Thus doth the voice and face,
These gentle lawyers wage,
Like loving brothers case
For fathers heritage :
That each while each contends,
It selfe to other lends.

For beautie beautifies,
With heavenly hew and grace
The heavenly harmonies;
And in this faultlesse face,
The perfect beauties be
A perfect harmony.

Musike more loftly swels
In speeches nobly placed :
Beauty as farre excels,
In action aptly graced:
A friend each party drawes,
To countenance his cause:

Love more affected seemes,
To beauties lovely light,
And wonder more esteemes
Of musikes wondrous might,
But both to both so bent,
As both in both are spent.

Musike doth witnesse call The eare his truth to trie: Beauty brings to the hall, Eye-judgement of the eye. Both in their objects such As no exceptions tutch.

The common sense, which might
Be arbiter of this,
To be forsooth upright,
To both sides partiall is:
He layes on this chiefe praise,
Chiefe praise on that he laies.

Then reason princesse try,
Whose throne is in the mind,
Which musike can in sky
And hidden beauties find,
Say whither thou wilt crowne
With limitlesse renowne.


Have I caught my heav'nly jewell,

Teaching sleepe most faire to be?

Now will I teach her that she, When she wakes, is too too cruell.

Since sweet sleep her eyes hath charm'd

The two only darts of Love;

Now will I, with that boy, prove Some play, while he is disarm'd.

Her tongue, waking, still refuseth,

Giving frankly niggard no:

Now will I, with that boy, prove What no her tongue, sleeping, useth.

See the hand which, waking, gardeth,

Sleeping, grants a free resort:

Now will I invade the fort; Cowards Love with losse rewardeth.

But, О foole! thinke of the danger

Of her just and high disdaine:

Now will I, alas! refraine;
Love feares nothing else but anger.

Yet those lips, so sweetly swelling,

Do invite a stealing kisse:

Now will I but venture this, Who will read, must first learne spelling.

Oh! sweet kisse! but ah! she's waking;

Low'ring beautie chastens me:

Now will I away hence flee:
Foole! more foole! for no more taking.


0 You that heare this voice,
O you that see this face,
Say whether of the choice
Deserves the former place:
Feare not to judge this bate,
For it is void of hate.

This side doth beauty take,
For that doth musike speake,
Fit oratours to make
The strongest judgements weake:
The barre to plead their right
Is only true delight.

Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke.

Dieser ausgezeichnete Staatsmann, ein Liebling der Königin Elisabeth und Jakob's I. ward 1554 zu Alcaster in Warwickshire geboren, studirte zu Oxford und Cambridge und trat dann in Staatsdienste, in welchen er bis zum Staatskanzler und Pair emporstieg. Er starb am 30. September 1628, von einem seiner Diener, wahrscheinlich in einem Anfall von Wahnsinn, erstochen.

Ausser mehreren didactischen Gedichten hinterliess Lord Brooke zwei Trauerspiele: Alaham und Mustapha, welche ihn als Dichter am Längsten im Andenken der Nachwelt erhalten haben. Er war ein Mann von seltenen Fähigkeiten, aber der Verstand hatte bei Allem, was er that und schrieb, die Oberhand; was ein Poet durch geschickte Combination erreichen kann, das hat er, die Rücksicht auf seine Zeit nicht unbeachtet gelassen, erreicht, aber, allen seinen Leistungen fehlt der warme, lebendige Odem der Begeisterung und des Gefühls; sie, selbst die Trauerspiele, sind Untersuchungen und Abhandlungen in Versen, bei denen man den Scharfsinn des Verfassers bewundert, ohne vom Inhalt ergriffen zu werden.

Scene from Mustapha. While I see who conspire, I seem conspired
A Tragedy.

Against a husband, father, and a mother.
By Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke.

Truth bids me run, by truth I am retired;

Shame leads me both the one way, and the other. (Rossa, Wife 10 Solyman the Turkish Emperor, per- In what a labyrinth is honour cast, suades her Husband, that Mustapha , his Son by a former Marriage, and lleir to his crown, seeks' his Drawn divers ways with sex, with time, with state, Jise: that she may make way, by the death of Musta-) In all which, error's course is infinite, pha, for the advancement of her own cbildren, Zanger By hope, by fear, by spite, by love, and hate; and Camena. Camena the virtuous Daughter of Rossa And but one only way unto the right, defends the Innocence of Mustapha in a Conference which she holds with the Emperor.) A thorny way, where pain must be the guide,

Danger the light, offence of power the praise : Camena. Solyman.

Such are the golden hopes of iron days. Cam. They that from youth do suck at for- Yet virtue, I am thine, for thy sake grieved tune's breast,

(Since basest thoughts, for their ill-plac'd desires, And nurse their empty hearts with seeking higher, In shame, in danger, death and torment, glory), Like dropsy - fed, their thirst doth never rest; That I cannot with more pains write thy story. For still, by getting, they beget desire : Chance, therefore, if thou scornest those that Till thaughts, like wood, while they maintain

scorn thee; the flame

Fame, if thou hatest those that force thy trumpet Of high desires, grow ashes in the same. To sound aloud, and yet despise thy sounding; But virtue! those that can behold thy beauties, Laws, if you love not those that be examples Those that suck, from their youth, thy milk of Of nature's laws, whence you are fall'n corrupted; goodness,

Conspire that I, against you all conspired, Their minds grow strong against the storms of Joined with tyrant virtue, as you call her, fortune,

That I, by your revenges may be named, And stand, like rocks in winter-gusts, unshaken; For virtue, to be ruin'd, and defamed. Not with the blindness of desire mistaken. My mother oft and diversly I warned, O virtue therefore! whose thrall I think fortune, What fortunes were upon such courses builded : Thou who despisest not the sex of women, | That fortune still must be with ill maintained, Help me out of these riddles of my fortune, Which at the first with any ill is gained. Wherein (methinks) you with yourself do pose me: I Rosten warn'd, that man's self-loving thought Let fates go on: sweet virtue! do not lose me. Still creepeth to the rude - embracing might My mother and my husband have conspired, Of princes' grace: a lease of glories let, For brother's good, the ruin of my brother : Which shining burns; beeds serenes when 'tis set. My father by my mother is inspired,

And, by this creature of my mother's making, For one child to seek ruin of another.

This messenger, I Mustapha have warn'd, I that to help by nature am required,

That innocence is not enough to save, While I do help, must needs still hurt a brother. Where good and greatness, fear and envy have.

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their own,

Till now, in reverence I have forborn

Solym. Monsters yet be, and being are beTo ask, or to presume to guess, or know

lieved. My father's thoughts; whereof he might think Cam. Incredible hath some inordinate pro

gression : For dreadful is that power that all may do; Blood, doctrine, age, corrupting liberty, Yet they , that all men fear, are fearful too. Do all concur, where men such monsters be. Lo where he sits! Virtue, work thou in me, Pardon me, Sir, if duty do seem angry: That what thou seckest may accomplish'd be. Affection must breathe out afflicted breath, Solym. Ah death! is not thyself sufficient Where imputation hath such easy faith. anguish,

Solym. Mustapha is he that hath defil'd his But thou must borrow fear, that threatning glass,

nest; Which, while it goodness hides, and mischiefshows, The wrong the greater for I loved him best. Doth lighten wit to honor's overthrows ? He hath devised that all at once should die. But hush! methinks away Camena steals; Rosten, and Rossa, Zanger, thou, and I. Murther, belike, in me itself reveals.

Cam. Fall none but angels suddenly to hell? Camena! whither now? why haste you from me? Are kind and order grown precipitate ? Is it so strange a thing to be a father?

Did ever any other man but he Or is it I that am so strange a father?

In instant lose the use of doing well? Cam. My Lord, methought, nay, sure I saw Sir, these be mists of greatness. Look again : you busy:

For kings that, in their fearful icy state, Your child presumes, uncall'd, that comes unto you. Behold their children as their winding-sheet, Solym. Who may presume with fathers, but Do easily doubt; and what they doubt, they hate.

Solym. Camena! thy sweet youth, that Whom nature's law hath ever in protection,

knows no ill, and gilds in good belief of dear affection?

Cannot believe thine elders, when they say, Cam. Nay, reverence, Sir, so children's That good belief is great estates' decay. worth doth hide,

Let it suffice, that I, and Rossa too, As of the fathers it is least espy'd.

Are privy what your brother means to do. Solym. I think 'tis true, who know their

Cam. Sir, pardon me, and nobly as a father, children least,

What I shall say, and say of holy mother; Have greatest reason to esteem them best. Cam. How so, my lord? since love in Know I shall say it, but to righť a brother.

My mother is your wife: duty in her knowledge lives,

Is love: she loves : which not well govern'd, bears Which unto strangers therefore no man gives.

The evil angel of misgiving fears; Solym. The life we gave them soon they whose many eyes , whilst but itself they see, do forget,

Still makes the worst of possibility: While they think our lives do their fortunes let. Cam. The tenderness of life it is so great, Unto this fear, perchance , she joins the love

Out of this fear she Mustapha accuseth: As any sign of death we hate too much ;

Which doth in mothers for their children move. And unto parents sons, perchance, are such.

Perchance, when fear hath shew'd her yours Yet nature meant her strongest unity

must fall, Twixt sons and fathers; making parents cause

In love she sees that hers must rise withall. Unto the sons, of their humanity;

Sir, fear a frailty is, and may have grace, And children pledge of their eternity.

And over- care of you cannot be blamed; Fathers should love this image in their sons.

Care of our own in nature hath a place; Solym. But streams back to their springs Passions are oft mistaken and misnamed ; do never run.

Things simply good grow evil with misplacing. Cam. Pardon, my lord, doubt is succes

Though laws cut off, and do not care to fashion, sion's foe:

Humanity of error hath compassion. Let not her mists poor children overthrow.

Yet God forbid, that either fear, or care Though streams from springs do seem to run away Should ruin those that true and faultless are. 'Tis nature leads them to their mother sea. Solym. Doth nature teach them, in ambi

Solym. Is it no fault, or fault I may forgive, tion's strife,

For son to seek the father should not live? To seek his death, by whom they have their life? Cam. Is it a fault, or fault for you to know,

Cam. Things easy, to desireimpossible do seem: My mother doubts a thing that is not so ? Why should fear make impossible seem easy? These ugly works of monstrous parricide,

Mark from what hearts they rise, and where Laws did enquire, the answer must be grace. they bide:

If mercy be so large, where's justice' place? Violent, despair'd, where honor broken is;

Cam. Where love despairs, and where God's Fear lord, time death; where hope is misery;

promise ends. Doubt having stopt all honest ways to bliss;

For mercy is the highest reach of wit, And custom shut the windows up of shame

A safety unto them that save with it, That craft may take upon her wisdom's name.

Born out of God, and unto human eyes, Compare now Mustapha with this despair:

Like God, not seen, till fleshly passion dies. Sweet youth, sure hopes, honor, a father's love,

Solym. God may forgive, whose being, and No infamy to move, or banish fear,

whose harms Honor to stay, hazard to hasten fate :

Are far removed from reach of fleshly arms Can horrors work in such a child's estate?

But if God equals or successors had,
Besides, the gods, whom kings should imitate,

Even God of safe revenges would be glad.
Have placed you high to rule, not overthow;
For us, not for yourselves, is your estate :

Cam. While he is yet alive, he may be slain; Mercy must hand in hand with power go.

But from the dead no flesh comes back again. Your sceptre should not strike with arms of fear, Solym. While he remains alive, I live in fear. Which fathoms all men's imbecility,

Cam. Though he were dead, that doubt still And mischief doth, lest it should mischief bear.

living were. As reason deals within with frailty, Which kills not passions that rebellious are,

Solym. None hath the power to end what But adds, subtracts, keeps down ambitious spirits,

he begun. So must power form, not ruin instruments;

Cam. The same occasion follows every son. For flesh and blood, the means 'twixt heav'n Solym. Their greatness, or their worth, is and hell,

not so much. Unto extremes extremely racked be;

Cam. And shall the best be slain for being such? Which kings in art of government should see: Solym. Thy mother, or thy brother, are amiss; Else they, which circle in themselves with death, I am betrayed, and one of them it is Poison the air wherein they draw their breath. Cam. My mother if she errs, errs virtuously; Pardon, my lord, pity becomes my sex: And let her err, ere Mustapha should die. Grace with delay grows weak, and fury wise. Solym. Kings for their safety must not blame Remember Theseus' wish, and Neptune's haste,

mistrust. Kill'd innocence and left succession waste.

Cam. Nor for surmises sacrifice the just. Solym. If what were best for them that do Solym. Well, dear Camena, keep this secretly: offend,

I will be well advised before he die.


Robert Southwell ward 1560 zu St. Faith in Norfolk geboren und im englischen Collegium zu Douay in Flandern erzogen. Im Jahre 1576 giug er nach Rom, trat daselbst in die Gesellschaft Jesu und kehrte dann als Missionnair nach England zurück, in der Absicht den Fortschritten der Reformation entgegen zu arbeiten. Seine Bemühungen wurden jedoch, wie er selbst klagt, nicht mit Erfolg gekrönt und er lebte in seinem eignen Vaterlande gleich einem Fremdling unter Fremden. 1592 ward er angeblich wegen Verschwörung, im Tower eingekerkert, und dort drei Jahr lang festgehalten und wiederholt auf die Folter gespannt und endlich am 20. Februar 1595 wegen Ilochverrath hingerichtet. Er erlitt den Tod mit standhafter Ruhe und Unerschrockenheit.

Seine Gedichte, sämmtlich religiösen Inhaltes, erschienen in folgenden verschiedenen Sammlungen: St. Peter's Complaint and St. Mary Magdalen's Funeral Teares with sundry other selected and devout Poems; - Maeoniae or certain excellent Poems and spirituals Ilymns; The Triumphs over Death und erlebten ausserordentlich viele Auflagen. Ein tiefes religiöses Gefühl, das sich oft zur Begeisterung steigert, Innigkeit, Phantasie, Kraft und edle Diction, verleihen ihnen, abgesehen von der Beschränktheit der Richtung dieses Dichters, keinen geringen Werth.

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