Poetry and the drama

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P R IN T E D IN GHBAT BRITAIN

I N T R O D U C T I O N

C h r i s t o p h e r M a r l o w e , a C a n te rb u ry sh o em ak er’s son, was bo rn in th e sam e y e a r as S hakespeare, 1564, te n years a fte r J o h n L yly, seven a fte r K y d , six a fte r Peele, four a fte r G reene, a n d th re e before N ash. H e w as a t K in g ’s School, C an te rb u ry , a n d a t C orpus C hristi College, C am bridge; b u t we know n o th in g of him a t eith er place, e x c ep t t h a t he becam e B achelor of A rts in 15S3. I n th e te n years le ft to him of life he w ro te th e tw o p a rts of Tam burlaine the Great, Doctor F austus, The Jew of M alta, Edw ard the Second, The Massacre at P aris, Dido, Queen of Carthage, a n d m a y hav e h an d led an d p a r tly o r largely w ritte n m a n y o th e r plays, in c luding The True Tragedy, p rin te d in th is volum e, also th e first tw o cantos of “ H ero an d Leancler,” a lyric, an d a n o th e r lyric of w hich only a fra g m en t survives. P ro b a b ly a t C am bridge, o r d u rin g t h a t period, he tra n s la te d p a rts of O vid a n d of L ucan, a n d im m ed iately a fte r leaving C am bridge he m a y h av e gone to th e w ars in th e Low C ountries w here S idney died in 1586. C ertain i t is t h a t b y 1587 th e p la y of T am burlaine h a d been w ritte n and perform ed. Of his co ntem poraries L y ly h a j ; a lre ty ly 'w ritte n A lexander and Catnpaspe, Sapho, G alM h en f E n d im ty n . P eele’s A rra ig n ­ m ent of P a ris h ad ap p e ared a b o u t V581, w hen he w as of th e sam e age as th e M arlow e w ho - w rote T am burlaine.

G reene’s F riar Bacon h as been afco* a ttrib u te d to th e y e a r 1587, b u t 1591 is a m ore p ro b ab le d ate. T h e first E ng lish tra g e d y in b la n k verse an d of som ething like th e ty p e a fte rw a rd s to be established, th e Gorbuduc of N o rto n an d Sackville, h ad been perform ed as early as 156 1. I t lacked th e new life of th e R enaissance w hich h a d k indled i t as m uch as i t did th e old life of th e p a s t age a n d th e m iracle plays. I t w as w ritte n in b la n k verse of a lifeless re g u la rity an d m o n o to n y t h a t h as a slig h t ch a rm only occasionally, as in :—

Are they exiled o ut of our stony breasts Never to m ake retu rn ?

B y no exag g eratio n can i t be called a d ra m a tic poem a t all.

vii

v m M a rlo w e ’s Plays

The A rraignm ent of P a ris can be so called, b u t ra th e r because it is a d ra m a and is full of p o etry th a n because it is a poem in d ra m a tic form . T he w riter was b e n t chiefly upon his b eautiful verses, m a n y of th e m lyrical, w ith th e re su lt t h a t a series of e x tra c ts from th e p la y give a higher opinion of it th a n th e w hole can ever do. T he b la n k verse is silver sweet, b u t i t h as little v arie ty , and w ould be m ore p erfect in its own k in d had i t received th e grace of rhym e, as, for exam ple, in th is c h a racteristic passage from a speech b y P aris before th e Council of th e G ods:—

And for the one, contentm ent is m y w ealth;

A shell of salt will serve a shepherd swain, A slender banquet in a homely scrip.

And w ater running from the silver spring.

For arms, they dread no foes th a t sit so low;

A thorn can keep the wind from off m y back, A sheep-cote thatched a shepherd’s palace bight.

Of tragic Muses shepherds con no skill:

Enough is them, if Cupid be displeased, To sing his praise on slender oaten pipe.

T h e plays of L yly th a t preceded T am burlaine were all in prose: it w as n o t u n til he w rote The W om an in the Moone t h a t he used b la n k verse, and th a t was n o t before 159 1.

Tam burlaine was, in fac t, th e first n o ta b le E nglish poem In b la n k verse th a t was also essentially a play. The A rraignm ent could nev er h av e been a p o p u la r e n te rta in ­ m e n t; i t could be im ita te d , it could be excelled, b u t it did now show th e w ay to a n y dev elo p m en t of th e d r a m a ; i t co n tain e d no seeds of g ro w th ; in actio n alone i t was n a u g h t. B u t Tam burlaine w as all a c tio n ; it could only reach its h ig h e st form of life w ith th e aid of actors and a sta g e ; and, m oreover, i t w as w ritte n in b la n k verse, and for th e first tim e p roved th a t verse to be well su ited to n a tu ra l dialogue; i t w as p le a sa n t to th e ear and capable a t once of g re a t b e a u ty an d of as d irec t an app eal even to th e u n tu to re d ear as prose. I t was in th e v e ry y e a r of its ap p e aran c e abused as th e w ork of one of th e " id io t a r t m a ste rs who in tru d e them selves to ou r ears as th e alchy- m ists of eloquence, w ho (m o u n te d o n th e sta g e of arrogance) th in k to o u tb ra v e b e tte r pens b y th e swelling b o m b a st of b ra g g a rt b la n k verse.” As th e persons of th e p la y included an em peror a n d em press, a soldan a n d five kings, besides T a m b u rla in e him self, w ho drove a coach and kings, a

" g re a t a n d th u n d e rin g speech ” a n d " high asto u n d in g te rm s ” w ere in place. B u t it'w a s o u t of no sense of its

Introduction ix

d ram a tic fitness th a t M arlowe p u t th is trem en d o u s E nglish m usic in to th e m o u th s of kings, n or is it for a n y su ch reason th a t, d espite th e ridicule of N ash and Jo n so n a n d L am b, we re a d i t still. W e read it, I th in k , because i t has a rich ­ ness an d a speed w hich are th e ad m irab le expression of som ething sw ift an d aspiring in th e s p irit of th e w riter him self, of M arlow e in his first y o u th . W e th in k , n o t of th e bloody conqueror, b u t of th e y o u th fu l poet, w hen we r e a d :—

Zenocrate, lovelier th a n the love of Jove, Brighter than is the silver Rhodope, F airer than w hitest snow on S cythian hills,—

and th e w hole of t h a t speech. I t w as M arlow e who could n o t sp e ak of a b u rd e n b u t as—

Of such a burthen as outweighs the sands And all the craggy rocks of Caspia.

I t was c e rtain ly M arlow e an d n o t T am b u rla in e w ho spoke th e w o rd s:—

N ature th a t framed us of four elements, W arring w ithin our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds . . th o u g h it was T am b u rla in e t h a t a d d e d —

The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.

So d elighted is M arlow e in th is new -found m eans of expressing his b u rn in g th o u g h t— a m eans of expression as d irec t an d w orshipful as th e sm ile of love, th e dance, th e nakedness of b ea u ty , th e ru n n in g of ath letes— t h a t it is a m a tte r for am azem en t t h a t he should dro p in to prose as he does in th e fo u rth scene of th e fo u rth ac t, an d th e second scene of th e fifth. As an ex h ib itio n of h u m a n energy, b e a u tifu l a n d sw ift, T am burlaine can n ever cease to please.

T h e tw o p a rts of Tam burlaine p roved t h a t M arlowe was a g re a t poet, a g re a t m a ste r of th e m usic an d m agic of w ords. H e had, we can well believe, done no violence to his p o e try in com posing th is prodigious sp ectacle; it expressed th e m elody an d th e h u n d red im ages t h a t were in his m ind, an d a t th e sam e tim e he h ad p rese n ted a w hole w hich was easily understood. H is exam ple, con­

tin u e d u n til his d e a th in 1593, could n o t b u t com pel th e E nglish d ra m a in to a new a n d p e rm a n e n t course. H is verse could n o t rem ain w ith o u t im ita to rs of its sound an d form . T h e a b u n d a n t lu x u ria n ce of im agery was equally

* 3 8 3

X M a rlo w e ’s Plays

effective. H a d Spenser a n d S idney been m ore n ea rly con­

te m p o ra ry w ith Marlowe, i t is h ard ly credible b u t th a t even th e y would; h a v e -written plays as th e a u th o r of V enus and A d o n is a fte rw a rd s did, fo r i t w as now clear t h a t a m a n m ig h t be an e x u b e ra n t p o e t an d a p la y w rig h t a t once;—

n o t m erely a lo fty p o e t as was S ophocles; for th e re w as no k in d of p o e try w hich need be excluded from d ra m a of th is kin d . I t was Marlowe, in sh o rt, w ho m ad e i t c e rta in t h a t th e E ng lish d ra m a w as to be of t h a t gorgeous te x tu re w hich we now see i t to be. W ith th is g re a t good w en t som e harm , an d chiefly th e aw ful exam ple of p u ttin g a n y m a tte r w h atso ev er in to verse, his prose being, so fa r as can be seen, in tro d u c ed n o t as a p p ro p ria te b u t as necessary to b re a k th e m o n o to n y ; an d of m ak in g dialogue falsely p o etical b y p u ttin g , for exam ple, in to th e m o u th of T am b u rla in e such a com parison as—

Like to an alm ond tree y-m ounted high. . . .

M arlow e chose T a m b u rla in e an d th e kings as he chose w ords a n d im ages an d cadences, because th e y w ere m agnifi­

ce n t, an d because th e ir v io le n t passions an d prodigious a c ts satisfied his need of m agnificence. B u t th e life and d e a th of T a m b u rla in e w as fa r from being an ad e q u a te th em e. T h e tw o p la y s w ere a fre ak of th e infinite crude a m b itio n of th is yo u n g m a n of K e n t in th e m arvellous c o m p a n y of yo u n g cou n try m en , w ild, poor, laborious, who loved so well th e sm all com prehensible E n g la n d of th is d a y . T h e p la y s w ere a tour de force. M arlow e cared n o th in g fo r em perors e x c ep t for th e ir clothes an d ca v a l­

cad es an d for th e pin n acle from w hich th e y w ould fall. W e see him p o uring o u t his p o e try alm o st regardless of his c h a racters. T h a t th e a u th o r of “ Come live w ith m e and be m y love ” was a g re a t lyric p o e t th e re can b e no d o u b t, b u t his ly ric g ift w as so well satisfied w ith its o p p o rtu n ities in th e p lay s t h a t th is poem is th e only com plete a n d se p a ra te lyric of his w hich we possess. T h e p o e try was th e th in g . I t w ould o u t; a n d w ith all resp e ct for Tam burlaine, no one can rea d it w ith o u t w ishing t h a t M arlow e h a d been ab le to give u p one of th e tw o p a rts for a n a rra tiv e .

In a life so brief and full an d fiery as M arlow e’s th e re are c e rta in to be m a n y losses w hich i t is only m o rta l to im agine a n d th e n regret, a n d th e g re a te st-re g re t is n o t t h a t he did n o t com plete The Je w of M alta as he b egan it, b u t t h a t he

Introduction xi

a tte m p te d only one n a rra tiv e poem a n d le ft t h a t half u n ­ to ld . O ur lite ra tu re is n o t poor in n a rra tiv e p o e try on a large scale. In th e first ra n k we hav e C haucer, S hakespeare, Coleridge, Shelley, K eats, an d th e a u th o r of T ristram of Lyonesse; in th e second, D ryden, ByTon, Crabbe, S c o tt, an d M orris— to m e n tio n a few. B u t “ H ero a n d L ea n d er ” is th e h alf of a poem th a t w ould hav e been unsurpassed, a n d equalled b y " L a m ia ’’— an d b y how few o th e rs! T he versification is su p erb in its m assiveness, delicacy, an d d iv ersity . F o r a p eer in p ictorial effect i t h a d to w a it over tw o h u n d red years, a n d it passes from p ic tu re to action an d dialogue w ith p erfec t fitness an d ease. I t com bines a classic clearness w ith th e r a p tu re of rom ance, as if a G recian s ta tu e h a d b re a th e d to speak its welcom e to th e R enaissance, o r w ere a b o u t to do so ; b u t M arlow e died an d C hapm an knew n o t th e in c a n ta tio n .

I n th e legend of Doctor F austus th e p o e t h a d a p erfec t su b je c t— th e s tu d e n t " b o m of p a re n ts base of sto c k ,”

who h oped b y m agic to encom pass A world of profit and delight, Of power, of honour and omnipotence—

to gain pearls an d gold a n d “ p le a sa n t fru its a n d princely d elicates,” “ stra n g e p hilosophy,” an d th e secrets a n d arm ies of kings. I n to th is su b je c t M arlowe could w ith o u t h esita tio n or obstacle p u t th e w hole of him self, his in te l­

le ctu a l s u b tle ty a n d experience, his love of b e a u ty , of pow er, an d of lu x u ry . H e used th e legend w ith only ju s t so m u ch of th e p a ra p h e rn a lia of th e su p e rn a tu ra l as w as easily an d alm o st u n iv ersally credible in his d a y ; a n d he m ade F a u s tu s a h u m a n , in d iv id u al s tu d e n t of t h a t age, w ith a sh ad e of r u s tic ity — one c a n im agine him w ith a n ac ce n t as p ro b ab ly M arlowe h a d th e ac ce n t of K e n t— w hich ad d s to th e in te n se re a lity of th e whole, to th e b e a u ty an d d alliance of th e ce n tral p a rt, th e kissing of H elen, th e sn a tc h in g of th e p ope’s dish, a n d to th e te rrib le sp len d o u r of th e end. H is m ig h ty line— m ig h ty in its ih o v e m en t as in its c o n te n t— w as a t its p ro p er ta s k in expressing th o se “ b ra v e tra n s lu n a ry th in g s .’’ E x clu d in g th e prose buffoonery w hich is unlikely to h av e been his, th e play h as th e sim plicity of a lyric. I t is sm all w onder t h a t G oethe should sa y how g re a tly i t w as all p lanned, a n d t h a t Mr. S w inburne should call its a u th o r th e first g re a t E n g lish

xii M a rlo w e ’s Plays

poet, seeing w ith w h a t fitness th e exqu isite p a rts are su b o rd in ate to a noble whole.

I f in T am burlaine th e yo u n g M arlowe expressed his n a tu re , so ard e n t, so luxurious, so volatile, a g a in st odds, an d in F ausius w ith a p erfec t h arm o n y betw een th e su b je c t an d w h a t we m a y surm ise of him self, in E dw ard the Second th e sam e n a tu re found a n o u tle t w hile a t th e sam e tim e cre atin g a w orld outsid e itself. E d w ard th e Second is n o t M arlowe as T am b u rla in e w as a n d as F a u s tu s was, y e t we h a v e in his speeches n o t solely th e trag ic p leasure of w a tc h ­ ing him enjoying, struggling, sinking, to th e end, b u t also t h a t o th e r p leasure of feeling t h a t th e m a k er of th is vivid w orld is M arlow e him self, an d t h a t i t is, therefore, w h a t it is an d n o t a n o th e r w orld. H e re as in Faustus, th e soaring vein of th e p o e t plunges w ith equal speed to agony. T h a t a king spoke M arlow e’s w ords in Tam burlaine w as no a d ­ v a n ta g e ; b u t in Edw ard the Second th e king ad d s a precious colour to th e can v as— a k ing in w hom he show s th a t th e woe of th e R enaissance equalled its joy. In th e c h a ra c te r of E d w a rd he a n tic ip a te s all S h ak esp ea re’s sense of th e tra g e d y of princes, a sense w hich m u s t h av e been quickened in S hakespeare if he re a lly collaborated w ith M arlow e in The True Tragedy. H ere M arlow e’s alm o st hectic love of loveliness— his ch a ra c te ristic w ord is “ lovely,” I th in k — is m o st finely expressed; here, too, his love of lux u ry , as in —

Music and poetry are 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 nym phs m y pages shall be clad;

My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall w ith their goat-feet dance the antic hay.

Sometimes a lovely boy in D ian’s shape, W ith hair th a t gilds the w ater as it glides. . . .

H ere his fancy is p u t to its a p t d ra m a tic use as in th a l speech of th e m ournful E d w a rd —

My h eart is as an anvil unto sorrow,

Which beats upon it like the Cyclops’ hammers, And with the noise turns up m v giddy brain, And makes me frantic for m y Gaveston.

H ere his ten d ern ess a n d sense of fa te are m o st pow erful, w h eth e r in th e g re a t passages or in th e lesser, as w hen th e Q ueen says a t a to u c h of courage in h er child—

Ah, boy! this towardness makes th y m other fear Thou a rt not m arked to m any days on earth.

Introduction xiii

H ere is his su m p tu o u s diction a t its h eig h t as w hen he p u ts in to young M ortim er’s m o u th th e sim ple sta te m e n t—

This tottered ensign of m y ancestors

Which swept the desert shore by th a t dead sea Whereof we got the name of Mortimer Will

1

advance upon this castle’s walls.

H ere his b la n k verse, th o u g h alm o st un co n tro llab ly sw eet an d sw ift, h as gained in force an d v a rie ty and, alw ays d elightful in itself, is y e t equal to all th e occasions of a tragedy.

I n none of th e o th e r plays hav e all of M arlow e’s powers com bined so h ap p ily to one g re a t end. H e was hurried, as in th e la te r p a r t of The Jew of M alta ; he was h andling only a co n tem p o rary su b ject, an d th a t m ore o r less in th e m an n er of a chronicle play, as in The M assacre at P a ris ; or he h a d a n in tra c ta b le subject, as in Dido, Queen of Carthage. B u t in all he b ro u g h t an in ten se p oetic n a tu re to b ea r upon h u m a n action an d ch a racter, and, especially in Dido, enjoyed to th e full th e m a n y o p p o rtu n ities of expressing lu x u ry an d b a rb a ric sim plicity of love an d h a te . No o th e r po et w ould hav e m ad e /E neas say, w hen he fears th e farew ell to his q ueen—

Her silver arms will coil me round about And tears of pearl cry: “ Stay, /Eneas, stay .”

N o o th e r w ould h av e m ad e th e queen say, w hen she suspects th e T ro jan s of stealing aw ay—

I would have given Achates store of gold And llioneus gum and Libyan spice;

The common soldiers rich embroidered coats, And silver whistles to control the winds, W hich Circe sent Sichreus when he lived—

or hav e m ade h er beg her sister to m o u n t .¿Eneas on her je n n e t th a t he m ig h t ride as h er h u sb a n d th ro u g h th e stre e ts while she goes u p in to a tu r r e t from w hich to gaze on him.

Of th e m a n y plays d o u b tfu lly or in p a r t a ttr ib u te d to M arlowe The True Tragedy is p rin te d here. I t is th o u g h t b y som e th a t Shakespeare, Greene, a n d Peele h ad also a h a n d in it, an d th a t S hakespeare used only his own sh a re in th e th ird p a r t of K in g H enry V I., in to w hich it developed. Miss E liz a b e th Lee, on th e o th e r han d , th in k s th a t M arlow e and G reene, aided p erhaps b y Peele, w rote

th is p la y an d its com panion, Contention, a n d t h a t i t w as w ith M arlow e’s help t h a t S hakespeare co n v erted th e m in to th e second a n d th ir d p a r ts of K in g H enry V I. To M arlow e she a ttrib u te s , an d v ery n a tu ra lly , th e ch a racters of K ing H en ry , of Y ork, of R ic h a rd of G loucester, an d of M a rg a re t of A njou. The T rue Tragedy w as n o t published u n til 1595, b u t i t m u s t h av e preceded H enry V I., an d th ere is som e evidence t h a t t h a t p la y was w ritte n before 1592.

I t w as p resu m a b ly because S hakespeare in co rp o rated som ething from G reene’s co n trib u tio n w hen he developed The T rue Tragedy in to th e th ird p a r t of H enry V I., th a t G reene called him an " u p s ta r t crow ,” in A Groatsworth of W it. T h e versification convinces m a n y t h a t a large p a r t of The True Tragedy w as b y Marlowe, th o u g h i t c a n n o t be to o carefully considered how easy i t w ould h av e been for o th e r m en, especially G reene a n d P eele a n d S hakespeare, w ho w ere fam iliar— as w ho w ere n o t? — w ith M arlow e’s style, to w rite like him , an d still m ore so if he were col­

la b o ra tin g w ith th e m ; an d i t is th erefo re unsafe to argue for M arlow e's o r a g a in st S hakespeare’s au th o rsh ip on th e ground of th e absence— t h a t is to say, th e sc a rc ity — of rhym es. N e ith e r The T rue Tragedy no r th e th ird p a r t of H enry V I . could, if en tirely b y Marlowe, a d d to his r e p u ta tio n e x c ep t for p ro d u c tiv ity , th o u g h passages like th e following, w h eth e r b y S hakespeare o r b y him , are in th e vein of Edw ard the Second—

How couldst thou draine the life bloode of the childe, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,

And yet be seene to bear a woman’s face?

Women are mild, pitiful, and flexible, T hou indurate, sternc, rough, remorseless.

Bidst thou m e rage? why now thou hast th y will.

W ouldst have me weep? why so, thou hast th y wish.

For raging words blowe up a storm of tears, And when the rage allays the rain begins.

Those tears are m y sweet R u tlan d ’s obsequies, And every drop begs vengeance as it falls,

On thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchw om an . . . Keep thou the napkin and go boast of th at,

And if thou tell the heavy story well, U pon m y soul the heavens shall shed tears, I, even m y foes will shed fast falling tears, And say, alas, it was a piteous deed.

I t should b e noticed in th is p la y how th e division in to lines h as been co rru p ted , first, b y th e p rin te r’s necessity, and second, b y h is stu p id ity . F o r exam ple, w hen a line is o v er­

x iv M a rlo w e ’s Plays

long th e excessive w ord is carried on as if i t belonged to th e n e x t: th u s " b ootie ” is carried on in —

So trium phs theeves upon their conquered B ootie: so true men yield by robbers overmatcht.

I n t h a t w ay m a n y of th e eccentric " verses ” in B lak e’s p ro p h etic books w ere created . Of th e second k in d of c o rru p tio n th e following speech b y th e Q ueen is an e x a m p le :—

H ad I been there, the soldiers would have tost Me on their lances’ points

1

before I would have G ranted to their wills. | The Duke is made Protector of the land: | sterne Fawconbridge Commands the narrow seas. | And thinkest thou then To sleep secure? | I heer divorce me Henry

From thy bed, | untill th a t Act of Parliam ent

Be recalde, | wherein thou yieldest to the house of Yorke.

A n am ended division of th e verses h as been suggested by th e perp en d icu lar lines added in th is q u o ta tio n . In sp eak ­ ing th e hu n d red s of o th e r m isp rin ted lines th e so und will easily guide th e rea d er to som ething like th e a rra n g e m e n t w hich th e p rin te r has co rru p ted .

1909. E D W A R D THOM AS.

The following is a list of his published w o rk s:—

Tam burlaine. In two parts, 1587; first published, 1590; The Tragical H istory of Doctor F austus, probably w ritten soon after the above play; entered on the Stationers’ Books, 1600-1; earliest known edition, 1604; The Jew of Malta, exact date of composition uncertain; acted, 1591-2; Edw ard II., entered on the Stationers’ Books, 1593; The Massacre a t Paris, acted 1592-3; The Tragedy of Dido (in collabora­

tion with Thomas Nash), published 1594; Hero and Leander, 1598 (the poem was completed by George C hapm an); Translation of Ovid's Elegies, earliest editions u n dated; F irst book of Lucan’s Pharsalia, e x ta n t early edition, 1600; Lyric, “ Come live with me and be my love,” printed (imperfectly) in The Passionate Pilgrim, 1599; com­

plete in England’s Helicon, 1600; A nother poem is given in England's Parnassus, 1600. Plays in which Marlowe’s collaboration is a m atter of discussion are: Tam ing of a Shrew (1594); T itus Andronicus, the old King John, and the three parts of H enry VI.

W o r k s .— W ith Life b y G. Robinson, 1826; with some account of life and writings, by A. Dyce, 1850, 1858; by Lt.-Col. F. Cunningham, with preface, 1870, 1871; by A. H. Bullen, with introductory account of life and works, 1885; Plays and Poems (Newnes), 1905; New Universal Library, 1906.

Selections.— Poems, ed. by R. Bell, 1856; Bohn, 1876; Five plays by Havelock Ellis, with introduction on the D ram a by J. A. Symonds (Mermaid Series), 1S87,1903; C anterbury Poets, 1885. Several editions of separate plays.

L i f e .— F. G. Lewis: Christopher Marlowe, His Life and Works, Lecture, 1890; J . H . Ingram : Christopher Marlowe and his Associates, 1904; see also introductions to above editions, and D r. A. W. W ard’s introduction to his edition of Faustus.

Introduction xv

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T h e F i r s t P a r t o f T a m b u r l a i n f . t h e G r e a t . . .

FACE I T h e S e c o n d P a r t o f T a m b u r l a i n e t h e G r e a t . 60 T h e T r a g i c a l H i s t o r y o f D o c t o r F a u s t u s : F r o m

Q u a r t o o f 1604 . . . .

THE 120

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E d w a r d t h e S e c o n d . . . ^{22 J}

T h e M a s s a c r e a t P a r i s . . . 2 9 5

Th e Tr a g e d y o f Di d o, Qu e e n o f Ca r t h a g e

330

H e r o a n d L e a n d e r . B y C h r i s t o p h e r M a r l o w e a n d G e o r g e

C h a p m a n . . . 3 7 4

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Qu æ s t o r i i Re g i n a l i s Ca p i t a l i s Ba r o n i s 436

D i a l o g u e i n V e r s e . . . . 4 3 7

Th e Tr u e Tr a g é d i e o f Ri c h a r d Du k e o f Yo r k s . 4 4 1

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M A R L O W E ’S P L A Y S

THE FIRST PART OF

T AMB U R L A I NE T H E GREAT

D R A M A T IS M y c e t e s , K in g of Persia.

C o s r o e , his brother.

M e a n d e r , 1 T h e r i d a m a s , I

O r t y g i u s , > P ersian lords.

C e n e u s , ( Me n a p h o n, j

T a m b u r l a i n e , a Scythian shep­

herd.

T e c k f . i . l k s , I , . , „ U s u m c a s a n e , j hts foUowers.

B a j a z e t h , Em peror of the T u rks.

K i n g o p F e z . Ki n g o f Mo r o c c o. Ki n g o p Ar c i e r.

P E R S O N ® Ki n g o f Ar a b i a. So l d a n o f Eg y p t. Go v e r n o r o f Da m a s c u s. A C YD AS, 1

M a g n e t e s , j M ed ia n lords.

C a p o l i n , an E gyptian.

P i i i l k m u s , B a s s o e s . L o r d s , C i t i ­ z e n s , M o o r s , S o l d i e r s , and A t t e n d a n t s .

Z e n o c r a t k , daughter to the Soldan

° t Egypt.

A n i p p e , her m aid.

Z a b i n a , w ife toB a j a z e t h . E b e a , her m aid.

Vi r g i n s o f Da m a s c u s.

T H E PR O L O G U E Fr o m j i g g i n g v e i n s o f r h y m i n g m o t h e r - w i t s , And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, W e’ll lead you to th e sta te ly te n t of war, W here you shall hear th e S cythian T am burlaine T hreatening th e w orld w ith high astounding term s, And scourging kingdom s w ith his conquering sword- View b u t his p icture in this tragic glass,

And th e n ap p lau d his fortunes as you please,

2 M a rlo w e ’s Plays

ACT I

S C E N E I

Enter My c e t e s, Co s r o e, Me a n d e r, Th e r i d a m a s, Or t y g i u s, Ce n e u s, Me n a p h o n, with others, M yc. B ro th er Cosroe, I find m yself a griev’d ;

Y et insufficient to express th e same,

F o r it requires a g rea t an d thundering speech:

Good b ro th er, tell the cause u n to m y lo rd s;

I know you have a b e tte r w it th a n I.

Cos. U n h ap p y P ersia,— th a t in form er age H a st been th e se at of m ighty conquerors, T h a t, in th e ir prowess and th eir policies, H ave triu m p h ’d over Afric, and th e bounds Of E urope where the sun dares scarce appear F or freezing m eteors an d congealed cold,—

Now to be ru l’d an d govern’d by a m an A t whose b irth d a y C ynthia w ith S a tu rn join’d, And Jove, th e Sun, and M ercury denied To shed th e ir influence in his fickle brain 1

Now T urks and T a rta rs shake th e ir swords a t thee, M eaning to m angle all th y provinces.

M yc. B ro th er, I see your m eaning well enough, And th ro u g h your planets I perceive you th in k I am n o t wise enough to be a k in g :

B u t I refer me to m y noblem en,

T h a t know m y w it, an d can be witnesses.

I m ight com m and you to be slain for this,—

M eander, m ight I n o t?

M ean. N o t for so sm all a fault, m y sovereign lord.

M yc. I m ean it n o t, b u t y e t I know I m ight—

Y et live; yea, liv e ; Mycetes wills it so.—

M eander, tho u , m y faithful counsellor, Declare th e cause of m y conceived grief, W hich is, God knows, ab o u t th a t T am burlaine, T h a t, like a fox in m idst of harvest-tim e, D o th prey upon m y flocks of passengers;

A nd, as I hear, d o th m ean to pull m y plum es:

Therefore 'tis good an d m eet for to be wise.

M ean. O ft have I h eard your m ajesty com plain Of T am burlaine, th a t stu rd y S cythian thief,

T am bu rlain e the G reat

T h a t robs your m erchants of Persepolis T rading by land u n to th e W estern Isles, And in your confines w ith his lawless tra in Daily com m its incivil outrages,

H oping (misled by dream ing prophecies) To reign in Asia, and w ith barbarous arm s To m ake him self th e m onarch of the E a s t:

B u t, ere he m arch in Asia, or display His v ag ra n t ensign in th e P ersian fields, Y our grace h a th ta k e n order by Theridam as.

Charg’d w ith a th ousand horse, to apprehend And bring him captive to your highness’ throne.

M yc. F ull tru e th o u speak’st, an d like thyself, m y lord, W hom I m ay term a D am on for th y lo v e :

Therefore ’tis best, if so it like you all, To send m y th ousand horse incontinent To apprehend th a t p a ltry Scythian.

How like you this, m y honourable lords?

Is it n o t a kingly resolution?

Cos. I t cannot choose, because it comes from you, M yc. T hen hear th y charge, v alian t T heridam as,

The chiefest captain of M ycetes’ host, The hope of P ersia, and th e very legs W hereon our sta te d o th lean as on a staff, T h a t holds us u p and foils our neighbour foes:

Thou sh a h be leader of this th ousand horse, W hose foaming gall w ith rage and high disdain H ave sworn th e d ea th of wicked T am burlaine.

Go frowning fo rth ; b u t come th o u smiling home, As did Sir P aris w ith th e G recian dam e:

R e tu rn w ith speed; tim e passeth sw ift aw ay;

O ur life is frail, and we m ay die to-day.

Thcr. Before th e moon renew her borrow ’d light, D oubt n ot, m y lord and gracious sovereign, B u t T am burlaine and th a t T a rta ria n ro u t Shall either perish by our w arlike hands, Or plead for m ercy a t your highness’ feet.

M yc. Go, s to u t T h erid a m as; th y w ords are swords, And w ith th y looks th o u conquerest all th y foes.

I long to see thee back re tu rn from hence, T h a t I m ay view these m ilk-w hite steeds of mine All loaden w ith th e heads of killed men,

A nd, from th e ir knees even to th e ir hoofs below,

4 M a rlo w e's Plays

B esm ear’d w ith blood th a t m akes a d ain ty show, Ther. T hen now, m y lord, I hum bly tak e m y leave.

M yc. T heridam as, farewell te n thousand tim es.

[E xit Theridamas.

Ah, M enaphon, w hy s ta y ’s t th o u th u s behind, W hen o ther m en press forw ard for renow n?

Go, M enaphon, go into S cythia, And foot by foot follow T heridam as.

Cos. N ay, p ray you, le t him s ta y ; a g rea ter [task]

F its M enaphon th a n w arring w ith a th ie f : C reate him pro-rex of all Africa,

T h a t he m ay win th e B abylonians’ h ea rts, W hich will rev o lt from P ersian governm ent.

Unless th e y have a wiser king th a n you.

M yc. U nless th e y have a wiser king th a n you 1 These are his w ords; M eander, set th e m down, Cos. A nd add this to them ,— th a t all Asia

L am en t to see th e folly of th e ir king.

M yc. W ell, here I swear by th is m y royal se at—

Cos. Y ou m ay do well to kiss it, then.

M yc. E m boss’d w ith silk as b est beseems m y sta te , To be reveng’d for these contem ptuous w ords 1 0 w here is d u ty and allegiance now ?

F led to th e Caspian or th e Ocean m ain ? W h a t shall I call th e e ? b ro th er? no, a foe;

M onster of n a tu re , sham e u n to th y stock,

T h a t d a r’s t presum e th y sovereign for to m ock I—

M eander, com e: I am ab u s’d, M eander.

[Exeunt all except Cosroe and M enaphon, M en. How now, m y lord 1 w h at, m ated an d am az’d

To hear th e king th u s th re a te n like him self 1 Cos. A h, M enaphon, I pass n o t for his th re a ts 1

The p lo t is laid by P ersian noblem en A nd captains of th e M edian garrisons To crow n me em peror of A sia:

B u t this it is th a t d o th excruciate T he v ery substance of m y vexed soul,

T o see our neighbours, th a t were w ont to quake A nd trem ble a t th e P ersian m onarch’s nam e, Now sit and laugh our regim ent to sc o rn ; And th a t which m ight resolve me into tears, Men from th e fa rth e st equinoctial line

H ave sw arm ’d in troops into th e E a ste rn In d ia,

T am b u rlain e the G reat 5

L ading th e ir ships w ith gold and preeious stones, And m ade th e ir spoils from all our provinces.

M en. This should e n tre a t your highness to rejoice, Since F o rtu n e gives you o p p o rtu n ity

To gain th e title of a conqueror By curing of th is m aim ed em pery.

Afric and E urope bordering on your land, And co n tin en t to your dom inions, H ow easily m ay you, w ith a m ighty host, Pass into G ra cia, as did Cyrus once,

A nd cause them to w ithdraw th eir forces home, L est you subdue th e pride of C hristendom !

[.Trum pet w ithin.

Cos. B u t, M enaphon, w h a t m eans th is tru m p e t’s sound ? M en. Behold, m y lord, O rtygius and th e rest

Bringing th e crown to m ake you em p ero r!

Re-enter Or t y g i u s and Ce n e u s, with others, bearing a crown.

Oriy. M agnificent and m ighty prince Cosroe, We, in th e nam e of o ther P ersian sta te s And com m ons of this m ighty m onarchy, P resen t thee w ith t h ’ im perial diadem . Ceii. The warlike soldiers an d th e gentlem en,

T h a t heretofore have fill’d Persepolis W ith Afric ca p ta in s ta k e n in the field,

W hose ransom m ade th e m m arch in coats of gold, W ith costly jewels hanging a t th e ir ears,

And shining stones upon th e ir lo fty crests, Now living idle in th e walled towns, W anting b o th pay and m a rtial discipline, Begin in troops to th re a te n civil w ar, And openly exclaim ag a in st th e ir kings:

Therefore, to sta y all sudden m utinies, We will invest your highness em peror;

W h ereat th e soldiers will conceive more joy T h an did th e M acedonians a t th e spoil Of g re a t D arius a n d his w ealthy host.

Cos. W ell, since I see th e sta te of P ersia droop And languish in m y b ro th er’s governm ent, I willingly receive t h ’ im perial crown, And vow to wear, it for m y c o u n try ’s good, In spite of them shall malice m y estate.

Oriy. And, in assurance of desir’d success,

6 M a rlo w e ’s Plays

We here do crown thee m onarch of th e E ast;

E m peror of Asia and P ersia;

G reat lord of Media and A rm enia;

D uke of Africa and A lbania, M esopotam ia and of P arth ia ,

E a st In d ia an d th e late-discover’d isles;

Chief lord of all th e wide v a s t E uxine S e a ; And of th e ever-raging Caspian Lake.

All. Long live Cosroe, m ighty em peror 1 Cos. And Jove m ay never le t me longer live

T han I m ay seek to gratify your love, And cause the soldiers th a t th u s honour me To triu m p h over m any provinces!

By whose desires of discipline in arm s I "doubt n o t shortly b u t to reign sole king.

And w ith the arm y of Theridam as (W hither we presently will fly, m y lords,) To rest secure ag ain st m y b ro th e r’s force.

Orly. We knew , m y lord, before we b ro u g h t th e crown, Inten d in g your investion so near

The residence of your despised brother, The lords would n o t be too exasperate To in ju ry or suppress your w orthy title ; Or, if th e y would, th e re are in readiness Ten thousand horse to carry you from hence, In spite of all suspected enemies.

Cos. I know it well, m y lord, and th a n k you all.

Orly. Sound up th e tru m p ets, then.

[:Trum pets sounded.

All. God save th e k in g ! [Exeunt.

SCEN E I I

Enter Ta m b u r l a i n e leading Ze n o c r a t e, Te c h e l l e s, Usum-

c a s a n e, Ag y d a s, Ma g n e t e s, Lords, and Soldiers loadcn with treasure.

Tamb. Come, lady, le t n o t this appal your th o u g h ts;

The jewels and th e treasure we have t a ’en Shall be reserv’d, and you in b e tte r sta te T han if you were a rriv ’d in Syria, Even in the circle of your fa th e r’s arm s, The m ighty Soldan of A igyptia.

Zeno. Ah, shepherd, p ity m y distressed plig h t 1

T am bu rlain e the G reat

(If, as th o u seem’st, thou a r t so m ean a m an,) And seek n o t to enrich th y followers

By lawless rapine from a silly m aid, W ho, travelling w ith these Median lords To Memphis, from m y uncle’s country of Media, W here, all m y you th , I have been governed, H ave pass’d the arm y of th e m ighty T urk, Bearing his privy-signet and his hand To safe conduct as thorough Africa.

M ag. And, since we have arrived in S cythia, Besides rich presents from the puissant Cham, We have his highness’ letters to com m and Aid and assistance, if we stan d in need.

Tamb. B u t now you see these letters and com m ands Are counterm anded by a greater m an ;

And through m y provinces you m u st expect L etters of conduct from m y m ightiness, If you intend to keep your treasure safe, B u t, since I love to live a t liberty As easily m ay you g e t th e Soldan’s crown As any prizes o u t of m y precinct;

F or they are friends th a t help to wean m y sta te Till men and kingdom s help to strengthen it

And m u st m aintain m y life exem pt from servitude—

B u t, tell me, m adam , is your grace b e tro th ’d ? Zeno. I am, m y lord,— for so you do im port.

Tamb. I am a lord, for so m y deeds shall prove;

And y e t a shepherd by m y parentage.

B u t, lady, this fair face and heavenly hue M ust grace his bed th a t conquers Asia, And m eans to be a te rro r to th e world, M easuring th e lim its of his em pery

By east and w est, as Phoebus d o th his course—

Lie here, ye weeds, th a t I disdain to w ear 1 This com plete arm our and this curtle-axe Are ad ju n cts more beseeming T am burlaine.—

A nd, m adam , w hatsoever you esteem Of this success, and loss unvalued, B o th m ay invest you em press of th e E a s t;

And these th a t seem b u t silly country swains May have th e leading of so great an host

As w ith th e ir w eight shall m ake th e m ountains quake, E ven as when w indy exhalations,

8 M a rlo w e ’s Plays

F ighting for passage, tilt w ithin th e earth.

Tech. As princely lions, when th e y rouse them selves, S tretching th eir paws, and threaten in g herds of beasts, So in his arm our looketh T am burlaine.

M ethinks I see kings kneeling a t his feet, And he w ith frowning brows and fiery looks Spurning th e ir crowns from off th e ir captive heads.

U sum. And m aking th ee an d me, Techelles, kings, T h a t even to d e a th will follow T am burlaine.

Tamb. N obly resolv’d, sw eet friends and followers 1 These lords perhaps do scorn our estim ates, A nd th in k we p ra ttle w ith distem per’d spirits:

B u t, since they m easure our deserts so m ean, T h a t in conceit b ear em pires on our spears, Affecting th o u g h ts coequal w ith th e clouds, T hey shall be k e p t our forced followers Till w ith th eir eyes th e y view us em perors.

Zeno. The gods, defenders of the innocent, Will never prosper your intended drifts, T h a t th u s oppress poor friendless passengers.

Therefore a t least a d m it us liberty, E ven as th o u h o p ’s t to be eternised By living Asia’s m ight)’ em peror.

Agyd. I hope our la d y ’s treasure and our own M ay serve for ransom to our liberties:

R e tu rn our m ules and em pty camels back, T h a t we m ay travel in to Syria,

W here her b e tro th e d lord, Alcidamus, E xpects th e arrival of her highness’ person.

M ag. And wheresoever we repose ourselves, We will re p o rt b u t well of Tam burlaine.

Tamb. D isdains Zenocrate to live w ith me ? Or you, m y lord, to be m y followers?

Think you I weigh this treasure more th a n you?

N o t all th e gold in In d ia ’s w ealthy arm s Shall buy th e m eanest soldier in m y train . Zenocrate, lovelier th a n the love of Jove, B righter th a n is th e silver R hodope, F airer th a n w hitest snow on S cythian hills, T hy person is m ore w o rth to T am burlaine T h an th e possession of th e Persian crown, W hich gracious stars have prom is’d a t my birth . A hundred T a rta rs shall a tte n d on thee,

T am b u rlain e the G reat

M ounted on steeds sw ifter th a n Pegasus;

T hy garm ents shall be m ade of M edian silk, E n ch as’d w ith precious jewels of m ine own, More rich an d valurous th a n Z enocrate’s;

W ith m ilk-w hite h a rts upon a n ivory sled Thou sh a lt be draw n am idst th e frozen pools, And scale th e icy m o u n tain s’ lofty tops, W hich w ith th y b ea u ty will be soon resolv’d : My m a rtial prizes, w ith five h u ndred men, W on on th e fifty-headed Volga’s waves, Shall we all offer to Zenocrate,

A nd th e n myself to fair Zenocrate.

Tech. W h a t now ! in love?

Tamb. Techelles, women m u st be flattered : B u t this is she w ith whom I am in love.

Enter a Soldier.

Sold. News, news!

Tamb. How now! w h at’s th e m a tte r?

Sold. A thousand Persian horsem en are a t han d , S ent from th e king to overcom e us all.

Tamb. H ow now, m y lords of E g y p t and Z enocrate!

N ow m u st y o u r jewels be re sto r’d again, A nd I, th a t triu m p h ’d so, be overcom e?

H ow say you, lordlings? is n o t this your hope?

Agyd. W e hope yourself will w illingly restore them . Tamb. Such hope, such fortune, have th e th o u san d horse.

Soft ye, m y lords, and sw eet Z enocrate 1 Y ou m u st be forced from m e ere you go—

A thousand horsem en 1 we five h u ndred foot 1 An odds too g rea t for us to sta n d against.

B u t are th e y rich ? and is th e ir arm our good ?

Sold. T heir plum ed helm s are w rought w ith b eaten gold, T heir swords enam ell’d, and a b o u t th eir necks H an g m assy chains of gold down to th e w aist;

In every p a r t exceeding brav e and rich.

Tamb. T hen shall we fight courageously w ith them ? Or look you I should play th e o rato r?

Tech. N o ; cowards a n d fain t-h earted runaw ays Look for orations w hen th e foe is near:

O ur swords shall play th e orators for us.

Usum. Come, le t us m eet them a t th e m ountain-top.

A nd w ith a sudden and an h o t alarum

I o M a rlo w e ’s Plays

D rive all th eir horses headlong down th e hill.

Tech. Come, le t us m arch.

Tamb. S tay , Techelles; ask a parle first.

The Soldiers enter.

O pen th e m ails, y e t g u ard th e treasu re sure:

L ay o u t our golden wedges to th e view, T h a t th e ir reflections m ay am aze th e P ersians;

A nd look we friendly on them w hen they com e:

B u t, if they offer w ord or violence,

W e’ll fight, five h u ndred m en-at-arm s to one Before we p a r t w ith our possession;

A nd ’g ain st th e general we will lift our swords, A nd either lance his greedy th irstin g th ro a t, O r ta k e him prisoner, and his chain shall serve F o r m anacles till he be ransom ’d home.

Tech. I hear them com e: shall we encounter them ? Tamb. K eep all your standings, and n o t stir a foot:

Myself will bide th e danger of th e b ru n t.

Enter Th e r i d a m a s, with others.

Ther. W here is this S cy th ian T am burlaine?

Tamb. W hom seek’s t thou, P ersian ? I am T am burlaine.

Ther. T am burlaine 1

A S cythian shepherd so em bellished W ith n a tu re ’s pride and richest fu rn itu re 1 H is looks do menace heaven and dare th e godsj H is fiery eyes are fix’d upon th e earth ,

As if he now devis’d some stratag e m ,

O r m e an t to pierce A vernus’ darksom e vaults T o pull th e triple-headed dog from hell.

Tamb. N oble an d m ild this P ersian seems to be, I f outw ard h a b it judge th e inw ard m an.

Tech. His deep affections m ake him passionate.

Tamb. W ith w h at a m ajesty he rears his looks!—

In thee, thou v a lia n t m an of P ersia, I see the folly of th y em peror.

A rt th o u b u t ca p ta in of a thousand horse, T h a t by characters graven in th y brows, A nd by th y m a rtia l face and s to u t aspect, D eserv’s t to have th e leading of an h o st?

F orsake th y king, and do b u t join w ith me, A nd we will triu m p h over all the w o rld :

T am bu rlain e the G reat

I hold th e F ates bound fa st in iron chains, And w ith m y h an d tu rn F o rtu n e ’s wheel ab o u t;

A nd sooner shall th e sun fall from his sphere T h an T am burlaine be slain or overcome.

D raw fo rth th y sword thou m ighty m an-at-arm s, In ten d in g b u t to raze my charm ed skin,

A nd Jo v e him self will stre tc h his h and from heaven To w ard th e blow, and shield me safe from harm . See, how he rains down heaps of gold in showers, As if he m e an t to give m y soldiers pay 1

And, as a sure an d grounded argum ent T h a t I shall be th e m onarch of th e E ast, H e sends this Soldan’s dau g h ter rich and brave, To be m y queen and p ortly emperess.

I f th o u w ilt stay w ith m e, renowmed m an, And lead th y thousand horse w ith my conduct, Besides th y share of this E g y p tia n prize,

Those thousand horse shall sw eat w ith m a rtial spoil Of conquer’d kingdom s and of cities sack’d:

B oth we will walk upon th e lofty cliffs;

A nd C hristian m erchants, th a t w ith R ussian stem s Plough up huge furrow s in th e Caspian Sea, Shall vail to us as lords of all th e lake;

B oth we will reign as consuls of th e earth, And m ighty kings shall be our senators.

Jo v e som etim es m asked in a shepherd’s w eed;

And by those steps th a t he h a th scal’d th e heavens May we becom e im m ortal like th e gods.

Jo in w ith me now in this m y m ean estate, (I call it m ean, because, being y e t obscure, The nations far-rem ov’d adm ire me n ot,) - A nd when m y nam e and honour shall be spread

As far as B oreas claps his brazen wings, Or fair Bootes sends his cheerful light, T hen sh a lt th o u be com petitor w ith me, A nd sit w ith T am burlaine in all his m ajesty.

Ther. N o t H erm es, prolocutor to th e gods, Could use persuasions m ore p athetical.

Tamb. N or are Apollo’s oracles m ore tru e T h an thou sh a lt find m y v au n ts sub stan tial.

2'ech. W e are his friends; an d if th e P ersian king Should offer present dukedom s to our sta te , W e th in k it loss to m ake exchange for th a t

M a rlo w e ’s Plays

W e are assu r'd of by our friend’s success.

Usum. A nd kingdom s a t th e least we all expect, Besides th e honour in assured conquests,

W here kings shall crouch u n to our conquering swords, And hosts of soldiers sta n d am az’d a t us,

W hen w ith th eir fearful tongues they shall confess, These are th e m en th a t all the world adm ires.

Ther. W h a t strong enchantm ents tice m y yielding soul To these resolved, noble Scythians 1

B u t shall I prove a tr a ito r to m y king?

Tamb. N o ; b u t th e tru s ty friend of T am burlaine.

Ther. W on w ith th y w ords, an d conquer’d w ith th y looks, I yield m yself, m y m en, and horse to thee,

To be p a rta k e r of th y good o r ill, As long as life m ain tain s T heridam as.

Tamb. T heridam as, m y friend, ta k e here m y han d , W hich is as m uch as if I swore by heaven, And call’d th e gods to witness of m y vow.

T hus sh a lt m y h e a rt be still com bin’d w ith thine U ntil our bodies tu r n to elem ents,

And b o th ou r souls aspire celestial thrones.-—

Techelles an d Casane, welcome him . Tech. Welcome, renow m ed P ersian, to us all 1 U sum . Long m ay T heridam as rem ain w ith u s ! Tamb. These are m y friends, in whom I m ore rejoice

T h an d o th th e king of P ersia in his crow n;

A nd, by th e love of P ylades and Orestes, W hose sta tu e s we adore in Scythia,

Thyself and th e m shall never p a r t from me Before I crown you kings in Asia.

M ake m uch of them , gentle T heridam as, A nd th e y will never leave thee till th e death.

Ther. N or thee nor them , thrice-noble T am burlaine Shall w a n t m y h e a rt to be w ith gladness pierc’d, To do you honour and security.

Tamb. A th ousand th a n k s, w orthy T heridam as.—

A nd now, fair m adam , and m y noble lords, If you will willingly rem ain w ith me, You shall h av e honours as your m erits b e;

O r else you shall be forc’d w ith slavery.

Agyd. W e yield u n to thee, h ap p y T am burlaine.

Tamb. F o r you, th en , m adam , P a m o u t of dou b t.

Zeno. I m u st be pleas’d perforce,— w retched Zenocrate!

[Exeunt,