the laste tell where another's shoe wrings.' In his Farewell to Folly, in 1591, so lasting was his malice, Greene again sneers at Marlowe. He tells his 'University Readers,' where he deemed the shaft would rankle deepest, that copies of his (Greene's) Mourning Garment had so ready a sale that the pedlar 'found them too dear for his pack, and was fain to bargain for the life of Tamburlaine, to wrap up his sweet powders in those unsavoury papers.' 'In the heyday of Marlowe's success in 1588-1591,' says Richard Simpson, 'Greene was as jealous of him as he was of Shakespeare in 1592, and for a similar reason.'

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Later on it will be seen how vile and atrocious a plot this miserable Greene framed, not only to slur the fame but even to jeopardise the very life of his illustrious contemporary. He laid the foundation of all the scandal and calumny which for more than three centuries have smirched the fair name and fame of Marlowe, and gave the cue to every literary hack who sought for an example amongst the great, to justify the alleged failings of genius.

Naturally the caterers for public amusement sought out the new luminary, the author of Tamburlaine, and asked for more light; and Marlowe, incited by the success of his first drama, set to work upon another drama upon the same subject. The Prologue

states:

'The general welcomes Tamburlaine received,
When he arrivèd last upon the stage,
Hath made our poet pen his Second Part.'

The Second Part of Tamburlaine furnishes proof of the haste and want of revision with which it was given to the world. Still more than the original play is it amissing in plot; although generally more sober and subdued in tone, yet in incident, such as there is, it is less restrained. The introduction of captive kings, harnessed to the chariot of Tamburlaine and dragging their conqueror across the stage, is one of the best known, most parodied, and most frequently adverted to of any scene of the Elizabethan drama. Flourishing his whip above the kings, this mighty warrior exclaims:

'Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia!

What can ye draw but twenty miles a day,
And have so proud a chariot at your heels,
And such a coachman as great Tamburlaine !'

Intermixed with the most sacred names of Christianity are those of Mohammedanism, and of the heathen deities of Greek and Latin mythology in a manner which would appear grotesque or profane to modern spectators. Thus the hero, welcoming his 'loving friends and fellow-kings,' exclaims :

'If all the crystal gates of Jove's high court
Were opened wide, and I might enter in
To see the state and majesty of Heaven,

It could not more delight me than your sight.'

And in the lines where the King of Natolia alludes to the gross treachery and perjury of the Christian princes, there is a curious mingling of Christianity and Heathendom:

'Can there be such deceit in Christians,
Or treason in the fleshly heart of man,
Whose shape is figure of the highest God!
Then, if there be a Christ, as Christians say,
But in their deeds deny him for their Christ,
If he be son to ever-living Jove,

And hath the power of his outstretchèd arm;
If he be jealous of his name and honour,
As is our holy prophet, Mahomet ;-

Open, thou shining veil of Cynthia,

And make a passage from the empyreal heaven
That he who sits on high and never sleeps,
Nor in one place is circumscriptible,
But everywhere fills every continent
With strange infusion of his sacred vigour,
May in his endless power and purity,
Behold and venge this traitor's perjury!
Thou Christ, that art esteemed omnipotent,
If thou wilt prove thyself a perfect God,
Worthy the worship of all faithful hearts,
Be now revenged upon this traitor's soul,
And make the power I have left behind,
(Too little to defend our guiltless lives),
Sufficient to discomfort and confound

The trustless force of those false Christians.'

Of course it is a Mohammedan who is supposed to be speaking, and the passage does not show Marlowe at his best.

The drama, if drama it may be styled, is full of splendid passages, but such descriptions as that where Tamburlaine describes how he purposes to make his native city of Sarmarcand famous, and the life he designs for himself there, however suitable for a poem, do but delay and deaden the action of a play:

'Then shall my native city, Sarmarcanda,
And crystal waves of fresh Jaertis' stream,
The pride and beauty of her princely seat,
Be famous through the furthest continents,
For there my palace-royal shall be placed,
Whose shining turrets shall dismay the heavens,
And cast the fame of Ilion's towers to hell.
Thorough the streets with troops of conquered kings,
I'll ride in golden armour like the sun;
And in my helm a triple plume shall spring,
Spangled with diamonds, dancing in the air,
To note me emperor of the threefold world,
Like to an almond-tree y-mounted high,87
Upon the lofty and celestial mount
Of ever green Selinus quaintly decked
With blooms more white than Erycina's brows,
Whose tender blossoms tremble every one,
At every little breath through heaven is blown.
Then in my coach, like Saturn's royal son,
Mounted his shining chariot gilt with fire,

And drawn with princely eagles through the path
Paved with crystal and enchased with stars,
When all the gods stand gazing at his pomp,
So will I ride through Sarmarcanda streets,
Until my soul, dissevered from this flesh,

Shall mount the milk-white way, and meet him there.'

The character most successfully depicted in this play is that of Calyphas, one of the three sons of Tamburlaine, and even in this instance it is somewhat doubtful whether Marlowe is speaking in sympathy with, or in disdain of, the opinions of the unmartial-minded prince. When aroused by his two warlike brothers to assist against the foe, Calyphas, memories of whose sayings evidently dwelt in Shakespeare's mind when he was creating Falstaff, answers thus:

'Cal. Away ye fools! my father needs not me,
Nor you in faith, but that you will be thought
More childish-valorous than manly-wise.

If half our camp should sit and sleep with me,
My father were enough to scare the foe.
You do dishonour to his majesty,

To think our helps will do him any good.

I know, sir, what it is to kill a man ;

It works remorse of conscience in me;
I take no pleasure to be murderous,

Nor care for blood when wine will quence my thirst.

Go, go, tall stripling, fight you for us both,
And take my other toward brother here,
For person like to prove a second Mars.
'Twill please my mind as well to hear you both
Have won a heap of honour in the field,
And left your slender carcases behind,
As if I lay with you for company.

Take you the honour, I will take my ease;
My wisdom shall excuse my cowardice.
I go into the field before I need! ...
The bullets fly at random where they list;
And should I go and kill a thousand men,
I were as soon rewarded with a shot,
And sooner far than he that never fights;
And should I go and do no harm nor good,

I might have harm, which all the good I have,
Joined with my father's crown, would never cure.'

The ostensible origin of the Second Part is Tamburlaine's 'impassionate fury for the death of his Lady and love faire Zenocrate.' That 'great Emperess' is a somewhat colourless lady-for Marlowe had not learned to depict a woman-only at rare intervals displaying any individuality, as when she pleads for her