The Works of Christopher Marlowe.

by Christopher Marlowe.

HERO AND LEANDER.

Two editions of _Hero and Leander_ appeared in 1598. The first edition, containing only Marlowe's portion of the poem, is ent.i.tled _Hero and Leander. By Christopher Marloe. London, Printed by Adam Islip, for Edward Blunt._ 1598. 4to. The t.i.tle-page of the second edition, which contains the complete poem, is _Hero and Leander: Begun by Christopher Marloe; and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. At London, Printed by Felix Kingston, for Paule Linley, and are to be solde in Paules Churche-yard, at the signe of the Blacke-beare._ 1598. 4to.

Two copies of the second edition were discovered a few years ago at Lamport Hall (the seat of Sir Charles Isham, Bart.) by Mr. Charles Edmonds. The existence of this edition was previously unknown. Later editions are:--

_Hero and Leander: Begunne by Christopher Marloe: Whereunto is added the first booke of Lucan translated line for line by the same Author. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. At London Printed for John Flasket, and are to be solde in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Blacke-beare. 1600.

4to._

_Hero and Leander: Begunne by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. At London. Imprinted for John Flasket, and are to be sold in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the blacke Beare.

1606. 4to._

_Hero and Leander: Begunne by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. At London. Imprinted for Ed. Blunt and W.

Barret, and are to be sold in Pauls Church-yard, at the signe of the blacke Beare. 1609. 4to._

_Hero and Leander: Begunne by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. London. Printed by W. Stansby for Ed.

Blunt and W. Barret, and are to be sold in Pauls Church-yard, at the signe of the Blacke Beare. 1613. 4to._

_Hero and Leander: Begun by Christoper Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. London, Printed by A. M. for Richard Hawkins: and are to bee sold at his Shop in Chancerie-Lane, neere Serieants Inne. 1629. 4to._

_Hero and Leander: Begun by Christopher Marloe, and finished by George Chapman. Ut Nectar, Ingenium. London: Printed by N. Okes for William Leake, and are to be sold at his shop in Chancery-lane neere the Roules.

1637. 4to._

I have not had an opportunity of seeing the 4tos. of 1598 or the 4to. of 1600. For the text of the Isham copy, I am indebted to the _Works of George Chapman: Poems and Minor Translations_, 1875. I have examined the texts of eds. 1606, 1613, 1629, 1637; and my friend Mr. C. H. Firth has examined for me the Bodleian copy of ed. 1600, in the margin of which Malone has noted the readings of the first edition.

TO THE

RIGHT-WORSHIPFUL SIR THOMAS WALSINGHAM,

KNIGHT.

Sir, we think not ourselves discharged of the duty we owe to our friend when we have brought the breathless body to the earth; for albeit the eye there taketh his ever-farewell of that beloved object, yet the impression of the man that hath been dear unto us, living an after-life in our memory, there putteth us in mind of farther obsequies due unto the deceased; and namely of the performance of whatsoever we may judge shall make to his living credit and to the effecting of his determinations prevented by the stroke of death. By these meditations (as by an intellectual will) I suppose myself executor to the unhappily deceased author of this poem; upon whom knowing that in his lifetime you bestowed many kind favours, entertaining parts of reckoning and worth which you found in him with good countenance and liberal affection, I cannot but see so far into the will of him dead, that whatsoever issue of his brain should chance to come abroad, that the first breath it should take might be the gentle air of your liking; for, since his self had been accustomed thereunto, it would prove more agreeable and thriving to his right children than any other foster countenance whatsoever. At this time seeing that this unfinished tragedy happens under my hands to be imprinted; of a double duty, the one to yourself, the other to the deceased, I present the same to your most favourable allowance, offering my utmost self now and ever to be ready at your worship's disposing:

EDWARD BLUNT.

HERO AND LEANDER.

THE FIRST SESTIAD.

_The Argument_[1] _of the First Sestiad._

Hero's description and her love's; The fane of Venus, where he moves His worthy love-suit, and attains; Whose bliss the wrath of Fates restrains For Cupid's grace to Mercury: Which tale the author doth imply.

On h.e.l.lespont, guilty of true love's blood, In view and opposite two cities stood, Sea-borderers,[2] disjoin'd by Neptune's might; The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.

At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair, Whom young Apollo courted for her hair, And offer'd as a dower his burning throne, Where she should sit, for men to gaze upon.

The outside of her garments were of lawn, The lining purple silk, with gilt stars drawn; 10 Her wide sleeves green, and border'd with a grove, Where Venus in her naked glory strove To please the careless and disdainful eyes Of proud Adonis, that before her lies; Her kirtle blue, whereon was many a stain, Made with the blood of wretched lovers slain.

Upon her head she ware[3] a myrtle wreath, From whence her veil reach'd to the ground beneath: Her veil was artificial flowers and leaves, Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives: 20 Many would praise the sweet smell as she past, When 'twas the odour which her breath forth cast; And there for honey bees have sought in vain, And, beat from thence, have lighted there again.

About her neck hung chains of pebble-stone, Which, lighten'd by her neck, like diamonds shone.

She ware no gloves; for neither sun nor wind Would burn or parch her hands, but, to her mind.

Or warm or cool them, for they took delight To play upon those hands, they were so white. 30 Buskins of sh.e.l.ls, all silver'd, used she, And branch'd with blushing coral to the knee; Where sparrows perch'd of hollow pearl and gold, Such as the world would wonder to behold: Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills, Which as she went, would cherup through the bills.

Some say, for her the fairest Cupid pin'd, And, looking in her face, was strooken blind.

But this is true; so like was one the other, As he imagin'd Hero was his mother; 40 And oftentimes into her bosom flew, About her naked neck his bare arms threw, And laid his childish head upon her breast, And, with still panting rock,[4] there took his rest.

So lovely-fair was Hero, Venus' nun, As Nature wept, thinking she was undone, Because she took more from her than she left, And of such wondrous beauty her bereft: Therefore, in sign her treasure suffer'd wrack, Since Hero's time hath half the world been black. 50 Amorous Leander, beautiful and young (Whose tragedy divine Musaeus sung), Dwelt at Abydos; since him dwelt there none For whom succeeding times make[5] greater moan.

His dangling tresses, that were never shorn, Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne, Would have allur'd the venturous youth of Greece To hazard more than for the golden fleece.

Fair Cynthia wished his arms might be her Sphere; Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there. 60 His body was as straight as Circe's wand; Jove might have sipt out nectar from his hand.

Even as delicious meat is to the tast, So was his neck in touching, and surpast The white of Pelops' shoulder: I could tell ye, How smooth his breast was, and how white his belly; And whose immortal fingers did imprint That heavenly path with many a curious dint That runs along his back; but my rude pen Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men, 70 Much less of powerful G.o.ds: let it suffice That my slack Muse sings of Leander's eyes; Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his That leapt into the water for a kiss Of his own shadow, and, despising many, Died ere he could enjoy the love of any.

Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen, Enamour'd of his beauty had he been: His presence made the rudest peasant melt, That in the vast uplandish country dwelt; 80 The barbarous Thracian soldier, mov'd with nought, Was mov'd with him, and for his favour sought.

Some swore he was a maid in man's attire, For in his looks were all that men desire,-- A pleasant-smiling cheek, a speaking eye, A brow for love to banquet royally; And such as knew he was a man, would say, "Leander, thou art made for amorous play: Why art thou not in love, and loved of all?

Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall." 90 The men of wealthy Sestos every year, For his sake whom their G.o.ddess held so dear, Rose-cheek'd[6] Adonis, kept a solemn feast: Thither resorted many a wandering guest To meet their loves: such as had none at all Came lovers home from this great festival; For every street, like to a firmament, Glister'd with breathing stars, who, where they went, Frighted the melancholy earth, which deem'd Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seem'd, 100 As if another Phaeton had got The guidance of the sun's rich chariot.

But, far above the loveliest, Hero shin'd, And stole away th' enchanted gazer's mind; For like sea-nymphs' inveigling harmony, So was her beauty to the standers by; Nor that night-wandering, pale, and watery[7] star (When yawning dragons draw her thirling[8] car From Latmus' mount up to the gloomy sky, Where, crown'd with blazing light and majesty, 110 She proudly sits) more over-rules the flood Than she the hearts of those that near her stood.

Even as when gaudy nymphs pursue the chase, Wretched Ixion's s.h.a.ggy-footed race, Incens'd with savage heat, gallop amain From steep pine-bearing mountains to the plain, So ran the people forth to gaze upon her, And all that view'd her were enamour'd on her: And as in fury of a dreadful fight, Their fellows being slain or put to flight, 120 Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead-strooken, So at her presence all surpris'd and tooken, Await the sentence of her scornful eyes; He whom she favours lives; the other dies: There might you see one sigh; another rage; And some, their violent pa.s.sions to a.s.suage, Compile sharp satires; but, alas, too late!

For faithful love will never turn to hate; And many, seeing great princes were denied, Pin'd as they went, and thinking on her died. 130 On this feast-day--O cursed day and hour!-- Went Hero thorough Sestos, from her tower To Venus' temple, where unhappily, As after chanc'd, they did each other spy.

So fair a church as this had Venus none: The walls were of discolour'd[9] jasper-stone, Wherein was Proteus carved; and over-head A lively vine of green sea-agate spread, Where by one hand light-headed Bacchus hung, And with the other wine from grapes out-wrung. 140 Of crystal shining fair the pavement was; The town of Sestos call'd it Venus' gla.s.s: There might you see the G.o.ds, in sundry shapes, Committing heady riots, incests, rapes; For know, that underneath this radiant flour[10]

Was Danae's statue in a brazen tower: Jove slily stealing from his sister's bed, To dally with Idalian Ganymed, And for his love Europa bellowing loud, And tumbling with the Rainbow in a cloud; 150 Blood-quaffing Mars heaving the iron net Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set; Love kindling fire, to burn such towns as Troy; Silva.n.u.s weeping for the lovely boy That now is turned into a cypress-tree, Under whose shade the wood-G.o.ds love to be.

And in the midst a silver altar stood: There Hero, sacrificing turtles' blood, Vailed[11] to the ground, veiling her eyelids close; And modestly they opened as she rose: 160 Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head; And thus Leander was enamoured.

Stone-still he stood, and evermore he gaz'd, Till with the fire, that from his countenance blaz'd, Relenting Hero's gentle heart was strook: Such force and virtue hath an amorous look.

It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is over-rul'd by fate.

When two are stript long ere the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win; 170 And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows, let it suffice, What we behold is censur'd by our eyes.

Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?[12]

He kneel'd; but unto her devoutly prayed: Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said, "Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him;"

And, as she spake those words, came somewhat near him. 180 He started up; she blushed as one asham'd; Wherewith Leander much more was inflam'd.

He touch'd her hand; in touching it she trembled: Love deeply grounded hardly is dissembled.

These lovers parled by the touch of hands: True love is mute, and oft amazed stands.

Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled, The air with sparks of living fire was spangled; And night,[13] deep-drenched in misty Acheron, Heav'd up her head, and half the world upon 190 Breath'd darkness forth (dark night is Cupid's day): And now begins Leander to display Love's holy fire, with words, with sighs, and tears; Which, like sweet music, enter'd Hero's ears; And yet at every word she turn'd aside And always cut him off, as he replied.

At last, like to a bold sharp sophister, With cheerful hope thus he accosted her.

"Fair creature,[14] let me speak without offence: I would my rude words had the influence 200 To lead thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine!

Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.

Be not unkind and fair; mis-shapen stuff Are of behaviour boisterous and rough.

O, shun me not, but hear me ere you go!

G.o.d knows, I cannot force love as you do: My words shall be as spotless as my youth, Full of simplicity and naked truth.

This sacrifice, whose sweet perfume descending From Venus' altar, to your footsteps bending, 210 Doth testify that you exceed her far, To whom you offer, and whose nun you are.

Why should you worship her? her you surpa.s.s As much as sparkling diamonds flaring gla.s.s.

A diamond set in lead his worth retains; A heavenly nymph, belov'd of human swains, Receives no blemish, but ofttimes more grace; Which makes me hope, although I am but base, Base in respect of thee divine and pure, Dutiful service may thy love procure; 220 And I in duty will excel all other, As thou in beauty dost exceed Love's mother.