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When all is done, Divinity is best.

'Tis Magic, Magic, that hath ravish'd me. Jerome's bible, Faustus: view it well.

Then gentle friends aid me in this attempt; Stipendium peccati mors est: ha! Sti- And I that have with subtil syllogisms pendium, etc.

Gravell’d the Pastors of the German Church, The reward of sin is death : that's hard. And made the flowering pride of Wirtemberg Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla Swarm to my problems, as th' infernal Spirits

est in nobis veritas. On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell, If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, Will be as cunning as Agrippa was,

and there is no truth in us. Whose shadow made all Europe honour him. Why then belike we must sin, and so conse- Vald. Faustus, these books, thy wit, and our quently die.

Aye, we must die an everlasting death. Shall make all nations canonize us.
What doctrine call you this? Che sera, sera: As Indian Moors obey their Spanish Lords,
What will be, shall be. Divinity adieu. So shall the Spirits of every Element
These Metaphysics of Magicians,

Be always serviceable to us three:
And necromantic books, are heavenly.

Like Lions shall they guard us when we please; Lines, Circles, Letters, Characters:

Like Almain Rutters with their horsemen's staves, Aye, these are those that Faustus most desires. Or Lapland Giants trotting by our sides: O what a world of profit and delight,

Sometimes like Women, or unwedded Maids, Of power, of honour , and omnipotence, Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows Is promis'd to the studious artizan !

Than have the white breasts of the Queen of Love. All things that move between the quiet poles Corn. The miracles that magic will perform, Shall be at my command. Emperors and Kings Will make thee vow to study nothing else. Are but obey'd in their several provinces; He that is grounded in astrology, But his dominion that exceeds in this,

Inricht with tongues, well seen in minerals, Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man: Hath all the principles magic doth require. A sound Magician is a Demigod.

Faust. Come shew me some demonstrations Here tire my brains to gain a deity.


That I may conjure in some bushy grove, How am I glutted with conceit of this !

And have these joys in full possession. Shall I make Spirits fetch me what I please?

Vald. Then haste thee to some solitary grove Resolve me of all ambiguities?

And bear wise Bacon's and Albanus' works, Perform what desperate enterprises I will ?

The Hebrew Psalter, and New Testament; I'll have them fly to India for gold,

And whatsoever else is requisite Ransack the ocean for orient pearl,

We will inform thee, ere our conference cease. And search all corners of the new - found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates. Faustus being instructed in the elements of magic by I'll have them read me strange philosophy; his friends Valdes and Cornelius, sells his soul to And tell the secrets of all foreign kings :

the devil, to have an Evil Spirit at his command for

twenty-four years, When the years are expired, I'll have them till the public schools with skill,

the devils claim his soul. Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad :

Faustus, the night of his death. Wagner, his servant. I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring And chase the Prince of Parma from our land,

Faust. Say, Wagner, thou hast perused my And reign sole king of all the provinces :

Yea stranger engines for the brunt of war,

How dost thou like it?
Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp bridge, Wag. Sir, so wondrous well,
I'll make my servile Spirits to invent.

As in all humble duty I do yield
Come German Valdes, and Cornelius,

My life and lasting service for your love. And make me wise with your sage conference.


Three Scholars enter.
Enter Valdes and Cornelius.

Faust. Gramercy, Wagner.
Faust. Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius, Welcome Gentlemen
Know that your words have won me at the last, First Sch. Now worthy Faustus, methinks
To practise Magic and concealed Arts.

your looks are chang'd. Philosophy is odious and obscure :

Faust. Oh, Gentlemen. Both Law and Physic are for petty wits :

Sec. Sch. What ails Faustus ?

Faust. Ah my sweet chamber-fellow, had Faust. Talk not of me but save yourselves I lived with thee, then had I lived still, but now

and depart. must die eternally. Look, Sirs, comes he not? Third Sch. God will strengthen me, I will comes he not?

stay with Faustus, First Sch. O my dear Faustus, what im- First Sch. Tempt not God, sweet friend, ports this fear?

but let us into the next room and pray for him. Sec. Sch. Is all our pleasure turn'd to me- Faust. Aye, pray for me, pray for me; and lancholy?

what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, Third Sch. He is not well with being over for nothing can rescue me. solitary.

Sec. Sch. Pray thow, and we will pray, that Sec. Sch. If it be so, we will have physicians,

God may have mercy upon thee. and Faustus shall be cured. Faust. Gentlemen, farewell; if I live till Third. Sch. 'Tis but a surfeit, Sir; fear morning, I'll visit you: if not, Faustus is gone nothing.

to hell. Faust. A surfeit of a deadly sin that hath Scholars. Faustus farewell.

damn'd both body and soul. Sec. Sch. Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven,

Faustus alone. The Clock strikes Eleven. and remember mercy is infinite. 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, O lente lente currite noetis 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.

Sweet friends, what shall become of Fau- O I will leap to heaven: who pulls me down? stus being in hell for ever?

See where Christ's blood will save me: Oh, my Sec. Sch. Yet Faustus call on God.

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 And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven. hold'em.

No? then will I headlong run into the earth: Scholars. Who, Faustus?

Gape earth. O no, it will not harbour me. Faust. God forbid it indeed, but Faustus You stars that reign’d at my nativity, hath done it: for the vain pleasure of four and Whose influence have allotted death and hell, twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist 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?

The walch strikes. Faust. Oft have I thought to have done so; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces if o half the hour is past: 'twill all be past anon. I named God; to fetch me body and soul if I O if my soul must suffer for my sin, once gave ear to divinity: and now it is too late. Impose some end to my incessant pain. Gentlemen, away, lest yoù perish with me. Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years.,

Sec. Sch. O what may we do to save Faustus? A hundred thousand, and at the last be saved:


No end is limited to damned souls.

Since first the world's creation did begin; Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard. Or why is this immortal that thou hast? Pray heaven the Doctor have escaped the Oh Pythagoras' Metempsycosis, were that true,

danger. This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd Sec. Sch. O help us heavens, see here are Into some brutish beast.

Faustus' limbs All beasts are happy, for when they die, All torn asunder by the hand of death. Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements : Third Sch. The devil whom Faustus serv'd But mine must live still to be plagued in hell.

hath torn him thus: Curst be the parents that engender'd me: For twixt the hours of twelve and one, meNo, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer,

thought, That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven. I heard him shriek and call aloud for help;

At which same time the house seem'd all on fire The clock strikes twelve.

With dreadful horror of these damned fiends.

Sec. Sch. Well Gentlemen, though Faustus' It strikes, it strikes; now, body, turn to air,

end be such Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell.

As every Christian heart laments to think on: O soul, be chang'd into small water drops,

Yet, for he was a Scholar once admired
And fall into the ocean; ne'er be found. For wondrous knowledge in our German schools,

We'll give his mangled limbs due burial:
Thunder, and enter the devils.

And all the scholars, cloth'd in mourning black,

Shall wait upon his heavy funeral.
O mercy heaven, look not so fierce on me.
Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile:

Chorus, Cut is the branch that might have Ugly hell gape not; come not Lucifer:

grown full strait, I'll burn my books: Oh Mephistophilis.

And burned is Apollo's laurel bough
That sometime grew within this learned man:

Faustus is gone. Regard his hellish fall,
Enter Scholars.

Whose fiendfull fortune may exhort the wise First Sch. Come Gentlemen, let us go visit Only to wonder at unlawful things:


Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits For such a dreadful night was never seen To practise more than heavenly power permits.


Ueber das Leben dieses Mannes ist weiter Nichts bekannt, als dass er, ein Vorgänger Shakspeare's, 1579 Magister der freien Künste in Oxford und dann Stadtpoet in London wurde und noch zu seines grossen Nachfolgers Zeit lebte, jedoch vor 1597 starb. Er hinterliess fünf Stücke: The Arraignment of Paris, 1584 gedruckt; Edward I. (4°, 1593) The Old Wive's Tale (4°, 1595) King David and Fair Bethsabe, nach seinem Tode 1599 gedruckt, und The Turkish Mahomet and Hyron the Fair Greek, das nie gedruckt wurde und verloren gegangen ist, so wie mehrere von 1589 bis 1593 verfasste Gelegenheitsgedichte. David and Bethsabe findet sich abgedruckt im 2. Bande von Dodsley's Collection of old plays. –

Peele war roh aber genial, voller Fehler aber auch voll guter Eigenschaften als Dichter und besass für seine Zeit eine seltene Herrschaft über Sprache und Form; eigentliches Interesse bietet er jedoch nur durch den Vergleich mit seinem grossen Nachfolger.


Struck with the accents of Archangels' tunes, from the Love of King David and fair Wrought not more pleasure to her husband's Bethsabe, with the Tragedy of Absa

thoughts, lom: by George Peele.

Than this fair woman's words and notes to mine.

May that sweet plain that bears her pleasant (Bethsabe with her maid bathing : she sings and Da

vid sits alone viewing her.)

Be still enamel'd with discolour'd flowers;
The song

That precious fount bear sand of purest gold;
Hot sun, cool fire, temper'd with sweet air, And for the pebble, let the silver streams
Black shade, fair nurse, shadow my white hair, That pierce earth's bowels to maintain the source,
Shine sun, burn fire, breathe air and ease me,

Play upon rubies, sapphires, chrysolites; Black shade, fair nurse, shroud me and please me;

The brim let be imbrac'd with golden curls Shadow (my sweet nurse) keep me from burning, Of moss that sleeps with sound the waters make Make not my glad cause, cause of mourning.

For joy to feed the fount with their recourse; Let not my beauty's fire

Let all the grass that beautifies her bower Enflame unstaid desire,

Bear manna every morn instead of dew; Nor pierce any bright eye

Or let the dew be sweeter far than that That wandereth lightly.

That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,

Or balm which trickled from old Aaron's beard. Bethsabe. Come gentle Zephyr trick'd with

Enter Cusay. those perfumes That erst in Eden sweetned Adam's love,

See Cusay, see the flower of Israel, And stroke my bosom with the silken fan : The fairest daughter that obeys the king This shade (sun - proof) is yet no proof for thee, In all the land the Lord subdued to me. Thy body smoother than this waveless spring, Fairer than Isaac's lover at the well, And purer than the substance of the same, Brighter than inside bark of new - hewn cedar, Can creep through that his lances cannot pierce. Sweeter than flames of fine perfumed myrrh ; Thou and thy sister soft and sacred Air, And comelier than the silver clouds that dance Goddess of life and governess of health, On Zephyr's wings before the king of Heaven. Keeps every fountain fresh and arbor sweet; Cusay. Is it not Bethsabe the Hethite's wife No brazen gate her passage can repulse, Urias, now at Rabath siege with Joab? Nor bushy thicket bar thy subtle breath

David. Go now and bring her quickly to Then deck thee with thy loose delightsome robes,

the King; And on thy wings bring delicate perfumes, Tell her, her graces hath found grace with him. To play the wantons with us through the leaves. Cusay. I will my Lord.

David. Bright Bethsabe shall wash in DaDavid. What tunes, what words, what looks,

vid's bower what wonders pierce In water mix'd with purest almond flower, My soul, incensed with a sudden fire!

And bathe her beauty in the milk of kids, What tree, what shade, what spring, what paradise, Bright Bethsabe gives earth to my desires, Enjoys the beauty of so fair a dame!

Verdure to earth, and to that verdure flowers, Fair Eva, plac'd in perfect happiness,

To flowers sweet odours, and to odours wings, Lending her praise - notes to the liberal heavens, | That carries pleasures to the hearts of Kings.


Sir Walter Raleigh ward 1552 zu Hayes-Farm in Devonshire geboren, studirte in Oxford und widmete sich dann der Rechtswissenschaft. Die bewegte damalige Zeit bewog ihn jedoch, den Studien zu entsagen und Kriegsdienste zu nehmen. Nachdem er sich in Frankreich, den Niederlanden und Irland durch seine Tapferkeit ausgezeichnet, kehrte er nach England zurück und erwarb sich die Gunst der Königin Elisabeth. Unter ihrer Regierung that er sich wiederholt

hervor durch seine Theilnahme an der Zerstörung der Armada, die Colonisation von Virginien, dem er der jungfräulichen Monarchie zu Ehren diesen Namen gab, so wie durch viele andere grossartige Unternehmungen mehr, weshalb er auch von ihr mit Würden und Ehren geschmückt wurde und viele wichtige Aemter bekleidete. Mit ihrem Tode erlosch aber sein Stern; ihr Nachfolger Jacob I. hasste ihn und liess ihn, wegen nichtiger Gründe, absetzen und zum Tode verdammen. Das Urtheil wurde jedoch in Kerkerstrafe verwandelt und Raleigh musste zwölf Jahre lang im Tower schmachten. Endlich erhielt er seine Freiheit wieder und den Auftrag, das Gold aus den Minen von Guiana auszuführen. Diese Expedition missglückte jedoch und in Folge dessen wurde er bei seiner Rückkehr nach England von Neuem gefänglich eingezogen, und da man wegen seines Betragens in Guiana Nichts auf ihn zu bringen vermochte, in Kraft des früheren Todesurtheils am 24. October 1618 enthauptet. Männlich erlag er seinem Schicksal.

Neben mehreren andern Schriften hinterliess er ein grosses Werk in Prosa, eine Weltgeschichte (History of the World. London 1552 in Folio), eine jetzt zwar veraltete, für ihre Zeit aber höchst verdienstliche Arbeit. Als Dichter hat er sich vorzüglich durch eben so originelle als anmuthige Lieder ausgezeichnet; seine poetischen Leistungen erschienen jedoch nicht besonders, sondern finden sich in meist gleichzeitigen Sammlungen verstreut.

The Shepheard to the Flowers.

|The Shepheards Description of Love.

Sweet violets, Love's paradise, that spread

Your gracious odours, which you couched beare Shepheard, what's Love, I pray thee tell?

Within your palie faces,
Upon the gentle wing of some calme breathing

That playes amidst the plaine

It is that fountaine, and that well,
If by the favour of propitious starres you gaine

Where pleasure and repentance dwell :
Such grace as in my ladie's bosome place to finde, It is, perhaps, that sauncing bell,
Be proud to touch those places !

That toules all into heaven or hell:
And when her warmth your moysture forth doth

And this is Love, as I heard tell.

Whereby her daintie parts are sweetly fed,
Your honours of the flowrie meades I pray, Yet what is Love, I prethee say?
You pretty daughters of the earth and sunne,

With milde and seemely breathing straite display
My bitter sighs, that have my hart undone! It is a worke on holy - day,

It is December match'd with May,
Vermillion roses, that with new dayes rise, When lustie bloods in fresh aray
Display your crimson folds fresh looking faire, Heare ten months after of the play:
Whose radiant bright disgraces

And this is Love, as I heare say.
The rich adorned rayes of roseate rising morne!
Ah, if her virgin's hand

Do pluck your purse, ere Phoebus view the land, Yet what is Love, good Shepheard saine?
And vaile your gracious pompe in lovely Na-
ture's scorne,

If chaunce my mistresse traces
Fast by your flowers to take the Sommer's ayre,

It is a sun - shine mixt with raine;
Then wofull blushing tempt her glorious eyes

It is a tooth - ach; or like paine : To spread their teares, Adonis' death reporting,

It is a game, where none doth gaine. Whose drops of bloud, within your leaves con

The lass saith no, and would full faine : sorting,

And this is Love, as I heare say.
Report fair Venus' moanes to have no end!

Then may Remorse, in pittying of my smart,
Drie up my teares, and dwell within her hart!

Yet what is Love, good Shepheard show ?

A thing that creepes, it cannot goe;
A prize that passeth to and fro,

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