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And all the students, cloth'd in mourning black, Shall wait upon his heavy funeral.
Chor. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
And burned is Apollo's laurel-bough,
That sometime grew within this learned man.
Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits
BALLAD OF FAUSTUS.
[In the course of the notes on the earlier Faustus several extracts have been given from the prose History of Doctor Faustus; and the following ballad on the same subject may properly find a place here. It is now re-printed from a copy in The Roxburghe Collection, vol. ii. 235, Brit. Museum.]
The Judgment of God shewed upon one John Faustus, Doctor in Divinity.
Tune of Fortune, my Foe.