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.

CHORUS. Cut is the branch that might have grown full

straight,

And burned is Apollo's laurel bough,

That sometime grew within this learnèd 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 forward wits
To practise more than heavenly power permits.

[Exit.

FROM" EDWARD THE SECOND."

KING EDWARD. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore com'st thou ?

LIGHTBORN. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. KING EDWARD. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks.

Villain, I know thou com'st to murder me.

LIGHTBORN. 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,

To see a king in this most piteous state?

KING EDWARD. Weep'st thou already? List awhile to

me:

And then thy heart, were it as Gurney's is,
Or as Matrevis's, hewn from the Caucasus,
Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale.
This dungeon where they keep me is the sink
Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.
LIGHTBORN. O villains!

KING EDWARD. And there in mire and puddle have 1

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:
So that, for want of sleep and sustenance,
My mind's distempered, and my body's numbed;
And whether I have limbs or no I know not.
Oh, would my blood dropped out from every vein,
As doth this water from my tattered robes.
Tell Isabel, the queen, I looked not thus
When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,
And there unhorsed the Duke of Cleremont.

LIGHTBORN. Oh, speak no more, my lord! This breaks my heart.

Lie on this bed, and rest yourself awhile.

KING EDWARD. These looks of thine can harbor naught but death:

I see my tragedy written in thy brows.

Yet stay awhile forbear thy bloody hand,
And let me see the stroke before it comes;
That even then, when I shall lose my life,
My mind may be more steadfast on my God.

LIGHTBORN. What means your Highness to mistrust me thus?
KING EDWARD. What mean'st thou to dissemble with me thus?
LIGHTBORN. These hands were never stained with innocent

blood,

Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's.

KING EDWARD. 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,

But every joint shakes as I give it thee.

Oh, if thou harborest murder in thy heart,

Let this 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?

[Giving jewel.

LIGHTBORN. You're overwatched, my lord: lie down and rest. KING EDWARD. 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. Oh, wherefore sitt'st thou here?

LIGHTBORN. If you mistrust me, I'll begone, my lord.

KING EDWARD. No, no: for if thou mean'st to murder me, Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay.

LIGHTBORN. He sleeps.

while!

[Sleeps.

KING EDWARD [waking]. Oh, let me not die yet! Oh, stay a

LIGHTBORN. How now, my lord?

KING EDWARD. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, And tells me if I sleep I never wake;

This fear is that which makes me tremble thus.

And therefore tell me, Wherefore art thou come?
LIGHTBORN. To rid thee of thy life. — Matrevis, come!
Enter MATREVIS and GURNEY.

KING EDWARD. I am too weak and feeble to resist:
Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul!

LIGHTBORN. Run for the table.

KING EDWARD. Oh, spare me, or despatch me in a trice. [MATREVIS brings in a table.]

LIGHTBORN. So, lay the table down, and stamp on it, But not too hard, lest that you bruise his body.

[KING EDWARD is murdered.]

MATREVIS. I fear me that this cry will raise the town,
And therefore, let us take horse and away.

LIGHTBORN. Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done?
GURNEY. Excellent well: take this for thy reward.

[GURNEY stabs LIGHTBORN, who dies.]

Come, let us cast the body in the moat,

And bear the King's to Mortimer our lord!

Away!

[Exeunt with the bodies.

FROM "THE Jew of Malta.”

BARABAS. So that of thus much that return was made;

And of the third part of the Persian ships,

There was the venture summed and satisfied.

As for those Sabans, 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 't is 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

Tell 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 loath to labor so,
And for a pound so 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 by 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 enclose
Infinite riches in a little room.

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 honored 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 scrambled up

More wealth by far than those that brag of faith.... Give us a peaceful rule; make Christian kings,

That thirst so much for principality.

7745

CLEMENT MAROT.

MAROT, CLÉMENT, a famous French poet; born at Cahors, 1497; died at Turin, 1544. He was easily the first French poet of his age, noted for literary vivacity, facility, and grace. His works consist of elegies, epistles, ballads, songs, epigrams, epitaphs, and complaints. Among his works were "The Temple of Cupid" (1515), and "Hell" (1526). Among his ballads that of "Brother Thibaud" is the best. He also translated the first eclogue of the "Bucolics of Virgil," "Ovid's Metamorphoses," "The History of Leander and Hero," and some sonnets and the "Visions of Petrarch." His last works were "Oraisons” and “Little Christian Devis."

FROM AN "ELEGY.”

THY lofty place, thy gentle heart,
Thy wisdom true in every part,

Thy gracious mien, thy noble air,

Thy singing sweet, and speech so fair,
Thy robe that does so well conform

To the nature of thy lovely form:

In short, these gifts and charms whose grace
Invests thy soul and thee embrace,
Are not what has constrainèd me
To give my heart's true love to thee

"T was thy sweet smile which me perturbed,
And from thy lips a gracious word

Which from afar made me to see
Thou'd not refuse to hear my plea.

Come, let us make one heart of two!
Better work we cannot do;

For 't is plain our starry guides,
The accord of our lives besides,

Bid this be done. For of us each

Is like the other in thought and speech:
We both love men of courtesy,

We both love honor and purity,