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Of those fantastic other worlds: there is
Net such a thing in nature, all the soul
Of men is resolution, which expires
Never from valiant men till their last
breath,

And then with it like to a flame extinguish'd
For want of matter, 't does not die, but rather
Ceases to live. Enjoy in peace your empire,
And as a legacy of Abrahen's love,
Take this fair lady to your bride. [Stab her.
Abi. Inhuman butcher !

Has slain the lady. Look up, best Caropia, Run for our surgeons: I'll give half my empire

To save her precious life.

Abr. She has enough,

Or mine aim fail'd me to procure her passage

To the eternal dwellings: nor is this
Cruelty in me; I alone was worthy
To have enjoy'd her beauties. Make good
haste,

Caropia, or my soul, if I have any,
Will hover for thee in the clouds.

was

This

The fatal engine which betray'd our father To his untimely death, made by Simanthes

For your use, Abilqualit; and who has this

About him, and would be a slave to your base mercy,

Deserved death more than by daily tor

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Is there no hopes of life? must we be wretched?

Abi. Happier, my Tarifa, by my death: But yesterday I play'd the part in jest Which I now act in earnest. My Tarifa, The Empire's thine, I'm sure thou'lt rule with justice,

And make the subject happy. Thou hast

a son

Of hopeful growing virtues to succeed thee, Commend me to him, and from me intreat him

To shun the temptings of lascivious glances.
Se. 'Las, good Prince!

He'll die indeed, I fear, he is so full
Of serious thoughts and counsels.

Abi. For this slaughter'd body,
Let it have decent burial with slain Mura's,
But let not Abrahen's corpse have so much
honour

To come i'th' royal monument : lay mine By my dear father's: for that treacherous eunuch,

And Lord Simanthes, use them as thy jus

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Abi. And for those soldiers, and those our most faithful Mutes, that my well Rewarded; death and I are almost now at unity. Farewell. [Dies. Ta. Sure I shall not Survive these sorrows long. Mutes, take those traitors

life once saved, let them be

To prison; we will shortly pass their sentence,

Which shall be death inevitable. Take

up

That fatal instrument of poisonous mischief,

And see it burn'd, Gaselles. Gentlemen, Fate has made us your king against our wishes.

Se. Long live Tarifa, Caliph of Arabia! Ta. We have no time now for your acclamations;

These are black sorrow's festival. Bear off

In state that royal body; for the other,
Since 'twas his will, let them have burial,
But in obscurity. By this it may,
As by an evident rule be understood,
They're only truly great who are truly
good.

[Recorders. Flourish. Excunt omnes.

EPILOGUE.

I'm much displeased the poet has made | Did not some smile, and keep me by con

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PLAYS

WRITTEN IN CONJUNCTION WITH

BEN JONSON, MARSTON, AND SHIRLEY.

VOL. L

GG

[OF the three following Plays-Eastward Ho, The Ball, and Chabot, Admiral f France-the first was written by Chapman in conjunction with Ben Jonson and Marston. It is not included in any edition of Ben Jonson's Works, and is very incorrectly printed in Mr. Halliwell's edition of Marston. The other two Plays were written in conjunction with Shirley. The edition of Shirley's Plays published in 1833 is now very rare; and Chapman seems to have written nearly the whee of Chabot. It has therefore been thought advisable, in order to make this edition of his Dramatic Works quite complete, to include these three Plays in the present Volume.]

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ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.

Enter Master Touchstone and Quicksilver at several doors; Quicksilver with his hat, pumps, short sword and dagger, and a racket trussed up under his cloak. At the middle door, enter Golding, discovering a goldsmith's shop, and walking short turns before

it.

To. And whither with you now? what loose action are you bound for? Come, what comrades are you to meet withal? where's the supper? where's the rendezvous? Qu. Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir

To. Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir! Behind my back thou wilt swear faster than a French footboy, and talk more bawdily than a common midwife; and now indeed and in very good sober truth, sir! but if a privy search should be made, with what furniture are you rigged now? Sirrah, I tell thee, I am thy master, William Touchstone, goldsmith; and thou my 'prentice, Francis Quicksilver, and I

"Eastward Hoe. As it was playd in the Black-friers, by the Children of her Maiesties Reuels. Made by Geo: Chapman, Ben: Ionson, Joh: Marston. At London: Printed for William Aspley. 1605."

will see whither you are running. Work upon that now.

Qu. Why, sir, I hope a man may use his recreation with his master's profit.

To. Prentices' recreations are seldom with their masters' profit. Work upon that now. You shall give up your cloak, though you be no alderman. Heyday! ruffians'-hall sword, pumps, here's a racket indeed!

[Touchstone uncloaks Quicksilver. Qu. Work upon that now.

To. Thou shameless varlet! dost thou jest at thy lawful master, contrary to thy indentures?

Qu. Why 'sblood, sir! my mother's a gentlewoman, and my father a justice of peace and of Quorum; and though I am a younger brother and a prentice, yet I hope I am my father's son; and by God's lid, 'tis for your worship and for your commodity that I keep company. I am entertained among gallants, true. They call me cousin Frank, right; I lend them moneys, good; they But when they are spent, spend it, well. must not they strive to get more, must not their land fly? and to whom? Shall not your worship ha' the refusal? Well, I am a good member of the city, if I were well considered. How would merchants thrive, if gentlemen would not be unthrifts? How could gentlemen be unthrifts if their humours were not fed? How should their humours be fed but by white meat, and cunning secondings? Well, the city might

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