In what resplendent glory thou hadst sat In yonder throne, like those bright shining saints, And triumphed over hell; that hast thou lost: And now, poor soul! must thy good angel leave thee; The jaws of hell are open to receive thee. [Exit, throne ascends. [Hell is discovered.] Bad Ang. Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with horror stare Into that vast perpetual torture-house : There are the furies tossing damned souls On burnings forks; their bodies boil in lead: There are live quarters broiling on the coals, That ne'er can die; this ever-burning chair Is for o'er-tortured souls to rest them in ; These that are fed with sops of flaming fire Were gluttons, and loved only delicates, And laughed to see the poor starve at their gates; But yet all these are nothing; thou shalt One drop of blood will save me: oh, my Christ! Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ; Yet will I call on him. Oh, spare me Lucifer! Where is it now?-'tis gone! And see, a threatening arm, an angry brow! Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven! No! Then will I headlong run into the earth: Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist, But let my soul mount and ascend to heaven. [The clock strikes the half hour. Oh, half the hour is past, 'twill all be past anon. Oh! if my soul must suffer for my sin, And I be changed into some brutish beast. Cursed be the parents that engendered me! Enter the Scholars. 1 Scho. Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faustus, For such a dreadful night was never seen Since first the world's creation did begin; Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard; Pray heaven the Doctor have escaped the danger. 2 Scho. Oh, help us, heavens! see, here are Faustus' limbs, All torn asunder by the hand of death. 3 Scho. The devils whom Faustus served have torn him thus; For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought I heard him shriek and cry aloud for help; At which selftime the house seemed all on fire, With dreadful horror of these damned fiends. 2 Scho. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be such Terminat hora diem, terminat auctor opus. The Jew of Malta. ΤΟ MY WORTHY FRIEND, MR. THOMAS HAMMON, Of Gray's Inn, &c. THIS play, composed by so worthy an author as Mr. Marlowe, and the part of the Jew presented by so unimitable an actor as Mr. Alleyn, being in this later age commended to the stage; as I ushered it unto the Court, and presented it to the Cock-pit, with these prologues and epilogues here inserted, so now being newly brought to the press, I was loth it should be published without the ornament of an Epistle; making choice of you unto whom to devote it; than whom (of all those gentlemen and acquaintance, within the compass of my long knowledge) there is none more able to tax ignorance, or attribute right to merit. Sir, you have been pleased to grace some of mine own works with your courteous patronage; I hope this will not be the worse accepted, because commended by me; over whom, none can claim more power or privilege than yourself. I had no better a newyear's gift to present you with; receive it therefore as a continuance of that inviolable obligement, by which, he rests still engaged; who as he ever hath, shall always remain, Tuissimus: THO. HEYWOOD. THE PROLOGUE SPOKEN AT COURT. Gracious and Great, that we so boldly dare, Who lived in Malta: you shall find him still, To have your princely ears: grace you him; then EPILOGUE. It is our fear (dread sovereign) we have bin THE PROLOGUE TO THE STAGE, AT THE COCK-PIT. We know not how our play may pass this stage, The Malta Jew had being, and was made; Whom we may rank with (doing no one wrong) Admired I am of those that hate me most. Though some speak openly against my Yet they will read me, and thereby attain most sure When like the Draco's they were writ in blood. Hence comes it that a strong built citadel Which maxim had [but] Phalaris observed, Let me be envied and not pitièd! Which money was not got without my means. I crave but this-grace him as he deserves, ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. [Exit. As for those Samnites, and the men of Uz, Fie; what a trouble 'tis to count this trash. gold, Whereof a man may easily in a day Would make a miracle of thus much coin: Wearying his fingers' ends with telling it, Give me the merchants of the Indian mines, Receive them free, and sell them by the weight; Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts, Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade, Ha! to the east? yes: see how stand the vanes ? East and by south: why then I hope my I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail, Enter Barabas in his counting house, with But who comes here? How now. heaps of gold before him. Bar. So that of thus much that return was made: And of the third part of the Persian ships, Enter a Merchant. Merch. Barabas, thy ships are safe, Riding in Malta Road: and all the merchants With other merchandise are safe arrived, |