strong and weak alike with passionate feeling, and expressed with a turbulent magnificence of words and images, the fault of which is a very great want of temperance. It reflects his life and the lives of those with whom he lived. Marlowe lived and died an irreligious, imaginative, tenderhearted, licentious poet. Peele and Greene lived an even more riotous life and died as miserably, and they are examples of a crowd of other dramatists who passed their lives between the theatre, the wine-shop, and the prison. Their drama, in which we see the better side of the men, had all the marks of a wild youth. It was daring, full of strong but unequal life, romantic, sometimes savage, often tender, always exaggerated in its treatment and expression of the human passions. If it had no moderation, it had no tame dulness. If it was coarse, it was powerful, and it was above all national. It was a time full of strange contrasts, a time of fiery action and of sentimental contemplation; a time of fancy and chivalry, indelicacy and buffoonery; of great national adventure and private brawls; of literary quiet and polemic thought; of faith and infidelity—and the whole of it is painted with truth, but with too glaring colors, in the drama of these men." From Marlowe's Edward II.* Enter Matrevis, Gurney, and soldiers with King Edward. Must I be vexèd like the nightly bird, Whose sight is loathsome to all wingèd fowls? When will the fury of his mind assuage? When will his heart be satisfied with blood? If mine will serve, unbowel straight this breast, And give my heart to Isabel and him: It is the chiefest mark they level at. * Ed. II., son of Ed. I. and father of Ed. III., was King of England, 1307-27. His character was weak, and his reign disastrous. He was deposed by his nobles. This extract from the play treats of his imprisonment in the dungeon of Kenilworth, his execution, and the feelings and doings of Ed. III. concerning his father's treatment. Gur. Not so, my liege, the queen hath given this charge― To keep your grace in safety: Your passions make your dolours to increase. K. Edw. This usage makes my misery increase. When all my senses are annoyed with stench? Mat. Why strive you thus? your labor is in vain. K. Edw. The wren may strive against the lion's strength, But all in vain: so vainly do I strive To seek for mercy at a tyrant's hand. Immortal powers, that know the painful cares That wait upon my poor, distressed soul, Oh, level all your looks upon these daring men That wrong their liege and sovereign, England's king! For me both thou and both the Spensers died; Enter the younger Mortimer and Lightborn. Y. Mort. Art thou so resolute as thou wast? Y. Mort. Well, do it bravely, and be secret. 'Tis not the first time I have kill'd a man: I learn'd in Naples how to poison flowers; And blow a little powder in his ears; Or open his mouth, and pour quick-silver down. [Exit. [Enters Killingworth prison. K. Edw. Who's there? what light is that? Wherefore com'st thou? Light. To comfort you, and bring you joyful news. K. 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 us'd, For she relents at this your misery: And what eyes can refrain from shedding tears, K. Edw. Weep'st thou already? list awhile to me, Light. O villains! K. 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; So that, for want of sleep and sustenance, Oh, would my blood dropp'd out from every vein, As doth this water from my tatter'd robes! Tell Isabel, the queen, I look'd not thus, When for her sake I ran at tilt in France, And there unhors'd the Duke of Cleremont. Light. Oh, speak no more, my lord! this breaks my heart. Lie on this bed, and rest yourself awhile. K. Edw. These looks of thine can harbor naught but death; I see my tragedy written in thy brows. Yet stay awhile; forbear thy bloody hand, Light. What means your highness to mistrust me thus? K. 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, Oh, if thou harbor'st 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. Light. You're overwatch'd, my lord; lie down and rest. K. Edw. But that grief keeps me waking, I should sleep; For not these ten days have these eye-lids clos'd. Now, as I speak, they fall; and yet with fear Open again. Oh, wherefore sitt'st thou here? Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord. K. Edw. No, no; for, if thou mean'st to murder me, Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay. Light. He sleeps. [Sleeps. K. Edw. [Waking] Oh, let me not die yet! Oh, stay awhile! Light. How now, my lord! K. Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears, And tells me, if I sleep, I never wake: K. Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist.— K. Edw. Oh, spare me, or despatch me in a trice! Light. Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done? [Stabs Lightborn, who dies. Enter King Edw. III., Q. Isab., lords, and attendants. First Lord. Fear not, my lord, know that you are a king. K. Edw. III. Villain! Y. Mort. How now, my lord! K. Edw. III. Think not that I am frighted with thy words! My father's murdered through thy treachery; And thou shalt die, and on his mournful hearse Thy hateful and accursed head shall lie, To witness to the world that by thy means Q. Isab. Weep not, sweet son! K. Edw. III. Forbid not me to weep, he was my father; And had you lov'd him half so well as I, But bring his head back presently to me. Q. Isab. For my sake, sweet son, pity Mortimer! Than sue for life unto a paltry boy. K. Edw. III Hence with the traitor! with the murderer! There is a point, to which when men aspire, |