Welcome, gentlemen. Sec. Sch. 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. Scholars. Faustus, farewell. FAUSTUS alone.-The Clock strikes Eleven. Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, First Sch. Now, worthy Faustus, methinks your Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make looks are changed. Faust. Oh, gentlemen. Sec. Sch. What ails Faustus ? Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee, then had I lived still, but now must die eternally. Look, sirs, comes he not? comes he not? First Sch. Oh, my dear Faustus, what imports this fear? Sec. Sch. Is all our pleasure turned to melancholy? Third Sch. He is not well with being over solitary. Sec. Sch. If it be so, we will have physicians, and Faustus shall be cured. First Sch. 'Tis but a surfeit, sir; fear nothing. Faust. A surfeit of a deadly sin, that hath damn'd both body and soul. Sec. Sch. Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven, and remember mercy is infinite. Faust. But Faustus's offence can ne'er be pardoned. The serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. Oh, gentlemen, hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches. Though my heart pant and quiver to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years, Oh, would I had ne'er seen Wirtemberg, never read book! and what wonders have I done, all Germany 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, Oh hell, for ever. Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus being in hell for ever? Sec. Sch. Yet, Faustus, call on God. Faust. On God, whom Faustus hath abjured? on God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed? Oh, 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'em, they hold'em ! Scholars. Who, Faustus? Perpetual day or let this hour be but : A year, a month, a week, a natural day, And see a threat'ning arm, and angry brow. Oh, half the hour is past: 'twill all be past anon. All beasts are happy, for when they die, Faust. Why, Lucifer and Mephostophilis. Oh, gen- But mine must live still to be plagued in hell. tlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning. Scholars. Oh, God forbid. : Faust. God forbid it indeed, but Faustus hath done it for the vain pleasure of four-and-twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own blood; the date is expired: this is the time, and he will fetch me. First Sch. 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 devil threatened to tear me in pieces if I named God; to fetch me body and soul if I once gave ear to divinity; and now it is too late. Gentlemen, away, lest you perish with me. Sec. Sch. Oh, what may we do to save Faustus? Faust. Talk not of me, but save yourselves, and depart. Third Sch. God will strengthen me, will stay with Faustus. First Sch. Tempt not God, sweet friend, but let us into the next room and pray for him. Faust. Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. Curst be the parents that engender'd me: First Sch. Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faustus, For such a dreadful night was never seen Since first the world's creation did begin; Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard. Pray heaven the Doctor have escaped the danger. DRAMATISTS. ENGLISH LITERATURE. Sec. Sch. O help us heavens! see, here are Faustus' vengeance on his enemies, he is overmatched himself, he thus limbs All torn asunder by the hand of death. Third Sch. The devil whom Faustus serv'd hath torn him thus: For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought I heard him shriek and call aloud for help; Sec. Sch. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be As every Christian heart laments to think on ; For wondrous knowledge in our German schools, Chorus. Cut is the branch that might have grown And burned is Apollo's laurel bough That sometime grew within this learned man: Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships O thou art fairer than the evening air, Jew. [Passages from the Jew of Malta.] [In one of the early scenes, Barabas the Jew is deprived of his wealth by the governor of Malta. While being comforted in his distress by two Jewish friends, he thus denounces his oppressors :-] The plagues of Egypt, and the curse of heaven, And henceforth wish for an eternal night, [But when his comforters are gone, he throws off the mask of sorrow to show his real feelings, which suggest to him schemes of the subtlest vengeance. With the fulfilment of these, the rest of the play is occupied, and when, having taken terrible confesses his crimes, and closes his career :-] Then Barabas, breathe forth thy latest fate, Know, Governor, 'tis I that slew thy son; I fram'd the challenge that did make them meet. I would have brought confusion on you all, Die life, fly soul, tongue curse thy fill, and die. [Dies. 'Edward the Second' is considered as superior to the His lust was lawless as his life, He groan'd, and word spoke never moe, *First published in 1834 by Mr Collier, in his New Particulars regarding the Works of Shakspeare.' 173 Thus, condemned by the serious and puritanical, and stained with follies, while his genius was rapidly maturing and developing its magnificent resources, Marlow fell a victim to an obscure and disgraceful brawl. The last words of Greene's address to him a year or two before are somewhat ominous :-Refuse not (with me) till this last point of extremity; for little knowest thou how in the end thou shalt be visited.' The warning was Like the sad presaging raven, that tolls Marlow's fatal conflict is supposed to have taken place at Deptford, as he was buried there on the 1st of June 1593. The finest compliment paid to the genius of this unfortunate poet was by his contemporary and fellow-dramatist, Michael Drayton: Next Marlow, bathed in the Thespian springs, We subjoin part of the death-scene of Edward II. in his historical drama, a scene which Charles Lamb says, 'moves pity and terror beyond any scene, ancient or modern.' It may challenge comparison with Shakspeare's death of Richard II.; but Marlow could not interest us in his hero as the great dramatist does in the gentle Richard: Edw. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore com'st thou ? Light. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks. Villain, I know thou com'st to murder me. Light. To murder you, my most gracious lord! Edw. Weep'st thou already? list a while to me, Edw. And there, in mire and puddle have I stood Edw. These looks of thine can harbour nought but death: I see my tragedy written in thy brows. Edw. What mean'st thou to dissemble with me thus? Light. These hands were never stain'd with innocent blood, Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's. But Edw. Forgive my thought, for having such a thought. One jewel have I left, receive thou this. Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause, Oh, if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart, every joint shakes as I give it thee. Let the gift change thy mind, and save thy soul. Know that I am a king: Oh, at that name I feel a hell of grief. Where is my crown? Gone, gone; and do I still remain alive? Light. You're overwatch'd my lord ; lie down and rest. Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep; For not these ten days have these eyelids closed. Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear Open again. O wherefore sitt'st thou here? Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. Edw. No, no; for if thou mean'st to murder me, Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay. Light. He sleeps. Edw. O let me not die; yet stay, O stay a while. Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, The taste of the public for the romantic drama, in preference to the classical, seems now to have been confirmed. An attempt was made towards the close of Elizabeth's reign, to revive the forms of the classic stage, by DANIEL the poet, who wrote two plays, Cleopatra and Philotas, which are smoothly versified, but undramatic in their character. LADY PEMBROKE Co-operated in a tragedy called Antony, written in 1590; and SAMUEL BRANDON produced, in 1598, a tame and feeble Roman play, Virtuous Octavia. ANTHONY MUNDAY-HENRY CHETTLE. In the throng of dramatic authors, the names of ANTHONY MUNDAY and HENRY CHETTLE frequently occur. Munday was an author as early as 1579, and he was concerned in fourteen plays. Francis Meres, in 1598, calls him the best plotter' among the writers for the stage. One of his dramas, Sir John Oldcastle, was written in conjunction with Michael Drayton and others, and was printed in 1600, with the name of Shakspeare on the titlepage! The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntington, printed in 1601, was a popular play by Munday, assisted by Chettle. The pranks of Robin Hood and Maid Marian in merry Sherwood are thus gaily set forth : Light. O speak no more, my lord! this breaks my Wind once more, jolly huntsmen, all your horns, heart. Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while. 1 Ilis keepers. Whose shrill sound, with the echoing woods' assist, Give me thy hand: now God's curse on me light, Chettle was engaged in no less than thirty-eight plays between the years 1597 and 1603, four of which have been printed. Mr Collier thinks he had written for the stage before 1592, when he published Greene's posthumous work, 'A Groat's Worth of Wit.' Among his plays, the names of which have descended to us, is one on the subject of Cardinal Wolsey, which probably was the original of Shakspeare's Henry VIII. The best drama of this prolific author which we now possess, is a comedy called Patient Grissell, taken from Boccaccio. The humble charms of the heroine are thus finely described : See where my Grissell and her father is, The names of Haughton, Antony Brewer, Porter, Smith, Hathaway (probably some relation of Shakspeare's wife), Wilson, &c., also occur as dramatic writers. From the diary of Henslowe, it appears that, between 1591 and 1597, upwards of a hundred different plays were performed by four of the ten or eleven theatrical companies which then existed. Henslowe was originally a pawnbroker, who advanced money and dresses to the players, and he ultimately possessed a large share of the wardrobe and properties of the playhouses with which he was concerned. The name of Shakspeare does not once occur in his diary. Several good dramas of this golden age have descended to us, the authors of which are unknown. A few of these possess merit enough to have been considered first sketches of Shakspeare, but this opinion has been gradually abandoned by all but one or two German critics. Most of them have been published in Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays. The best are, the Merry Devil of Edmonton,' the London Prodigal,' the Yorkshire Tragedy,' 'Lord Cromwell, the Birth of Merlin,' the Collier of Croydon,' 'Mucedorus,' Locrine,'' Arden of Feversham,' the 'Misfortunes of Arthur,' 'Edward III.,' &c. The most correct and regular of these anonymous dramas is 'Arden of Feversham,' a domestic tragedy, founded on a murder which took place in 1551. Alice, the wife of Arden, proves unfaithful, and joins with her paramour Mosbie, and some assassins, in murdering her husband. Tieck has translated this play into German, as a genuine production of Shakspeare, but the style is different. In the earliest acknowledged works of the Warwickshire bard, there is a play of wit, and of what Hallam calls analogical imagery,' which is not seen in 'Arden of Feversham,' though it exhibits a strong picture of the passions, and indicates freedom of versification and dramatic art. We subjoin one touching scene between Alice and her paramour-a scene of mutual recrimination, guilt, and tenderness : [Scene from Arden of Feversham.] ALICE ARDEN.-MOSBIE. Mos. How now, Alice? What! sad and passionate! Make me partaker of thy pensiveness; Fire divided burns with lesser force. Al. But I will dam that fire in my breast, Mos. Such deep pathaires, like to a cannon's burst, Al. It is not love that loves to murder love. Al. Thou know'st how dearly Arden loved me. Al. And then-conceal the rest, for 'tis too bad, Al. Ay, to my former happy life again; Ha, Mosbie ! 'tis thou hast rifled me of that, I was bewitcht; woe-worth the hapless hour Mos. Nay, if thou ban, let me breathe curses forth; I Al. Ay, now I see, and too soon find it true, Which often hath been told me by my friends, And hold no other sect but such devotion. Wilt thou not look? is all thy love o'erwhelm'd? Why speak'st thou not? what silence ties thy tongue? And heard as quickly as the fearful hare, And spoke as smoothly as an orator, When I have bid thee hear, or see, or speak : And art thou sensible in none of these? Weigh all thy good turns with this little fault, Mos. Ah, how you women can insinuate, 'Arden of Feversham' was first printed in 1592. The Yorkshire Tragedy,' another play of the same kind, but apparently more hastily written, was performed in 1604, and four years afterwards printed with Shakspeare's name. Both Dyce and Collier, able dramatic antiquaries and students, are inclined to the opinion, that this drama contains passages which only Shakspeare could have written. But in lines like the following-though smooth and natural, and quoted as the most Shakspearian in the play -we miss the music of the great dramatist's thoughts and numbers. It is, however, a forcible picture of a luckless, reckless gambler : What will become of us! All will away! Are these the virtues that his youth did promise? He sits and sullenly locks up his arms, Mliam Shakspeare [Copy of the Bust at Stratford.] with more variety of character and action, with deep passion, and true poetry. The latter, indeed, was tinged with incoherence and extravagance, but the sterling ore of genius was, in Marlow at least, abundant. Above all, they had familiarised the public ear to the use of blank verse. The last improvement was the greatest; for even the genius of Shakspeare would have been cramped and confined, if it had been condemned to move only in the fetters of rhyme. The quick interchange of dialogue, and the various nice shades and alternations of character and feeling, could not have been evolved in dramatic action, except in that admirable form of verse which unites rhythmical harmony with the utmost freedom, grace, and flexibility. When Shakspeare, therefore, appeared conspicuously on the horizon, the scene may be said to have been prepared for his reception. The Genius of the Drama had accumulated materials for the use of the great poet, who was to extend her empire over limits not yet recognised, and invest it with a splendour which the world had never seen before. The few incidents in Shakspeare's life are surrounded with doubt and fable. The fond idolatry with which he is now regarded, was only turned to his personal history at a late period, when little could Forgetting heaven, looks downward, which makes him be gathered even by the most enthusiastic collector. Appear so dreadful, that he frights my heart: Walks heavily, as if his soul were earth; Not penitent for those his sins are past, Our best facts are derived from legal documents. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE was born at Stratford-onAvon, in the county of Warwick, in April 1564. There |