All which shall fail as soon as any one

Good to a good man in them: for his goodness
Proceeds from them, and is a beam of theirs.
O never more, Statilius, may this fear

Faint thy bold bosom, for thyself or friend,
More than the Gods are fearful to defend.

His thoughts of Death.

[Act i., Sc. 1.1]

Poor Slaves, how terrible this Death is to them!-
If men would sleep, they would be wrath with all
That interrupt them; physic take, to take
The golden rest it brings; both pay and pray
For good and soundest naps: all friends consenting
In those invocations; praying all

"Good rest the Gods vouchsafe you." But when Death,
Sleep's natural brother, comes; that's nothing worse,
But better (being more rich-and keeps the store-
Sleep ever fickle, wayward still, and poor);

O how men grudge, and shake, and fear, and fly
His stern approaches! all their comforts, taken
In faith, and knowledge of the bliss and beauties
That watch their wakings in an endless life,
Drown'd in the pains and horrors of their sense
Sustain'd but for an hour.

[Act v., Sc. 1.]

His Discourse with Athenodorus on an After Life.

Cato. As Nature works in all things to an end,
So, in the appropriate honour of that end,
All things precedent have their natural frame;
And therefore is there a proportion

Betwixt the ends of those things and their primes:
For else there could not be in their creation
Always, or for the most part, that firm form

In their still like existence, that we see

In each full creature. What proportion then
Hath an immortal with a mortal substance?

And therefore the mortality, to which

A man is subject, rather is a sleep

Than bestial death; since sleep and death are called

The twins of nature. For, if absolute death,

And bestial, seize the body of a man,

Then there is no proportion in his parts,

[Pearson's edition, 1873, vol. iii.]

As was his daughter or his dearest child.-
There came a stranger to this wealthy man,
And he refused and spared to take his own,
Or of his store to dress or make his meat,

But took the poor man's sheep, partly poor man's store;
And drest it for this stranger in his house.

What, tell me, shall be done to him for this?

Dav. Now, as the Lord doth live, this wicked man

Is judged, and shall become the child of death;

Fourfold to the poor man he shall restore,

That without mercy took his lamb away.

Nath. THOU ART THE MAN, AND THOU HAST JUDGED THYSELF.—

David, thus saith the Lord thy God by me :

I thee anointed King in Israel,

And saved thee from the tyranny of Saul;

Thy master's house I gave thee to possess,
His wives unto thy bosom I did give,

And Juda and Jerusalem withal;

And might, thou know'st, if this had been too small,

Have given thee more.

Wherefore then hast thou gone so far astray,

And hast done evil, and sinned in my sight?
Urias thou hast killed with the sword,

Yea with the sword of the uncircumcised

That hast him slain; wherefore from this day forth
The sword shall never go from thee and thine :
For thou hast ta'en this Hithite's wife to thee;
Wherefore behold I will, saith Jacob's God,
In thine own house stir evil up to thee,
Yea I before thy face will take thy wives,
And give them to thy neighbour to possess.
This shall be done to David in the day,
That Israel openly may see thy shame.

Dav. Nathan, I have against the Lord, I have

Sinned, oh sinned grievously, and lo!

From heaven's throne doth David throw himself,

And groan and grovel to the gates of hell.

Nath. David, stand up; thus saith the Lord by me, David the King shall live, for he hath seen

The true repentant sorrow of thy heart;

But for thou hast in this misdeed of thine

Stirr'd up the enemies of Israel

To triumph and blaspheme the Lord of Hosts, "He set a wicked man to reign

And say,

Over his loved people and his tribes ;"

The Child shall surely die, that erst was born,
His Mother's sin, his Kingly Father's scorn.

Dav. How just is Jacob's God in all his works!
But must it die, that David loveth so?

O that the mighty one of Israel

Nill change his doom, and says the Babe must die!
Mourn, Israel, and weep in Sion gates;

Wither, ye cedar trees of Lebanon ;

Ye sprouting almonds with your flowing tops,

Droop, drown, and drench in Hebron's fearful streams :
The Babe must die, that was to David born,

His Mother's sin, his Kingly Father's scorn.

ABSALON, rebelling.

Now for the crown and throne of Israel,
To be confirm'd with virtue of my sword,
And writ with David's blood upon the blade.
Now, Jove, let forth the golden firmament,
And look on him with all thy fiery eyes,

Which thou hast made to give their glories light.
To shew thou lovest the virtue of thy hand,
Let fall a wreath of stars upon my head,
Whose influence may govern Israel

With state exceeding all her other Kings.
Fight, Lords and Captains, that your Sovereign
May shine in honour brighter than the sun
And with the virtue of my beauteous rays
Make this fair Land as fruitful as the fields,
That with sweet milk and honey overflowed.
God in the whissing of a pleasant wind
Shall march upon the tops of mulberry trees,
To cool all breasts that burn with any griefs;
As whilom he was good to Moyses' men,
By day the Lord shall sit within a cloud,
To guide your footsteps to the fields of joy;
And in the night a pillar bright as fire
Shall go before you like a second sun,
Wherein the Essence of his Godhead is;
That day and night you may be brought to peace,
And never swerve from that delightsome path
That leads your soul to perfect happiness:
This he shall do for joy when I am King.

Then fight, brave Captains, that these joys may fly
Into your bosoms with sweet victory.

1[Peele's Works, ed. Bullen, vol. ii.]

[Sc. 3.1]

[Sc. 12 entire.] 2 Jove, for Jehovah.

Threw his chang'd countenance headlong into clouds;
His forehead bent, as he would hide his face:
He knock'd his chin against his darken'd breast,
And struck a churlish silence thro' his powers.-
Terror of Darkness: 0 thou King of Flames,
That with thy music-footed horse dost strike
The clear light out, of chrystal, on dark earth;
And hurl'st instructive fire about the world:
Wake, wake the drowsy and enchanted night,
That sleeps with dead eyes in this heavy riddle.1
Or thou, Great Prince of Shades, where never sun
Sticks his far-darted beams; whose eyes are made
To see in darkness, and see ever best

Where sense is blindest: open now the heart
Of thy abashed oracle, that, for fear
Of some ill it includes, would fain lie hid;
And rise Thou with it in thy greater light.2

[Act v., Sc. 1.]

The Friar dissuades the Husband of Tamyra from revenge.

Your wife's offence serves not, were it the worst

You can imagine, without greater proofs,

To sever your eternal bonds and hearts;

Much less to touch her with a bloody hand:
Nor is it manly, much less husbandly,

To expiate any frailty in your wife

With churlish strokes or beastly odds of strength—
The stony birth of clouds will touch no laurel,
Nor any sleeper. Your wife is your laurel,
And sweetest sleeper; do not touch her then :
Be not more rude than the wild seed of vapour
To her that is more gentle than it rude.

[Act v., Sc. 1.4]

1 He wants to know the fate of Tamyra, whose intrigue with him has been discovered by her Husband.

"This calling upon Light and Darkness for information, but, above all, the description of the Spirit-"Threw his chang'd countenance headlong into clouds "is tremendous, to the curdling of the blood. I know nothing in Poetry like it.

The thunderbolt.

[This quotation is from the commencement of the scene, several pages before the preceding passage. For other extracts from Chapman see note on page 83.]

EDWARD THE THIRD. AN HISTORICAL PLAY.1 AUTHOR UNKNOWN. [PUBLISHED 1596]

The King, having relieved the Castle of the heroic Countess of Salisbury, besieged by the Scots, and being entertained by her, loves her.

Edward (solus). She is grown more fairer far since I came hither:

Her voice more silver every word than other,

Her wit more fluent. What a strange discourse
Unfolded she of David, and his Scots!

Even thus, quoth she, he spake, and then spake broad

With epithets and accents of the Scot;

But somewhat better than the Scot could speak:
And thus, quoth she, and answer'd then herself;
For who could speak like her? but she herself
Breathes from the wall an angel['s] note from heaven
Of sweet defiance to her barbarous foes.-

When she would talk of peace, methinks her tongue
Commanded war to prison: when of war,

It waken'd Cæsar from his Roman grave,
To hear war beautified by her discourse.
Wisdom is foolishness, but in her tongue;
Beauty a slander, but in her fair face;

There is no summer, but in her cheerful looks:
Nor frosty winter, but in her disdain.

I cannot blame the Scots that did besiege her,
For she is all the treasure of our land:
But call them cowards, that they ran away;
Having so rich and fair a cause to stay.

The Countess repels the King's unlawful suit.
Countess. Sorry I am to see my liege so sad :
What may thy subject do to drive from thee
This gloomy consort, sullome 2 Melancholy?
King. Ah Lady! I am blunt, and cannot strew
The flowers of solace in a ground of shame.
Since I came hither Countess, I am wrong'd.
Coun. Now God forbid that any in my house
Should think my sovereign wrong! thrice-gentle king
Acquaint me with your cause of discontent.

King. How near then shall I be to remedy?

[Not divided into Acts or having pagination. See ed. printed for Cuthbert Buzby, 1596.]

[Solemn.]