My flesh, divided in your precious shapes,
Shall still retain my spirit, though I die,
And live in all your seeds immortally.
Then now remove me, that I may resign
My place and proper title to my son.
First, take my scourge and my imperial crown,
And mount my royal chariot of estate,
That I may see thee crowned before I die.
Help me, my lords, to make my last remove.

[They lift him down. Ther. A woful change, my lords; that daunts our thoughts,

More than the ruin of our proper souls!

Tamb. Sit up, my son, [and] let me see how well Thou wilt become thy father's majesty.

Amy. With what a flinty bosom should I joy

The breath of life and burthen of my soul,
If not resolved into resolvèd pains,

My body's mortifièd lineaments

Should exercise the motions of my heart,
Pierced with the joy of any dignity!

O father if the unrelenting ears

Of death and hell be shut against my prayers,
And that the spiteful influence of Heaven,
Deny my soul fruition of her joy;

How should I step, or stir my hateful feet
Against the inward powers of my heart,

Leading a life that only strives to die,

And plead in vain unpleasing sovereignty.

Tamb. Let not thy love exceed thine honour, son,

Nor bar thy mind that magnanimity

That nobly must admit necessity.

Sit up, my boy, and with these silken reins

Bridle the steelèd stomachs of these jades.

Ther. My lord, you must obey his majesty, Since fate commands and proud necessity.

Amy. Heavens witness me with what a broken heart And damned spirit I ascend this seat, And send my soul before my father die, His anguish and his burning agony !

[They crown Amyras. Tamb. Now fetch the hearse of fair Zenocrate; Let it be placed by this my fatal chair,

And serve as parcel of my funeral.

Usum. Then feels your majesty no sovereign ease, Nor may our hearts, all drowned in tears of blood, Joy any hope of your recovery?

Tamb. Casane, no; the monarch of the earth,
And eyeless monster that torments my soul,
Can not behold the tears ye shed for me,
And therefore still augments his cruelty.

Tech. Then let some god oppose his holy power
Against the wrath and tyranny of death,
That his tear-thirsty and unquenched hate
May be upon himself reverberate !

[They bring in the hearse of Zenocrate.
Tamb. Now eyes enjoy your latest benefit,
And when my soul hath virtue of your sight,
Pierce through the coffin and the sheet of gold,
And glut your longings with a heaven of joy.
So reign, my son; scourge and controul those slaves,
Guiding thy chariot with thy father's hand.
As precious is the charge thou undertakest
As that which Clymene's brainsick son did guide,
When wandering Phoebe's ivory cheeks were scorched,
And all the earth, like Etua, breathing fire;
Be warned by him, then; learn with awful eye
To sway a throne as dangerous as his ;

For if thy body thrive not full of thoughts
As pure and fiery as Phyteus' beams,
The nature of these proud rebelling jades
Will take occasion by the slenderest hair,
And draw thee piecemeal like Hippolitus,
Through rocks more steep and sharp than Caspian cliffs.
The nature of thy chariot will not bear

A guide of baser temper than myself,

More than Heaven's coach the pride of Phaeton.
Farewell, my boys; my dearest friends, farewell!
My body feels, my soul doth weep to see
Your sweet desires deprived my company,

For Tamburlaine, the scourge of God, must die.

[He dies. Amy. Meet heaven and earth, and here let all things end,

For earth hath spent the pride of all her fruit,
And heaven consumed his choicest living fire.
Let Earth and Heaven his timeless death deplore,
For both their worths will equal him no more.

FAUSTUS MAKES HIS CHOICE.
AOT I., SCENE 1.

Faust. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin
To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess:
Having commenc'd, be a divine in shew,
Yet level at the end of every art,

And live and die in Aristotle's works.
Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou hast ravish'd me!

Bene disserere est fins logices.

Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end !

Affords this art no greater miracle?

Then read no more; thou hast attain'd that end:

A great subject fitteth Faustus' wit:

Bid o xau un ov farewell, and Galen come,

Seeing, Ubi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus: Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold,

And be eterniz'd for some wonderous cure:
Summum bonum mcdicinæ sanitas,

The end of physic is our body's health.
Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end?
Is not thy common talk found aphorisms?
Are not thy bills hung up as monuments,
Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague,
And thousand desperate maladies been eas'd?
Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.
Couldst thou make men to live eternally,
Or, being dead, raise them to life again,
Then this profession were to be esteem'd.

Si una eademque res legatur duobus, alter rem, alter valorem rei, etc.

A pretty case of paltry legacies!

Exhæreditare filium non potest, pater, nisi, etc.

Such is the subject of the institute,

And universal body of the law:

This study fits a mercenary drudge,

Who aims at nothing but external trash

Too servile and illiberal for me.

When all is done, divinity is best:

Jerome's Bible, Faustus; view it well.

[Reads.

[Reads.

i est in nobis in, we deceive Why, then,

Stipendium peccati morse est. Ha! Stipendium, etc. The reward of sin is death: that's hard. Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla veritas; If we say that we have no s ourselves, and there's no truth in us. belike we must sin, and consequently di Ay, we must die an everlasting death. What doctrine call you this, Che sera, What will be, shall be? Divinity, adi These metaphysics of magicians, And necromantic books are heavenly

ie:

sera,

.eu!