass away my life in penitence, SCENE ii.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 251 And be a novice in your nunnery, To make atonement for my labouring soul. F. Jac. No doubt, brother, but this proceedeth of the spirit. F. Barn. Ay, and of a moving spirit too, brother ; but come, Let us entreat she may be entertained. Abb. Well, daughter, we admit you for a nun. Abig. First let me as a novice learn to frame My solitary life to your strait laws, And let me lodge where I was wont to lie, I do not doubt, by your divine precepts And mine own industry, but to profit much. Bar. As much, I hope, as all I hid is worth. \_Aside. Abb. Come, daughter, follow us. Bar. (coming forward). Why, how now, Abigail, What makest thou amongst these hateful Christians ? F. Jac. Hinder her not, thou man of little faith, For she has mortified herself. Bar. How ! mortified ? F. Jac. And is admitted to the sisterhood. Bar. Child of perdition, and thy father's shame ! What wilt thou do among these hateful fiends ? I charge thee on my blessing that thou leave These devils, and their damned heresy. Abig. Father, forgive me [She goes to him. Bar. Nay, back, Abigail, (And think upon the jewels and the gold; [Aside to ABIGAIL in a whisper. The board is marked thus that covers it.) Away, accursed, from thy father's sight. F. Jac. Barabas, although thou art in misbelief, And wilt not see thine own afflictions, Yet let thy daughter be no longer blind. 252 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. Bar. Blind friar, I reck not thy persuasions, (The board is marked thus l that covers it.) [Aside to ABIGAIL in a whisper. For I had rather die than see her thus. Wilt thou forsake me too in my distress, Seduced daughter ? (Go, forget not,) [Aside in a whisper. Becomes it Jews to be so credulous ? (To-morrow early I'll be at the door.) [Aside in a whisper. No, come not at me ; if thou wilt be damned, Forget me, see me not, and so be gone. (Farewell, remember to-morrow morning.) \_Aside in a whisper. Out, out, thou wretch ! \_Eoceunt, on one side BARABAS, on the other side Friars, Abbess, Nun, and ABIGAIL ; as they are going out, Enter MATHIAS. Math. Who's this? fair Abigail, the rich Jew's daughter, Become a nun ! her father's sudden fall Has humbled her and brought her down to this : Tut, she were fitter for a tale of love, Than to be tired out with orisons : And better would she far become a bed, Embraced in a friendly lover's arms, Than rise at midnight to a solemn mass. Enter LODOWICK. Lod. Why, how now, Don Mathias ! in a dump ? Math. Believe me, noble Lodowick, I have seen The strangest sight, in my opinion, That ever I beheld. 1 The old edition has t inserted here, presumably to indicate the sign that Barabas was to make with his hand. SCENE ii.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 253 Lod. What was't, I prithee ? Math. A fair young maid, scarce fourteen years of age, The sweetest flower in Cytherea's field, Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitful earth, And strangely metamorphosed nun. Lod. But say, what was she ? Math. Why, the rich Jew's daughter. Lod. What, Barabas, whose goods were lately seized ? Is she so fair ? Math. And matchless beautiful ; As, had you seen her, 'twould have moved your heart, Though countermined with walls of brass, to love, Or at the least to pity. Lod. And if she be so fair as you report, 'Twere time well spent to go and visit her : How say you, shall we ? Math. I must and will, sir ; there's no remedy. Lod. And so will I too, or it shall go hard. Farewell, Mathias. Math. Farewell, Lodowick, \_Exeunt swerauy. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. Enter BARABAS with a light. J AR. Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable Vexed and tormented runs poor Barabas [wings ; With fatal curses towards these Christians. The uncertain pleasures of swift-footed time Have ta'en their flight, and left me in despair ; And of my former riches rests no more But bare remembrance, like a soldier's scar, That has no further comfort for his maim. O thou, that with a fiery pillar led'st The sons of Israel through the dismal shades, Light Abraham's offspring ; and direct the hand Of Abigail this night ; or let the day Turn to eternal darkness after this ! No sleep can fasten on my watchful eyes, Nor quiet enter my distempered thoughts, Till I have answer of my Abigail. 1 The scene is before Barabas's house, now turned into a nunnery. SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 255 Enter ABIGAIL above. Abig. Now have I happily espied a time To search the plank my father did appoint ; And here behold, unseen, where I have found The gold, the pearls, and jewels, which he hid. Bar. Now I remember those old women's words, Who in my wealth would tell me winter's tales, And speak of spirits and ghosts that glide by night About the place where treasure hath been hid : And now methinks that I am one of those : For whilst I live, here lives my soul's sole hope, And, when I die, here shall my spirit walk. Abig. Now that my father's fortune were so good As but to be about this happy place ; Tis not so happy : yet when we parted last, He said he would attend me in the morn. Then, gentle sleep, where'er his body rests, Give charge to Morpheus that he may dream A golden dream, and of the sudden wake, Come and receive the treasure I have found. Bar. Bueno para todos mi ganado no era : As good go on as sit so sadly thus. But stay, what star shines yonder in the east ? The loadstar of my life, if Abigail. Who's there ? Abig. Who's that ? Bar. Peace, Abigail, 'tis I. Abig. Then, father, here receive thy happiness. Bar. Hast thou't ? Abig. Here, \_Throws down the bags'] hast thou't ? There's more, and more, and more. Bar. O my girl, My gold, my fortune, my felicity ! 256 7 HE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT n. Strength to my soul, death to mine enemy ! Welcome the first beginner of my bliss ! O Abigail, Abigail, that I had thee here too ! Then my desires were fully satisfied : But I will practise thy enlargement thence : O girl ! O gold ! l O beauty ! O my bliss ! [ffugs the bags. Abig. Father, it draweth towards midnight now, And 'bout this time the nuns begin to wake ; To shun suspicion, therefore, let us part. Bar. Farewell, my joy, and by my fingers take A kiss from him that sends it from his soul. [Exit ABIGAIL above. Now Phoebus ope the eyelids of the day, And for the raven wake the morning lark, That I may hover with her in the air ; Singing o'er these, as she does o'er her young. Hermoso placer de los dineros. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter FERNEZE, MARTIN DEL Bosco, and Knights. Fern. Now, captain, tell us whither thou art bound ? Whence is thy ship that anchors in our road ? And why thou cam'st ashore without our leave ? Bosc. Governor of Malta, hither am I bound ; My ship, the Flying Dragon, is of Spain, And so am I : Del Bosco is my name ; Vice-admiral unto the Catholic King. isf Knight. 'Tis true, my lord, therefore entreat 2 him well. 1 We have a kind of echo of this in Shylock's ' ' My daughter, O " &c. 2 i.e. Treat. SCENE ii.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 257 Bosc, Our fraught 1 is Grecians, Turks, and Afric Moors, For late upon the coast of Corsica, Because we vailed ~ not to the Turkish 3 fleet, Their creeping galleys had us in the chase : But suddenly the wind began to rise, And then we luffed and tacked, 4 and fought at easej Some have we fired, and many have we sunk ; But one amongst the rest became our prize : The captain's slain, the rest remain our slaves, Of whom we would make sale in Malta here. Fern, Martin del Bosco, I have heard of thee ; Welcome to Malta, and to all of us ; But to admit a sale of these thy Turks We may not, nay, we dare not give consent By reason of a tributary league. i si Knight. Del Bosco, as thou lov'st and honour'st us, Persuade our governor against the Turk ; This truce we have is but in hope of gold, And with that sum he craves might we wage war. Bosc. Will Knights of Malta be in league with Turks, And buy it basely too for sums of gold ? My lord, remember that, to Europe's shame, The Christian Isle of Rhodes, from whence you came, Was lately lost, and you were stated 5 here To be at deadly enmity with Turks. Fern. Captain, we know it, but our force is small. Bosc. What is the sum that Calymath requires ? Fern. A hundred thousand crowns. Bosc. My lord and king hath title to this isle, And he means quickly to expel you hence ; Therefore be ruled by me, and keep the gold : 1 Freight. " i.e. Did not lower our flags. 3 Old ed. " Spanish." 4 Old ed. "left and tooke. " The correction was made by Dyce. 6 Established. Mar. S 258 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT II. I'll write unto his majesty for aid, And not depart until I see you free. Fern. On this condition shall thy Turks be sold : Go, officers, and set them straight in show. {Exeunt Officers. Bosco, thou shalt be Malta's general ; We and our warlike Knights will follow thee Against these barb'rous misbelieving Turks. Bosc. So shall you imitate those you succeed : For when their hideous force environed Rhodes, Small though the number was that kept the town, They fought it out, and not a man survived To bring the hapless news to Christendom. Fern. So will we fight it out ; come, let's away : Proud daring Calymath, instead of gold, We'll send thee bullets wrapt in smoke and fire : Claim tribute where thou wilt, we are resolved, Honour is bought with blood and not with gold. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Officers with ITHAMORE and other Slaves. 1 ist Off. This is the market-place, here let 'em stand : Fear not their sale, for they'll be quickly bought. 2nd Off. Ever)' one's price is written on his back, And so much must they yield or not be sold. ist Off. Here comes the Jew; had not his goods been seized, He'd given us present money for them all. Enter BARABAS. Bar. In spite of these swine-eating Christians, 1 The scene is the market-place. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 259 Unchosen nation, never circumcised, Such as (poor villains !) were ne'er thought upon Till Titus and Vespasian conquered us, Am I become as wealthy as I was : They hoped my daughter would ha' been a nun ; But she's at home, and I have bought a house As great and fair as is the governor's ; And there in spite of Malta will I dwell, Having Ferneze's hand, whose heart I'll have ; Ay, and his son's too, or it shall go hard. I am not of the tribe of Levi, I, That can so soon forget an injury. We Jews can fawn like spaniels when we please : And when we grin we bite, yet are our looks As innocent and harmless as a lamb's. I learned in Florence how to kiss my hand, Heave up my shoulders when they call me dog, 1 And duck as low as any barefoot friar ; Hoping to see them starve upon a stall, Or else be gathered for in our synagogue, That, when the offering-basin comes to me, Even for charity I may spit into't. Here comes Don Lodowick, the governor's son, One that I love for his good father's sake. Enter LODOWICK. Lod. I hear the wealthy Jew walked this way : I'll seek him out, and so insinuate, That I may have a sight of Abigail ; For Don Mathias tells me she is fair. Bar. Now will I show myself 1 This recalls Shylock's "Still have I borne it with a patient shrug." S 2 260 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT n. To have more of the serpent than the dove; That is more knave than fool. [Aside. Lod. Yond' walks the Jew ; now for fair Abigail. Bar. Ay, ay, no doubt but she's at your command. [Aside. Lod. Barabas, thou know'st I am the governor's son. Bar. I would you were his father, too, sir ; That's all the harm I wish you. The slave looks Like a hog's-cheek new singed. [Aside. Lod. Whither walk'st thou, Barabas ? Bar. No farther : 'tis a custom held with us, That when we speak with Gentiles like to you, We turn into the air to purge ourselves : For unto us the promise doth belong. Lod. Well, Barabas, canst help me to a diamond ? Bar. O, sir, your father had my diamonds. Vet I have one left that will serve your turn : I mean my daughter : but ere he shall have her I'll sacrifice her on a pile of wood. I ha' the poison of the city for him, And the white leprosy. - [Aside. Lod. What sparkle does it give without a foil ? Bar. The diamond that I talk of ne'er was foiled : l But when he touches it, it will be foiled : [Aside. Lord Lodowick, it sparkles bright and fair. Lon. Is it square, or pointed, pray let me know. Bar. Pointed it is, good sir but not for you. [Aside. Lod. I like it much the better. Bar. So do I too. Lod. How shows it by night ? Bar. Outshines Cynthia's rays : You'll like it better far o' nights than days. [Aside. Lod. And what's the price ? 1 Defiled. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 261 Bar. Your life an if you have it. [Aside.] my lord, We will not jar about the price ; come to my house . And I will give't your honour with a vengeance. \Aside. Lo.i. No, Barabas, I will deserve it first. Bar. Good sir, Your father has deserved it at my hands, Who, of mere charity and Christian truth, To bring me to religious purity, And as it were in catechising sort, To make me mindful of my mortal sins, Against my will, and whether I would or no, Seized all I had, and thrust me out o' doors, And made my house a place for nuns most chaste. Lod. No doubt your soul shall reap the fruit of it. Bar. Ay, but, my lord, the harvest is far oft And yet I know the prayers of those nuns And holy friars, having money for their pains, Are wondrous ; and indeed do no man good : \AsuJe. And seeing they are not idle, but still doing, 'Tis likely they in time may reap some fruit,' I mean in fulness of perfection. Lod. Good Barabas, glance not at our holy nuns. Bar. No, but I do it through a burning zeal, Hoping ere long to set the house afire ; For though they do a while increase and multiply, I'll have a saying to that nunnery. \Aside. As for the diamond, sir, I told you of, Come home and there's no price shall make us. part, Even for your honourable father's sake. It shall go hard but. I will see your death. . [Aside. But now I must be gone to buy a slave. Lod. And, Barabas, I'll bear thee company. Bar. Come then here's the market-place. 262 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT ir. What's the price of this slave ? Two hundred crowns ! Do the Turks weigh so much ? ist Off. Sir, that's his price. Bar. What, can he steal that you demand so much ? Belike he has some new trick for a purse ; And if he has, he is worth three hundred plates, 1 So that, being bought, the town-seal might be got To keep him for his lifetime from the gallows : The sessions day is critical to thieves, And few or none 'scape but by being purged. Lod. Rat'st thou this Moor but at two hundred plates ? \st Off, No more, my lord. Bar. Why should this Turk be dearer than that Moor ? \st Off. Because he is young and has more qualities. Bar. What, hast the philosopher's stone ? an thou hast, break my head with it, I'll forgive thee. Slave. No, sir ; I can cut and shave. Bar. Let me see, sirrah, are you not an old shaver ? Slave. Alas, sir ! I am a very youth. Bar. A youth ? I'll buy you, and marry you to Lady Vanity, 2 if you do well. Slave. I will serve you, sir. Bar. Some wicked trick or other. It may be, under colour of shaving, thou'lt cut my throat for my goods. Tell me, hast thou thy health well ? Slave. Ay, passing well Bar. So much the worse ; I must have one that's sickly, an't be but for sparing victuals : 'tis not a stone of beef a day will maintain you in these chops ; let me see one that's somewhat leaner. isf Off. Here's a leaner, how like you him? Bar. Where wast thou born ? 1 Pieces of silver coin. 8 An allegorical character in the old moralities. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 263 Itha, In Thrace ; brought up in Arabia. Bar. So much the better, thou art for my turn. An hundred crowns ? I'll have him ; there's the coin. [Gives money. isf Off. Then mark him, sir, and take him hence. Bar. Ay, mark him, you were best, for this is he That by my help shall do much villainy. [Aside. My lord, farewell : Come, sirrah, you are mine. As for the diamond, it shall be yours ; I pray, sir, be no stranger at my house, All that I have shall be at your command. Enter MATHIAS and his Mother KATHERINE. Math. What makes the Jew and Lodowick so private ? I fear me 'tis about fair Abigail. [Aside. Bar. Yonder comes Don Mathias, let us stay ; J \Exit LODOWICK. He loves my daughter, and she holds him dear : But I have sworn to frustrate both their hopes, And be revenged upon the governor. Kath. This Moor is comeliest, is he not ? speak, son. Math. No, this is the better, mother ;, view this well, Bar. Seem not to know me here before your mother, Lest she mistrust the match that is in hand : When you have brought her home, come to my house ; Think of me as thy father ; son, farewell. Math. But wherefore talked Don Lodowick with you ? Bar. Tush ! man, we talked of diamonds, not of Abigail. Kath. Tell me, Mathias, is not that the Jew ? Bar. As for the comment on the Maccabees, I have it, sir, and 'tis at your command. Math. Yes, madam, and my talk with him was but About the borrowing of a book or two. 1 i.e. Break off our conversation. 264 THE JEW OF MALTA, [ACT n. Kath. Converse not with him, he's cast off from heaven. Thou hast thy crowns, fellow ; come, let's away. Math. Sirrah, Jew, remember the book. . Bar. Marry will I, sir. \_Exeunt MATHIAS and his Mother. Off. Come, I have made reasonable market ; let's away. \Exetint Officers with Slaves. Bar. Now let me know thy name, and therewithal Thy birth, condition, and profession. Itha. Faith, sir, my birth is but mean : my name's Ithamore, my profession what you please. Bar. Hast thou no trade? then listen to my words, And I will teach thee that shall stick by thee : First be thou void of these affections, Compassion, love, vain hope, and heartless fear, Be moved at nothing, see thou pity none, But to thyself smile when the Christians moan. Itha. O brave ! master, I worship your nose ' for this. Bar. As for myself, I walk abroad o' nights And kill sick people groaning under walls : Sometimes I go about and poison wells ; And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves, I am content to lose some of my crowns, That I may, walking in my gallery, See 'em go pinioned along by my door. Being young, I studied physic, and began To practise first upon the Italian ; There I enriched the priests with burials, And always kept the sextons' arms in ure - With digging graves and ringing dead men's knells : 1 Barabas was represented on the stage with a large false nose. In Rowley's Search for Money (1609) allusion is made to the " arti- ficiall Jewe of Maltaes nose." 3 Use. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 265 And after that was I an engineer, And in the wars 'twixt France and Germany, Under pretence of helping Charles the Fifth, Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems. Then after that was I an usurer, And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting, And tricks belonging unto brokery, I filled the jails with bankrupts in a year, And with young orphans planted hospitals, And every moon made some or other mad, And now and then one hang himself for grief, Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll How I with interest tormented him. But mark how I am blest for plaguing them ; I have as much coin as will buy the town. But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time ? Itha. 'Faith, master, In setting Christian villages on fire, Chaining of eunuchs, binding galley-slaves. One time I was an ostler in an inn, And in the night-time secretly would I steal To travellers' chambers, and there cut their throats : Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneeled, I strewed powder on the marble stones, And therewithal their knees would rankle so, That I have laughed a-good 1 to see the cripples Go limping home to Christendom on stilts. Bar. Why this is something : make account of me As of thy fellow ; we are villains both : Both circumcised, we hate Christians both : Be true and secret, thou shalt want no gold. But stand aside, here comes Don Lodowick. 1 i.e. In good earnest. 266 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT II. Enter LODOWICK. Lod. O Barabas, well met ; Where is the diamond you told me of? Bar. I have it for you, sir ; please you walk in with me : What ho, Abigail ! open the door, I say. Enter ABIGAIL with letters. Abig. In good time, father ; here are letters come From Ormus, and the post stays here within. Bar. Give me the letters. Daughter, do you hear, Entertain Lodowick the governor's son With all the courtesy you can afford ; Provided that you keep your maidenhead. Use him as if he were a Philistine, Dissemble, swear, protest, vow love to him, He is not of the seed of Abraham. [Aside. I am a little busy, sir, pray pardon me. Abigail, bid him welcome for my sake. Abig. For your sake and his own he's welcome hither. Bar. Daughter, a word more ; kiss him ; speak him fair, And like a cunning Jew so cast about, That ye be both made sure " ere you come out. [Aside. Abig* O father ! Don Mathias is my love. Bar. I know it : yet I say, make love to him ; Do, it is requisite it should be so [Aside. Nay, on my life, it is my factor's hand But go you in, I'll think upon the account. \_Exeunt ABIGAIL and LODOWICK into the house. The account is made, for Lodowick he dies. My factor sends me word a merchant's fled 1 Dyce supposes a change of scene here to the outside of Barabas's house. 2 Affianced. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 267 That owes me for a hundred tun of wine : I weigh it thus much [Snapping his fingers'] I have wealth enough. For now by this has he kissed Abigail ; And she vows love to him, and he to her. As sure as Heaven rained manna for the Jews, So sure shall he and Don Mathias die : His father was my chiefest enemy. Enter MATHIAS. Whither goes Don Mathias ? stay awhile. Math. Whither, but to my fair love Abigail ? Bar. Thou know'st, and Heaven can witness this is true, That I intend my daughter shall be thine. Math. Ay, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much. Bar. O, Heaven forbid I should have such a thought. Pardon me though I weep : the governor's son Will, whether I will or no, have Abigail : He sends her letters, bracelets, jewels, rings. Math. Does she receive them ? Bar. She ? No, Mathias, no, but sends them back, And when he comes, she locks herself up fast \ Yet through the keyhole will he talk to her, While she runs to the window looking out, When you should come and hale him from the door. Math. O treacherous Lodowick ! Bar. Even now as I came home, he slipt me in, And I am sure he is with Abigail. Math. I'll rouse him thence. Bar. Not for all Malta, therefore sheathe your sword ; If you love me, no quarrels in my house ; But steal you in, and seem to see him not ; I'll give him such a warning ere he goes . 268 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT II. As he shall have small hopes of Abigail. Away, for here they come. Re-enter LODOWICK and ABIGAIL. Math. What, hand in hand ! I cannot suffer this. Bar. Mathias, as thou lovest me, not a word. Math. Well, let it pass, another time shall serve. [Exit into the house, Lod. Barabas, is not that the widow's son ? Bar. Ay, and take heed, for he hath sworn your death. Lod. My death ? what, is the base-born peasant mad ? Bar. No, no, but happily he stands in fear Of that which you, I think, ne'er dream upon, My daughter here, a paltry silly girl. Lod. Why, loves she Don Mathias ? Bar. Doth she not with her smiling answer you ? Abig. He has my heart ; I smile against my will. \Aside. Lod. Barabas, thou know'st I've loved thy daughter long. Bar. And so has she done you, even from a child. Lod. And now I can no longer hold my mind. Bar. Nor I the affection that I bear to you. Lod. This is thy diamond, tell me shall I have it ? Bar. Win it, and wear it, it is yet unsoiled. O ! but I know your lordship would disdain To marry with the daughter of a Jew ; And yet I'll give her many a golden cross ! With Christian posies round about the ring. Lod. 'Tis not thy wealth, but her that I esteem. Yet crave I thy consent. Bar. And mine you have, yet let me talk to her. 1 A piece of money with a cross marked on one of its sides, like the Portuguese cruzado. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 269 This offspring of Cain, this Jebusite, That never tasted of the Passover, Nor e'er shall see the land of Canaan, Nor our Messias that is yet to come ; This gentle maggot, Lodovvick, I mean, Must be deluded : let him have thy hand, But keep thy heart till Don Mathias comes. \Aside. Abig. What, shall I be betrothed to Lodowick ? Bar. It's no sin to deceive a Christian ; For they themselves hold it a principle, Faith is not to be held with heretics ; But all are heretics that are not Jews ; This follows well, and therefore, daughter, fear not. [Aside. I have entreated her, and she will grant. Lod. Then, gentle Abigail, plight thy faith to me. Abig. I cannot choose, seeing my father bids. Nothing but death shall part my love and me. [Aside. Lod. Now have I that for which my soul hath longed. Bar. So have not I, but yet I hope I shall. \_Aside. Abig. O wretched Abigail, what hast thou done ? [Aside. Lod. Why on the sudden is your colour changed? Abig. I know not, but farewell, I must be gone. Bar. Stay her, but let her not speak one word more. Lod. Mute o' the sudden ! here's a sudden change. Bar. O, muse not at it, ? tis the Hebrews' guise, That maidens new betrothed should weep awhile : Trouble her not ; sweet Lodowick, depart : She is thy wife, and thou shalt be mine heir. Lod. O, is't the custom ? then I am resolved : But rather let the brightsome heavens be dim, And nature's beauty choke with stifling clouds, 1 Satisfied. 270 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT 11. Than my fair Abigail should frown on me. There comes the villain, now I'll be revenged. Re-enter MATHIAS. Bar. Be quiet, Lodowick, it is enough That I have made thee sure to Abigail. Lod. Well, let him go. [Exit. Bar. Well, but for me, as you went in at doors You had been stabbed, but not a word on't now ; Here must no speeches pass, nor swords be drawn. Math. Suffer me, Barabas, but to follow him. Bar, No ; so shall I, if any hurt be done, Be made an accessory of your deeds ; Revenge it on him when you meet him next. Math. For this I'll have his heart. Bar. Do so ; lo here I give thee Abigail. Math. What greater gift can poor Mathias have ? Shall Lodowick rob me of so fair a love ? My life is not so dear as Abigail. Bar. My heart misgives me, that, to cross your love, He's with your mother ; therefore after him. Math. What, is he gone unto my mother ? Bar. Nay, if you will, stay till she comes herself. Math. I cannot stay ; for if my mother come, She'll die with grief. [Exit, Abig. I cannot take my leave of him for tears : Father, why have you thus incensed them both ? Bar, What's that to thee ? Abig. I'll make 'em friends again. Bar. You'll make 'em friends ! Are there not Jews enow in Malta, But thou must doat upon a Christian ? Abig. I will have Don Mathias, he is my love. Bar. Yes, you shall have him : go put her in. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 271 Itha. Ay, I'll put her in. [Puts ABIGAIL in. Bar. Now tell me, Ithamore, how lik'st thou this ? Itha. Faith, master, I think by this You purchase both their lives ; is it not so ? Bar. True ; and it shall be cunningly performed. Itha. O master, that I might have a hand in this. Bar. Ay, so thou shalt, 'tis thou must do the deed : Take this, and bear it to Mathias straight, \_Gives a letter. And tell him that it comes from Lodowick. Itha. 'Tis poisoned, is it not ? Bar. No, no, and yet it might be done that way : It is a challenge feigned from Lodowick. Itha. Fear not ; I will so set his heart afire, That he shall verily think it comes from him. Bar. I cannot choose but like thy readiness : Yet be not rash, but do it cunningly. Itha. As I behave myself in this, employ me hereafter Bar. Away then. \Exit ITHAMORE. So, now will I go in to Lodowick, And, like a cunning spirit, feign some lie. Till I have set 'em both at enmity. \Exit. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter BELLAMIRA, a Courtesa-ti. 1 ELL. Since this town was besieged, my gain grows cold : The time has been that, but for one bare night, A hundred ducats have been freely given : But now against my will I must be chaste; And yet I know my beauty doth not fail. From Venice merchants, and from Padua Were wont to come rare-witted gentlemen, Scholars I mean, learned and liberal ; And now, save Pilia-Borsa, comes there none, And he is very seldom from my house ; And here he comes. Enter PiUA-BoRSA. Pilia. Hold thee, wench, there's something for thee to spen d. [ Shews a bag of silver. Bell. Tis silver. I disdain it. Pilia. Ay, but the Jew has gold, And I will have it, or it shall go hard. 1 The scene is the outside of Bellamira's house, and it is suggested that she makes her appearance on the verandah or on a balcony. SCENE ii.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 273 Court. Tell me, how cam'st thou by this ? Pilia. 'Faith, walking the back-lanes, through the gardens, I chanced to cast mine eye up to the Jew's counting-house, where I saw some bags of money, and in the night I clambered up with my hooks, and, as I was taking my choice, I heard a rumbling in the house ; so I took only this, and run my way : but here's the Jew's man. Bell Hide the bag. Enter ITHAMORE. Pilia. Look not towards him, let's away ; zoons, what a looking thou keep'st ; thou'lt betray 's anon. [Exeunt BELLAMIRA and PILIA-BORSA. Itha. O the sweetest face that ever I beheld ! I know she is a courtesan by her attire : now would I give a hundred of the Jew's crowns that I had such a con- cubine. Well, I have delivered the challenge in such sort, As meet they will, and righting die ; brave sport. {Exit. SCENE II. Enter MATHIAS. 1 Math. This is the place ; now Abigail shall see Whether Mathias holds her dear or no. Enter LODOWICK. What, dares the villain write in such base terms? [Reading a letter. Lod. I did it ; and revenge it if thou dar'st. 1 The scene is a street. Mar. 274 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT in. Enter BARABAS, above, on a balcony. Bar. O ! bravely fought ; and yet they thrust not home. Now, Lodovico ! now, Mathias ! So [Both fall. So now they have showed themselves to be tall ' fellows. [Cries within.'] Part 'em, part 'em. Bar. Ay, part 'em now they are dead. Farewell, fare- well. [Exit. Enter FERNEZE, KATHERINE, and Attendants. Fern. What sight is this ! my Lodowick slain ! These arms of mine shall be thy sepulchre. Kath. Who is this ? my son Mathias slain ! Fern. O Lodowick ! had'st thou perished by the Turk, Wretched Ferneze might have 'venged thy death. Kath. Thy son slew mine, and I'll revenge his death. Fern. Look, Katherine, look ! thy son gave mine these wounds. Kath. O leave to grieve me, I am grieved enough. Fern. O ! that my sighs could turn to lively breath ; And these my tears to blood, that he might live. Kath. Who made them enemies ? Fern. I know not, and that grieves me most of all. Kath. My son loved thine. Fern. And so did Lodowick him. Kath. Lend me that weapon that did kill my son, And it shall murder me. Fern. Nay, madam, stay ; that weapon was my son's, And on that rather should Ferneze die. Kath. Hold, let's inquire the causers of their deaths, That we may 'venge their blood upon their heads. Fern. Then take them up, and let them be interred Within one sacred monument of stone ; 1 Brave. SCENE ill.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 275 Upon which altar I will offer up My daily sacrifice of sighs and tears, And with my prayers pierce impartial heavens, Till they reveal the causers of our smarts, Which forced their hands divide united hearts : ' Come, Katharine, our losses equal are, Then of true grief let us take equal share. \_Exeunt with the bodies. SCENE III. Enter IxHAMORE. 1 Itha. Why, was there ever seen such villainy, So neatly plotted, and so well performed ? Both held in hand, and flatly both beguiled ? Enter ABIGAIL. Abig. Why, how now, Ithamore, why laugh's t thou so ? Itha. O mistress, ha ! ha ! ha ! Abig. Why, what ail'st thou? Itha. O my master ! Abig. Ha! Itha. O mistress ! I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtle, bottle-nosed knave to my master, that ever gentle- man had. Abig. Say, knave, why rail'st upon my father thus ? Itha. O, my master has the bravest policy. Abig. Wherein ? Itha. Why, know you not ? Abig. Why, no. Itha. Know you not of Mathias' and Don Lodowick's disaster ? 1 The scene is a room in Barabas's house. T 2 276 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT in. Abig. No, what was it ? Itha. Why, the devil invented a challenge, my master writ it, and I carried it, first to Lodowick, and imprimis to Mathias. And then they met, and, as the story says, In doleful wise they ended both their days. Abig. And was my father furtherer of their deaths ? Itha. Am I Ithamore ? Abig. Yes. Jtha. So sure did your father write, and 1 carry the challenge. Abig. Well, Ithamore, let me request thee this, Go to the new-made nunnery, and inquire For any of the friars of Saint Jaques, And say, I pray them come and speak with me. Itha. I pray, mistress, will you answer me but one question ? Abig. Well, sirrah, what is't? Itha. A very feeling one ; have not the nuns fine sport with the friars now and then ? Abig. Go to, sirrah sauce, is this your question ? get ye gone. Itha. I will, forsooth, mistress. \__Exit. Abig. Hard-hearted father, unkind Barabas ! Was this the pursuit of thy policy ! To make me show them favour severally, That by my favour they should both be slain ? Admit thou lov'dst not Lodowick for his sire, Yet Don Mathias ne'er offended thee : But thou wert set upon extreme revenge, Because the governor l dispossessed thee once, 1 "Prior" in the old editions, which both Dyce and Bullen follow. Cunningham substituted "governor," which is evidently correct. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 277 And could'st not 'venge it, but upon his son Nor on his son, but by Mathias' means ; Nor on Mathias, but by murdering me. But I perceive there is no love on earth, Pity in Jews, or piety in Turks. But here comes cursed Ithamore, with the friar. Enter ITHAMORE and Friar JACOMO. F. Jac. Virgo, salve. Itha. When ! duck you ! Abig. Welcome, grave friar ; Ithamore, begone. \Exit ITHAMORE. Know, holy sir, I am bold to solicit thee. F. Jac. Wherein? Abig. To get me be admitted for a nun. F. Jac. Why, Abigail, it is not yet long since That I did labour thy admission, And then thou did'st not like that holy life. Abig. Then were my thoughts so frail and uncon- firmed, And I was chained to follies of the world : But now experience, purchased with grief, Has made me see the difference of things. My sinful soul, alas, hath paced too long The fatal labyrinth of misbelief, Far from the sun that gives eternal life. F. Jac. Who taught thee this ? Abig. The abbess of the house, Whose zealous admonition I embrace : O, therefore, Jacomo, let me be one, Although unworthy, of that sisterhood. F. Jac. Abigail, I will, but see thou change no more, For that will be most heavy to thy soul. Abig. That was my father's fault. 278 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT III. F. Jac. Thy father's ! how ? A big. Nay, you shall pardon me. O Barabas, Though thou deservest hardly at my hands, Yet never shall these lips bewray thy life. \_Aside. F. Jac. Come, shall we go ? Abig. My duty waits on you. \Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter BARABAS, reading a letter? Bar. What, Abigail become a nun again ! False and unkind ; what, hast thou lost thy father? And all unknown, and unconstrained of me, Art thou again got to the nunnery ? Now here she writes, and wills me to repent. Repentance ! Spurca ! what pretendeth - this ? L fear she knows 'tis so of my device In Don Mathias' and Lodovico's deaths : If so, 'tis time that it be seen into : For she that varies from me in belief Gives great presumption that she loves me not ; Or loving, doth dislike of something done. But who comes here ? Enter ITHAMORE. O Ithamore, come near ; Come near, my love ; come near, thy master's life, My trusty servant, nay, my second self: For I have now no hope but even in thee, And on that hope my happiness is built. When saw'st thou Abigail ? 1 The scene is still within Barabas's house, but an interval of time has elapsed. 2 i.e. Portendeth. SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 279 Itha. To-day. Bar. With whom ? Itha. A friar. Bar. A friar ! false villain, he hath done the deed. Itha. How, sir ? Bar. Why, made mine Abigail a nun. Itha. ThaPs no lie, for she sent me for him. Bar. O unhappy day ! False, credulous, inconstant Abigail ! But let 'em go : and, Ithamore, from hence Ne'er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace ; Ne'er shall she live to inherit aught of mine, Be blest of me, nor come within my gates, But perish underneath my bitter curse, Like Cain by Adam for his brother's death. Itha. O master ! Bar. Ithamore, entreat not for her, I am moved, And she is hateful to my soul and me : And 'less thou yield to this that I entreat, I cannot think but that thou hat'st my life. Itha. Who, I, master ? Why, I'll run to some rock, And throw myself headlong into the sea ; Why, I'll do anything for your sweet sake. Bar. O trusty Ithamore, no servant, but my friend : I here adopt thee for mine only heir, All that I have is thine when I am dead, And whilst I live use half; spend as myself; Here take my keys, I'll give 'em thee anon : Go buy thee garments : but thou shall not want : Only know this, that thus thou art to do : But first go fetch me in the pot of rice That for our supper stands upon the fire. Itha. I hold my head my master's hungry. \A.side."\ I go, sir. [Exit. 280 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT in. Bar. Thus every villain ambles after wealth, Although he ne'er be richer than in hope : But, husht ! Re-enter ITHAMORE with the pot. ItJia. Here 'tis, master, Bar. Well said, Ithamore ; what, hast thou brought The ladle with thee too ? Itha. Yes, sir, the proverb says he that eats with the devil had need of a long spoon. I have brought you a ladle. Bar. Very well, Ithamore, then now be secret ; And for thy sake, whom I so dearly love, Now shalt thou see the death of Abigail, That thou may'st freely live to be my heir. Itha. Why, master, will you poison her with a mess of rice porridge ? that will preserve life, make her round and plump, and batten more than you are aware. Bar. Ay, but, Ithamore, seest thou this ? It is a precious powder that I bought Of an Italian, in Ancona, once, Whose operation is to bind, infect, And poison deeply, yet not appear In forty hours after it is ta'en. Itha. How, master? Bar. Thus, Ithamore. This even they use in Malta here, 'tis called Saint Jacques' Even, and then I say they use To send their alms unto the nunneries : Among the rest bear this, and set it there ; There's a dark entry where they take it in, Where they must neither see the messenger, Nor make inquiry who hath sent it them. Itha. How so ? SCENE iv.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 281 Bar. Belike there is some ceremony in't. There, Ithamore, must thou go place this pot ! ^ Stay, let me spice it first. It ha. Pray do, and let me help you, master. Pray let me taste first. Bar. Prythee do [ITHAMORE tastes] : what say'st thou now ? Itha. Troth, master, I'm loth such a pot of pottage should be spoiled. Bar. Peace, Ithamore, 'tis better so than spared. Assure thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye, My purse, my coffer, and myself is thine. Itha. Well, master, I go. Bar. Stay, first let me stir it, Ithamore. As fatal be it to her as the draught Of which great Alexander drunk and died : And with her let it work like Borgia's wine, Whereof his sire, the Pope, was poisoned. In few, 1 the blood of Hydra, Lerna's bane : The juice of hebon, 2 and Cocytus' breath, And all the poisons of the Stygian pool Break from the fiery kingdom ; and in this Vomit your venom and invenom her That like a fiend hath left her father thus. Itha. What a blessing has he given't ! was ever pot of rice porridge so sauced ! \_Aside^\ What shall I do with it? Bar. 0, my sweet Ithamore, go set it down, And come again so soon as thou hast done, For I have other business for thee. Itha. Here's a drench to poison a whole stable of Flanders mares : I'll carry 't to the nuns with a powder. 1 i.e., In short. 2 The juice of ebony, formerly regarded as a deadly poison. 282 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT in. Bar. And the horse pestilence to boot ; away ! . It/ia. I am gone. Pay me my wages, for my work is done. [Exit. Bar. I'll pay thee with a vengeance, Ithamore. [Exit. SCENE V. Enter FERNEZE, MARTIN, DEL Bosco, Knights, and Basso. 1 Fern. Welcome, great basso ; how fares Calymath ? What wind drives you thus into Malta-road ? Bas. The wind that bloweth all the world besides, Desire of gold. Fern. Desire of gold, great sir ? That's to be gotten in the Western Ind : In Malta are no golden minerals. Bas. To you of Malta thus saith Calymath : The time you took for respite is at hand, For the performance of your promise passed, And for the tribute-money I am sent. Fern. Basso, in brief, 'shalt have no tribute here, Nor shall the heathens live upon our spoil : First will we raze the city walls ourselves, Lay waste the island, hew the temples down, And, shipping off our goods to Sicily, Open an entrance for the wasteful sea, Whose billows beating the resistless banks, Shall overflow it with their refluence. Bas. Well, Governor, since thou hast broke the league By flat denial of the promised tribute, Talk not of razing down your city walls, 1 The scene is the interior of the council-house. SCENE vi.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 283 You shall not need trouble yourselves so far, For Selim Calymath shall come himself, And with brass bullets batter down your towers, And turn proud Malta to a wilderness For these intolerable wrongs of yours ; And so farewell. Fern, Farewell : \Exit Basso. Fern. And now, ye men of Malta, look about, And let's provide to welcome Calymath : Close your portcullis, charge your basilisks, 1 And as you profitably take up arms, So now courageously encounter them ; For by this answer, broken is the league, And naught is to be looked for now but wars, And naught to us more welcome is than wars. \_Exeunt. SCENE VI. Enter Friar JACOMO and Friar BARNARDINE. 2 F. Jac. O, brother, brother, all the nuns are sick, And physic will not help them : they must die. F. Barn. The abbess sent for me to be confessed : O, what a sad confession will there be ! F. Jac. And so did fair Maria send for me : I'll to her lodging : hereabouts she lies. \_Exit. Enter ABIGAIL. F. Barn. What, all dead, save only Abigail ? Abig. And I shall die too, for I feel death coming. Where is the friar that conversed with me ? 1 Cannon. See note, p. 54. 2 The scene is the interior of the convent. 284 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT HI. F. Barn. O, he is gone to see the other nuns. Abig. I sent for him, but seeing you are corns, Be you my ghostly father : and first know, That in this house I lived religiously, Chaste, and devout, much sorrowing for my sins ; But ere I came F. Barn. What then ? Abig. I did offend high Heaven so grievously, As I am almost desperate for my sins : And one offence torments me more than all. You knew Mathias and Don Lodovvick? F. Barn. Yes, what of them ? Abig. My father did contract me to 'em both : First to Don Lodowick ; him I never loved ; Mathias was the man that I held dear, And for his sake did I become a nun. F. Barn. So, say how was their end ? Abig. Both jealous of my love, envied l each other, And by my father's practice, - which is there Set down at large, the gallants were both slain. [Gives a written paper. F. Barn. O monstrous villainy ! Abig. To work my peace, this I confess to thee ; Reveal it not, for then my father dies. F. Barn. Know that confession must not be revealed, The canon law forbids it, and the priest That makes it known, being degraded first, Shall be condemned, and then sent to the fire. Abig. So I have heard ; pray, therefore keep it close. Death seizeth on my heart : ah gentle friar, Convert my father that he may be saved, And witness that I die a Christian. \_Dies. 1 i.e. , Hated. Formerly the word was in common use in thi sense. 2 Artifice. SCENE vi,] THE JEW OF MALTA. 285 F. Barn. Ay, and a virgin too ; that grieves me most : But I must to the Jew and exclaim on him, And make him stand in fear of me. Re-enter Friar JACOMO. F. Jac. O brother, all the nuns are dead, let's bury them. F. Barn. First help to bury this, then go with me And help me to exclaim against the Jew. F. Jac. Why, what has he done ? F. Barn. A thing that makes me tremble to unfold. F. Jac. What, has he crucified a child ? 1 F. Barn. No, but a worse thing : 'twas told me in shrift, Thou know'st 'tis death an if it be revealed. Come, let's away. \_Exeunt. 1 This was a crime of which the Jews were often accused, espe- cially, according to Tovey (in his Anglia Jiidaica], when the king happened to be in want of money. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. Enter BARABAS and ITHAMORE. Bells within. 1 AR. There is no music to 2 a Christian's knell : How sweet the bells ring now the nuns are dead, That sound at other times like tinker's pans ! I was afraid the poison had not wrought : Or, though it wrought, it would have done no good, For every year they swell, and yet they live ; Now all are dead, not one remains alive. Itha. That's brave, master, but think you it will not be known ? Bar. How can it, if we two be secret ? Itha. For my part fear you not. Bar. I'd cut thy throat if I did. Itha. And reason too. But here's a royal monastery hard by ; Good master, let me poison all the monks. Bar. Thou shall not need, for now the nuns are dead They'll die with grief. Itha. Do you not sorrow for your daughter's death ? Bar. No, but I grieve because she lived so long. 1 The scene is a street in Malta. i.e., Equal to. SCENE i.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 287 An Hebrew born, and would become a Christian i Cazzo, diabolo. Enter Friar JACOMO and Friar BARNARDINE. Ilha. Look, look, master, here come two religious caterpillars. Bar. I smelt 'em ere they came. Iiha. God-a-mercy, nose ! come, let's begone. F. Barn, Stay, wicked Jew, repent, I say, and stay. F. Jac. Thou hast offended, therefore must be damned. Bar. I fear they know we sent the poisoned broth. Itha. And so do I, master ; therefore speak 'em fair. F. Barn. Barabas, thou hast F. Jac. Ay, that thou hast Bar. True, I have money, what though I have ? F. Barn. Thou art a F. Jac. Ay, that thou art, a Bar. What needs all this ? I know 1 am a Jew. F. Barn. Thy daughter F. Jac. Ay, thy daughter Bar. O speak not of her ! then I die with grief. F. Barn. Remember that F. Jac. Ay, remember that Bar. I must needs say that I have been a great usurer. F. Barn. Thou hast committed Bar. Fornication but that was in another country And besides, the wench is dead. F. Barn. Ay, but, Barabas, Remember Mathias and Don Lodowick. Bar. Why, what of them ? F. Barn. I will not say that by a forged challenge they met. Bar. She has confest, and we are both undone, My bosom inmate ! but I must dissemble. \Aside. 288 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT iv. holy friars, the burthen of my sins Lie heavy on my soul ; then pray you tell me, Is't not too late now to turn Christian ? 1 have been zealous in the Jewish faith, Hard-hearted to the poor, a covetous wretch, That would for lucre's sake have sold my soul. A hundred for a hundred I have ta'en ; And now for store of wealth may I compare With all the Jews of Malta ; but what is wealth ? I am a Jew, and therefore am I lost. Would penance serve to atone for this my sin, I could afford to whip myself to death Itha. And so could I ; but penance will not serve. Bar. To fast, to pray, and wear a shirt of hair, And on my knees creep to Jerusalem. Cellars of wine, and sollars 1 full of wheat, Warehouses stuft with spices and with drugs, Whole chests of gold, in bullion, and in coin, Besides I know not how much weight in pearl, Orient and round, have I within my house ; At Alexandria, merchandise unsold : But yesterday two ships went from this town, Their voyage will be worth ten thousand crown?. In Florence, Venice, Antwerp, London, Seville, Frankfort, Lub.eck, Moscow, and where not, Have I debts owing ; and in most of these, Great sums of money lying in the banco ; All this I'll give to some religious house. So I may be baptized, and live therein. F. Jac. O good Barabas, come to our house. F. Barn. O no, good Barabas, come to our house ; And, Barabas, you know 1 Attics; lofts (Latin, solarium). The word is still in use in some parts of England and in legal documents. SCENE i.] 7 HE JEW OF MALTA. 289 Bar. I know that I have highly sinned. You shall convert me, you shall have all my wealth. F. Jac. O Barabas, their laws are strict. Bar. I know they are, and I will be with you. F. Barn. They wear no shirts, and they go barefoot too. Bar. Then 'tis not for me ; and I am resolved You shall confess me, and have all my goods. \To Friar BARNARDINE. F. Jac. Good Barabas, come to me. Bar. You see I answer him, and yet he stays ; Rid him away, and go you home with me. F. Jac. I'll be with you to-night. Bar. Come to my house at one o'clock this night. F. Jac. You hear your answer, and you may be gone. F. Barn. Why, go get you away. F. Jac. I will not go for thee. F. Barn. Not ! then I'll make thee go. F. Jac. How, dost call me rogue ? \Theyfight, Itha. Part 'em, master, part 'em. Bar. This is mere frailty, brethren ; be content. Friar Barnardine, go you with Ithamore : You know my mind, let me alone with him. \Aside to F. BARNARDINE. F. Jac. Why does he go to thy house? let him be gone. Bar. I'll give him something and so stop his mouth. [Exit ITHAMORE with Friar BARNARDINE. I never heard of any man but he Maligned the ord.er of the Jacobins : But do you think that I believe his words ? Why, brother, you converted Abigail ; And I am bound in charity to requite it, And so I will. O Jacomo, fail not, but come. Mar. U 290 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT iv. F. Jac. But, Barabas, who shall be your godfathers ? For presently you shall be shrived. Bar. Marry, the Turk ' shall be one of my godfathers, But not a word to any of your covent.- F. Jac. I warrant thee, Barabas. \Exit. Bar. So, now the fear is past, and I am safe, For he that shrived her is within my house ; What if 1 murdered him ere Jacomo comes ? Now I have such a plot for both their lives As never Jew nor Christian knew the like : One turned my daughter, therefore he shall die ; The other knows enough to have my life, Therefore 'tis not requisite he should live. But are not both these wise men to suppose That I will leave my house, my goods, and all, To fast and be well whipt ? I'll none of that. Now Friar Barnardine I come to you, I'll feast you, lodge you, give you fair words, And after that, I and my trusty Turk- No more, but so : it must and shall be done. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter BARABAS and ITHAMORE. S Bar. Ithamore, tell me, is the friar asleep ? Itha. Yes ; and I know not what the reason is, Do what I can he will not strip himself, Nor go to bed, but sleeps in his own clothes ; I fear me he mistrusts what we intend. Bar. No, 'tis an order which the friars use : Yet, if he knew our meanings, could he 'scape ? i Ithamore. 2 Convent (as in " Covent Garden"). 3 The scene is a room in the house of Barabas. SCENE ii.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 291 Itha. No, none can hear him, cry he ne'er so loud. Bar. Why, true, therefore did I place him there : The other chambers open towards the street. Itha. You loiter, master ; wherefore stay we thus ? O how I long to see him shake his heels. Bar. Come on, sirrah. Off with your girdle, make a handsome noose. [ITHAMORE takes off his girdte and ties a noose in it. Friar, awake ! \They put the noose round the Friar's neck. F. Barn. What, do you mean to strangle me ? Itha. Yes, 'cause you use to confess. Bar. Blame not us but the proverb, Confess and be hanged ; pull hard ! F. Barn. What, will you have l my life ? Bar. Pull hard, I say ; you would have had my goods. Itha. Ay, and our lives too, therefore pull amain. \They strangle him, 'Tis neatly done, sir, here's no print at all. Bar. Then it is as it should be ; take him up. Itha. Nay, master, be ruled by me a little. \_Stands the body upright against the wall and puts a staff in its hand.\ So, let him lean upon his staff; excellent ! he stands as if he were begging of bacon. 2 Bar. Who would not think but that this friar lived ? What time o' night is't now, sweet Ithamore ? Itha. Towards one. Bar. Then will not Jacomo be long from hence. [Exeunt. 1 The old edition has "save," but from Barabas's retort, "You would have had my goods," the word is most likely a misprint. 2 It would appear from the following scene that the body was stood up outside of the house. U 2 292 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT iv. SCENE III. Enter Friar JACOMO. 1 F. Jac. This is the hour wherein I shall proceed;" happy hour wherein I shall convert An infidel, and bring his gold into our treasury ! But soft, is not this Barnardine ? it is ; And, understanding I should come this way, Stands here a purpose, meaning me some wrong, And intercept my going to the Jew. Barnardine ! Wilt thou not speak ? thou think'st I see thee not ; Away, I'd wish thee, and let me go by : No, wilt thou not ? nay, then, I'll force my way ; And see, a staff stands ready for the purpose : As thou lik'st that, stop me another time. [Takes the staff and strikes the body, which falls down, Enter BARABAS and ITHAMORE. Bar. Why, how now, Jacomo, what hast thou done ? F. Jac. Why, stricken him that would have struck at me. Bar. Who is it ? Barnardine ! now out, alas, he's slain ! Itha. Ay, master, he's slain ; look how his brains drop out on's nose. F. Jac. Good sirs, I have done't, but nobody knows it but you two I may escape. Bar. So might my man and I hang with you for company. Itha. No, let us bear him to the magistrates. F. Jac. Good Barabas, let me go. Bar. No, pardon me ; the law must have its course. 1 must be forced to give in evidence, 1 The scene is outside Barabas's house. 2 Succeed. SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 293 That being importuned by this Barnardine To be a Christian, I shut him out, And there he sat : now I, to keep my word, And give my goods and substance to your house, Was up thus early; with intent to go Unto your friary, because you stayed. If ha. Fie upon 'em, master ; will you turn Christian when holy friars turn devils and murder one another ? Bar. No, for this example I'll remain a Jew : Heaven bless me ! what, a friar a murderer ? When shall you see a Jew commit the like ? Itha. Why, a Turk could ha' done no more. Bar. To-morrow is the sessions ; you shall to it. Come, Ithamore, let's help to take him hence. F. Jac. Villains, I am a sacred person ; touch me not. Bar. The law shall touch you, we'll but lead you, we : 'Las, I could weep at your calamity ! Take in the staff too, for that must be shown : Law wills that each particular be known. \Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter BELLAMIRA and PiLiA-BoRSA. 1 Bell. Pilia-Borsa, did'st thou meet with Ithamore ? Pilia. I did. Bell. And did'st thou deliver my letter ? Pilia. I did. Bell. And what think'st thou ? will he come ? Pilia. I think so, but yet I cannot tell ; for at the read- ing of the letter he looked like a man of another world. 1 The scene is a veranda of Bellamira's house. 294 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT TV. Bell. Why so ? Pilia. That such a base slave as he should be saluted by such a tall * man as I am, from such a beautiful dame as you. Bell. And what said he ? Pilia. Not a wise word, only gave me a nod, as who should say, "Is it even so?" and so I left him, being driven to a non-plus at the critical aspect of my terrible countenance. Bell. And where didst meet him? Pilia. Upon mine own freehold, within forty feet of the gallows, conning his neck-verse, 2 I take it, looking of 3 a friar's execution, whom I saluted with an old hempen proverb, Hodie tibi, eras mihi, and so I left him to the mercy of the hangman: but the exercise" being done, see where he comes. Enter ITHAMORE. liha. I never knew a man take his death so patiently as this friar ; he was ready to leap off ere the halter was about his neck ; and when the hangman had put on his hempen tippet, he made such haste to his prayers, as if he had had another cure to serve. Well, go whither he will, I'll be none of his followers in haste : and, now I think on't, going to the execution, a fellow met me with a muschatoes 5 like a raven's wing, and a dagger with a hilt like a warming-pan, and he gave me a letter from one Madam Bellamira, saluting me in such sort as if he had meant to make clean my boots with his lips; the effect was, that I should come to her house. I wonder what the reason is ; it may be she sees more in me than 1 Brave. 2 The verse which criminals had to read to entitle them to "benefit of clergy," and which was usually the first verse of the 5ist Psalm. 3 i.e. Looking on. 4 Sermon. 5 Mustachios. SCENE iv.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 295 I can find in myself: for she writes further, that she loves me ever since she saw me, and who would not requite such love ? Here's her house, and here she comes, and now would I were gone ; I am not worthy to look upon her. Pilia. This is the gentleman you writ to. Itha. Gentleman ! he flouts me ; what gentry can be in a poor Turk of tenpence P' 1 I'll be gone. [Aside. Bell. Is't not a sweet-faced youth, Pilia ? Itha. Again, "sweet youth!" \Aside.~\ Did not you, sir, bring the sweet youth a letter ? Pilia. I did, sir, and from this gentlewoman, who, as myself, and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your service. Bell. Though woman's modesty should hale me back, I can withhold no longer ; welcome, sweet love. Itha. Now am I clean, or rather foully out of the way. [Aside. Bell. Whither so soon? Itha. I'll go steal some money from my master to make me handsome [Aside], Pray pardon me, I must go and see a ship discharged. Bell. Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus ? Pilia. An ye did but know how she loves you, sir ! Itha. Nay, I care not how much she loves me Sweet Bellamira, would I had my master's wealth for thy sake ! Pilia. And you can have it, sir, an if you please. Itha. If 'twere above ground, I could and would have it ; but he hides and buries it up, as partridges do their eggs, under the earth. Pilia. And is't not possible to find it out ? Itha. By no means possible. 1 A derogatory expression often found in writers of this period. 296 7 HE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT iv. Bell. What shall we do with this base villain then ? [Aside to PiLiA-BoRSA. Pilia. Let me alone ; do you but speak him fair. [Aside to her. But sir you know some secrets of the Jew, Which, if they were revealed, would do him harm. Itha. Ay, and such as Go to, no more ! I'll make him send me half he has, and glad he 'scapes so too. I'll write unto him ; we'll have money straight. Pilia. Send for a hundred crowns at least. Itha. Ten hundred thousand crowns. [ Writing.} " Master Barabas." Pilia. Write not so submissively, but threatening him. Itha. [writing] " Sirrah, Barabas, send me a hundred crowns." Pilia. Put in two hundred at least. Itha. \writiug\ "I charge thee send me three hundred by this bearer, and this shall be your warrant : if you do not no more, but so." Pilia. Tell him you will confess. Itha. [writing] " Otherwise I'll confess all." Vanish, and return in a twinkle. Pilia. Let me alone ; I'll use him in his kind. [Exit PILIA-BORSA with the letter. Itha. Hang him, Jew ! Bell. Now, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap. Where are my maids? provide a running 1 banquet ; Send to the merchant, bid him bring me silks, Shall Ithamore, my love, go in such rags ? Itha. And bid the jeweller come hither too. Bell. I have no husband, sweet ; I'll marry thee. Itha. Content : but we will leave this paltry land, And sail from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece. 1 Hasty. SCENE iv.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 297 I'll be thy Jason, thou my golden fleece ; Where painted carpets o'er the meads are hurled, And Bacchus' vineyards overspread the world ; Where woods and forests go in goodly green, I'll be Adonis, thou shalt be Love's Queen. The meads, the orchards, and the primrose-lanes, Instead of sedge and reed, bear sugar-canes : Thou in those groves, by Dis above, Shalt live with me and be my love. Bell. Whither will I not go with gentle Ithamore ? Re-enter PiLiA-BoRSA. Itha. How now ! hast thou the gold ? Pilia. Yes. Itha. But came it freely ? did the cow give down her milk freely ? Pilia. At reading of the letter, he stared and stamped and turned aside. I took him by the beard, and looked upon him thus ; told him he were best to send it ; then he hugged and embraced me. Itha. Rather for fear than love. Pilia. Then, like a Jew, he laughed and jeered, and told me he loved me for your sake, and said what a faith- ful servant you had been. Itha. The more villain he to keep me thus ; here's goodly 'parel, is there not ? Pilia. To conclude, he gave me ten crowns. \Gives the money to ITHAMORE. Itha. But ten ? I'll not leave him worth a grey groat. Give me a ream ] of paper ; we'll have a kingdom of gold for 't. Pilia. Write for five hundred crowns. 1 A quibble upon "realm" and "kingdom;" realm, which was often written without the "1," being commonly pronounced 298 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT iv. Itha. [writing.] "Sirrah, Jew, as you love your life send me five hundred crowns, and give the bearer one hundred. " Tell him I must have ; t. Pilia. I warrant your worship shall have 't. Itha. And if he ask why I demand so much, tell him I scorn to write a line under a hundred crowns. Pilia. You'd make a rich poet, sir. I am gone. [Exit. Itha. Take thou the money ; spend it for my sake. Bell. 'Tis not thy money, but thyself I weigh ; Thus Bellamira esteems of gold. \Throws it aside. But thus of thee. [Kisses him. Itha. That kiss again ! she runs division : of my lips. What an eye she casts on me ! It twinkles like a star. Bell. Come, my dear love, let's in and sleep together. Itha. O, that ten thousand nights were put in one, that we might sleep seven years together afore we wake ! Bell. Come, amorous wag, first banquet, and then sleep. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Enter BAR ABAS, reading a letter ? Bar. " Barabas, send me three hundred crowns. ' Plain Barabas ! O, that wicked courtesan ! He was not wont to call me Barabas. " Or else I will confess : " ay, there it goes : But, if I get him, coupe de gorge for that. He sent a shaggy tottered 3 staring slave, 1 A musical term. 2 Dyce suggests that the scene is a room in Barabas's house, but as Barabas presently enquires of Pilia-Bor.sa when he shall see him at his house, their meeting probably takes place in the street. 3 Tattered. SCENE v.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 299 That when he speaks draws out his grisly beard, And winds it twice or thrice about his ear ; Whose face has been a grindstone for men's swords ; His hands are hacked, some fingers cut quite off; Who, when he speaks, grunts like a hog, and looks Like one that is employed in catzerie l And crossbiting, 2 such a rogue As is the husband to a hundred whores : And I by him must send three hundred crowns ! Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still ; And when he comes : O, that he were but here ! Enter PiLiA-BoRSA. Pitta. Jew, I must have more gold. Bar. Why, want'st thou any of thy tale ? 3 Pilia. No ; but three hundred will not -serve his turn. Bar. Not serve his turn, sir ? Pilia. No, sir ; and, therefore, I must have five hun- dred more. Bar. I'll rather Pilia. O good words, sir, and send it you were best ! see, there's his letter. [Gives letter. Bar. Might he not as well come as send ? pray bid him come and fetch it ; what he writes for you, ye shall have straight. Pilia. Ay, and the rest too, or else Bar. I must make this villain away. [Aside. Please you dine with me, sir ; and you shall be most heartily poisoned. [Aside. Pilia. No, God-a-mercy. Shall I have these crowns ? Bar. I cannot do it, I have lost my keys. Pilia. O, if that be all, I can pick ope your locks. Knavery (from cazzo). ~ Swindling. 3 Reckoning. 300 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT iv. Bar. Or climb up to my counting-house window : you know my meaning. Pilia. I know enough, and therefore talk not to me of your counting-house. The gold ! or know, Jew, it is in my power to hang thee. Bar. I am betrayed. [Aside. 'Tis not five hundred crowns that I esteem, I am not moved at that : this angers me, That he, who knows I love him as myself, Should write in this imperious vein. Why, sir, You know I have no child, and unto whom Should I leave all but unto Ithamore ? Pilia. Here's many words, but no crowns : the crowns ! Bar. Commend me to him, sir, most humbly, And unto your good mistress, as unknown. Pilia. Speak, shall I have 'em, sir ? Bar. Sir, here they are. [Gives money. O, that I should part with so much gold ! [Aside. Here, take 'em, fellow, with as good a will As I would see thee hanged [Aside'] ; O, love stops my breath : Never man servant loved as I do Ithamore ! Pilia. I know it, sir. Bar. Pray, when, sir, shall I see you at my house ? Pilia. Soon enough, to your cost, sir. Fare you well. [Exit. Bar. Nay, to thine own cost, villain, if thou com'st ! Was ever Jew tormented as I am ? To have a shag-rag knave to come, force from me Three hundred crowns, and then five hundred crowns ! Well, I must seek a means to rid 'em all, And presently ; for in his villainy He will tell all he knows, and I shall die for't. SCENE vi.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 301 I have it : I will in some disguise go see the slave, And how the villain revels with my gold. [Exit. SCENE VI. Enter BELLAMIRA, ITHAMORE, and PiLiA-BoRSA. 1 Bell. I'll pledge thee, love, and therefore drink it off. Itha. Say'st thou me so ? have at it ; and do you hear ? [ Whispers. Bell. Go to, it shall be so. Itha. Of 2 that condition I will drink it up. Here's to thee ! Bell. Nay, I'll have all or none. Itha. There, if thou lov'st me do not leave a drop. Bell. Love thee ! fill me three glasses. Itha. Three and fifty dozen, I'll pledge thee. Pilia. Knavely spoke, and like a knight-at-arms. Itha. Hey, Rivo Castiliano ! ' J a man's a man ! Bell. Now to the Jew. Itha. Ha ! to the Jew, and send me money he were best. Pilia. What would'st thou do if he should send thee none ? Itha. Do nothing ; but I know what I know ; he's a murderer. Bell. I had not thought he had been so brave a man. Itha. You knew Mathias and the governor's son ; he and I killed 'em both, and yet never touched 'em. Pilia. O, bravely done. 1 The scene is a verandah or open porch of Bellamira's house. - i.e. On. 3 A familiar Bacchanalian exhortation of doubtful origin. 302 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT iv. Itha. I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns ; and he and I, snickle hand too fast, 1 strangled a friar. Bell. You two alone ? Itha. We two ; and 'twas never known, nor never shall be for me. Pilia. This shall with me unto the governor. [Aside to BELLAMIRA. Bell. And fit it should : but first let's ha' more gold, [Aside to PILIA-BORSA. Come, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap. Itha. Love me little, love me long ; let music rumble Whilst I in thy incony 2 lap do tumble. Enter BARABAS, disguised as a French musician, with a lute, and a nosegay in his hat. Bell. A French musician ! come, let's hear your skill. Bar. Must tuna my lute for sound, twang, twang, first. Itha. Wilt drink, Frenchman? here's to thee with a Pox on this drunken hiccup ! Bar. Gramercy, monsieur. Bell. Prythee, Pilia-Borsa, bid the fiddler give me the posy in his hat there. Pilia. Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy. Bar. A votre commandement, madame. Bell. How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell ! Itha. Like thy breath, sweetheart ; no violet like 'em. Pilia. Foh ! methinks they stink like a hollyhock. Bar. So, now I am revenged upon 'em all. The scent thereof was death ; I poisoned it. [Aside. 1 A corrupt passage. " Snickle " is a noose or slipknot, and the word is commonly applied to the hangman's halter, and to snares set for hares and rabbits. Cunningham proposed to read " Snickle hard and fast" 2 Dainty, sweet. SCENE vi.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 303 Itha. Play, fiddler, or I'll cut your cat's guts into chit- terlings. Bar. Pardonnez moi, be no in tune yet ; so now, now- all be in. Itha. Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine. Pilfa. There's two crowns for thee ; play. Bar. How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold ! [Aside. BARABAS then plays. Pilia. Methinks he fingers very well. Bar. So did you when you stole my gold. [Aside. Pilia. How swift he runs ! Bar. You run swifter when you threw my gold out of my window. [Aside. Bell. Musician, hast been in Malta long ? Bar. Two, three, four month, madame. Itha. Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas ? Bar. Very mush ; monsieur, you no be his man ? Pilia. His man ? Itha. I scorn the peasant ; tell him so. Bar. He knows it already. [Aside. Itha. 'Tis a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon pickled grasshoppers and sauced mushrooms. Bar. What a slave's this ? the governor feeds not as I do. [Aside. Itha. He never put on clean shirt since he was cir- cumcised. Bar. O rascal ! I change myself twice a day. [Aside. Itha. The hat he wears, Judas left under the elder T when he hanged himself. Bar. Twas sent me for a present from the great Cham. [Aside. Pilia. A musty slave he is ; Whither now, fiddler ? Bar. Pardonnez moi, monsieur, me be no well. 1 Judas is said to have hanged himself on an elder-tree. 304 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT 'iv. Pilia. Farewell, fiddler ! \_Exit BARABAS] one letter more to the Jew. Bell. Prythee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp. Itha. No, I'll send by word of mouth now Bid him deliver thee a thousand crowns, by the same token, that the nuns loved rice, that Friar Barnardine slept in his own clothes ; any of 'em will do it. Pilia. Let me alone to urge it, now I know the mean- ing. Itha. The meaning has a meaning. Come let's in : To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin. \Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. . SCENE I. Enter FERNEZE, Knights, MARTIN DEL Bosco, and Officers. 1 ERN. Now, gentlemen, betake you to your arms, And see that Malta be well fortified ; And it behoves you to be resolute ; For Calymath, having hovered here so long, Will win the town, or die before the walls. ist Knight. And die he shall, for we will never yield. Enter BELLAMTRA and PILIA-BORSA. Bell. O, bring us to the governor. Fern. Away with hr ! she is a courtesan. Bell. Whate'er I am, yet, governor, hear me speak ; I bring thee news by whom thy son was slain : Mathias did it not ; it was the Jew. Pilia. Who, besides the slaughter of these gentlemen. Poisoned his own daughter and the nuns, Strangled a friar and I know not what Mischief besides. Fern. Had we but proof of this The scene is inside the council-house. Mar. 306 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT v. Bell. Strong proof, my lord; his man's now at my lodging, That was his agent ; he'll confess it all. Fern. Go fetch him straight \Exeunt Officers]. I always feared that Jew. Enter Officers with BARABAS and ITHAMORE. Bar. I'll go alone ; dogs ! do not hale me thus. Itha. Nor me neither, I cannot outrun you, constable : O my belly ! Bar. One dram of powder more had made all sure ; What a damned slave was I ! [Aside. Fern. Make fires, heat irons, let the rack be fetched. ij/ Knight. Nay, stay, my lord ; 't may be he will confess. Bar. Confess ! what mean you, lords ? who should confess ? Fern. Thou and thy Turk ; 'twas you that slew my son. Itha. Guilty, my lord, I confess. Your son and Mathias were both contracted unto Abigail ; he forged a counter- feit challenge. Bar. Who carried that challenge ? Itha. I carried it, I confess ; but who writ it ? Marry, even he that strangled Barnardine' poisoned the nuns and his own daughter. Fern. Away with him ! his sight is death to me. Bar. For what, you men of Malta ? hear me speak : She is a courtesan, and he a thief, And he my bondman. Let me have law, For none of this can prejudice my life. Fern. Once more, away with him ; you shall have law. Bar. Devils, do your worst ! I'll live in spire of you. [Aside. SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 307 As these have spoke, so be it to their souls ! I hope the poisoned flowers will work anon. \_Asidc. \Excunt Officers unth BARABAS and ITHAMORE, BELLAMIRA and PILIA-BORSA. Enter KATHERINE. Kath. Was my Mathia's murdered by the Jew ? Ferneze, 'twas thy son that murdered him. Fern. Be patient, gentle madam, it was he He forged the daring challenge made them fight Kath. Where is the Jew ? where is that murderer ? Fern. In prison till the law has passed on him Re-enter First Officer. \st Off. My lord, the courtesan and her man are dead : So is the Turk and Barabas the Jew. Fern. Dead ! \st Off. Dead, my lord, and here they bring his body Bosco. This sudden death of his is very strange. Re-enter Officers carrying BARABAS as dead. Fern. Wonder not at it, sir, the Heavens are just ; Their deaths were like their lives, then think not of 'em. Since they are dead, let them be buried ; For the Jew's body, throw that o'er the walls, To be a prey for vultures and wild beasts. So now away, and fortify the town. \_Exeunt all leaving BARABAS on the floor. x 2 308 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT v. SCENE II. BARABAS discovered rising^ Bar. What, all alone ? well fare, sleepy drink. I'll be revenged on this accursed town ; For by my means Calymath shall enter in. I'll help to slay their children and their wives, To fire the churches, pull their houses down, Take my goods too, and seize upon my lands. I hope to see the governor a slave, And, rowing in a galley, whipt to death. Enter CALYMATH, Bassoes, and Turks. Cafy. Whom have we here, a spy ? Bar. Yes, my good lord, one that can spy a place Where you may enter, and surprise the town : My name is Barabas : I am a Jew. Cafy. Art thou that Jew whose goods we heard were sold For tribute-money ? Bar. The very same, my lord : And since that time they have hired a slave, my man, To accuse me of a thousand villanies : I was imprisoned, but 'scaped their hands. Cafy. Did'st break prison ? Bar. No, no ; I drank of poppy and cold mandrake juice : And being asleep, belike they thought me dead, And threw me o'er the walls : so, or how else, The Jew is here, and rests at your command. 1 The scene is outside the city walls, over which Barabas has been thrown in accordance with Ferneze's orders. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 309 Caly. 'Twas bravely done : but tell me, Barabas, Canst thou, as thou report'st, make Malta ours ? Bar. Fear not, my lord, for here against the sluice, 1 The rock is hollow, and of purpose digged, To make a passage for the running streams And common channels of the city. Now, whilst you give assault unto the walls, I'll lead five hundred soldiers through the vault, And rise with them i' the middle of the town, Open the gates for you to enter in ; And by this means the city is your own. Caly. If this be true, I'll make thee governor. Bar. And if it be not true, then let me die. Caly. Thou'st doomed thyself. Assault it presently. \_Exeunt. SCENE III. Alarums within. Enter CALYMATH, Bassoes, Turks, and BARABAS, with FERNEZE and Knights prisoners? Caly. Now vail 3 your pride, you captive Christians, And kneel for mercy to your conquering foe : Now where's the hope you had of haughty Spain? Ferneze, speak, had it not been much better T'have kept thy promise than be thus surprised ? Fern. What should I say ? We are captives and must yield. Caly. Ay, villains, you must yield, and under Turkish yokes Shall groaning bear the burden of our ire ; 1 Old edition ' ' truce. '' Dyce printed ' ' trench. " 2 The scene is an open place in the city. 3 Lower. 3io THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT v. And, Barabas, as erst we promised thee, For thy desert we make thee governor ; Use them at thy discretion. Bar, Thanks, my lord. Fern. O fatal day, to fall into the hands Of such a traitor and unhallowed Jew ! What greater misery could Heaven inflict ? Caly. 'Tis our command : and, Barabas, we give To guard thy person these our Janizaries : Entreat them well, as we have used thee. And now, brave bassoes, come, we'll walk about The ruined town, and see the wreck we made : Farewell, brave Jew ; farewell, great Barabas ! Bar. May all good fortune follow Calymath ! \Exeunt CALYMATH and Bassoes. And now, as entrance to our safety, To prison with the governor and these Captains, his consorts and confederates. Fern. O villain ! Heaven will be revenged on thee. {Exeunt Turks, with FERNEZE and Knights. Bar. Away ! no more ; let him not trouble me. 2 Thus hast thou gotten, by thy policy, No simple place, no small authority, I now am governor of Malta ; true, But Malta hates me, and, in hating me, My life's in danger, and what boots it thee, Poor Barabas, to be the governor, Whenas thy life shall be at their command ? No, Barabas, this must be looked into ; And since by wrong thou got'st authority, Maintain it bravely by firm policy, 1 i.e. Treat. 2 The scene is here supposed to shift to the governor's residence inside the citadel. SCENE in.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 311 At least unprofitably lose it not : For he that liveth in authority, And neither gets him friends, nor fills his bags, Lives like the ass, that ^isop speaketh of, That labours with a .load of bread and wine, And leaves it off to snap on thistle-tops : But Barabas will be more circumspect. Begin betimes ; occasion's bald behind ; Slip not thine opportunity, for fear too late Thou seek'st for much, but canst not compass it. Within here ! Enter FERNEZE, with a Guard. Fern. My lord ? Bar. Ay, "lord ;" thus slaves will learn. Now, governor ; stand by there, wait within. [Exeunt Guard. This is the reason that I sent for thee ; Thou seest thy life and Malta's happiness Are at my arbitrement ; and Barabas At his discretion may dispose of both ; Now tell me, governor, and plainly too, What think'st thou shall become of it and thee ? Fern. This, Barabas ; since things are in thy power, I see no reason but of Malta's wreck, Nor hope of thee but extreme cruelty ; Nor fear I death, nor will I flatter thee. Bar. Governor, good words ; be not so furious. 'Tis not thy life which can avail me aught ; Yet you do live, and live for me you shall : And, as for Malta's ruin, think you not 'Twere slender policy for Barabas To dispossess himself of such a place ? For sith, as once you said, 'tis in this isle, 312 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACI v. In Malta here, that I have got my goods, And in this city still have had success, And now at length am grown your governor, Yourselves shall see it shall not be forgot : For, as a friend not known but in distress, I'll rear up Malta, now remediless. fern. Will Barabas recover Malta's loss ? Will Barabas be good to Christians ? Bar. What wilt thou give me, governor, to procure A dissolution of the slavish bands Wherein the Turk hath yoked your land and you ? What will you give me if I render you The life of Calymath, surprise his men And in an outhouse of the city shut His soldiers, till I have consumed 'em all with fire ? What will you give him that procureth this ? Fern. Do but bring this to pass which thou pretendest, Deal truly with us as thou intimatest, And I will send amongst the citizens, And by my letters privately procure Great sums of money for thy recompense : Nay more, do this, and live thou governor still. Bar. Nay, do thou this, Ferneze, and be free ; Governor, I enlarge thee ; live with me, Go walk about the city, see thy friends : Tush, send not letters to 'em, go thyself, And let me see what money thou canst make ; Here is my hand that I'll set Malta free : And thus we cast it : to a solemn feast I will invite young Selim Calymath, Where be thou present only to perform One stratagem that I'll impart to thee, Wherein no danger shall betide thy life, And I will warrant Malta free for ever. SCENE iv.] THE JEW OF MALI A. 313 Fern. Here is my hand ; believe me, Barabas, I will be there, and do as them desirest. When is the time ? Bar. Governor, presently : For Calymath, when he hath viewed the town, Will take his leave and sail towards Ottoman. Fern. Then will I, Barabas, about this coin, And bring it with me to thee in the evening. Bar. Do so, but fail not ; now farewell, Ferneze ! [Exit FERNEZE. And thus far roundly goes the business : Thus loving neither, will I live with both, Making a profit of my policy ; And he from whom my most advantage comes Shall be my friend. This is the life we Jews are used to lead ; And reason too, for Christians do the like. Well, now about effecting this device ; First to surprise great Selim's soldiers, And then to make provision for the feast, That at one instant all things may be done : My policy detests prevention : To what event my secret purpose drives, I know ; and they shall witness with their lives. [Exit. SCENE IV. Enter CALYMATH and Bassoes. 1 Caly. Thus have we viewed the city, seen the sack, And caused the ruins to be new-repaired, 1 The scene is outside the city walls. 314 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT v. Which with our bombards' 1 shot and basilisks We rent in sunder at our entry : And now I see the situation, And how secure this conquered island stands Environed with the Mediterranean Sea, Strong-countermined with other petty isles ; And, toward Calabria, backed by Sicily, (Where Syracusian Dionysius reigned,) Two lofty turrets that command the town ; I wonder how it could be conquered thus. Enter a Messenger. Mess. From Barabas, Malta's governor, I bring A message unto mighty Calymath ; Hearing his sovereign was bound for sea, To sail to Turkey, to great Ottoman, He humbly would entreat your majesty To come and see his homely citadel, And banquet with him ere thou leav'st the isle. Caly. To banquet with him in his citadel ? I fear me, messenger, to feast my train Within a town of war so lately pillaged, Will be too costly and too troublesome : Yet would I gladly visit Barabas, For well has Barabas deserved of us. Mess. Selim, for that, thus saith the governor, That he hath in his store a pearl so big, So precious, and withal so orient, As, be it valued but indifferently, The price thereof will serve to entertain Selim and all his soldiers for a month ; Therefore he humbly would entreat your highness Not to depart till he has feasted you. 1 Cannons. SCENE V.] 7 HE JEW OF MALTA. 315 Caly. 1 cannot feast my men in Malta-walls, Except he place his tables in the streets, Mess. Know, Selim, that there is a monastery Which standeth as an outhouse to the town : There will he banquet them ; but thee at home, With all thy bassoes and brave followers. Caly. Well, tell the governor we grant his suit, We'll in this summer evening feast with him. Mess. I shall, my lord. \_Exit. Caly. And now, bold bassoes, let us to our tents, And meditate how we may grace us best To solemnize our governor's great feast. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Enter FERNEZE, Knights, and MARTIN DEL Bosco. 1 Fern. In this, my countrymen, be ruled by me, Have special care that no man sally forth Till you shall hear a culverin discharged By him that bears the linstock,- kindled thus ; Then issue out and come to rescue me, For happily I shall be in distress, Or you released of this servitude. \st Knight. Rather than thus to live as Turkish thralls, 3 What will we not adventure ? Fern. On then, begone. Knights. Farewell, grave governor ! [Exeunt on one side Knights and MARTIN DEL Bosco ; on the other FERNEZE. 1 The scene is a street in Malta. 2 The stick which held the match used by gunners. 3 Slaves. 316 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT V. SCENE VI. Enter, above, BARABAS, with a hammer, very busy ; and Carpenters. 1 Bar. How stand the cords ? How hang these hinges ? fast? Are all the cranes and pulleys sure ? ist Carp. All fast. Bar. Leave nothing loose, all levelled to my mind. Why now I see that you have art indeed. There, carpenters, divide that gold amongst you : \_Gives money. Go swill in bowls of sack and muscadine ! Down to the cellar, taste of all my wines. isf Carp. We shall, my lord, and thank you. \_Exeunt Carpenters. Bar. And, if you like them, drink your fill and die : For so I live, perish may all the world ! Now Selim Calymath return me word That thou wilt come, and I am satisfied. Enter Messenger. Now, sirrah, what, will he come ? Mess. He will ; and has commanded all his men To come ashore, and march through Malta streets, That thou mayest feast them in thy citadel. Bar. Then now are all things as my wish would have 'em, There wanteth nothing but the governor's pelf, And see, he brings it. Enter FERNEZE. Now, governor, the sum. 1 The scene is a hall in the citadel, with a gallery at the end. SCENE vi.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 317 Fern. With free consent, a hundred thousand pounds. Bar. Pounds say'st thou, governor ? well, since it is no more, I'll satisfy myself with that ; nay, keep it still, For if I keep not promise, trust not me. And, governor, now partake my policy : First, for his army ; they are sent before, Entered the monastery, and underneath In several places are field-pieces pitched, Bombards, whole barrels full of gunpowder That on the sudden shall dissever it, And batter all the stones about their ears, Whence none can possibly escape alive. Now as for Calymath and his consorts, Here have I made a dainty gallery, The floor whereof, this cable being cut, Doth fall asunder ; so that it doth sink Into a deep pit past recovery. Here, hold that knife ^Throws down a knife], and when thou seest he comes, And with his bassoes shall be blithely set, A warning-piece shall be shot off from the tower, To give thee knowledge when to cut the cord And fire the house ; say, will not this be brave ? fern. O excellent ! here, hold thee, Barabas, I trust thy word, take what I promised thee. Bar. No, governor, I'll satisfy thee first, Thou shalt not live in doubt of anything. Stand close, for here they come [FERNEZE retires]. Why, is not this A kingly kind of trade to purchase towns By treachery and sell 'em by deceit ? Now tell me, worldlings, underneath the sun If greater falsehood ever has been done ? 3i8 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT v. Enter CALYMATH and Bassoes. Caly. Come, my companion bassoes ; see, I pray, How busy Barabas is there above To entertain us in his gallery ; Let us salute him. Save thee, Barabas ! Bar. Welcome, great Calymath ! Fern. How the slave jeers at him. [Aside. Bar. Will 't please thee, mighty Selim Calymath, To ascend our homely stairs ? Caly. Ay, Barabas ; Come, bassoes, ascend. Fern, [coming forward]. Stay, Calymath ! For I will show thee greater courtesy Than Barabas would have afforded thee. Knight [within. ~\ Sound a charge there ! \_A charge sounded within. FERNEZE cuts the cord: the floor of the gallery gives wav, and BAR ABAS falls into a caldron. Enter MARTIN DEL Bosco and Knights. Caly. How now ! what means this ? Bar. Help, help me ! Christians, help ! Fern. See, Calymath, this was devised for thee ! Caly. Treason ! treason ! bassoes, fly ! Fern. No, Selim, do not fly ; See his end first, and fly then if thou canst. Bar. O help me, Selim ! help me, Christians ! Governor, why stand you all so pitiless ? Fern. Should I in pity of thy plaints or thee, Accursed Barabas, base Jew, relent ? No, thus I'll see thy treachery repaid, But wish thou hadst behaved thee otherwise. Bar. You will not help me, then? SCENE vi.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 319 Fern. No, villain, no. Bar. And, villains, know you cannot help me now. Then, Barabas, breathe, forth thy latest hate, And in the fury of thy torments strive To end thy life with resolution. Know, governor, 'twas I that slew thy son ; I framed the challenge that did make them meet : Know, Calymath, I aimed thy overthrow, And had I but escaped this stratagem, I would have brought confusion on you all, Damned Christian dogs ! and Turkish infidels ! But now begins the extremity of heat To pinch me with intolerable pangs : Die, life ! fly, soul ! tongue, curse thy fill, and die ! [Dies. Caly. Tell me, you Christians, what doth this por- tend ? Fern. This train he laid to have entrapped thy life , Now, Selim, note the unhallowed deeds of Jews : Thus he determined to have handled thee, But I have rather chose to save thy life. Caly. Was this the banquet he prepared for us ? Let's hence, lest further mischief be pretended. 1 Fern. Nay, Selim, stay for since we have thee here, We will not let thee part so suddenly : Besides, if we should let thee go, all's one, For with thy galleys could'st thou not get hence, Without fresh men to rig and furnish them. Caly. Tush, governor, take thou no care for that, My men are all aboard, And do attend my coming there by this. Fern. Why heard'st thou not the trumpet sound a charge ? Caly. Yes, what of that ? 1 i.e. Intended. 320 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT v. Fern. Why then the house was fired, Blown up, and all thy soldiers massacred. Caly. O monstrous treason ! Fern. A Jew's courtesy : For he that did by treason work our fall, By treason hath delivered thee to us : Know, therefore, till thy father hath made good The ruins done to Malta and to us, Thou canst not part ; for Malta shall be freed, Or Selim ne'er return to Ottoman. Caly. Nay, rather, Christians, let me go to Turkey, In person there to meditate your peace ; To keep me here will not advantage you. Fern. Content thee, Calymath, here thou must stay, And live in Malta prisoner ; for come all the world To rescue thee, so will we guard us now, As sooner shall they drink the ocean dry Than conquer Malta, or endanger us. So march away, and let due praise be given Neither to Fate nor Fortune, but to Heaven. [Exeunt. THE SECOND. Mar HE tragedy of Edward II. was entered in the Stationers' Books in 1593. The earliest edition of it is dated 1594, and was discovered in 1876 in the library at Cassel. The modern text is founded on the subsequent editions of 1598, 1612, and 1622. They differ very slightly, and are fairly free from corruptions. Marlowe used the narratives of Stowe and Holinshed, and was also slightly indebted to Fabyan's Chronicle, Y 2 DRAMATIS PERSONS, KING EDWARD THE SECOND. PRINCE EDWARD, his Son, afterwards King Edward the Third. EARL of KENT, Brother of King Edward the Second GAVESTON. WARWICK. LANCASTER. PEMBROKE. ARUNDEL. LEICESTER. BERKELEY. MORTIMER, the elder. MORTIMER, the younger, his Nephew. SPENSER, the elder. SPENSER, the younger, his Son. ARCHBISHOP of CANTERBURY. BISHOP of COVENTRY. BISHOP of WINCHESTER. BALDOCK. BEAUMONT. TRUSSEL. GURNEY. MATREVIS. LlGHTBORN. SIR JOHN of HAINAULT. LEVUNE. RICE AP HOWEL. Abbot, Monks, Herald, Lords, Poor Men, James, Mower, Champion, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants. QUEEN ISABELLA, Wife of King Edward the Second. Niece to King Edward the Second, daughter of the Duke of Gloucester. Ladies. EVWAT^D THE SECO^V. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Enter GAVESTON, reading a letter. ! AV. " My father is deceased ! Come, Gaveston, 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 Might have enforced me to have swum from France, And, like Leander, gasped upon the sand, So thou would'st smile, and take me in thine arms. The sight of London to my exiled eyes Is as Elysium to a new-come soul ; Not that I love the city, or the men, 1 The scene is a street in London 326 EDWARD THE SECOND. ![ACT i But that it harbours him I hold so dear The king, upon whose bosom let me lie, And with the world be still at enmity. What need the arctic people love starlight, 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, Raked up in embers of their poverty ; Tanti ; I'll fawn first on the wind That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away. But how now, what are these? Enter three Poor Men. Men. Such as desire your worship's service. Gav. What canst thou do ? isf P. Man. I can ride. Gav. But I have no horse. What art thou ? 2nd P. Man. A traveller. Gav. Let me see thou would'st do well To wait at my trencher and tell me lies at dinner- time ; And as I like your discoursing, I'll have you. And what art thou ? $rd P. Man. A soldier, that hath served against the Scot. Gav. Why, there are hospitals for such as you ; I have no war, and therefore, sir, begone. $rd P. Man. Farewell, and perish by a soldier's hand, That would'st reward them with an hospital. Gav. Ay, ay, these words of his move me as much As if a goose would play the porcupine, And dart her plumes, thinking to pierce my breast. SCENE I.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 3^7 But yet it is no pain to speak men fair ; I'll flatter these, and make them live in hope. [Aside. You know that I came lately out of France, And yet I have not viewed my lord the king ; If I speed well, I'll entertain you all. All. We thank your worship. Gav. I have some business. Leave me to myself. All. We will wait here about the court. {Exeunt. Gav. Do ; these are not men for me : I must have wanton poets, pleasant wits, Musicians, that with touching of a string May draw the pliant king which way I please. Music and poetry is his delight ; Therefore I'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows ; And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad ; My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall with their goat-feet dance the antic hay. 1 Sometime a lovely boy in Dian's shape, With hair that gilds the water as it glides, Crownets of pearl about his naked arms, And in his sportful hands an olive-tree, To hide those parts which men delight to see, Shall bathe him in a ^spring ; and there hard by, One like Actseon peeping through the grove, Shall by the angry goddess be transformed, And running in the likeness of an hart By yelping hounds pulled down, shall seem to die ; Such things as these best please his majesty. Here comes my lord the king, and the nobles From the parliament. I'll stand aside. \Retires. 1 Or heydeguy, a rural dance. 328 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT i. Enter KING EDWARD, LANCASTER, the Elder MORTIMER, Young MORTIMER, KENT, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, and Attendants. K. Edw. Lancaster ! Lan. My lord. Gav. That Earl of Lancaster do I abhor. [Aside. K. Edw. Will you not grant me this ? In spite of them I'll have my will ; and these two Mortimers, That cross me thus, shall know I am displeased. [Aside. E. Mor. If you love us, my lord, hate Gaveston. Gav. That villain Mortimer ! I'll be his death. [Aside. Y. Mor. Mine uncle here, this earl, and I myself, Were sworn to your father at his death, That he should ne'er return into the realm : And know, my lord, ere I will break my oath, This sword of mine, that should offend your foes, Shall sleep within the scabbard at thy need, And underneath thy banners march who will, For Mortimer will hang his armour up. Gav. Mort Dieu ! [Aside. K. Edw. Well, Mortimer, I'll make thee rue these words. Beseems it thee to contradict thy king ? Frown'st thou thereat, aspiring Lancaster ? The sword shall plane the furrows of thy brows, And hew these knees that now are grown so stiff. I will have Gaveston; and you shall know What danger 'tis to stand against your king. Gav. Well done, Ned ! [Aside. Lan. My lord, why do you thus incense your peers, That naturally would love and honour you But for that base and obscure Gaveston ? Four earldoms have I, besides Lancaster Derby, Salisbury, Lincoln, Leicester, SCENE I.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 329 These will I sell, to give my soldiers pay, Ere Gaveston shall stay within the realm ; Therefore, if he be come, expel him straight. Kent. 1 Barons and earls, your pride hath made me mute ; But now I'll speak, and to the proof, I hope. I do remember, in my father's days, Lord Percy of the north, being highly moved, Braved Moubery in presence of the king ; For which, had not his highness loved him well, He should have lost his head ; but with his look The undaunted spirit of Percy was appeased, And Moubery and he were reconciled : Yet dare you brave the king unto his face. Brother, revenge it, and let these their heads Preach upon poles, for trespass of their tongues. War. O, our heads ! K. Edw. Ay, yours ; and therefore I would wish you grant - War. Bridle thy anger, gentle Mortimer. Y. Mor. I cannot, nor I will not; I must speak. Cousin, our hands I hope shall fence our heads, And strike off his that makes you threaten us. Come, uncle, let us leave the brain-sick king, And henceforth parley with our naked swords. E. Mor. Wiltshire hath men enough to save our heads. War. All Warwickshire will love him for my sake. Lan. And northward Gaveston hath many friends. . Adieu, my lord ; and either change your mind, Or look to see the throne, where you should sit, To float in blood ; and at thy wanton head, The glozing head of thy base minion thrown. [Exeunt all except KING EDWARD, KENT, GAVE- STON and Attendants. 1 Cunningham and Bullen have inaccurately given this speech to King Edward. 33 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT I. K, Edw. I cannot brook these haughty menaces ; Am I a king, and must be overruled ? Brother, display my ensigns in the field ; I'll bandy 1 with the barons and the earls, And either die or live with Gaveston. Gav. I can no longer keep me from my lord. [ Comes forward. K. Edw. What, Gaveston ! welcome ! Kiss not my hand Embrace me, Gaveston as I do thee. Why should'st thou kneel ? know'st thou not who I am ? Thy friend, thyself, another Gaveston ! Not Hylas was more mourned of Hercules, Than thou hast been of me since thy exile. Gav. And since I went from hence, no soul in hell Hath felt more torment than poor Gaveston. K. Edw. I know it. Brother, welcome home my friend. Now let the treacherous Mortimers conspire, And that high-minded Earl of Lancaster : I have my wish, in that I joy thy sight; And sooner shall the sea o'erwhelm my land, Than bear the ship that shall transport thee hence. I here create thee Lord High Chamberlain, Chief Secretary to the state and me, Earl of Cornwall, King and Lord of Man. Gav. My lord, these titles far exceed my worth. Kent. Brother, the least of these may well suffice For one of greater birth than Gaveston. K. Edw. Cease, brother : for I cannot brook these words. Thy worth, sweet friend, is far above my gifts, Therefore, to equal it, receive my heart ; 1 Contend. The expression is no doubt borrowed from he old game of bandy-ball, which was similar to golf. SCENE I.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 31 If for these dignities thou be envied, I'll give thee more ; for, but to honour thee, Is Edward pleased with kingly regiment. 1 Fear'st thou thy person ? thou shalt have a guard : Wantest thou gold ? go to my treasury: Wouldst thou be loved and feared? receive my seal; Save or condemn, and in our name command Whatso thy mind affects, or fancy likes. Gav. It shall suffice me to enjoy your love, Which whiles I have, I think myself as great As Caesar riding in the Roman street, With captive kings at his triumphant car. Enter the BISHOP . My Gaveston ! Welcome to Tynemouth ! welcome to thy friend ! Thy absence made me droop and pine away ; 1 The straps round a hawk's legs, with rings attached, to which he falconer's leash was fastened. SCENE ii.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 355 For, as the lovers of fair Danae, When she was locked up in a brazen tower, Desired her more, and waxed outrageous, So did it fare with me : and now thy sight Is sweeter far than was thy parting hence Bitter and irksome to my sobbing heart. Gav. Sweet lord and king, your speech preventeth ' mine, Yet have I words left to express my joy : The shepherd nipt with biting winter's rage Frolics not more to see the painted spring, Than I do to behold your majesty. X. Edw. Will none of you salute my Gaveston ? Lan. Salute him ? yes ; welcome, Lord Chamberlain ! Y. Mor. Welcome is the good Earl of Cornwall ! War. Welcome, Lord Governor of the Isle of Man ! Pern. Welcome, Master Secretary ! Kent. Brother, do you hear them ? K. Edw. Still will these earls and barons use me thus. Gav. My lord, I cannot brook these injuries. Q. Isab. Ay me, poor soul, when these begin to jar. [Aside. K. Edw. Return it to their throats, I'll be thy warrant. Gav. Base, leaden earls, that glory in your birth, Go sit at home and eat your tenant's beef; And come not here to scoff at Gaveston, Whose mounting thoughts did never creep so low As to bestow a look on such as you. Lan. Yet I disdain not to do this for you. [Draws his sword and offers to stab GAVESTON. K. Edw. Treason ! treason ! where's the traitor ? Pern. Here ! here ! K. Edw. Convey hence Gaveston ; they'll murder him. 1 i.e. Anticipateth. 356 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT n. Gav. The life of thee shall salve this foul disgrace. Y. Mor. Villain ! thy life, unless I miss mine aim. [ Wounds GAVESTON. Q. hab. Ah ! furious Mortimer, what hast thou done ? Y. Mor. No more than I would answer, were he slain. [Exit GAVESTON with Attendants. K. Edw. Yes, more than thou canst answer, though he live ; Dear shall you both abide this riotous deed. Out of my presence ! come not near the court. Y. Mor. I'll not be barred the court for Gaveston. Lan. We'll hale him by the ears unto the block. K. Edw. Look to your own heads ; hisls sure enough. War. Look to your own crown, if you back him thus. Kent. Warwick, these words do ill beseem thy years. K. Edw. Nay, all of them conspire to cross me thus ; But if I live, I'll tread upon their heads That think with high looks thus to tread me down. Come, Edmund, let's away and levy men, 'Tis war that must abate these barons' pride. \_Exeunt KING EDWARD, QUEEN ISABELLA, and KENT. War. Let's to our castles, for the king is moved. Y. Mor. Moved may he be, and perish in his wrath ! Lan. Cousin, it is no dealing with him now, He means to make us stoop by force of arms ; And therefore let us jointly here protest, To persecute that Gaveston to the death. Y. Mor. By heaven, the abject villain shall not live I War. I'll have his blood, or die in seeking it. Pern. The like oath Pembroke takes. Lan. And so doth Lancaster. Now send our heralds to defy the king ; And make the people swear to put him down. SCENE ii.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 357 Enter a Messenger. Y. Mor. Letters ! from whence ? Mess. From Scotland, my lord. \Giving letters to MORTIMER. Lan. Why, how now, cousin, how fares all our friends ? Y. Mor. My uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. Lan. We'll have him ransomed, man ; be of good cheer. Y. Mor. They rate his ransom at five thousand pound. Who should defray the money but the king, Seeing he is taken prisoner in his wars ? I'll to the king. Lan. Do, cousin, and I'll bear thee company. War. Meantime, my lord of Pembroke and myself Will to Newcastle here, and gather head. K Mor. About it then, and we will follow you. Lan. Be resolute and full of secrecy. War. I warrant you. \Exit with PEMBROKE. Y. Mor. Cousin, and if he will not ransom him, I'll thunder such a peal into his ears, As never subject did unto his king. Lan. Content, I'll bear my part Holla ! who's there ? Enter Guard. Y. Mor. Ay, marry, such a guard as this doth well. Lan. Lead on the way. Guard. Whither will your lordships ? Y. Mor. Whither else but to the king. Guard. His highness is disposed to be alone. Lan. Why, so he may, but we will speak to him. Guard. You may not in, my lord. Y. Mor. May we not ? Enter KING EDWARD and KENT. A'. Ediv. How now ! What noise is this ? who have we there, is't you? \Going. 358 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT n. Y. Mor. Nay, stay, my lord, I come to bring you news; Mine uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. K. Edw. Then ransom him. Lan. 'Twas in your wars ; you should ransom him. Y. Mor. And you shall ransom him, or else Kent. What ! Mortimer, you will not threaten him ? K. Edw. Quiet yourself, you shall have the broad seal, To gather for him throughout the realm. Lan. Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this. Y. Mor. My lord, the family of the Mortimers Are not so poor, but, would they sell their land, 'Twould levy men enough to anger you. We never beg, but use such prayers as these. K. Edw. Shall I still be haunted thus ? Y. Mor. Nay, now you're here alone, I'll speak my mind. Lan. And so will I, and then, my lord, farewell. Y. Mor. The idle triumphs, masks, lascivious shows, And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaveston, Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak ; The murmuring commons, overstretched, break. Lan. Look for rebellion, look to be deposed ; Thy garrisons are beaten out of France, And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates. The wild Oneyl, with swarms of Irish kerns, 1 Lives uncontrolled within the English pale. Unto the walls of York the Scots make road, 2 And unresisted drive away rich spoils. Y. Mor. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas, While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigged. Lan. What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors ? Y. Mor. Who loves thee, but a sort of flatterers ? Lan. Thy gentle queen, sole sister to Valois, Complains that thou hast left her all forlorn. 1 Foot soldiers. 2 i.e. Inroad. SCENE ii.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 359 Y. Mor. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those That make a king seem glorious to the world ; I mean the peers, whom thou should'st dearly love : Libels are cast again thee in the street : Ballads and rhymes made of thy overthrow. Lan. The Northern borderers seeing their houses burnt, Their wives and children slain, run up and down, Cursing the name of thee and Gaveston. Y.Mor. When wert thou in the field with banner spread, But once ? and then thy soldiers marched like players, With garish robes, not armour ; and thyself, Bedaubed with gold, rode laughing at the rest, Nodding and shaking of thy spangled crest, Where women's favours hung like labels down. Lan. And therefore came it, that the fleering ] Scots, To England's high disgrace, have made this jig 2 ; " Maids of England, sore may you mourn, For your lemans 3 you have lost at Bannocks- bourn, With a heave and a ho ! What weeneth the King of England, So soon to have won Scotland ? With a rombelow ! " Y. Mor. Wigmore shall fly, 4 to set my uncle free. Lan. And when 'tis gone, our swords shall purchase more. If ye be moved, revenge it as you can ; Look next to see us with our ensigns spread. [Exit with Young MORTIMER. K. Edw. My swelling heart for very anger breaks ! 1 Jeering. 2 This jig or ballad is taken, with slight variations, from Fabyan's Chronicle. At the time the scene refers to, the battle of Bannock- burn had not been fought. 3 Lovers. 4 Wigmore was the name of young Mortimer's estate. 360 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT 11. How oft have I been baited by these peers, And dare not be revenged, for their power is great ! Yet, shall the crowing of these cockerels Affright a lion ? Edward, unfold thy paws, And let their lives' blood slake thy fury's hunger. If I be cruel and grow tyrannous, Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late. Kent. My lord, I see your love to Gaveston Will be the ruin of the realm and you, For now the wrathful nobles threaten wars, And therefore, brother, banish him for ever. K. Edw. Art thou an enemy to my Gaveston ? Kent. Ay, and it grieves me that I favoured him. K. Edw. Traitor, begone ! whine thou with Mortimer. Kent. So will I, rather than with Gaveston. K. Edw. Out of my sight, and trouble me no more ! Kent. No marvel though thou scorn thy noble peers, When I thy brother am rejected thus. K. Edw. Away ! \_Exit KENT. Poor Gaveston, that has no friend but me, Do what they can, we'll live in Tynemouth here, And, so I walk with him about the walls, What care I though the earls begirt us round ? Here cometh she that's cause of all these jars. Enter QUEEN ISABELLA with KING EDWARD'S Niece, two Ladies, GAVESTON, BALDOCK and Young SPENCER. Q. Isab. My lord, 'tis thought the earls are up in arms. K. Edw. Ay, and 'tis likewise thought you favour 'em. Q. Isab. Thus do you still suspect me without cause ? Niece. Sweet uncle ! speak more kindly to the queen. Gav. My lord, dissemble with her, speak her fair. K. Edw. Pardon me, sweet, I had forgot myself. Q. Isab. Your pardon is quickly got of Isabel. SCENE II.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 361 K. Ediv. The younger Mortimer is grown so brave, That to my face he threatens civil wars. Gav. Why do you not commit him to the Tower ? K. Edu>. I dare not, for the people love him well. Gav. Why, then we'll have him privily made away. K. Edw. Would Lancaster and he had both caroused A bowl of poison to each other's health. ! But let them go, and tell me what are these. Niece. Two of my father's servants whilst he liv'd, May't please your grace to entertain them now. K. Edw. Tell me, where wast thou born ? what is thine arms ? Bald. My name is Baldock, and my gentry I fetch from Oxford, not from heraldry. K. Edw. The fitter art thou, Baldock, for my turn. Wait on me, and I'll see thou shall not want. Bald. I humbly thank your majesty. K. Edw. Knowest thou him, Gaveston ? Gav. Ay, my lord ; His name is Spencer, he is well allied ; For my sake, let him wait upon your grace ; Scarce shall you find a man of more desert. K. Edw. Then, Spencer, wait upon me ; for his sake I'll grace thee with a higher style ere long. Y. Spen. No greater titles happen unto me, Than to be favoured of your majesty ! K. Edw. Cousin, this day shall be your marriage-feast. And, Gaveston, think that I love thee well, To wed thee to our niece, the only heir Unto the Earl of Gloucester late deceased. Gav. I know, my lord, many will stomach me, But I respect neither their love nor hate. K. Edw. The headstrong barons shall not limit me ; He that I list to favour shall be great. 362 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT n. Come, let's away ; and when the marriage ends, Have at the rebels, and their 'complices ! \Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter KENT, LANCASTER, Young MORTIMER, WARWICK, PEMBROKE, and others. 1 Kent. My lords, of love to this our native land I come to join with you and leave the king ; And in your quarrel and the realm's behoof Will be the first that shall adventure life. Lan. I fear me, you are sent of policy, To undermine us with a show of love. War. He is your brother, therefore have we cause To cast 2 the worst, and doubt of your revolt. Kent. Mine honour shall be hostage of my truth : If that will not suffice, farewell, my lords. Y. Mor. Stay, Edmund ; never was Plantagenet False of his word, and therefore trust we thee. Pern. But what's the reason you should leave him now ? Kent. I have informed the Earl of Lancaster. Lan. And it sufficeth. Now, my lords, know this, That Gaveston is secretly arrived, And here in Tynemouth frolics with the king. Let us with these our followers scale the walls, And suddenly surprise them unawares If. Mor. I'll give the onset. War. And I'll follow thee. Y. Mor. This tottered 3 ensign of my ancestors, Which swept the desert shore of that dead 4 sea 1 The scene is in the neighbourhood of Tynemouth Castle. 2 Conjecture. 3 Tattered. 4 In all Latin deeds the Mortimers are called " de Mortuo mari." Cunningham. SCENE iv.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 363 Whereof we got the name of Mortimer, Will I advance upon this castle's walls. . Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport, And ring aloud the knell of Gaveston ! Lan. None be so hardy as to touch the king ; But neither spare you Gaveston nor his friends. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter severally KING EDWARD and Young SPENCER. K. Edw. O tell me, Spencer, where is Gaveston ? Spen. I fear me he is slain, my gracious lord. K. Edw. No, here he comes; now let them spoil and kill. Enter QUEEN ISABELLA, KING EDWARD'S Niece, GAVESTON, and Nobles. Fly, fly, my lords, the earls have got the hold; Take shipping and away to Scarborough ; Spencer and I will post away by land. Gav. O stay, my lord, they will not injure you. K. Edw. I will not trust them ; Gaveston, away ! Gav. Farewell, my lord. K. Edw. Lady, farewell. Niece. Farewell, sweet uncle, till we meet again. K. Edw. Farewell, sweet Gaveston; and farewell, niece. Q. Isab. No farewell to poor Isabel thy queen ? K. Edw. Yes, yes, for Mortimer, your lover's sake. Q. Isab. Heaven can witness I love none but you : [Exeunt all but QUEEN ISABELLA. From my embracements thus he breaks away. O that mine arms could close this isle about, 1 The scene is inside Tynemouth castle. 364 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT 11. That I might pull him to me where I would ! Or that these tears, that drizzle from mine eyes, Had power to mollify his stony heart, That when I had him we might never part. Enter LANCASTER, WARWICK, Young MORTIMER, and of hers. Alarums within. Lan. I wonder how he 'scaped ! Y. Mor. Who's this ? the queen ! Q. Isab. Ay, Mortimer, the miserable queen, Whose pining heart her inward sighs have blasted, And body with continual mourning wasted : These fyands are tired with haling of my lord From Gaveston, from wicked Gaveston, And all in vain ; for, when I speak him fair, He turns away, and smiles upon his minion. Y. Mor. Cease to lament, and tell us where's the king ? Q. Isab. What would you with the king ? is't him you seek? Lan. No, madam, but that cursed Gaveston. Far be it from the thought of Lancaster To offer violence to his sovereign. We would but rid the realm of Gaveston : Tell us where he remains, and he shall die. Q. Isab. He's gone by water unto Scarborough ; Pursue him quickly, and he cannot 'scape; The king hath left him, and his train is small. War. Foreslow J no time, sweet Lancaster ; let's march. Y. Mor. How comes it that the king and he is parted ? Q. Isab. That thus your army, going several ways, Might be of lesser force : and with the power That he intendeth presently to raise, Be easily suppressed ; therefore be gone. 1 Delay. SCENE iv.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 365 Y. Mor. Here in the river rides a Flemish hoy ; Let's all aboard, and follow him amain. Lan. The wind that bears him hence will fill our sails : Come, come aboard, 'tis but an hour's sailing. Y. Mor. Madam, stay you within this castle here. Q. Isab. No, Mortimer, I'll to my lord the king. Y. Mor. Nay, rather sail with us to Scarborough. Q. Isab. You know the king is so suspicious, As if he hear I have but talked with you, Mine honour will be called in question ; And therefore, gentle Mortimer, be gone. Y. Mor. Madam, I cannot stay to answer you, But think of Mortimer as he deserves. [Exeunt all except QUEEN ISABELLA. Q. Isab. So well hast thou deserved, sweet Mortimer, As Isabel could live with thee for ever. In vain I look for love at Edward's hand, Whose eyes are fixed on none but Gaveston. Yet once more I'll importune him with prayer : If he be strange and not regard my words, My son and I will over into France, And to the king my brother there complain, How Gaveston hath robbed me of his love : But yet I hope my sorrows will have end, And Gaveston this blessed day be slain. \_Exit. SCENE V. Enter GAVESTON, pursued? Gav. Yet, lusty lords, I have escaped your hands, Your threats, your larums, and your hot pursuits ; 1 Scene : the open country. 366 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT n. And though divorced from King Edward's eyes, Yet liveth Pierce of Gaveston unsurprised, Breathing, in hope (malgrado 1 all your beards, That muster rebels thus against your king), To see his royal sovereign once again. Enter WARWICK, LANCASTER, PEMBROKE, Young MOR- TIMER, Soldiers, JAMES,^//^ other Attendants of PEM- BROKE. War. Upon him, soldiers, take away his weapons. Y. Mor. Thou proud disturber of thy country's peace, Corrupter of thy king ; cause of these broils, Base flatterer, yield ! and were it not for shame, Shame and dishonour to a soldier's name, Upon my weapon's point here should'st thou fall, And welter in thy gore. Lan. Monster of men ! That, like the Greekish strumpet," trained to arms And bloody wars so many valiant knights ; Look for no other fortune, wretch, than death ! King Edward is not here to buckler thee. War. Lancaster, why talk'st thou to the slave ? Go, soldiers, take him hence, for, by my sword, His head shall off : Gaveston, short warning Shall serve thy turn : it is our country's cause, That here severely we will execute Upon thy person. Hang him at a bough. Gav. My lord ! War, Soldiers, have him away ; But for thou wert the favourite of a king, Thou shall have so much honour at our hands 3 1 Ital., meaning "in spite of." : Helen of Troy. 3 Dyce suggests that a line following this, in which Warwick says that Gaveston shall be beheaded, has dropped out. SCENE v.] EDWARD THE SECOND. 367 Gav. I thank you all, my lords : then I perceive, That heading is one, and hanging is the other, And death is all. Enter ARUNDEL. Lan. How now, my lord of Arundel ? Arun. My lords, King Edward greets you all by me. War. Arundel, say your message. Arun. His majesty, Hearing that you had taken Gaveston, Entreateth you by me, yet but he may See him before he dies ; for why, he says, And sends you word, he knows that die he shall ; And if you gratify his grace so far, He will be mindful of the courtesy. War. How now ? Gav. Renowned Edward, how thy name Revives poor Gaveston ! War. No, it needeth not ; Arundel, we will gratify the king In other matters ; he must pardon us in this. Soldiers, away with him ! Gav. Why, my lord of Warwick, Will not these delays beget my hopes ? I know it, lords, it is this life you aim at, Yet grant King Edward this. Y. Mor. Shalt thou appoint What we shall grant ? Soldiers, away with him : Thus we'll gratify the king, We'll send his head by thee ; let him bestow His tears on that, for that is all he gets Of Gaveston, or else his senseless trunk. Lan. Not so, my lords, lest he bestow more cost In burying him than he hath ever earned. 368 EDWARD THE SECOND. [ACT n. Arun. My lords, it is his majesty's request, And in the honour of a king he swears, He will but talk with him, and send him back. War. When ? can you tell ? Arundel, no ; we wot, He that the care of his realm remits, And drives his nobles to these exigents For Gaveston, will, if he sees 1 him once, Violate any promise to possess him. Arun. Then if you will not trust his grace in keep, My lords, I will be pledge for his return. Y. Mor. 'Tis honourable in thee to offer this ; But for we know thou art a noble gentleman, We will not wrong thee so, to make away A true man for a thief. Gav. How mean'st thou, Mortimer ? that is over-base. Y. Mor. Away, base groom, robber of king's renown ! Question with thy companions and mates. Pern. My Lord Mortimer, and you, my lords, each one, To gratify the king's request therein. Touching the sending of this Gaveston, Because his majesty so earnestly Desires to see the man before his death, I will upon mine honour undertake To carry him, and bring him back again ; Provided this, that you my lord of Arundel Will join with me. War. Pembroke, what wilt thou do ? Cause yet more bloodshed ? is it not enough That we have taken him, but must we now Leave him on " had I wist," 2 and let him go ? Pern. My lords, I will not over-woo your honours, 1 " Seize " in the old editions. Cunningham made this altera- tion. a An exclamation implying repentance of a rash deed Dyce. SCENE v.j EDWARD THE SECOND. 369 But if you dare trust Pembroke with the prisoner, Upon mine oath, I will return him back. Arun. My lord of Lancaster, what say you in this ? Lan. Why, I say, let him go on Pembroke's word. Pern. And you, Lord Mortimer? Y. Mor. How say you, my lord of Warwick ? War. Nay, do your pleasures, I know how 'twill prove. Pern. Then give him me. Gav. Sweet sovereign, yet I come To see thee ere I die. War. Yet not perhaps, If Wanvick's wit and policy prevail. [Aside. Y. Mor. My lord of Pembroke, we deliver him you ; Return him on your honour. Sound, away ! [Exeunt all except PEMBROKE, ARUNDEL, GAVE- STON, JAMES, and other Attendants of PEMBROKE. Pern. My lord of Arundel, you shall go with me. My house is not far hence ; out of the way A little, but our men shall go along. We that have pretty wenches to our wives, Sir, must not come so near to baulk their lips. Arun. 'Tis very kindly spoke, my lord of Pembroke ; Your honour hath an adamant of power To draw a prince. Pern. So, my lord. Come hither, James : I do commit this Gaveston to thee, Be thou this night his keeper ; in the morning We will discharge thee of thy charge : be gone. Gav. Unhappy Gaveston, whither goest thou now ? [Exit with JAMES and the other Attendants. Horse-boy. My lord, we'll quickly be at Cobham. [Exeunt. Mar ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter GAVESTON mourning, JAMES, and other Attendants ril. Third Edition, in crown 8ro, price 3s. Gd. DISENCHANTMENT. BY F. MABEL KOBINSON. AUTHOR OF "MR. BUTLER'S WARD." ' ' DtnCKOHXtmtEXT ' is a novel of considerable power. There is not one of the characters which does not become more and more an actual man or woman as one turns the pages. . . . The book is full of humour and the liveliest and healthiest appreci ition of the tender and emotional side of life, and the accuracy- -the almost relentless accuracy with which the depths of life are sounded, is startling in the work of an almost unknown writer." Pall Mall Gazette. 'Some of the scenes are given with remarkably impressive power. . . . The book is altogether of exceptional interest as an original study of many sides of actual human nature." The Graphic. Fifth Edition, in crown 8vo, with Frontispiece, price 6s. A DRAMA IN MUSLIN. BY GEORGE MOORE. AUTHOR OF "A MUMMER'S WIFE," "A MODERN LOVER," &c. "Mr. George Moore's work stands on a very much higher plane than the facile fiction of the circulating libraries. The hideous comedy of the marriage-market has been a stock topic with novelists from Thackeray downwards ; but Mr. Moore goesdeap into the yet more hideous tragedy which forms its afterpiece, the trugedy of enforced stagnant celibacy, with its double catastrophe of disease and vice." fall Mai' Gazette. In crown 8ro, price 5s. ICARUS. BY THE AUTHOR OF "A JAUNT IN A JUXK." " A clever book with an original and inzenious idea. . . - Well fitted to amuse the leisure of men ;md women of the world." Alumina I'o.ft. " The tale is admirably told." -Ht. tftejihen's Kerieu.: Ill crown 8vo, price 5s. IN THE CHANGE OF YEARS. BY FELISE LOVELACE. " The author is but too true to human nature, as Thackeray and other great artists have been before her." Academy. 6 VIZETELLY &* CO:s NEW BOOKS &- NEW EDITIONS, THE NOVELS OF FEDOR DOSTOIEFFSKY, TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL EUSSIAN. Third Edition. In crown Svo, 450 pages, price Cs. CRIME AND PUNISHMENT. A EUSSIAN REALISTIC NOVEL. BY FEDOR DOSTOIEFFSKY. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. The Athenaeum. " Outside Russia the name of Fe'lor Dostoietfsky was till lately almost unknown. Yet Dostoieffsky Is one of the most remarkable of modern writers, and his book, ' CRIME AND PUNISHMENT,' is one of the most moving of modern novels. It is the story of a murder and of the punishment which dogs the murderer ; and its effect is unique in fiction. It is realism, but such realism as M. Zola and his followers do not dream of. The reader knows the personages strange, grotesque, terrible personages they are- -more intimately than if he had been years with them in the flesh. He is con- strained to live their lives, to suffer their tortures, to scheme and resist with them, exult with them, weep and laugh and despair with them : he breathes the very breath of their nostrils, and with the madness that comes upon them he is afflicted even as they. This sounds extravagant praise, no doubt; but only to those who have not read the volume. To those who have, we are sure that it will appear rather under the mark than otherwise." FaU Mall Gazette. " The figures in the grand, gloomy picture are a handful of men and women taken haphazard from the crowd of the Russian capital. They are nearly all poor. The central iigure in the novel is one of those impecunious 'students,' the outcomes of whose turbulent brains have often been a curse where they were intended to be a blessing to their country. Sonia is a figure of tragic pathos A strange fascination attracts Raskolnikoff to seek her out in her own lodgings, a bare little room iii an obscure street of St. Petersburg ; and there, in the haunt of impurity and sin, the harlot and tiie assassin meet together to read the story of Lazarus and Dives. In that same den Rodia confesses his crime, and, in anguish almost too deep for words, the outtast girl implores the criminal, for God's sake, to make atonement." The Spse^ator. " In our opinion Dostoicffsky's finest work is ' CRIME AND PUNISHMENT.' Though never Zolaesque, Dostoieffsky is intensely realistic, calls a spade a spade with the most uncompromising frankness. He describes sin in its most hideous shapes ; yet he is full of tenderness and loving-kindness for its victims, and shows us that even the most abandoned are not entirely bad, and that for all there is hope hope of redemption and regeneration. Dostoieffsky sounded the lowest depths of human nature, and wrote with the power of a master. None but a Russian and a genius could draw such a character as Rodia Raskoluikoff, who has been aptly named the ' Hamlet of the Madhouse.' " The World. ' ' The publisher has done good work in publishing ' CRIME AND PUNISHMENT,' a translation of Dostoi- t-ffsky's much-praised novel a little over-praised, perhaps, but a strong thing, beyond all question." Westminster Eeview. " 'CRIME AND PUNISHMENT' is powerful, and not without a certain weird fascination." Second Edition, in crown Svo, with Portrait and Memoir, price 5*. INJURY AND INSULT. By FEDOR DOSTOIEFFSKY. TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL RUSSIAN BY F. WHI.SIIAW. ' That ' Injury. and Insult' is a powerful novel few will deny. Vania is a marvellous character. Once read, the book can never be forgotten." St. Stephen's Revieu: " A masterpiece of fiction. The author has treated with consummate taet the difficult character of Natasha ' the incarnation and the slave of passion/ She lives and breathes in these vivid ^up^. and the reader is drawn into the vortex of her anguish, and rejoices when she breaks free Irom her chain." Morning Post. VIZETELLY &- CO.'S NEW BOOKS &> NEW EDITIONS.*, 7 In crown, 8t'o, price, 5a. THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY, & THE GAMBLER. TRANSLATED FROM THB ORIGINAL RUSSIAN BY F. WHISHAW. " There are three Russian novelists who, though, with one exception, little known out of their own country, stand head arid shoulders above most of their contemporaries. In the opinion of some not indifferent critics, they are superior to all other novelists of this generation. Two of them, Dostoievsky and Turgenieir, died not long ago, the third, Lyof Tolstoi, still lives. The one with the most marked individuality of character, probably the most highly gifted, was unquestionably Dostoieflsky." Spectator. To be followed by THE IDIOT. THE BROTHERS KARAMASOFF. UNCLE'S DREAM, & THE PERMANENT HUSBAND. THE NOVELS OF COUNT LYOF TOLSTOL COUNT TOLSTOI'S MASTERPIECE. Second Edition. In One Volume, 8vo, 780 pages, 7s. 6d. ANNA KARENINA: A Eussian Realistic Novel. By- COUNT LYOF TOLSTOI. " To say that the book is fascinating would be but poor praise. It is a drama of life, of which every page is palpitating with intense and real life, and its grand lesson, 'Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,' is ever present." I'ull Mall Gazette. " It has not only the very hue of life, but its movement, its advances, its strange pauses, its seeming reversions to former conditions, and its perpetual change, its apparent solations, its - essential solidarity. It is a world, and yuu live in it while you read, aucl long afterwards."- Ihirper's Monthly. COUNT TOLSTOI'S GREAT REALISTIC NOVEL. Second Edition. In Three Vols., 5s. each. WAR AND PEACE. By COUNT LYOF TOLSTOI. 1. BEFORE TILSIT. 2. THE INVASION. 3. THE FRENCH AT MOSCOW. " Incomparably Count Tolstoi's greatest work is 'War and Peace.'" Saturday Review. " Count Tolstoi's magnificent novel." Athenaeum. " Count Tolstoi's admirable work may be warmly recommended to novel readers. His pictures of Imperial society the people who move round the Czar are as interesting and as vivid as his battle scenes." St. James's Gazette. " The interest of the book is not concentrated in a hero and a heroine. The other personages are studied with equal minute elaboration . . . and pass before us in scenes upon which the author has lavished pains and knowledge. He describes society as it appears to a calm, severe critic. He understands and respects goodness, and sets before us all that is lovable in Russian domestic life." Pall Mall Gazette. __ With Frontispiece. In One Volume, 3s. 6d. A HERO OF OUR TIME. By M. U. LEBMONTOFF. " Lermon.toff's genius was as wild and erratic as his stormy life and tragic end. But it had the true ring, and his name is enrolled among the literary immortals of his country. 'A Hero of Our Time' is utterly unconventional, possesses a weird interest all its own, and is in every way a remarkable romance." Spectator. May, in crown Svo, with a Portrait and. Memoir of Count Tolstoi, price 5*. CHILDHOOD, BOYHOOD, AND YOUTH. THE MERMAID SERIES. " I lie and dream of your full MERMAID wine." Master Francis Beaumont to Ben /orison. Now Publishing, In Half-Crown monthly vols., post 8vo. Each volume containing from 400 to 500 pages, bound in cloth with cut or uncut edges. AN UNEXPURGATED EDITION OF THE BEST PLAYS OF THE OLD DRAMATISTS, UNDF.R THE GENERAL EDITORSHIP OF HAVELOCK ELLIS. LTHOUGH a strong and increasing interest is felt to-day in the great Elizabethan dramatists who are grouped around Shakespeare, no satisfac- tory attempt has hitherto been made to bring their works before the public in a really popular manner. With the exception of such monu- mental and for most readers inaccessible editions as those of Dyce and Bullen, they have either been neglected or brought out in a mutilated and inadequate form. Some of the most delightful of them, such as Middleton and Thomas Heywood, and even Beaumont and Fletcher are closed to all, save the few, and none of them are obtainable in satisfactory editions at moderate prices. In the MERMAID SERIES it is proposed to issue the best plays of the Elizabethan and later Dramatists, those plays which, with Shakespeare's, constitute the chief contribution of the English spirit to the literature of the world. The Editors who have given their assistance to the undertaking include men of literary eminence, who have already distinguished themselves in this field, as well as younger writers of ability. The first volume will contain a general introduction by Mr. J. A. Symonds, dealing with the Elizabethan Drama generally, as the chief expression of English national life at one of its points of greatest power and expansion. VIZETELLY KTAINING 42 FULL- PAGE ENGRAVINGS BY FRENCH ARTISTS, PRINTED SEPARATE FROXI THE TEXT. VIZETELLY & C0.VT NEW BOOKS & NEW EDITIONS. 21 VIZETELLY'S ONE VOLUME NOVELS continued. 3s. 6d. each. PRINCE BY JULES ZILAH. CLARETIE. Translated from the tflth French edition. " M. 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THE DOVE'S NEST, AND OTHER TALES. By JOSEPH HATTON, RICHARD JEFFERIES, H. SAVILE CLARKE, &c. 22 VIZETELLY &* CO'S NEW BOOKS 5- NEW EDITIONS. ZOLA'S POWERFUL REALISTIC NOVELS. TRANSLATED WITHOUT ABRIDGMENT. ILLUSTRATED WITH PAGE EXGKAVIXOS BY FKKXCH AUTISTS. In croioi 8vo, price 6s. each. Mr. HENRY JAMES on ZOLA'S NOVELS. " A novelist with a system, a passi"iiato conviction, a great plan incontestable attributes of M. Zola is not now to be eas ly found in Kngland or ihj United States, where the story-teller's art is almost exclusively lemiiiiue. is mainly in the hands of timid (even when very accomplished) women, whose acquaintance with life is severely restricted, aud who are not conspicuous for general views. The novel, moreover, among ourselves, is almost always addressed to young unmarried ladies, or at least always assumes them to be a largo part of the novelist's public. "This fact, to a French fttory-teUer, appears, of course, a damnable restriction, and M. Zola would probably decline to take ait sfrieux any work produced under such unnatural conditions. Half of life is a sealed book to young unmarried ladies, a:-.d how can a novel be worth anything that deals only with half of life? These objections are perfectly valid, and it maybe said that our English system is a good thing for vir.jins and boys, and a bad thing for the novel itself, when the novel is regarded as something more than a sir>iple jeu d exprtt, and considered a a composition that treats of life at large and helps us to kame." NAN A. From the 127 'th French Edition. THE "ASSOMMOIR." poPreludetoS^O From the 97th French Edition. PIPING HOT! (POT-BOU.LLE.) From the QBrd French Edition. GERMINAL; OR, MASTER AND MAN. From the 47th French Edition. THE RUSH FOR THE SPOIL (LA From the 34 NEW EDITIONS. 23 ZOLA'S REALISTIC NOVELS-confo'nwcd. THE FORTUNE OF THE ROUGONS. From the lUh French Edition. HOW JOLLY LIFE IS! From the 44t often found in such medleys, and illustrated in the most abuudint and pleasingly miscellaneous fashion." Daily News. " Mr. Henry Vizetelly's handsome book about Champasrne and other sparkling wines of France is full of curious information and amusement. It should be widely read and appreciated." Sal urday Review. "Mr. Henry Vizetelly has written a quarto volume on the 'History of Champagne," in which he has collected a large number of facts, many of them very curious and interesting. Many of the woodcuts are excellent." A'liena>m. "It is probable that this larg- volume contains such an amount '~f inf'Tnmtiort touching the subject which it treats as cannot be knuid elsewhere. How competent the uthor was for the tack he undiTt' ok is t > be inferred from the functions ho has discharged, and fiorn the excep- tional opportunities he enjoyed." 1/htstrti.ted London News. "A veritable Edition de luxe, dealing witli the history of Chrmppgnc from the time of the Romans to the present date. . . . An interesting b^ok, the incidents and details of which are very giaphically told with a good deal of wit and humour. The engravings re exceedingly well executed." Tim ll'ine aiul Spirit A'eics. 28 VIZETELLY 6- CO.'S NEW BOOKS 6- NEW EDITIONS. * MR, HENRY VIZETELLY'3 POPULAR BOOKS ON WINE, " Mr. Vizetelly discourses brightly and discriminatingly on cms and bouquets and the different European vineyards, most of which he has evidently visited." The Times. "Mr. Henry Vizetelly's books about different wiues have an importance and a value far gi eater thin will be as.signtd them by those who look merely at the price at which they are published." Sunday Times. Price Is. 6d. ornamental cover ; or 2s. 6d. in elegant cloth binding. FACTS ABOUT PORT AND MADEIRA, GLEANED DURING A TOUR IN THE AUTUMN OF 1877. BY HENRY VIZETELLY, WINE JUROR FOR GKEAT BRITAIN AT THE VIENNA AND PARIS EXHIBITIONS OF 1873 AND 1378. With 100 Illustrations from Original Sketches and Photographs. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Price Is. 6d. ornamental cover ; or 2s. 6d. in elegant cloth binding. FACTS ABOUT CHAMPAGNE, AND OTHER SPARKLING WINES. COLLECTED DURING NUMEROUS VISITS TO THE CHAMPAGNE AND OTHER VITICULTURAL DISTRICTS OF FRANCE AND THE PRINCIPAL REMAINING WINE-PRODUCING COUNTRIES OF KCROEE. Illustrated with 112 Engravings from Sketches and Ihotographs. Price Is. ornamental cover ; or Is. 6d. cloth gilt. FACTS ABOUT SHERRY, GLEANED IN THE VINEYARDS AND BODEGAS OF THE JEREZ, & OTHER DISTRICTS. Illustrated with numerous Engravings from Original Sketches. Price 1*. in ornamental cover ; or 1*. Gd. cloth gilt. THE WINES OF THE WORLD, CHARACTERIZED AND CLASSED. -' VIZETELLY fr CO.'S NEW BOOKS Or' NEW EDITIONS. 29 In small post 8 vo, ornamental scarlet covers, Is. each. THE GABORIAU AND DU BOISGOBEY SENSATIONAL NOVELS. " Ah, friend, how many and many a while They've made the slow time fleetly flow, And solaced pain and charmed exile, BOISGOBEY and GABORIAU ! " Ballade of Railway Novels in " Longman's Magazint." IN PERIL [OF HIS LIFE. " A story of thrilling interest, and admirably translated." Sunday Times. THE LEROUGE CASE. " M. Gaborian is a skilful and brilliant writer, capable of so diverting the attention and interest of his readers that not one word or line in his book will be skipped or read care- lessly." Hampshire Advertiser. OTHER PEOPLE'S MONEY. "The interest is kept up throughout, and the story is told graphically and with a good deal of art." London figaro. LECOQ THE DETECTIVE. TwoVols. "In the art cf forging a tangled chain of complicated incidents involved and inex- plicable until the last link is reached and the whole made clear, Mr. Wilkie Collins is equalled, if not excelled, by M. Gaboriau." Brighton Herald. THE GILDED CLIQUE. "Full of incident, and instinct with life and action. Altogether this is a most fascinating book." Hampshire Advertiser. THE MYSTERY OF ORCIVAL " The Author keeps the interest of the reader at fever heat, and by a succession of unexpected turns and incidents, the drama is ultimately worked out to a very plea- sant result. The ability displayed is unquestionable." Sheffield Independent. DOSSIER NO. 113. " The plot is worked out with great skill, and from first to last the reader's interest is never allowed to flag." Dumbarton Herald. THE LITTLE OLD MAN OF BATIGNOLLES. THE SLAVES OF PARIS. TwoVols. "Sensational, full of interest, cleverly conceived, and wrought out with consummate skill." Ox<"ord and Cambridge Journal. THE CATASTROPHE. TwoVols. " ' The Catastrophe ' does ample credit to M. Gaboriau's reputation as a novelist of vast resource in incident and of wonderful ingenuity in constructing and unravelling thrilling mysteries." Aberdeen Journal. . THE COUNT'S MILLIONS. Two Voia. " To those who love the mysterious and the sensational, Gaboriau's stories are irre- sistibly fascinating. His marvellously clever pages hold the mirror up to nature witu absolute fidelity ; and the interest with which he contrives to invest his characters Droves that exaggeration is unnecessary to a master." Society. 30 VIZ 'E TELLY & CO.'S NEW BOOKS & NEW EDITIONS. INTRIGUES OF A POISONER. " The wonderful Sensational Novels of Emile Gaboriau." Globe. THE OLD AGE OF LECOO, THE DETECTIVE. Two Vois. " The romances of Gabori-iu and Du Boisgohey picture the marvellous Lecoq and other wonders of shrewdness, who piece Together the elauoratj details of the most complicated crimes, as Professor Owen with the smallest boue as a foundation could reconstruct the most extraordinary animals." Standard. IN THE SERPENTS' COILS. "This is a most picturesque, dramatic, and powerful sensational novel. Its interest never flags. Its terrific excitement continues to the end. The reader is kept spell- bound." Oldham Chronicle. THE DAY OF RECKONING. TWO Vois. " M. du Boisgobey gives ns no tiresome descriptions or laboured analyses of character; under his facile pen plots full of incid-nt are quickly opened and unwound. He di>es not stop to moralise; all h-s art consist 1 * in creating intricacies which shall keep the reader's curiosity on tlie ftretch, and offer a full scope to his own really wonderful ingenuity for unravell nj. " Times. THE SEVERED HAND. " The plot is a mnrvel of intricicy and cleverly nrmnRped surprises." I.lti-rfuy H'oi-M. " Readers who like a thoroughly entangled and thrilling plot will welcome this novel with av.dity." Bristol Mercury. BERTHA'S SECRET. " ' Bertha's Secret ' is a most effective romance. We need not say how the story ends, for this would &poil the reader's pleasure- in a novel which depends for all its interest 011 the skilful weaving and unweaving of mysteries." Times. WHO DIED LAST? OR THE RIGHTFUL HEIR. "Travellers at this season of the year will find the time occupied by a long journey pass away as rapidly as they can desire with one of Du iioisgobey's absorbing volumes iu their haiid." Lundon Figaro. THE CRIME OF THE OPERA HOUSE. Two Vois. " We are led breathless from the first page to the last, and close the book with a thorough admiration for the vigorous ronianeist who has the courage to fulfil the true function of the story-teller, by making reflection subordinate to action." Aberdeen Journal. Lately published Volumes. THE RED BAND. Two Vol.. -THE GOLDEN TRESS. FERNANDAS -CHOICE THE NAMELESS MAN. THE PHANTOM LEG -THE ANGEL OF THE CHIMES. THIEVING FINGERS THE CONVICT COLONEL HIS GREAT REVENGE. 2 .Vois. A RAILWAY TRAGEDY. THE MATAPAN AFFAIR. - A FIGHT FOR A FORTUNE. THE GOLDEN PIG ; OR, THE IDOL OP MODERN PARIS. 2 Vois. PRETTY BABIOLE.-THE CORAL PIN. Two Vois. THE THUMB STROKE. -THE JAILER'S PRETTY WIFE. VIZETELLY &- CO.'S NEW HOOKS &- NEW EDITIONS. 31 JK dctille volumes, bound in. scarlet cloth, price Is. 6d. each. NEW EDITIONS OF THE GABORIAU AND DU BOISGOBEY SENSATIONAL NOVELS, 1 THE MYSTERY OF ORCIVAL, AND THE GILDED CLIQUE. 2. THR LEROUGE CASE, AND OTHER PEOPLE'S MONEY. 3.-LEOOQ, THE DETECTIVE. 4.-THE SLAVES OF PARIS. 5. IN PERIL OP HIS LTFE, AND INTRIGUES OF A POtSONER. G. -DOSSIER NO. 113, AND THE LITTLE OLD MAN OF BA TIGNOLLES. 7. THE COUNT'S MILLIONS. 8. THE OLD AGE OF LECOQ, THE DETBCTIVE. 9. THE CATASTROPHE. 10. THE DAY OF RECKONING. 11. THE SEVERED HAND, AND IN THE SERPENTS' COILS. 12.-BERTHA'S SECRET, AND WHO DIED LAST P 13.-THB CRIME OF THE OPERA HOUSE. 17. THE CORAL PIN. 14.-THE MATAPAN AFFAIR, AND A FIGHT FOR A FORTUNE. 15. THE GOLDEN PIG. 18.-HIS GREAT REVENGE. 16. THE THUMB STROKE. AND PRETTY BABIOLE. 19. JAILER'S PRETTY WIFE, AND ANGEL OF THE CHIMES. 23.-A RAILWAY TRAGEDY, AND THE CONVICT COLONEL. 21. THE PHANTOM LEG, AND THIEVING FINGERS. In small pout 8vo, ornamental covers, Is. each ; in cloth, \s. 6d. VIZETELLY'S POPULAR FRENCH NOVELS. TRANSLATIONS OF THE BEST EXAMPLES OF RECENT FRENCH FICTION OF AN UNOBJECTIONABLE CHARACTER. " TTiev are books that may be srifely left l.vlng atmit where the ladies of the family can pick them up and read them. The interest they create is happily iut of the vicijus sort at all." SHEFFIELD INDEPENDENT. FROMONT THE YOUNGER & RISLER THE ELDER. By A. DAUDET. " The series starts well with M. Alphonse Daudet's masterpiece." Athewxum. "A terrible story, powerful after a sledge-hammer fashion in some parts and won- derfully tender, touching, and pathetic in others, the extraordinary popularity whereof may be inferred from the fact that this English version is said to be ' translated from the fiftieth French edition.'" illustrated London News. SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. By V. CHEBBULIEZ. "Those who have read this singular story in the origiual need not be reminded of that supremely dramatic study of the man who lived two lives at once, even within himself. The reader's discovery of his double nature is one of the most cleverly managed of sur- prises, and Samuel Brohl's final dissolution of jKtrtnership with himself is a remarkable stroke of almost pathetic comedy." The Graphic. THE DRAMA OF THE RUE DE LA PAIX. By A. BELOT. "A highly ingenious plot is developed in 'The Drama of the Rue de la Paix ' in which a decidedly interesting and thrilling narrative is told with groat force. '"ana 1 passion, relieved by sprigutliuess and tenderness." Illustrated Loitdjn Newt. MAUGARS JUNIOR. By A. THEURIET. One of the most charming novelettes we have road for a long time." ii ' .' -v- 32 VIZETELLY &- CO.'S NEW BOOKS & NEW EDITIONS. WAYWARD DOSIA, & THE GENEROUS DIPLOMATIST. By HENRY GREVILLE. "As epigrammatic as anything Lord Beaconsfield has ever written." Hampshirt Telegraph. 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