And burned is Apollo's laurel bough That sometime grew within this learned man: Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits *The growing horrors of Faustus are awfully marked by the hours and half hours as they expire and bring him nearer and nearer to the exactment of his dire compact. It is indeed an agony and bloody sweat. Marlowe is said to have been tainted with atheistical positions, to have denied God and the Trinity. To such a genius the History of Faustus must have been delectable food: to wander in fields where curiosity is forbidden to go, to approach the dark gulf near enough to look in, to be busied in speculations which are the rottenest part of the core of the fruit that fell from the Tree of Knowledge. Barabas the Jew, and Faustus the Conjurer, are offsprings of a mind which at least delighted to dally with interdicted subjects. They both talk a language which a believer would have been tender of putting into the mouth of a character though but in fiction. But the holiest minds have sometimes not thought it blameable to connterfeit impiety in the person of another, to bring Vice in upon the stage speaking her own dialect, and, themselves being armed with an, Unction of self-confident impunity, have not scrupled to handle and touch that familiarly, which would be death to others. Milton in the person of Satan has started speculations hardier than any which the feeble armoury of the atheist ever furnished: and the precise strait-laced Richardson has strengthened Vice, from the mouth of Lovelace, with entangling sophistries and abstruse pleas against her adversary Virtue which Sedley, Villiers, and Rochester, wanted depth of libertinism sufficient to have invented. THE HOG HATH LOST HIS PEARL; A COMEDY, BY ROBERT TAILOR. Carracus appoints his friend Albert to meet him before the break of day at the house of the old Lord Wealthy, whose daughter Maria has consented to a stolen match with Carracus. Albert, arriving before his friend, is mistaken by Maria for Carracus, and takes advantage of the night to wrong his friend. Enter Albert, solus. Alb. This is the green, and this the chamber-window; And see, the appointed light stands in the casement, The ladder of ropes set orderly, Yet he that should ascend, slow in his haste, Is not as yet come hither. Were it any friend that lives but Carracus, I'd try the bliss which this fine time presents. And be so slack! 'sfoot, it doth move my patience. Not have watch't night by night for such a prize? Thy faith to him whose only friendship's worth He is and was ever as thine own heart's blood. [Maria beckons him from the window. 'Sfoot, see, she beckons me for Carracus. Spite of my timorous conscience. I am in person, It may be acted and ne'er call'd in question. Mar. (calls) Hist! Carracus, ascend: All is as clear as in our hearts we wish'd. [Albert ascends, and being on the top of the ladder, puts out the candle.] Mar. O love, why do you so? Alb. I heard the steps of some coming this way. Did you not hear Albert pass by as yet? Mar. Not any creature pass this way this hour. Mar. Come then, dear Carracus, thou now shalt rest I have so often tried; even now, Seeing thee come to that most honour'd end, Car. How pleasing are the steps we lovers make, To make me happy whilst I live on earth; This is the green; how dark the night appears! She fear'd to set a light, and only heark'neth That solely lengthens his now drooping years, Yet reason tells us, parents are o'er-seen, Their child's affections, and controul that love Which the high powers divine inspire them with; When in their shallowest judgments they may know, But whilst I run contemplating on this, I'll go into the next field, where my friend Told me the horses were in readiness. Albert descending from Maria. [Exit. Mar. But do not stay. What if you find not Albert? Alb. I'll then return alone to fetch you hence. Mar. If you should now deceive me, having gain'd What you men seek for Alb. Sooner I'll deceive. My soul-and so I fear I have. Mar. At your first call I will descend. [aside. Alb. Till when, this touch of lips be the true pledge Of Carracus' constant true devoted love. Mar. Be sure you stay not long; farewell. I cannot lend an ear to hear you part. [Maria goes in. Alb. But you did lend a hand unto my entrance. [He descends, Alb. (solus) How have I wrong'd my friend, my faithful friend! Robb'd him of what's more precious than his blood, Of his soul-joying mistress! the fruition of whose bed Wanders this cold night through the unshel'tring field Of wronged love and friendship rightly makes me. But like a wretch hides him to dig his grave; Yet, Albert, be not reasonless to indanger I hear one's pace; 'tis surely Carracus. Enter Carracus. Car. Not find my friend! sure some malignant planet |