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For kings have often fears when they sup,
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup:

Ah then, ah then,
If country loves such sweet desires gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain !
Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound
As doth the king upon his beds of down,

More sounder too :
For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill,
Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill:

Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ! Thus with his wife he spends the year as blithe As doth the king at every tide or syth,

And blither too :
For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,
When shepherds laugh, and love upon the land :

Ah then, ah then,
If country loves such sweet desires gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain ?

A whittle with a silver chape;
Cloak was russet, and the cape
Served for a bonnet oft,
To shroud him from the wet aloft:
A leather scrip of colour red,
With a button on the head ;
A bottle full of country whig,
By the shepherd's side did lig;
And in a little bush hard by,
There the shepherd's dog did lie,
Who, while his master 'gan to sleep,
Well could watch both kids and sheep.
The shepherd was a frolic swain,
For, though his 'parel was but plain,
Yet doon' the authors soothly say,
His colour was both fresh and gay ;
And in their writs plain discuss,
Fairer was not Tityrus,
Nor Menalcas, whom they call
The alderleefest swain of all !
Seeming him was his wife,
Both in line and in life.
Fair she was, as fair might be,
Like the roses on the tree;
Buxom, blithe, and young, I ween,
Beauteous, like a summer's queen;
For her cheeks were ruddy hued,
As if lilies were imbrued
With drops of blood, to make the white
Please the eye with more delight.
Love did lie within her eyes,
In ambush for some wanton prize ;
A leefer lass than this had been,
Coridon had never seen.
Nor was Phillis, that fair may,
Half so gaudy or so gay.
She wore a chaplet on her head ;
Her cassock was of scarlet red,
Long and large, as straight as bent ;
Her middle was both small and gent.
A neck as white as whales' bone,
Compast with a lace of stone;
Fine she was, and fair she was,
Brighter than the brightest glass ;
Such a shepherd's wife as she,
Was not more in Thessaly.

THOMAS LODGE. Thomas LODGE was an actor in London in 1584. He had previously been a servitor of Trinity college, Oxford (1573), and had accompanied Captain Clarke in his voyage to the Canary Islands. He first studied law at Lincoln's Inn, but afterwards practised medicine. He took the degree of M.D. at Avignon. In 1590, he published a novel called Rosalind, Euphues' Golden Legacy, in which he recommends the fantastic style of Lyly. From part of this work (the story of Rosalind) Shakspeare constructed his As You Like It. If we suppose that! Shakspeare wrote first sketches of the 'Winter's Tale' and' As You Like It,'before 1592 (as he did of 'Romeo and Juliet,' • Hamlet,' &c.), we may account for Greene's charge of plagiarism, by assuming that the wordsbeautified with our feathers,' referred to the tales of Pandosto’ and · Rosalind.' In 1594, Lodge wrote a historical play, the Wounds of Civil War, Lively set forth in the True Tragedies of Marius and Sylla ; this play is heavy and uninteresting, but Lodge had the good taste to follow Marlow's Tamburlaine, in the adoption of blank verse. For ex.

[Philador, seeing this couple sitting thus lovingly, noted the concord of country amity, and began to conjecture with himself, what a sweet kind of life those men use, who were by their birth too low for dignity, and by their fortunes too simple for envy: well, he thought to fall in prattle with them, had not the shepherd taken his pipe in hand, and began to play, and his wife to sing out, this roundelay :-)

Ah ! what is love! It is a pretty thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,

And sweeter too :
For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
And cares can make the sweetest cares to frown:

Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? His flocks are folded ; he comes home at night As merry as a king in his delight,

And merrier too: For kings bethink them what the state require, Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire :

Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat His cream and curd, as doth the king his meat,

And blither too :

Ay, but the milder passions show the man;
For, as the leaf doth beautify the tree,
The pleasant flowers bedeck the painted spring,
Even so in men of greatest reach and power,

A mild and piteous thought augments renown. The play, A Looking-Glass for London and England, written by Lodge and Greene, is directed to the defence of the stage. It applies the scriptural story of Nineveh to the city of London, and amidst drunken buffoonery, and clownish mirth, contains some powerful satirical writing. Lodge also wrote a volume of satires and other poems, translated Josephus, and penned a serious prose defence of the drama. He was living in 1600, as is proved by his obtaining that year a pass from the privy council, permitting himself and his friend, “Henry Savell, gent.,' to travel into the archduke's country, taking with them two servants, for the purpose of recovering some debts due them there. The actor and dramatist had now merged in the prosperous and wealthy physician: Lodge had profited by Greene's example and warning, According to Wood, Lodge died of the plague in September, 1625.

It is impossible to separate the labours of Greene and Lodge in their joint play, but the former was

certainly the most dramatic in his talents. In Lodge's | Rosalind,' there is a delightfulspirit of romantic fancy

1 Do.

and a love of nature that marks the true poet. We subjoin some of his minor pieces :

[Love.] Turn I my looks unto the skies, Love with his arrows wounds mine eyes ; If so I gaze upon the ground, Love then in every flower is found; Search I the shade to fly my pain, Love meets me in the shade again ; Want I to walk in secret grove, E'en there I meet with sacred love; If so I bathe me in the spring, E’en on the brink I hear him sing; If so I meditate alone, He will be partner of my moan; If so I mourn he weeps with me, And where I am there will he be !

[Beauty.] Like to the clear in highest sphere,

Where all imperial glory shines, Of self-same colour is her hair,

Whether unfolded or in twines : Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,

Refining heaven by every wink;
The gods do fear, when as they glow,

And I do tremble when I think.
Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud,

That beautifies Aurora's face;
Or like the silver crimson shroud,

That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace. Her lips are like two budded roses,

Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh ; Within which bounds she balm encloses,

Apt to entice a deity.
Her neck like to a stately tower,

Where Love himself imprison'd lies,
To watch for glances, every hour,

From her divine and sacred eyes. With orient pearl, with ruby red,

With marble white, with sapphire blue, Her body everywhere is fed,

Yet soft in touch, and sweet in view. Nature herself her shape admires,

The gods are wounded in her sight; And Love forsakes his heavenly fires,

And at her eyes his brand doth light.

[Rosalind's Madrigal.] Love in my bosom, like a bee, • Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest :

Ah, wanton, will ye? And if I sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee, The live-long night. Strike I my lute, he tunes the string ; He music plays if so I sing ; He lends me every lovely thing, Yet cruel he my heart doth sting:

Whist, wanton, still ye?
Else I with roses every day
Will whip you hence,
And bind you, when you long to play,
For your offence;
I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in,
I'll make you fast it for your sin,
I'll count your power not worth a pin ;
Alas ! what hereby shall I win,

If he gainsay me?
What if I beat the wanton boy
With many a rod ?
He will repay me with annoy,
Because a god.
Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bower my bosom be;
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee,
0, Cupid ! so thou pity me,

Spare not, but play thee.

CHRISTOPHER MARLOW. The greatest of Shakspeare's precursors in the drama was CHRISTOPHER MARLOW-a fiery imaginative spirit, who first imparted consistent character and energy to the stage, in connexion with a finely modulated and varied blank verse. Marlow is supposed to have been born about the year 1562, and is said to have been the son of a shoemaker at Canterbury. He had a learned education, and took the degree of M.A. at Bennet college, Cambridge, in 1587. Previous to this, he had written his tragedy of Tamburlaine the Great, which was successfully brought out on the stage, and long continued a favourite. Shakspeare makes ancient Pistol quote, in ridicule, part of this play

Holla, ye pamper'd jades of Asia, &c. But, amidst the rant and fustian of Tamburlaine, there are passages of great beauty and wild grandeur, and the versification justifies the compliment afterwards paid by Ben Jonson, in the words, “Marlow's mighty line. His high-sounding blank verse is one of his most characteristic features. Marlow now commenced the profession of an actor; but if we are to credit a contemporary ballad, he was soon incapacitated for the stage by breaking his leg.in one lewd scene.' His second play, the Life and Death of Dr Faustus, exhibits a far wider range of dramatic power than his first tragedy. The hero studies necromancy, and makes a solemn disposal of his soul to Lucifer, on condition of having a familiar spirit at his command, and unlimited enjoyment for twentyfour years ; during which period Faustus visits different countries, .calls up spirits from the vasty deep,' and revels in luxury and splendour. At length the time expires, the bond becomes due, and a party of evil spirits enter, amidst thunder and lightning, to claini his forfeited life and person. Such a plot afforded scope for deep passion and variety of adventure, and Marlow has constructed from it a powerful though irregular play. Scenes and passages of terrific grandeur, and the most thrilling agony, are intermixed with low humour and preternatural machinery, often ludicrous and grotesque. The ambition of Faustus is a sensual, not a lofty ambition. A feeling of curiosity and wonder is excited by his necromancy and his strange compact with Lucifer ; but we do not fairly sympathise with him till all his disguises are stripped off, and his meretricious splendour is succeeded by horror and despair. Then, when he stands on the brink of everlasting ruin, waiting for the fatal moment, imploring, yet distrusting repentance, a scene of enchaining interest, fervid passion, and overwhelming pathos, carries captive the sternest heart, and proclaims the full triumph of the tragic poet.

Sec. Sch. Pray thou, and we will pray, that God 35 [Scenes from Marlow's Faustus.]

have mercy upon thee. FAUSTUS.—WAGNER, his Servant.

Faust. Gentlemen, farewell ; if I lire till moris, Faust. Say, Wagner, thou hast perused my will.

I'll visit you : if not, Faustus is gone to hell How dost thou like it?

Scholars. Faustus, farewell. Wag. Sir, so wondrous well,

Faustus alone. --The Clock strikes Eleven,
As in all humble duty I do yield
My life and lasting service for your love. (Exit. Faust. Oh, Faustus,

Now hast thou but one bare hour to lire,
Three Scholars enter.

| And then thou must be damn'd perpetually, Faust. Gramercy, Wagner.

| Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heater, Welcome, gentlemen.

That time may cease and midnight never come. First Sch. Now, worthy Faustus, methinks your Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make looks are changed.

Perpetual day : or let this hour be but Faust. Oh, gentlemen.

A year, a month, a week, a natural day, Sec. Sch. What ails Faustus?

That Faustus may repent and save his soul. Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived lente lente currite, noctis equi. with thee, then had I lived still, but now must die The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, eternally. Look, sirs, comes he not ? comes he not! The devil will come, and Faustus must be daman'd

First Sch. Oh, my dear Faustus, what imports this Oh, I will leap to heaven : who pulls me down! fear?

See where Christ's blood streams in the firmament: Sec. Sch. Is all our pleasure turned to melancholy? One drop of blood will save me : Oh, my Christ, Third Sch. He is not well with being over solitary. Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ.

Sec. Sch. If it be so, we will have physicians, and Yet will I call on him: O spare me, Lucifer. Faustus shall be cured.

Where is it now? 'tis gone!
First Sch. 'Tis but a surfeit, sir.; fear nothing. And see a threat'ning arm, and angry brow.

Faust. A surfeit of a deadly sin, that hath damn'd Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on De, both body and soul,

And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven. Sec. Sch. Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven, and re- No ! then I will headlong run into the earth : member mercy is infinite.

| Gape earth. Oh no, it will not harbour me. Paust. But Faustus's offence can ne'er be pardoned. You stars that reign'd at my nativity, The serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Whose influence have allotted death and hell, Faustus. Oh, gentlemen, hear me with patience, and Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist tremble not at my speeches. Though my heart pant Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud ; and quiver to remember that I have been a student That when you vomit forth into the air, here these thirty years, Oh, would I had ne'er seen | My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, Wirtemberg, never read book ! and what wonders have | But let my soul mount and ascend to heaven. I done, all Germany can witness, yea, all the world : for which Faustus hath lost both Germany and the

The Watch strikes. world ; yea, heaven itself, heaven the seat of God, the Oh, half the hour is past : 'twill all be past anon throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy, and must | Oh, if my soul must suffer for my sin, remain in hell for ever. Hell, Oh hell, for ever. Sweet | Impose some end to my incessant pain. friends, what shall become of Faustus being in hell | Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, for ever?

A hundred thousand, and at the last be sared: Sec. Sch. Yet, Faustus, call on God.

No end is limited to damned souls. Faust. On God, whom Faustus hath abjured ? on Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul! God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed! Oh, my God, I Or why is this immortal that thou hast ! would weep, but the devil draws in my tears. Gush Oh, Pythagoras, Metempsycosis, were that true, forth blood instead of tears, yea, life and soul. Oh, he | This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd stays my tongue : I would lift up my hands, but see, / Into some brutish beast. they hold'em, they hold'em !

All beasts are happy, for when they die, Scholars. Who, Faustus?

Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements : Faust. Why, Lucifer and Mephostophilis. Oh, gen- But mine must live still to be plagued in hell. tlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning. Curst be the parents that engender'd me : Scholars. Oh, God forbid.

No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, Faust. God forbid it indeed, but Faustus hath done | That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven. it : for the vain pleasure of four-and-twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them

The Clock strikes Twelve. a bill with mine own blood; the date is expired : this It strikes, it strikes ; now, body, turn to air, is the time, and he will fetch me.

Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell. First Sch. Why did not Faustus tell us of this be- Oh soul, be chang'd into small water drops, fore, that divines might have prayed for thee? And fall into the ocean : ne'er be found.

Faust. Oft have I thought to have done so ; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces if I named God ;

Thunder, and enter the Devils. to fetch me body and soul if I once gave ear to divi Oh mercy, heaven, look not so fierce on me. nity; and now it is too late. Gentlemen, away, lest Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while: you perish with me.

Ugly hell gape not; come not, Lucifer : Sec. Sch. Oh, what may we do to save Faustus ? vi burn my books

I'll burn my books: Oh, Mephostophilis ! Faust. Talk not of me, but save yourselves, and depart.

Third Sch. God will strengthen me, I will stay with Faustus.

Enter Scholars. First Sch. Tempt not God, sweet friend, but let us First Sch. Come, gentlemen, let us go risit Faustus, into the next room and pray for him.

For such a dreadful night was never seen Faust. Ay, pray for me, pray for me ; and what Since first the world's creation did begin; noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard. can rescue me.

| Pray heaven the Doctor have escaped the danger.

Sec. Sch. O help us heavens ! see, here arc Faustus' vengeance on his enemies, he is overmatched himself, he thus limbs

confesses his crimes, and closes his career :-) All torn asunder by the hand of death.

Then Barabas, breathe forth thy latest fate, Third Sch. The devil whom Faustus serv'd hath torn

And in the fury of thy torments, strive him thus :

To end thy life with resolution : For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought

Know, Governor, 'tis I that slew thy son ; I heard him shriek and call aloud for help;

I fram'd the challenge that did make them meet. At which same time the house seem'd all on fire Know, Calymath, I aim'd thy overthrow; With dreadful horror of these damned fiends.

And had I but escap'd this stratagem, Sec. Sch. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be

I would have brought confusion on you all, such

Damn'd Christian dogs, and Turkish infidels. l' As every Christian heart laments to think on ;

But now begins the extremity of heat Yet, for he was a scholar once admired

To pinch me with intolerable pangs. For wondrous knowledge in our German schools,

Die life, fly soul, tongue curse thy fill, and die. We'll give his mangled limbs due burial :

[Dies. And all the scholars, cloth'd in mourning black, Shall wait upon his heavy funeral.

• Edward the Second' is considered as superior to the Choru. Cut is the branch that might have grown

two plays mentioned in connexion with it: it is a full straight,

noble drama, with ably-drawn characters and splenAnd burned is Apollo's laurel bough

did scenes. Another tragedy, Lust's Dominion, was | That sometime grew within this learned man:

published long after Marlow's death, with his name " Faustus is gone! Regard his hellish fall,

as author on the title page. Mr Collier has shown Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise

that this play, as it was then printed, was a much Only to wonder at unlawful things :

later production, and was probably written by DekWhose deepness doth entice such forward wits

ker and others. It contains passages and characTo practise more than heavenly power permits.

ters, however, which have the impress of Marlow's The classical taste of Marlow is evinced in the fine genius, and we think he must have written the ori| apostrophe to Helen of Greece, whom the spirit Me- ginal

enirit Merginal outline. Great uncertainty hangs over many phostophilis conjures up between two Cupids,' to

of the old dramas, from the common practice of gratify the sensual gaze of Faustus:

managers of theatres employing different authors,

at subsequent periods, to furnish additional matter Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships for established plays. Even Faustus was dressed up And burn'd the topless towers of Ilium?

in this manner : in 1597 (four years after Marlow's Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss ! death), Dekker was paid 20s. for making additions Her lips suck forth my soul-see where it flies. to this tragedy; and in other five years, Birde and Come, Helen, come give me my soul again; Rowley were paid £4 for further additions to it. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, Another source of uncertainty as to the paternity And all is dross that is not Helena.

of old plays, was the unscrupulous manner in which O thou art fairer than the evening air,

booksellers appropriated any popular name of the Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars !

day, and affixed it to their publications. In addiBrighter art thou than flaming Jupiter

tion to the above dramatic productions, Marlow When he appear'd to hapless Semele ;

assisted Nash in the tragedy of Dido, Queen of CarMore lovely than the monarch of the sky

thage, and translated part of Hero and Leander (afterIn wanton Arethusa's azure arms;

wards completed by Chapman), and the Elegies of And none but thou shall be my paramour.

Ovid; the latter was so licentious as to be burned Before 1593, Marlow produced three other dra

by order of the Archbishop of Canterbury, yet they

were often reprinted in defiance of the ecclesiastical mas, the Jew of Malta, the Massacre at Paris, and a historical play, Edward the Second. The more

and interdict. Poor Marlow lived, as he wrote, wildly:

he was accused of entertaining atheistical opinions, malignant passions of the human breast have rarely

but there is no trace of this in his plays. He came been represented with such force as they are in the Jew.

to an early and singularly unhappy end. He was attached to a lady, who favoured another lover ;

Marlow found them in company one day, and in a [Passages from the Jew of Malta.]

frenzy of rage attempted to stab the man with his [In one of the early scenes, Barabas the Jew is deprived of dagger. His antagonist seized him by the wrist, and his wealth by the governor of Malta. While being comforted turned the dagger, so that it entered Marlow's own in his distress by two Jewish friends, he thus denounces his head, in such sort,' says Anthony Wood, 'that, notoppressors :-)

withstanding all the means of surgery that could be The plagues of Egypt, and the curse of heaven, brought, he shortly after died of his wound. Some Earth’s barrenness, and all men's hatred

of the accounts represent the poet's rival as a mere Inflict upon them, thou great Primus Motor ! * serving man,' the female a courtesan, and the scene And here, upon my knees, striking the earth, of the fatal struggle a house of ill-fame. The old I ban their souls to everlasting pains

balıad to which we have alluded thus describes the And extreme tortures of the fiery deep,

affair:That thus have dealt with me in my distress.

His lust was lawless as his life, [So deeply have his misfortunes embittered his life, that he

And brought about his death ; would have it appear he is tired of it :-)

For in a deadly mortal strife, And henceforth wish for an eternal night,

Striving to stop the breath That clouds of darkness may enclose my flesh,

Of one who was his rival foe, And hide these extreme sorrows from mine eyes.

With his own dagger slain ;

Hle groan’d, and word spoke never moe, (But when his comforters are gone, he throws off the mask of

Pierc'd through the eye and brain.* Sorrow to show his real foelings, which suggest to him schemes of the subtlest vengeance. With the fulfilment of these, the * First published in 1834 by Mr Collier, in his · New Partirest of the play is occupied, and when, having taken terrible | culars regarding the Works of Shakspeare.'

Thus, condemned by the serious and puritanical, and Edw. These looks of thine can harbour nought but stained with follies, while his genius was rapidly death : maturing and developing its magnificent resources, | I see my tragedy written in thy browg. Marlow fell a victim to an obscure and disgraceful Yet stay a while, forbear thy bloody hand, brawl. The last words of Greene's address to him And let me see the stroke before it comes, a year or two before are somewhat ominous :'Re That even then when I shall lose my life, fuse not (with me) till this last point of extremity; My mind may be more steadfast on my God. for little knowest thou how in the end thou shalt be Light. What means your highness to mistrust me visited. The warning was

thus ?

Edw. What mean'st thou to dissemble with me thus! Like the sad presaging raven, that tolls

Light. These hands were never stain'd with innocent The sick man's passport in her hollow beak,

blood, And in the shadow of the silent night

Nor shall they now be tainted with a king's. Doth shake contagion from her sable wings. Edw. Forgive my thought, for having such a thought.

Jew of Malta. One jewel have I left, receive thou this. Marlow's fatal conflict is supposed to have taken

Still fear I, and I know not what's the cause,

But every joint shakes as I give it thee. place at Deptford, as he was buried there on the 1st

Oh, if thou harbour'st murder in thy heart, of June 1593. The finest compliment paid to the Le

| Let the gift change thy mind, and save thy soul. genius of this unfortunate poet was by his contem

Know that I am a king: Oh, at that name porary and fellow-dramatist, Michael Drayton:

I feel a hell of grief. Where is my crown? Next Marlow, bathed in the Thespian springs,

Gone, gone; and do I still remain alive? Had in him those brave translunary things

Light. You’re overwatch'd my lord ; lie down and rest. That the first poets had: his raptures were

Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep; All air and fire, which made his verses clear;

For not these ten days have these eyelids closed. For that fine madness still he did retain,

Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.

Open again. O wherefore sitt'st thou bere !

Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. We subjoin part of the death-scene of Edward II. in Edw. No, no ; for if thou mean'st to murder me, his historical drama, a scene which Charles Lamb Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay. says, 'moves pity and terror beyond any scene, an

Light. He sleeps. cient or modern.' It may challenge comparison

Edw. O let me not die ; yet stay, 0 stay a while. with Shakspeare's death of Richard II.; but Marlow

Light. How now, my lord ! could not interest us in his hero as the great dra

Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, matist does in the gentle Richard :

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 ? [Scene from Marlow's Edward II.]

Light. To rid thee of thy life ; Matrevis, come.

Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist : Scene, Berkley Castle. The King is left alone with LIGHTBORN,

| Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul. a murderer. Edw. Who's there? what light is that? wherefore The taste of the public for the romantic drama, in com'st thou ?

preference to the classical, seems now to have been Light. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. confirmed. An attempt was made towards the close

Edw. Small comfort finds poor Edward in thy looks. of Elizabeth's reign, to revive the forms of the Villain, I know thou com’st to murder me.

classic stage, by DANIEL the poet, who wrote two Light. To murder you, my most gracious lord ! plays, Cleopatra and Philotas, which are smoothly Far is it from my heart to do you harm.

versified, but undramatic in their character. LADY The queen sent me to see how you were us'd,

PEMBROKE co-operated in a tragedy called Antony, For she relents at this your misery:

written in 1590; and SAMUEL BRANDON produced, And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, in 1598, a tame and feeble Roman play, Virtuous To see a king in this most piteous state.

Octavia,
Edw. Weep'st thou already ? list a while to me,
And then thy heart, were it as Gurney'sl is,
Or as Matrevis', 1 hewn from the Caucasus,

ANTHONY MUNDAY-HENRY CHETTLE.
Yet will it melt, ere I have done my tale.
This dungeon where they keep me is a sink

In the throng of dramatic authors, the names of Wherein the filth of all the castle falls.

ANTHONY MUNDAY and HENRY CHETTLE frequently Light. O villains !

occur. Munday was an author as early as 1579, Edw. And there, in mire and puddle have I stood

and he was concerned in fourteen plays. Francis This ten days' space; and lest that I should sleep,

Meres, in 1598, calls him the best plotter' among One plays continually upon a drum.

the writers for the stage. One of his dramas, Sir They give me bread and water, being a king;

John Oldcastle, was written in conjunction with So that, for want of sleep and sustenance,

Michael Drayton and others, and was printed in My mind's distemper’d, and my body's numb'd,

1600, with the name of Shakspeare on the titleAnd whether I have limbs or no, I know not. page! The Death of Robert, Earl of Huntington, O would my blood drop out from every vein,

printed in 1601, was a popular play by Munday, As doth this water from my tattered robes !

assisted by Chettle. The pranks of Robin Hood and Tell Isabel the queen, I look'd not thus,

Maid Marian in merry Sherwood are thus gaily set When for her sake I ran at tilt in France,

forth: And there unhors'd the Duke of Cleremont. Light. O speak no more, my lord ! this breaks my Wind once more, jolly huntsmen, all your horis, heart.

Whose shrill sound, with the echoing woods' assist, Lie on this bed, and rest yourself a while.

Shall ring a sad knell for the fearful deer,

Before our feather'd shafts, death's winged darts, " His keepers. | Bring sudden summons for their fatal ends.

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