SCENE _a Wood_.
Mephostopholis _and Dr._ Faustus.
_Faust._ How have I been delighted by thy Art; and in Twelve Years have
seen the utmost Limits of the spacious World; feasted my self with all
Varieties; pleasur'd my Fancy with my Magick Art, and liv'd sole Lord
o'er every Thing I wish'd for.
_Meph._ Ay, _Faustus_, is it not a splendid Life?
_Faust._ It is my Spirit; but prithee now retire, while I repose my
self within this Shade, and when I wake attend on me again.
_Meph._ _Faust_, I will. [_Exit._
_Faust._ What art thou, _Faustus_, but a Man condemn'd. Thy Lease of
Years expire apace; and, _Faustus_, then thou must be _Lucifers_: Here
rest my Soul, and in my Sleep my future State be buried.
_Good and bad Angel descends._
_Good An._ _Faustus_, sweet _Faustus_, yet remember Heav'n. Oh! think
upon the everlasting Pain thou must endure, For all thy short Space of
Pleasure.
_Bad An._ Illusions, Fancies, _Faustus_; think of Earth. The Kings thou
shalt command: The Pleasures Rule. Be, _Faustus_, not a whining, pious
Fool. [_Ascend._
_Enter_ Horse-courser.
_Hors._ Oh! what a couz'ning Doctor was this: I riding my Horse into the
Water, thinking some hidden Mystery had been in 'em, found my self on a
Bundle of Straw, and was drag'd by Something in the Water, like a
Bailiff through a Horse-pond. Ha! he's a Sleep: So ho, Mr. Doctor, so
ho. Why Doctor, you couz'ning, wheedling, hypocritical, cheating,
chousing, Son of a Whore; awake, rise, and give me my Mony again, for
your Horse is turn'd into a Bottle of Hay. Why Sirrah, Doctor; 'sfoot I
think he's dead. Way Doctor Scab; you mangy Dog. [_pulls him by the
Leg._ 'Zounds I'm undone, I have pull'd his Leg off.
_Faust._ O help! the Villain has undone me; Murder.
_Hors._ Murder, or not Murder, now he has but one Leg I'll out-run him.
[_Exit._
_Faust._ Stop, stop him; ha, ha, ha, _Faustus_ has his Leg again, and
the Horse-courser a Bundle of Hay for his Forty Dollars. Come,
_Mephostopholis_, let's now attend the Emperor. [_Exit_ Faust. _and_
Meph.
_Enter_ Horse-courser, _and_ Carter, _with Pots of Ale_.
_Cart._ Here's to thee; and now I'll tell thee what I came hither for:
You have heard of a Conjurer they call Doctor _Faustus_.
_Hors._ Heard of him, a Plague take him, I have Cause to know him; has
he play'd any Pranks with you?
_Cart._ I'll tell thee, as I was going to the Market a while ago, with
a Load of Hay, he met me, and askt me, What he should give me for as
much Hay as his Horse would Eat: Now, Sir, I thinking that a little
would serve his Turn, bad him take as much as he would for Three
Farthings.
_Hors._ So.
_Cart._ So he presently gave me Mony, and fell to Eating: And as I'm a
cursen Man, he never left Yeating and Yeating, 'till he had eaten up my
whole Load of Hay.
_Hors._ Now you shall hear how he serv'd me: I went to him Yesterday to
buy a Horse of him, which I did; and he had me be sure not to ride him
into the Water.
_Cart._ Good.
_Hors._ Ad's Wounds 'twas Bad, as you shall hear: For I thinking the
Horse had some rare Quality, that he would not have me know, what do me
I but rides him in the Water; and when I came just in the midst of the
River, I found my self a Straddle on a Bottle of Hay.
_Cart._ O rare Doctor!
_Hors._ But you shall hear how I serv'd him bravely for it; for finding
him a Sleep just now in a By-Field, I whoop'd and hollow'd in his Ears,
but could not wake him; so I took hold of his Leg, and never left
pulling till I had pull'd it quite off.
_Cart._ And has the Doctor but one Leg then? That's Rare. But come, this
is his House, let's in and see for our Mony; look you, we'll pay as we
come back.
_Hors._ Done, done; and when we have got our Mony let's laugh at his one
Leg: Ha, ha, ha. [_Exeunt Laughing._
_Enter_ Hostess.
_Host._ What have the Rogues left my Pots, and run away, without paying
their Reck'ning? I'll after 'em, cheating Villains, Rogues, Cut-purses;
rob a poor Woman, cheat the Spittle, and rob the King of his Excise; a
parcel of Rustick, Clownish, Pedantical, High-shoo'd, Plow-jobbing,
Cart-driving, Pinch-back'd, Paralytick, Fumbling, Grumbling, Bellowing,
Yellowing, Peas-picking, Stinking, Mangy, Runagate, Ill-begotten,
Ill-contriv'd, Wry-mouth'd, Spatrifying, Dunghill-raking, Costive,
Snorting, Sweaty, Farting, Whaw-drover Dogs. [_Exit_
_Enter_ Faustus.
_Faust._ My Time draws near, and 20 Years are past: I have but Four poor
Twelve Months for my Life, and then I am damn'd for ever.
_Enter an_ Old Man.
_Old M._ O gentle _Faustus_, leave this damn'd Art; this Magick, that
will charm thy Soul to Hell, and quite bereave thee of Salvation: Though
thou hast now offended like a Man, do not, oh! do not persist in't like
a Devil. It may be this my Exhortation seems harsh, and all unpleasant;
let it not, for, gentle Son, I speak in tender Love and Pity of thy
future Misery; and so have hope that this my kind Rebuke, checking thy
Body, may preserve thy Soul.
_Faust._ Where art thou, _Faustus_? Wretch, what hast thou done? O
Friend, I feel thy Words to comfort my distressed Soul; retire, and let
me ponder on my Sins.
_Old M._ _Faustus_, I leave thee, but with grief of Heart, Fearing thy
Enemy will near depart. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Mephostopholis.
_Meph._ Thou Traytor, I arrest thee for Disobedience to thy Sovereign
Lord; revolt, or I'll in piece-meal tear thy Flesh.
_Faust._ I do repent I e'er offended him; torment, sweet Friend, that
old Man that durst disswade me from thy _Lucifer_.
_Meph._ His Faith is great, I cannot touch his Soul; but what I can
afflict his Body with I will.
_Enter_ Horse-courser _and_ Carter.
_Hors._ We are come to drink a Health to your wooden Leg.
_Faust._ My wooden Leg; what dost thou mean, Friend?
_Hors._ Ha, ha! he has forgot his Leg.
_Cart._ Psha, 'tis not a Leg he stands upon. Pray, let me ask you one
Question; Are both your Legs Bed-fellows?
_Faust._ Why dost thou ask?
_Cart._ Because I believe you have a good Companion of one.
_Hors._ Why, don't you remember I pull'd off one o' your Legs when you
were a Sleep?
_Faust._ But I have it again now I am awake.
_Cart._ Ad's Wounds, had the Doctor three Legs!----You, Sir, don't you
remember you gave a Peny for as much Hay as your Horse would eat, and
then eat up my whole Load.
_Hors._ Look you, Mr. Doctor, you must not carry it off so; I come to
have the Mony again I gave for the Ho-o-o-
[Faustus _waves his Wand_.
_Cart._ And I come to be paid far my Load of Ha-a-a.
_Enter_ Hostess.
_Host._ O Mr. Doctor! do you harbour Rogues that bilk poor Folks, and
wont pay their Reck'nings? Who must pay me for my A-a-a-a [_Waves
again._
_Enter_ Scaramouche.
_Scar._ Mr. Doctor, I can't be quiet for your Devil Mr. _Me-o-o--_
[_Waves again._
[_Exeunt_ Faustus _and_ Mephostopholis. _They all stare at one another,
and so go off, crying O, o, o, o- to the Emperor's Pallace._
_Enter Emperor_, Faustus, _Gent. Guards._ Benoolio _above_.
_Emp._ Wonder of Men, thrice Learned _Faustus_, Renowned Magician,
welcome to our Court; and as thou late didst promise us, I would behold
the Famous _Alexander_ fighting with his great Rival _Darius_, in their
true Shapes, and State Majestical.
_Faust._ Your Majesty shall see 'em presently.
_Ben._ If thou bring'st _Alexander_, or _Darius_ here, I'll be content
to be _Actaeon_, and turn my self to a Stag.
_Faust._ And I'll play _Diana_, and send you the Horns presently.
_Enter_ Darius _and_ Alexander; _they Fight_: Darius _falls_. Alexander
_takes his Crown, and puts it on his Head_.
[_Exit._ Darius _sinks_.
_Faust._ Away, be gon; see, my Gracious Lord, what Beast is that that
thrusts his Head out of yon' Window.
_Emp._ O wondrous Sight! see two Horns on young _Benoolio_'s Head; call
him, Lords.
_Lord._ What, ho! _Benoolio_.
_Ben._ A Plague upon you, let me Sleep.
_Lord._ Look up, _Benoolio_, 'tis the Emperor calls.
_Ben._ The Emperor; O my Head.
_Faust._ And thy Horns hold, 'tis no matter for thy Head.
_Ben._ Doctor, this is your Villany.
_Faust._ O say not so, Sir; the Doctor has no Skill, if he bring
_Alexander_ or _Darius_ here you'll be _Actaeon_, and turn to a Stag:
Therefore, if it please your Majesty, I'll bring a Kennel of Hounds to
hunt him. Ho! _Helmot_, _Argiron_, _Asterot_.
_Ben._ Hold, he'll raise a Kennel of Devils. Good, my Lord, intreat.
_Emp._ Prithee remove his Horns, he has done Penance enough.
_Faust._ Away; and remember hereafter you speak well of Scholars.
_Ben._ If Scholars be such Cuckolds to put Horns upon honest Mens Heads,
I'll ne'er trust Smooth-face and Small-band more: But if I been't
reveng'd, may I be turn'd to a Gaping Oyster, and drink nothing but
Salt-water.
_Emp._ Come, _Faustus_, in recompence of this high Desert, Thou shalt
command the State of _Germany_, and live belov'd of mighty _Carolus_.
[_Exeunt omnes._
SCENE _a Garden_.
_Lord._ Nay, sweet _Benoolio_, let us sway thy Thoughts from this
Attempt against the Conjurer.
_Ben._ My Head is lighter than it was by the Horns:
And yet my Heart's more pond'rous than my Head,
And pants, until I see the Conjurer dead.
_2 Lord._ Consider.
_Ben._ Away; disswade me not, he comes. [_Draws._
_Enter_ Faustus _with a false Head_.
Now Sword strike home:
For Horns he gave, I'll have his Head anon.
_Runs_ Faustus _through, he falls_.
_Faust._ Oh, oh.
_Ben._ Groan you, Mr. Doctor, now for his Head.
[_Cuts his Head off._
_Lord._ Struck with a willing Hand.
_Ben._ First, on this Scull, in quittance of my Wrongs, I'll nail huge
forked Horns within the Window where he yoak'd me first, that all the
World may see my just Revenge; and thus having settled his Head----
_Faust._ What shall the Body do, Gentlemen.
_Ben._ The Devil's alive again?
_Lord._ Give the Devil his Head again.
_Faust._ Nay, keep it; _Faustus_ will have Heads and Hands;
I call your Hearts to recompence this Deed.
Ho; _Asteroth_, _Belincoth_, _Mephostopholis_.
_Enter Devils, and Horse 'em upon others._
Go Horse these Traytors on your fiery Backs.
Drag 'em through Dirt and Mud, through Thorns and Briers.
_Lord._ Pity us, gentle _Faustus_, save our Lives.
_Faust._ Away.
_Ben._ He must needs go whom the Devil drives.
[_Spirits fly away._ _Exit_ Faustus.
SCENE _a Hall_.
_Enter_ Harlequin _in a Beggar's Habit_.
_Harl._ I find this _Scaramouche_ is a Villain; he has left the Doctor,
and is come to be Steward to a rich Widdow, whose Husband dyed
Yesterday, and here he is coming to give the Poor their Doles, of which
I'll ha' my Share.
Scaramouche, _and poor People, with a Basket of Bread and Money_.
_Scar._ Come hither, poor Devils; stand in Order, and be Damn'd. I came
to distribute what your deceased good Master hath bequeath'd. [_They all
stare at_ Scar.
_Harl._ God bless you, Mr. Steward.
_Scar._ Let me tell you, Gentlemen, he was as good a Man as ever piss'd,
or cry'd Stand on the High-way.
[Scaramouche _takes out a Leaf and a Shilling, holds it out, and_
Harlequin _takes it_.
He spent a good Estate, 'tis true; but he was no Body's Foe but his own.
I never left him while he was worth a Groat. [_Again._] He would now and
then Curse in his Passion, and give a Soul to the Devil, or so; yet,
what of that? He always paid his Club, and no Man can say he owes this.
[_Again._] He had a Colt's Tooth, and over-laid one of his Maids; yet,
what of that? All Flesh is frail. [_Again._] 'Tis thought that her Body
workt him off on his Legs; why, what of that? his Legs were his own, and
his Arse never hung in your Light. [_Again._] Sometimes, you'll say, he
wou'd rap out an Oath; what then, Words are but Wind, and he meant no
more harm than a sucking Pig does by squeaking. [_Again._] Now let's
consider his good Deeds; he brew'd a Firkin of strong Drink for the poor
every Year, and kill'd an old Ram every _Easter_: The Meat that was
stale, and his Drink that was sowre, was always yours. [_Again._] He
allow'd you in Harvest to Glean after his Rake. [_Again._] And now, at
his Death, has given you all this. [_Again._
_Scar._ So, setting the Hare's Head against the Goose Giblets, he was a
good Hospitable Man; and much good may do you with what you had.
_Poor._ I have had nothing.
_2 Poor._ Nor I.
_3 Po._ Nor I.
_4 Po._ Nor. I.
_Scar._ Nothing.
_All._ Nothing, nothing.
_Scar._ Nothing, nothing; you lying Rogues, then there's something for
you. [_Beats 'em all off._
_Enter_ Harlequin _in a Cloak, laughing_.
_Har._ So now I am Victual'd, I may hold out Siege against Hunger. [_A
Noise within; this way, this way._
Ha! they are hunting after me, and will kill me. Let me see, I will take
this Gibbet for my Preserver, and with this long Cloak make as if I were
hang'd. Now when they find a Man hang'd, not knowing me in this
Disguise, they'll look no farther after me, but think the Thief's
hang'd.----I hear 'em coming. [_Throws himself off the Ladder._
_Enter_ Scaramouche.
_Scar._ Ha! what's here, a Man hang'd? But what Paper is this in his
Hand?
[_Whil'st_ Scaramouche _reads_, Harlequin _puts the Rope over him_.
I have cheated the Poor of their Mony, and took the Bread out of their
Mouths, for which I was much troubled in Conscience, fell into Dispair,
and, as you see, hang'd my self.
[_Pulls him up, and runs out_
O the Devil! Murder, murder!
_Enter_ Poor.
_Poor._ O Neighbours, here hangs the Rogue.
_Scar._ Help me down?
_Poor._ No, you are very well as you are.
_Scar._ Don't you know me?
_Poor._ Ay, for a Rogue; e'en finish your Work, and save the Hang-man a
Labour. Yet, now I think on't, self-murder is a crying Sin, and may damn
his Soul. Come, Neighbours, we'll take him down, and have him hang'd
according to Law. [_When he's down he trips up their Heels, and runs
out, they after him._
_All._ Stop Thief, stop Thief.
_Thunder and Lightning_; Lucifer, Beelzebub, _and_ Mephostopholis.
_Luc._ Thus from the infernal _Dis_ do we ascend, bringing with us the
Deed; the Time is come which makes it forfeit.
_Enter_ Faustus, _an old Man, and a Scholar_.
_Old M._ Yet, _Faustus_, call on Heav'n.
_Faust._ Oh! 'tis too late; behold, they lock my Hands.
_Old M._ Who, _Faustus_?
_Faust._ _Lucifer_ and _Mephostopholis_; I gave 'em my Soul for Four and
twenty Years.
_Old M._ Heav'n forbid.
_Fau._ Ay, Heav'n forbad it indeed, but _Faustus_ has done it; for the
vain Pleasure of Four and twenty Years, _Faustus_ has lost eternal Joy
and Felicity: I writ 'em a Bill with my own Blood, the Date is expired;
this is the Time, and they are come to fetch me.
_Old M._ Why would not _Faustus_ tell me of that before?
_Faust._ I oft intended it, but the Devil threat'ned to tear me in
Pieces. O Friend, retire, and save your self.
_Old M._ I'll into the next Room, and there pray for thee.
_Faust._ Ay, pray for me; and what Noise soever you hear stir not, for
nothing can rescue me.
_Old M._ Pray thou, and I'll pray. Adieu.
_Faust._ If I live till Morning I'll visit you; if not, _Faustus_ is gon
to Hell. [_Exeunt old Man and Scholar._
_Meph._ Ay, _Faustus_, now thou hast no hopes on Heav'n.
_Faust._ O thou bewitching Fiend; 'twas thou, and thy
Temptations, hath rob'd me of eternal Happiness.
_Meph._ I do confess it, _Faustus_, and rejoyce.
What weep'st thou, 'tis too late; hark to thy Knell:
Fools that will Laugh on Earth, must Weep in Hell.
_Ext._
_Good and bad Angel descend._
_Good An._ O _Faustus_, if thou hadst given Ear to me,
Innumerable Joys had followed thee:
But thou didst love the World.
_Bad An._ Gave Ear to me, and now must taste Hell's Pains perpetual.
_Throne of Heaven appears._
_Good An._ Had'st thou affected sweet Divinity,
Hell, nor the Devil, had no Power on thee.
Had'st thou kept on that way, _Faustus_, behold in what resplendid
Glory thou had'st sat; that hast thou Lost.
And now, poor Soul, must thy good Angel leave:
The Jaws of Hell are ready to receive thee. [_Ascends._
_Hell is discovered._
_Bad An._ Now, _Faustus_, let thy Eyes with Horror stare
Into that Vast perpetual torturing House.
_Faust._ O I have seen enough to torture me.
_Bad An._ Nay thou must feel 'em, 'taste the Smart of all.
He that loves Pleasure must for Pleasure fall:
And so I leave thee, _Faustus_, till anon.
Thou'lt tumble into Confusion. [_Descends._
_The Clock strikes Eleven._
_Faust._ Now, _Faustus_, hast thou but one bear Hour to Live,
And then thou must be Damn'd perpetually:
Stand still you ever-moving Spheres of Heav'n,
That Time may cease, and Mid-night never come.
Or let this Hour be but a Year, a Month, a Week, a natural Day; that
_Faustus_ may repent, and save his Soul. Mountains and Hills come, come,
and fall on me, and hide me from the heavy Wrath of Heav'n. Gape Earth;
Oh no, it will not harbour me. [_The Clock strikes._ Oh! half the Hour
is past; 'twill all be past anon. Oh! if my Soul must suffer for my Sin,
impose some end to my incessant Pain. Let _Faustus_ live in Hell a
Thousand Years, an Hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd. [_Strikes
Twelve._ No End is limitted to damn'd Souls: It strikes, it strikes.
Now, Body, turn to Air, to Earth, or Water. Oh! avoid the Fire: They
come. Oh! mercy, Heaven; ugly Hell gape not. Come not _Lucifer_; O
_Mephostopholis_.
[_Sink with Devils. Thunder._
_Enter old Man and Scholar._
_Old M._ Come, Friend, let's visit _Faustus_: For such a dreadful Night
was never seen.
_Scene discovers_ Faustus's _Limbs_.
_Schol._ O help us, Heav'n; see here are _Faustus_'s Limbs,
All torn asunder by the Hand of Hell.
_Old M._ May this a fair Example be to all,
To avoid such Ways which brought poor _Faustus_'s Fall.
And whatsoever Pleasure does invite,
Sell not your Souls to purchase vain Delight.
[_Exeunt._
_Scene changes to Hell._
Faustus _Limbs come together_. _A Dance, and Song._
_FINIS._
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK
MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
The Augustan Reprint Society
PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
The Augustan Reprint Society
PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
=1948-1949=
16. Henry Nevil Payne, _The Fatal Jealousie_ (1673).
17. Nicholas Rowe, _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear_
(1709).
18. Anonymous, "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10
(1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).
=1949-1950=
19. Susanna Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709).
20. Lewis Theobald, _Preface to the Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).
22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and two
_Rambler_ papers (1750).
23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).
=1951-1952=
26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792).
31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751), and
_The Eton College Manuscript_.
=1952-1953=
41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732).
=1962-1963=
98. Selected Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's _Temple_ ... (1697).
=1964-1965=
109. Sir William Temple, _An Essay Upon the Original and Nature of
Government_ (1680).
110. John Tutchin, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700).
111. Anonymous, _Political Justice_ (1736).
112. Robert Dodsley, _An Essay on Fable_ (1764).
113. T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_ (1698).
114. Two Poems Against Pope: Leonard Welsted, _One Epistle to Mr. A.
Pope_ (1730), and Anonymous, _The Blatant Beast_ (1742).
=1965-1966=
115. Daniel Defoe and others, _Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal_.
116. Charles Macklin, _The Covent Garden Theatre_ (1752).
117. Sir Roger L'Estrange, _Citt and Bumpkin_ (1680).
118. Henry More, _Enthusiasmus Triumphatus_ (1662).
119. Thomas Traherne, _Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation_
(1717).
120. Bernard Mandeville, _Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables_
(1740).
=1966-1967=
123. Edmond Malone, _Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed to Mr.
Thomas Rowley_ (1782).
124. Anonymous, _The Female Wits_ (1704).
125. Anonymous, _The Scribleriad_ (1742). Lord Hervey, _The Difference
Between Verbal and Practical Virtue_ (1742).
=1967-1968=
129. Lawrence Echard, Prefaces to _Terence's Comedies_ (1694) and
_Plautus's Comedies_ (1694).
=1968-1969=
133. John Courtenay, _A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral
Character of the Late Samuel Johnson_ (1786).
134. John Downes, _Roscius Anglicanus_ (1708).
135. Sir John Hill, _Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise_ (1766).
136. Thomas Sheridan, _Discourse ... Being Introductory to His Course of
Lectures on Elocution and the English Language_ (1759).
137. Arthur Murphy, _The Englishman From Paris_ (1736).
=1969-1970=
138. [Catherine Trotter], _Olinda's Adventures_ (1718).
139. John Ogilvie, _An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients_
(1762).
140. _A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1726) and _Pudding Burnt to
Pot or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1727).
141. Selections from Sir Roger L'Estrange's _Observator_ (1681-1687).
142. Anthony Collins, _A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in
Writing_ (1729).
143. _A Letter From A Clergyman to His Friend, With An Account of the
Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver_ (1726).
144. _The Art of Architecture, A Poem. In Imitation of Horace's Art of
Poetry_ (1742).
=1970-1971=
145-146. Thomas Shelton, _A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing_
(1642) and _Tachygraphy_ (1647).
147-148. _Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson_ (1782).
149. _Poeta de Tristibus: or the Poet's Complaint_ (1682).
150. Gerard Langbaine, _Momus Triumphans: or the Plagiaries of the
English Stage_ (1687).
=1971-1972=
151-152. Evan Lloyd, _The Methodist_. A Poem (1766).
153. _Are these Things So?_ (1740), and _The Great Man's Answer to Are
these Things So?_ (1740).
154. Arbuthnotiana: _The Story of the St. Alb-ns Ghost_ (1712), and _A
Catalogue of Dr. Arbuthnot's Library_ (1779).
155-156. A Selection of Emblems from Herman Hugo's _Pia Desideria_
(1624), with English Adaptations by Francis Quarles and Edmund
Arwaker.
THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
2520 Cimarron Street (at West Adams), Los Angeles, California 90018
Publications of the first fifteen years of the Society (numbers 1-90)
are available in paperbound units of six issues at $16.00 per unit, from
the Kraus Reprint Company, 16 East 46th Street, New York, N.Y. 10017.
Publications in print are available at the regular membership rate of
$5.00 for individuals and $8.00 for institutions per year. Prices of
single issues may be obtained upon request. Subsequent publications may
be checked in the annual prospectus.
_Make check or money order payable to_
THE REGENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA