WE.

_DRAMATIS PERSONAE._

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE, } _Dramatists and Actors._
THOMAS HEYWOOD, }

THOMAS MIDDLETON, _Dramatist._

CECILIA } _Runaway Wife of the drunkard,
} Bengough._

JACCONOT, _alias_ } _A Tavern Pander and Swashbuckler._
JACK-O'-NIGHT }

_Gentlemen, Officers, Servants, &c._

SCENE I.

_Public Gardens--Liberty of the Clink, Southwark._

_Enter_ MARLOWE _and_ HEYWOOD.

HEYWOOD.

Be sure of it.

MARLOWE.

I am; but not by your light.

HEYWOOD.

I speak it not in malice, nor in envy
Of your good fortune with so bright a beauty;
But I have heard such things!

MARLOWE.

Good Master Heywood,
I prithee plague me not with what thou'st heard;
I've seen, and I do love her--and, for hearing,
The music of her voice is in my soul,
And holds a rapturous jubilee 'midst dreams
That melt the day and night into one bliss.

HEYWOOD.

Beware the waking hour!

MARLOWE.

In lovely radiance,
Like all that's fabled of Olympus' queen,
She moves--as if the earth were undulant clouds,
And all its flowers her subject stars.

HEYWOOD.

Proceed.

MARLOWE.

Smile not; for 'tis most true: the very air
With her sweet presence is impregnate richly.
As in a mead, that's fresh with youngest green,
Some fragrant shrub, some secret herb, exhales
Ambrosial odours; or in lonely bower,
Where one may find the musk plant, heliotrope,
Geranium, or grape hyacinth, confers
A ruling influence, charming present sense
And sure of memory; so, her person bears
A natural balm, obedient to the rays
Of heaven--or to her own, which glow within,
Distilling incense by their own sweet power.
The dew at sunrise on a ripened peach
Was never more delicious than her neck.
Such forms are Nature's favourites.

HEYWOOD.

Come, come--
Pygmalion and Prometheus dwell within you!
You poetise her rarely, and exalt
With goddess-attributes, and chastity
Beyond most goddesses: be not thus serious!
If for a passing paramour thou'dst love her,
Why, so, so it may be well; but never place
Thy full heart in her hand.

MARLOWE.