On this page
-
Text (1)
-
Untitled Article
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
-
-
Transcript
-
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
Untitled Article
Mar , Beast!—we know / you . Jac . Your merry health , Master Kit Marlowe ! I'll bring aloud pair of palms to cheel your soul the next time you strut in red paint with a wooden weapon at your thigh . Mar . Who sent for you , dorr-hawk?—go !
Jac . Go ! aha !—I remember the word—same tone , same gesture—or as like as the two profiles of a monkey , or as two squeaks for one pinch . Go ! — not I—here ' s to all your healths ! One pull more ! There , I ' ve done — take it , Master Marlowe ; and pledge me as the true knight of London ' s rarest beauties ! Mar , I will ! [ Dashes the tankard at his head . Jac . ( stooping quickly ) . A miss , 'fore-gad!—the wall has got it ! See , where it trickles down like the long robe of
some dainty fair one . And look you here—and there again , look you—what make you of the picture he hath presented ? Mar . O subtle Nature ! who hath so compounded Our senses , playing into each other ' s wheels , That feeling oft acts substitute for sight , As sight becomes obedient to the thought—How can ' st thou place such wonders at the mercy Of every wretch that crawls ! I feel—I see ! Jac . ( singing ) .
Ram up the link , boys ; ho , boys ! The blear-eyed morning ' s here ; Let us wander through the streets , And kiss whoe ' er one meets ; St Cecil is my dear ! Ram up the link , boys , &c .
Mar . ( drawing ) . Lightning come up from hell and strangle thee ! Mid . and Hey . Nay , Marlowe ! Marlowe ! [ They hold him back .
Mid . Away , thou bestial villain ! Jac . ( singing ) . St Cecil is my dear ! Mar . ( furiously ) . Blast ! blast and scatter Thy body to ashes ! Oft ! I'll have his gliost ! [ Rushes at Jacconot . They Jight . Marlowe disarms him ; but Jacconot wrests Marlowe ' s
own sword from his haiid , and slabs him . Marlowe falls . Mid . See ! see ! Mar . Who ' s down ?—answer me , friends—Is ' t I ?—Or in the maze of some delirious trance , Some realm unknown , or passipn newly bora—Ne ' er felt before—am I transported thus ? My fingers paddle too , in blood—is ' t mine ?
Untitled Article
186 The Death of Marlowe .
-
-
Citation
-
Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Aug. 1, 1837, page 136, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1834/page/64/
-