Faust. Ah Faustus, A year, a month, a week, a natural day, O lente lente currite, noctis equi.1 The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ! Then I will headlong run into the earth : [The clock strikes the half-hour. Oh, the half-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 A hundred thousand, and-at last-be saved! All beasts are happy, for when they die, [The clock strikes twelve. It strikes, it strikes; now, body, turn to air, [Thunder and lightning. My God! my God! look not so fierce on me. [Exeunt Devils with FAUSTUS. 1 Words whispered in Corinna's arms; from Ovid's Amores. Enter CHORUS. Cho. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough That sometimes grew within this learned man : There is a fine apostrophe to Helen of Greece, whom Mephistophilis conjures up 'between two Cupids,' to gratify the sensual gaze of Faustus : Was this the face that launched a thousand ships I will be Paris, and for love of thee, (From Scene xiv.) Faustus long held the stage, and was revived at the Restoration. Faust is first heard of in Germany in 1507; the folk-tale on his life had appeared in various shapes in Germany from 1587 down. Marlowe's play, in a German version, was acted in Germany by English players in 1608 and 1626; and the play was not without influence on the Faust of Goethe, who greatly admired Marlowe's. Before 1593 Marlowe produced three other dramas, The Jew of Malta, The Massacre at Paris, and Edward II. The more malignant passions of the human breast have rarely been represented with greater power than in the Jew of Malta, in some respects the prototype of the Merchant of Venice (see below at Shakespeare), though, as Charles Lamb pointed out, whereas Shylock at the worst was a man, Barabas is a mere monster, who 'kills in sport, poisons whole nunneries, invents infernal machines.' Yet in the earlier scenes he behaves like a very human man, and there is some fine poetry put in his mouth. After he has been stripped of house and wealth by the Church authorities his friends try vainly to comfort him: 1st 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 : The months of vanity and loss of time, 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. 1st Jew. Come, let us leave him; in his ireful mood Our words will but increase his ecstasy. His house has been straightway turned into a The sons of Israel through the dismal shades, Turn to eternal darkness after this! No sleep can fasten on my watchful eyes, And when Abigail throws down the bags from the window he hugs them, and in words almost anticipating Shakespeare's, 'My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!' gasps : O girl! O gold! O beauty! O my bliss! Edward II. is, as a play, greatly superior to the two named with it: though it has not the majestic poetry of Faustus and the first two acts of the Jew of Malta, it is a noble drama, with ablydrawn characters and splendid scenes. Another tragedy, Lust's Dominion, was published long after Marlowe's death, with his name as author on the title-page. Collier showed that this play, as printed, was a much later production, and was probably In written by Dekker and others; but it contains passages and characters characteristic of Marlowe's style, and he may have written the original outline. The old play of Taming of a Shrew, printed in 1594 (a precursor of Shakespeare's), contains numerous passages manifestly borrowed from Marlowe's acknowledged works, and hence it has been quite unreasonably argued that he was its author. Great uncertainty hangs over many of the old dramas, from the common practice of managers of theatres employing different authors, at subsequent periods, to furnish additional matter for established plays. Even Faustus was dressed up in this manner. 1597-four years after Marlowe's death-Dekker was paid 20s. for making additions to this tragedy; and in other five years Birde and Rowley were paid £4 for further additions to it. Another source of uncertainty as to the paternity of old plays was the unscrupulous manner in which booksellers appropriated any popular name of the day and affixed it to their publications. Marlowe joined with Nash in writing Dido, Queen of Carthage, a tragedy of small value, though it contains some true poetry; and there is little doubt that he had a hand in the three parts of Shakespeare's Henry VI., probably also in Titus Andronicus. His translation of the Elegies of Ovid was burnt as licentious by order of the Archbishop of Canterbury, yet it was often reprinted in defiance of the ecclesiastical interdict. His influence on Shakespeare is marked, especially in the early plays (see the article on Shakespeare). Marlowe never tried comedyfortunately; for he seems to have had no humour. He had no conception of true love or of a noble woman's character. And the sweetness, light, sympathy, and morality (not in a precisian but yet very indefeasible sense) of his great successor, Shakespeare, were foreign to Marlowe's usual mood. Marlowe lived a wild life, and came to an early and unhappy end; at twenty-nine he was stabbed in an affray in a tavern at Deptford on the 1st of June 1593. Marlowe had raised his poniard against his antagonist-according to Meres and Anthony Wood, 'a baudy serving-man, a rival of his lewd love' when the other seized him by the wrist and turned the dagger, so that it entered Marlowe's own head, 'in such sort that, notwithstanding all the means of surgery that could be brought, he shortly after died of his wound.' His freethinking ways were notorious: Greene, writing the Groatsworth of Wit in the preceding autumn, charged him with utter atheism (see above at page 326). Whether his unbelief was dogmatic atheism or not, it was sufficiently pronounced to attract the notice of the authorities, who were taking proceedings against him and others at the time of his death, and had issued a warrant for his arrest. The last words of Greene's address to him are ominous : 'Defer not with me till this last point of extremitie ; for little knowest thou how in the end thou shalt be visited.' A noble compliment was paid to the genius of this unfortunate poet by his fellowdramatist, Michael Drayton : Next Marlowe, bathed in the Thespian springs, Mr Sidney Lee thinks Marlowe was probably associated with Shakespeare in bringing the second and third parts of Henry VI. into final shape, and that he may have had a share in writing the anonymous Edward III (see below at Shakespeare). Originality, first attribute of genius, belongs in an eminent degree to the ill-fated Marlowe. Mr Swinburne thinks there is greater discrimination of character, and figures more lifelike, in Marlowe's Edward II. than in Shakespeare's Richard II. Gaveston, reading a letter, is thus introduced : Gav. My father is deceased! Come, Gaveston, Sweet prince, I come; these, these thy amorous lines So thou would'st smile, and take me in thine arms. Not that I love the city, or the men, But that it harbours him I hold so dear- To whom the sun shines both by day and night? In Charles Lamb's judgment, the death-scene of Edward II., at Berkeley Castle, when the king is left alone with Lightborn, the murderer, 'moves pity and terror beyond any scene, ancient or modern,' and may indeed challenge comparison with Shakespeare's death of Richard II. : Edward. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore com'st thou ? Lightborn. 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! Far is it from my heart to do you harm. The queen sent me to see how you were used, For she relents at this your misery: And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, Edw. Weep'st thou already? list a while to me, And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's1 is, Or as Matrevis', hewn from the Caucasus, Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale. This dungeon where they keep me is a sink Wherein the filth of all the castle falls. Light. O villains! Edw. And there, in mire and puddle, have I stood This ten days' space; and lest that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a drum. They give me bread and water, being a king; Edw. These looks of thine can harbour nought but death: I see my tragedy written in thy brows. Yet stay a while, forbear thy bloody hand, Light. What means your highness to mistrust me thus ? Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's. 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, I feel a hell of grief. Where is my crown? Gone, gone; and do I still remain alive? Light. You're overwatched, my lord; lie down and rest. Edw. But that grief keeps me waken, I should sleep; For not these ten days have these eyelids closed. Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear Light. If thou mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. Light. He sleeps. Edw. O let me not die; yet stay, O stay a while. Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, 1 Gurney and Matrevis were Edward's keepers. The following scene, in which the nobles remonstrate with Edward II., has also something of the Shakespearian manner : Edward. How now? What noise is this? Who have we here? Is 't you? Young Mortimer. Nay, stay my lord: I come to bring you news: Mine uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots. Edw. Then ransom him. Lancaster. '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? Edw. Quiet yourself; you shall have the broad seal To gather for him throughout the realm. Lane. Your minion, Gaveston, hath taught you this. We never beg, but use such prayers as these. Y. Mor. Nay, now you're here alone, I'll speak my mind. Lane. And so will I, and then, my lord, farewell. Y. Mor. The idle triumphs, masques, lascivious shows, And prodigal gifts bestowed on Gaveston, Have drawn thy treasury dry, and made thee weak: The murmuring commons, overstretched, break. Lanc. Look for rebellion, look to be deposed; And, lame and poor, lie groaning at the gates. Y. Mor. The haughty Dane commands the narrow seas, While in the harbour ride thy ships unrigged. Lane. What foreign prince sends thee ambassadors ? Y. Mor. Who loves thee but a sort of flatterers? Ianc. Thy gentle queen, sole sister to Valois, Complains that thou hast left her all forlorn. Y. Mor. Thy court is naked, being bereft of those Their wives and children slain, run up and down Y. Mor. When wert thou in the field with banner spread, For your lemans you have lost at Bannocksbourn, With a heave and a ho. What weeneth the King of England So soon to have won Scotland? With a rombelow. The concluding ditty is that quoted by Fabyan as having been sung by the Scots after Bannockburn (see above at page 171). Detached lines and passages in Edward II. possess much poetical beauty or imaginative power. Thus, in answer to Leicester, the king says: Leicester, if gentle words might comfort me, Young Mortimer's device for the royal pageant was: On whose top branches kingly eagles perch, For the story Marlowe follows not so much Fabyan as the chronicles of Stow, Holinshed, and Baker. Marlowe's unfinished poem of Hero and Leander, founded on the classic story of the sixth-century Musæus, was first published in 1598. Marlowe completed the first and second Sestiads of his paraphrase, and they were reprinted with a completion (four sestiads) by Chapman in 1600. A few lines will show his command of the heroic couplet : It lies not in our power to love or hate, When two are stripped, long ere the race begin, Of two gold ingots, like in each respect. Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight? The last memorable line was quoted from the 'Dead Shepherd' by Shakespeare in As You Like It. 'Blood is the god of war's rich livery,' 'Above our life we love an absent friend,' 'More childish valorous than worldly wise,' are pregnant single lines; Things past recovery are hardly cured with exclamations' has a modern ring. Of the following pieces which first appeared in the Passionate Pilgrim (see page 257), the first is in England's Helicon given as by Marlowe, and the second by Ignoto.' But in one copy the initials of Sir Walter Raleigh are attached; and we have the explicit statement of Izaak Walton that the pieces were really by Marlowe and Raleigh respectively —an attribution now generally accepted. Posterity also agrees with Walton that Marlowe's poem is 'choicely good.' The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. And I will make thee beds of roses, A gown made of the finest wooll, A belt of straw and ivy buds, The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, The Nymph's Reply. If all the world and love were young, But Time drives flocks from field to fold, The flowers do fade, and wanton fields Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, But could youth last, and love still breed, See the editions of Marlowe by Dyce (1850 and 1858), Cunningham (1872), and Bullen (3 vols. 1888); New Light on Kyd and Marlowe, by Mr Boas in the Fortnightly for February 1899; and Mr Boas's edition of Kyd (1900). Marlowe's best plays are included in the Mermaid' series (ed. Havelock Ellis, 1887). Dr Faustus was elaborately edited by Professor A. W. Ward, and Tamburlaine by A. Wagner (Heilb. 1885). See also Mr Swinburne's essay, Symonds's Shakespeare's Predecessors, and Mr Churton Collins's Essays and Studies (1895). Richard Carew (1555–1620), of Antony House in East Cornwall, was bred at Christ Church, Oxford, but spent most of his life as an active and cultured country gentleman on his own estate. He was the first to essay an English rendering of Tasso; but of his translation-Godfrey of Bulloigne or the Recoverie of Hierusalem-only five cantos appeared (1594). Carew kept much closer to his original than Fairfax did, was often correct where Fairfax blundered, and was sometimes (though seldom) as rhythmical. The apostrophe in the first book will serve for comparison with Fairfax's version (given below at page 445): O Muse! thou that thy head not compassest Dost golden crowne of starres immortal weare, Enlighten thou my song; and pardon where His entertaining Survey of Cornwall (1602) describes the manners and customs of the people, and gives a pretty full account, with specimens, of the Cornish language, then still spoken. He does not omit the 'common byword-By Tre, Pol, and Pen, you shall know the Cornishmen;' and then goes on to record a sad fact: can But the principall love and knowledge of this language lived in Doctor Kennall the civilian, and with him lyeth buryed: for the English speach doth still encroche upon it, and hath driven the same into the uttermost skirts of the shire. Most of the inhabitants no word of Cornish; but very few are ignorant of the English and yet some so affect their owne as to a stranger they will not speake it for if meeting them by chance you enquire the way or any such matter, your answere shal be, Meea navidva cowzasawzneck, ‘I can speake no Saxonage.' The English which they speake is good and pure as receyving it from the best hands of their owne gentry and the easterne marchants: but they disgrace it in part with a broad and rude accent, and eclipsing (somewhat like the Somersetshire men) specially in pronouncing names. His Epistle concerning the Excellencies of the English Tongue (1605) is slight but interesting. He argues that in the four main points-significance, easiness, copiousness, and sweetness-English is comparable if not preferable to any other in use at this day.' The ground language ‘appertaineth to the old Saxon;' and our having borrowed 'from the Dutch, the Britaine, the Roman, the Dane, the French, the Italian, the Spaniard,' so far from 'making Littletons hotch-potch of our tongue or a Babelish confusion,' is amply warranted by the results, especially by the copiousness secured. (Littleton's Tenures, reproduced in 'Coke-uponLittleton,' was long the standard authority on the branch of English law called Hotchpot.) The conclusion is: Moreover, the Copiousnesse of our Language appeareth in the diversitie of our Dialects; for we have Court and we have Countrie English, we have Northerne and Southerne, grosse and ordinarie, which differ each from the other not onely in the Terminations, but also in many words, termes, and phrases, and expresse the same thinges in divers sorts, yet all right English alike. Neither can any Tongue, as I am perswaded, deliver a Matter with more Variety than ours, both plainly, and by Proverbes and Metaphors: for example, when we would be rid of one, we use to say, Be going, trudge, packe; Bee faring |