Well, Heaven is Heaven still! And there is Nemesis, and furies, And things called whips, And they sometimes do meet with murderers: They do not always 'scape, that's some comfort, Ay, ay, ay, and then time steals on, and steals, and steals, Till violence leaps forth, like thunder Wrapped in a ball of fire, And so doth bring confusion to them all. JAQUES and PEDRO, servants. Jaq. I wonder, Pedro, why our master thus Is much distract since his Horatio died: And, now his aged years should sleep in rest, HIERONIMO enters. Hier. I pry through every crevice of each wall, Look at each tree, and search through every brake, Beat on the bushes, stamp our grandame Earth, [Exit. Dive in the water, and stare up to heaven; Ped. We are your servants that attend you, sir. Hier. No, no, you are deceived, not I, you are deceived: When as the sun-god rides in all his glory; Ped. Then we burn daylight. Hier. Let it be burnt; Night is a murd'rous slut, Do sleep in darkness when they most should shine. And sorrow make you speak you know not what. Hier. Villain, thou liest! and thou doest naught But tell me I am mad: thou liest, I am not mad: I know thee to be Pedro, and he Jaques. I'll prove it to thee; and were I mad, how could I? Where was she the same night, when my Horatio was mur dered? She should have shone: search thou the book: *Tags of points. Had the moon shone in my boy's face, there was a kind of grace, That I know, nay, I do know, had the murd❜rer seen him, Had he been framed of naught but blood and death; What shall we say to mischief? ISABELLA, his wife, enters. Isa. Dear Hieronimo, come in a doors, Not I, indeed; we are very merry, very merry. And when our hot Spain could not let it grow, But that the infant and the human sap Would I be sprinkling it with fountain water : Till at length it grew a gallows, and did bear our son. Ped. It is a painter, sir. Hier. Bid him come in, and paint some comfort, For surely there's none lives but painted comfort. Let him come in, one knows not what may chance. God's will that I should set this tree! but even so KYD. Masters ungrateful servants rear from naught, Hier. Wherefore? why, thou scornful villain? How, where, or by what means should I be blest? Isa. What wouldst thou have, good fellow? Pain. Justice, madam. Hier. O ambitious beggar, wouldst thou have that That lives not in the world? Why, all the undelved mines cannot buy An ounce of justice, 'tis a jewel so inestimable. I tell thee, God hath engrossed all justice in His hands, And there is none but what comes from Him. Pain. O then I see that God must right me for my murdered son. Hier. How, was thy son murdered? Pain. Ay, sir; no man did hold a son so dear. Hier. What, not as thine? that's a lie, As massy as the earth: I had a son, A thousand of thy sons, and he was murdered. Hier. Nor I, nor I; but this same one of mine Was worth a legion. But all is one. Pedro, Jaques, go in a doors; Isabella, go, And this good fellow here, and I, Will range this hideous orchard up and down, Like two she-lions, 'reavèd of their young. Go in a doors, I say. [Exeunt. Christopher Marlowe. THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS. (1589.) How FAUSTUS fell to the study of Magic. Born of parents base of stock In Germany, within a town called Rhodes: At riper years to Wirtemberg he went, That shortly he was graced with Doctor's name, In the heavenly matters of theology: Till, swol❜n with cunning and a self-conceit, And glutted now with Learning's golden gifts, Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss. The Death of Faustus. FAUSTUS alone.—The clock strikes eleven. Faust. O Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, |