Enter Devils. My God! my God! look not so fierce on me! 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 Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits [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, 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: 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, LIGHTBORN. What means your Highness to mistrust me thus? 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. 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? KING EDWARD. I am too weak and feeble to resist: 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, LIGHTBORN. Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done? [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! Tell that which may maintain him all his life. But he whose steel-barred coffers are crammed full, Wearying his fingers' ends with telling it, 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 These are the blessings promised to the Jews, Or who is honored now but for his wealth? 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 gracious mien, thy noble air, Thy singing sweet, and speech so fair, To the nature of thy lovely form: In short, these gifts and charms whose grace "T was thy sweet smile which me perturbed, Which from afar made me to see Come, let us make one heart of two! For 't is plain our starry guides, Bid this be done. For of us each Is like the other in thought and speech: We both love honor and purity, |