If ever man had love too dearly bought, So I am he that plaies within her maze: The Shepheards Commendation of his And finds no waie, to get the same I sought,

Nimph.

What shepheard can expresse
The favour of her face?
To whom in this distresse
I doe appeale for grace;

A thousand cupids flye
About her gentle eye;

From which each throwes a dart
That kindleth soft sweet fire
Within my sighing heart,
Possessed by desire

No sweeter life I trie
Than in her love to die.

The lilly in the field
That glories in his white
For purenesse now must yeeld
And render up his right.

Heaven pictur'd in her face
Doth promise joy and grace.

Faire Cynthiae's silver light
That beates on running streames,
Compares not with her white;
Whose haires are all sun - beames.

So bright my nimph doth shine
As day unto my eyne.

With this there is a red,
Exceedes the damaske rose:

But as the Dere are driven unto the gaze.
Myself to burne, I blowe the fire:
But shall I come ny you,
Of forse I must flie you.

What death, alas, may be compared to this?
I plaie within the maze of my swete foe:
And when I would of her but crave a kis,
Disdaine enforceth her awaie to goe.
Myself I check: yet doe I twiste the twine:
The pleasure hers, the paine is myne:

But shall I come ny you,
Of forse I must flie you.

You courtly wights, that want your pleasant choise,
Lende me a floud of teares to waile my chaunce:
Happie are thei in love that can rejoyse,
To their greate paines, where fortune doeth advance.
But sith my sute, alas, can not prevaile!
Full fraight with care in grief still will I waile:
Sith you will needs flie me,
I maie not comme ny you.

Woemen.

If woemen coulde be fayre and yet not fonde,
Or that theyre Love were firme not fickle still,
I would not mervaylle that they make me bonde
By servise longe to purchase theyre good will:
But when I se how frayll those creatures are,
I muse that men forget them selves so farr.

To marcke the choyse they make, and how they
change,
How oft from Phoebus they do flee to Pann,
Unsettled still, like haggardes wild theye range,
These gentlle byrdes that flye from man to man:
Who woulde not scorne and shake them from

the fyste,
And let them flye, fayre fooles, whiche waye
they lyste.

Yet for disporte we fawne and flatter bothe,
To pass the tyme when nothinge else can please,
And trayne them to our lure with 'subtylle othe,
Till wearye of theyre wiles, our selves we easse:
And then we saye, when we theyre fancye trye,
To playe with fooles, oh! what a foole was I.

Gascoigne.

George Gascoigne ward (wahrscheinlich zu Anfang des sechszehnten Jahrhunderts) zu Walthamstow in Essex geboren, studirte zu Cambridge und widmete sich dann der Rechtsgelehrsamkeit. Von seinem Vater wegen Jugendstreiche enterbt, gåb er jedoch diese Laufbahn auf, nahm Kriegsdienste in Holland, gerieth in spanische Gefangenschaft, kehrte dann in sein Vaterland zurück und wandte sich wieder zur Jurisprudenz. Er starb 1577 zu Stamford. Ausser lyrischen Poesieen hinterliess er zwei grössere erzählende Gedichte "The fruites of Warre" und "The Steele glass" und Bearbeitungen italienischer und altgriechischer Dramen und ausländischer Dichtungen. Seine gesammelten Werke erschienen zuerst zu London 1587 unter dem Titel: The Pleasauntest Works of George Gascoigne, Esquyre, newlye compyled into one volume, that is to saye: His Flowers, Hearbes, Weedes, the Fruites of Warre, the Comedie called Supposes, the Trajedie of Jocasta, the Steele-glasse, the Complaint of Phylomene, the Story of Ferdinando Jeronimi and the Pleasure of Kenelworth Castle. Das Letztere ist ein Maskenspiel, welches 1575 zu Kenilworth vor der Königin Elisabeth aufgeführt wurde. Während seines Lebens erschien bereits eine Sammlung von Bearbeitungen ausländischer Gedichte von ihm, mit dem Titel: A Hundreth Sundrie Flowres, bound up in one small Posie etc.

Anmuth, Eleganz und Gewandtheit in Behandlung der Sprache und Form, Gedankenreichthum und eine gesunde Lebensanschauung verleihen seinen Leistungen nicht geringen Werth, doch leidet er auch an den Geschmacksfehlern seiner Zeit, namentlich an dem Streben nach Künstlichkeit und dem gesuchten Spiel mit Begriffen und Wörtern.

Downe fell I then upon my knee All flatte before Dame Beauties face, And cryed, good Ladye pardon mee, Which here appeale unto your grace, You knowe if I have beene untrue, It was in too much praysing you.

And though this Judge doe make suche haste,
To shead with shame my guiltlesse blood:
Yet let your pittie first bee plaste,
To save the man that meant you good,
So shall you shewe your selfe a Queene,
And I maye bee your servaunt seene.

(Quod Beautie) well: bicause I guesse,
What thou dost meane hencefoorth to bee,
Although thy faultes deserve no lesse,
Than Justice here hath judged thee,'
Wylt thou be bounde to stynte all strife,
And be true prisoner all thy lyfe?

Yea Madame (quod I) that I shall,
Loe Fayth and Trueth my suerties:
Why then (quod shee) come when I call,
I aske no better warrantise.

Thus am I Beauties bounden thrall,
At hir commaunde when shee doth call.

Christopher Marlowe.

Das Geburtsjahr dieses genialen, aber zügellosen Dichters ist nicht ermittelt und man weiss nur gewiss, dass es in die Zeit der Regierung Eduards VI. fiel. Marlowe studirte 1587 in Cambridge, verliess aber die Universität und ward Schauspieler, führte indessen ein regelloses Leben, machte sich als Freigeist_verrufen und starb 1593 an einer Verwundung, die er sich in einem Streit zugezogen hatte.

Unter seinen Trauerspielen, Lust's Dominion, später von Behu unter dem Titel Abdelazer or the Moors Revenge überarbeitet, Edward II., First Part of Tamburlaine, the Jew of Malta, Doctor Faustus etc. zeichnet sich vorzüglich das Letztgenannte (deutsch von Wilhelm Müller, Berlin 1818) durch Gedankenreichthum, Kraft und Phantasie sehr vortheilhaft aus und verdient unter den Bearbeitungen der Sage von Faust, als eine der ersten und bedeutendsten, aufmerksame Beachtung. - Ueberhaupt ist Marlowe als der begabteste Vorgänger Shakspeare's zu betrachten, aber eben so roh wie genial, gestattete ihm seine wilde Lebensweise weder die nothwendige Ruhe noch die genügende Entwickelung und Reife seiner seltenen Fähigkeiten.

Scenes

Summum bonum medicinae sanitas:

from the tragical history of the Life The end of physic is our bodies' health. and Death of Doctor Faustus: by Why, Faustus; hast thou not attain'd that end?

Christopher Marlowe.

(Faustus in his study, runs through the circle of the
sciences; and being satisfied with none of them, de-
termines to addict himself to magic.)

Faust. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin
To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess;
Having commenc'd, be a Divine in show,
Yet level at the end of every art,
And live and die in Aristotle's works.

Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou hast ravish'd me
Bene disserere est finis Logices.
Is, to dispute well, Logic's chiefest end?

Affords this art no greater miracle?

Are not thy bills hung up as monuments,
Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague,
And divers desperate maladies been cured?
Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.
Couldst thou make men but live eternally,
Or being dead raise men to life again,
Then this profession were to be esteem'd..
Physic farewell. Where is Justinian?
Si una eademque res legatur duobus,
Alter rem, alter valorem rei, etc.
A petty case of paltry legacies.
Exhereditari filium non potest pater,

Then read no more; thou hast attain'd that end Such is the subject of the Institute,

nisi, etc.

A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit.

And universal body of the Law.

Bid Oeconomy farewell: and Galen come.

This study fits a mercenary drudge,

Be a physician, Faustus, heap up gold,
And be eterniz'd for some wond'rous cure.

Who aims at nothing but external trash,
Too servile and illiberal for me.

When all is done, Divinity is best.
Jerome's bible, Faustus: view it well.
Stipendium peccati mors est: ha! Sti- And I that have with subtil syllogisms

est in nobis veritas. On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell,

What doctrine call you this? Che sera, sera: As Indian Moors obey their Spanish Lords,

Aye, these are those that Faustus most desires. Or Lapland Giants trotting by our sides:

Faust. Talk not of me but save yourselves and depart. Third Sch. God will strengthen me, I will stay with Faustus,

First Sch. Tempt not God, sweet friend, but let us into the next room and pray for him.

Faust. Aye, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me.

Sec. Sch. Pray thow, and we will pray, that God may have mercy upon thee. Faust. Gentlemen, farewell; if I live till morning, I'll visit you: if not, Faustus is gone to hell.

Scholars. Faustus farewell.

Faustus alone. The Clock strikes Eleven.

Faust. But Faustus' offence can ne'er be Faust. O Faustus, pardoned. The serpent that tempted Eve may be Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, saved, but not Faustus. O Gentlemen, bear me And then thou must be damn'd perpetually. with patience, and tremble not at my speeches. Stand still you ever moving spheres of heaven, Though my heart pant and quiver to remember That time may cease and midnight never come. that I have been a student here these thirty years. Fair nature's Eye, rise, rise again, and make O would I had ne'er seen Wirtemberg, never read Perpetual day: or let this hour be but book! and what wonders I have done, all Ger- A year, a month, a week, a natural day, many can witness, yea all the world: for which, That Faustus may repent and save his soul. Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world, Olente lente currite noctis equi. yea heaven itself, heaven the seat of God, the The stars move still, time runs, the clock will throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy, and

strike,

must remain in hell for ever.. Hell, O hell, for The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd. ever. Sweet friends, what shall become of Fau- O I will leap to heaven: who pulls me down? stus being in hell for ever?

Sec. Sch. Yet Faustus call on God.

See where Christ's blood will save me: Oh, my

Christ, Faust. On God whom Faustus hath abjured? Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ. on God whom Faustus hath blasphemed? O my Yet will I call on him: O spare me, Lucifer. God, I would weep but the devil draws in my Where is it now? 'tis gone;

tears. Gush forth blood instead of tears, yea life And see, a threatning arm, and angry brow. and soul. Oh, he stays my tongue: I would Mountains and hills come, come and fall on me, lift up my hands, but see, they hold'em, they hold'em.

Scholars. Who, Faustus?

And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven.
No? then will I headlong run into the earth:
Gape earth. O no, it will not harbour me.
You stars that reign'd at my nativity,
Whose influence have allotted death and hell,
Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist

Faust. God forbid it indeed, but Faustus
hath done it: for the vain pleasure of four and
twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy
and felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud;
blood, the date is expired: this is the time, and That when you vomit forth into the air,
he will fetch me.

My limbs may issue from your smoaky mouths,

First. Sch. Why did not Faustus tell us of But let my soul mount and ascend to heaven. this before, that Divines might have prayed for

thee?

Faust. Oft have I thought to have done so; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces if I named God; to fetch me body and soul if I once gave ear to divinity: and now it is too late. Gentlemen, away, lest you perish with me.

Sec. Sch. O what may we do to save Faustus?

The watch strikes.

O half the hour is past: 'twill all be past anon.
O if my soul must suffer for my sin,
Impose some end to my incessant pain.
Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years.,
A hundred thousand, and at the last be saved: