The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus

Not marching now in fields of Thrasymene,
Where Mars did mate1 the Carthaginians;
Nor sporting in the dalliance of love,
In courts of kings where state is overturned;
Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds,
Intends our Muse to vaunt her heavenly verse:
Only this, gentlemen⁠—we must perform
The form of Faustus’ fortunes, good or bad:
To patient judgments we appeal our plaud,
And speak for Faustus in his infancy.
Now is he born, his parents base of stock,
In Germany, within a town called Rhodes;2
Of riper years to Wertenberg he went,
Whereas his kinsmen3 chiefly brought him up.
So soon he profits in divinity,
The fruitful plot of scholarism graced,
That shortly he was graced with doctor’s name,
Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes
In heavenly matters of theology;
Till swollen with cunning4 of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And, melting, heavens conspired his overthrow;
For, falling to a devilish exercise,
And glutted now with learning’s golden gifts,
He surfeits upon cursed necromancy;
Nothing so sweet as magic is to him,
Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss.
And this the man that in his study sits!

Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin
To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess;
Having commenced, be a divine in show,
Yet level at the end of every art,
And live and die in Aristotle’s works.
Sweet Analytics, ’tis thou hast ravished me,
Bene disserere est finis logices.
Is to dispute well logic’s chiefest end?
Affords this art no greater miracle?
Then read no more; thou hast attained that end;
A greater subject fitteth Faustus’ wit:
Bid on cai me on6 farewell; Galen come,
Seeing, Ubi desinit Philosophus, ibi incipit Medicus;
Be a physician, Faustus, heap up gold,
And be eternised for some wondrous cure.
Summum bonum medicinae sanitas,
The end of physic is our body’s health.
Why, Faustus, hast thou not attained that end?
Is not thy common talk found Aphorisms?7
Are not thy bills8 hung up as monuments,
Whereby whole cities have escaped the plague,
And thousand desperate maladies been eased?
Yet art thou still but Faustus and a man.
Couldst thou make men to live eternally,
Or, being dead, raise them to life again,
Then this profession were to be esteemed.
Physic, farewell.⁠—Where is Justinian?

Si una eademque res legatur duobus, alter rem, alter valorem rei, etc.

A pretty case of paltry legacies!

Ex hoereditare filium non potest pater nisi, etc.

Such is the subject of the Institute,
And universal Body of the Law.
This study fits a mercenary drudge,
Who aims at nothing but external trash;
Too servile and illiberal for me.
When all is done, divinity is best;
Jerome’s Bible, Faustus, view it well.

Stipendium peccati mors est. Ha! Stipendium, etc.

The reward of sin is death. That’s hard.

Si peccasse negamus fallimur et nulla est in nobis veritas;

If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and there’s no truth in us. Why then, belike we must sin, and so consequently die.

Ay, we must die an everlasting death.
What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera,9
What will be shall be? Divinity, adieu!
These metaphysics of magicians
And necromantic books are heavenly:
Lines, circles, scenes, letters, and characters;
Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires.
O, what a world of profit and delight,
Of power, of honour, of omnipotence
Is promised to the studious artisan!
All things that move between the quiet poles
Shall be at my command: emperors and kings
Are but obeyed in their several provinces,
Nor can they raise the wind or rend the clouds;
But his dominion that exceeds in this
Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man,
A sound magician is a mighty god:
Here, Faustus, tire thy brains to gain a deity.
Wagner!

Commend me to my dearest friends,
The German Valdes and Cornelius;
Request them earnestly to visit me.

I will, sir.

Their conference will be a greater help to me
Than all my labours, plod I ne’er so fast.

O, Faustus! lay that damned book aside,
And gaze not on it lest it tempt thy soul,
And heap God’s heavy wrath upon thy head.
Read, read the Scriptures: that is blasphemy.

Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art,
Wherein all Nature’s treasure is contained:
Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky,
Lord and commander of these elements.

How am I glutted with conceit of this!
Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please,
Resolve me of all ambiguities,
Perform what desperate enterprise I will?
I’ll have them fly to India for gold,
Ransack the ocean for orient pearl,
And search all corners of the newfound world
For pleasant fruits and princely delicates;
I’ll have them read me strange philosophy,
And tell the secrets of all foreign kings;
I’ll have them wall all Germany with brass,
And make swift Rhine circle fair Wertenberg;
I’ll have them fill the public schools with silk,
Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad;
I’ll levy soldiers with the coin they bring,
And chase the Prince of Parma from our land,
And reign sole king of all the provinces;
Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war
Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp’s bridge,10
I’ll make my servile spirits to invent.

Come, German Valdes, and Cornelius,
And make me blest with your sage conference.
Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius,
Know that your words have won me at the last
To practice magic and concealed arts:
Yet not your words only, but mine own fantasy,
That will receive no object; for my head
But ruminates on necromantic skill.
Philosophy is odious and obscure,
Both law and physic are for petty wits;
Divinity is basest of the three,
Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile:
’Tis magic, magic, that hath ravished me.
Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt;
And I, that have with concise syllogisms
Gravelled the pastors of the German church,
And made the flowering pride of Wertenberg
Swarm to my problems, as the infernal spirits
On sweet Musaeus12 when he came to hell,
Will be as cunning as Agrippa13 was,
Whose shadow made all Europe honour him.

Faustus, these books, thy wit, and our experience
Shall make all nations to canonise us.
As Indian Moors obey their Spanish lords,
So shall the spirits of every element
Be always serviceable to us three;
Like lions shall they guard us when we please;
Like Almain rutters14 with their horsemen’s staves
Or Lapland giants,15 trotting by our sides;
Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids,
Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows
Than have the white breasts of the queen of love:
From Venice shall they drag huge argosies,
And from America the golden fleece
That yearly stuffs old Philip’s treasury;
If learned Faustus will be resolute.

Valdes, as resolute am I in this
As thou to live; therefore object it not.

The miracles that magic will perform
Will make thee vow to study nothing else.
He that is grounded in astrology,
Enriched with tongues, well seen in minerals,
Hath all the principles magic doth require.
Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be renowned,
And more frequented for this mystery
Than heretofore the Delphian Oracle.
The spirits tell me they can dry the sea,
And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks,
Ay, all the wealth that our forefathers hid
Within the massy entrails of the earth;
Then tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want?

Nothing, Cornelius! O this cheers my soul!
Come, show me some demonstrations magical,
That I may conjure in some lusty grove,
And have these joys in full possession.

Then haste thee to some solitary grove,
And bear wise Bacon’s and Albertus’16 works,
The Hebrew Psalter, and New Testament;
And whatsoever else is requisite
We will inform thee ere our conference cease.

Valdes, first let him know the words of art;
And then, all other ceremonies learned,
Faustus may try his cunning by himself.

First I’ll instruct thee in the rudiments,
And then wilt thou be perfecter than I.

Then come and dine with me, and after meat,
We’ll canvass every quiddity thereof;
For ere I sleep, I’ll try what I can do:
This night I’ll conjure, though I die therefore.

Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth
Longing to view Orion’s drizzling look,
Leaps from th’ antartic world unto the sky,
And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath,19
Faustus, begin thine incantations,
And try if devils will obey thy hest,
Seeing thou hast prayed and sacrificed to them.
Within this circle is Jehovah’s name,
Forward and backward anagrammatized,
The breviated names of holy saints,
Figures of every adjunct to the Heavens,
And characters of signs and erring20 stars,
By which the spirits are enforced to rise:
Then fear not, Faustus, but be resolute,
And try the uttermost magic can perform.

Sint mihi Dei Acherontis propitii! Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe! Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete! Orientis princeps Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistopheles. Quid tu moraris?21 per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus Mephistopheles!

I charge thee to return, and change thy shape;
Thou art too ugly to attend on me.
Go, and return an old Franciscan friar;
That holy shape becomes a devil best.

I see there’s virtue in my heavenly words;
Who would not be proficient in this art?
How pliant is this Mephistopheles,
Full of obedience and humility!
Such is the force of magic and my spells:
Now Faustus, thou art conjuror laureat,
That canst command great Mephistopheles:
Quin regis Mephistopheles fratris imagine.

Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have me do?

I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live,
To do whatever Faustus shall command,
Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere,
Or the ocean to overwhelm the world.

I am a servant to great Lucifer,
And may not follow thee without his leave
No more than he commands must we perform.

Did not he charge thee to appear to me?

No, I came hither of mine own accord.

Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee?
Speak.

That was the cause, but yet per accidens;
For when we hear one rack the name of God,
Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ,
We fly, in hope to get his glorious soul;
Nor will we come, unless he use such means
Whereby he is in danger to be damned:
Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring
Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity,
And pray devoutly to the Prince of Hell.

So Faustus hath
Already done; and holds this principle,
There is no chief but only Belzebub,
To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself.
This word “damnation” terrifies not him,
For he confounds hell in Elysium;
His ghost be with the old philosophers!
But, leaving these vain trifles of men’s souls,
Tell me what is that Lucifer thy lord?

Arch-regent and commander of all spirits.

Was not that Lucifer an angel once?

Yes, Faustus, and most dearly loved of God.

How comes it, then, that he is Prince of devils?

O, by aspiring pride and insolence;
For which God threw him from the face of Heaven.

And what are you that live with Lucifer?

Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer,
Conspired against our God with Lucifer,
And are forever damned with Lucifer.

Where are you damned?

In hell.

How comes it then that thou art out of hell?

Why this is hell, nor am I out of it:
Think’st thou that I who saw the face of God,
And tasted the eternal joys of Heaven,
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells,
In being deprived of everlasting bliss?
O Faustus! leave these frivolous demands,
Which strike a terror to my fainting soul.

What, is great Mephistopheles so passionate
For being deprived of the joys of Heaven?
Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude,
And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess.
Go bear these tidings to great Lucifer:
Seeing Faustus hath incurred eternal death
By desperate thoughts against Jove’s deity,
Say, he surrenders up to him his soul,
So he will spare him four and twenty years,
Letting him live in all voluptuousness;
Having thee ever to attend on me;
To give me whatsoever I shall ask,
To tell me whatsoever I demand,
To slay mine enemies, and aid my friends,
And always be obedient to my will.
Go and return to mighty Lucifer,
And meet me in my study at midnight,
And then resolve23 me of thy master’s mind.

I will, Faustus.

Had I as many souls as there be stars,
I’d give them all for Mephistopheles.
By him I’ll be great Emperor of the world,
And make a bridge thorough the moving air,
To pass the ocean with a band of men:
I’ll join the hills that bind the Afric shore,
And make that country continent to Spain,
And both contributory to my crown.
The Emperor shall not live but by my leave,
Nor any potentate of Germany.
Now that I have obtained what I desired,
I’ll live in speculation of this art,
Till Mephistopheles return again.

Now, Faustus, must
Thou needs be damned, and canst thou not be saved:
What boots it then to think of God or Heaven?
Away with such vain fancies, and despair:
Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub;
Now go not backward; no, Faustus, be resolute:
Why waver’st thou? O, something soundeth in mine ears
“Abjure this magic, turn to God again!”
Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again.
To God?⁠—he loves thee not⁠—
The god thou serv’st is thine own appetite,
Wherein is fixed the love of Belzebub;
To him I’ll build an altar and a church,
And offer lukewarm blood of newborn babes.

Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art.

Contrition, prayer, repentance! What of them?

O, they are means to bring thee unto Heaven!

Rather, illusions⁠—fruits of lunacy,
That make men foolish that do trust them most.

Sweet Faustus, think of Heaven, and heavenly things.

No, Faustus, think of honour and of wealth.

Of wealth!
Why the signiory of Embden shall be mine.
When Mephistopheles shall stand by me,
What god can hurt thee? Faustus, thou art safe:
Cast no more doubts. Come, Mephistopheles,
And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer;⁠—
Is’t not midnight? Come, Mephistopheles;
Veni, veni, Mephistophile!

Now tell me, what says Lucifer thy lord?

That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives,
So he will buy my service with his soul.

Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee.

But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly,
And write a deed of gift with thine own blood,
For that security craves great Lucifer.
If thou deny it, I will back to hell.

Stay, Mephistopheles! and tell me, what good
Will my soul do thy lord.

Enlarge his kingdom.

Is that the reason why he tempts us thus?

Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.

Why, have you any pain that torture30 others?

As great as have the human souls of men.
But tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul?
And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee,
And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask.

Ay, Mephistopheles, I give it thee.

Then, Faustus, stab thine arm courageously,
And bind thy soul, that at some certain day
Great Lucifer may claim it as his own;
And then be thou as great as Lucifer.

Stabbing his arm. Lo, Mephistopheles, for love of thee,
I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood
Assure my soul to be great Lucifer’s,
Chief lord and regent of perpetual night!
View here the blood that trickles from mine arm,
And let it be propitious for my wish.

But, Faustus, thou must
Write it in manner of a deed of gift.

Ay, so I will. Writes. But, Mephistopheles,
My blood congeals, and I can write no more.

I’ll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight.

What might the staying of my blood portend?
Is it unwilling I should write this bill?
Why streams it not that I may write afresh?
Faustus gives to thee his soul. Ah, there it stayed!
Why should’st thou not? Is not thy soul shine own?
Then write again, Faustus gives to thee his soul.

Here’s fire. Come, Faustus, set it on.31

So, now the blood begins to clear again;
Now will I make an end immediately. Writes.

O what will not I do to obtain his soul. Aside.

Consummatum est; this bill is ended,
And Faustus hath bequeathed his soul to Lucifer
But what is this inscription on mine arm?
Homo, fuge! Whither should I fly?
If unto God, he’ll throw me down to hell.
My senses are deceived; here’s nothing writ:⁠—
I see it plain; here in this place is writ,
Homo, fuge! Yet shall not Faustus fly.

I’ll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind.

Speak, Mephistopheles, what means this show?

Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind withal,
And to show thee what magic can perform.

But may I raise up spirits when I please?

Ay, Faustus, and do greater things than these.

Then there’s enough for a thousand souls.
Here, Mephistopheles, receive this scroll,
A deed of gift of body and of soul:
But yet conditionally that thou perform
All articles prescribed between us both.

Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer
To effect all promises between us made!

Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as your deed?

Ay, take it, and the Devil give thee good on’t!

Now, Faustus, ask what thou wilt.

First will I question with thee about hell.
Tell me, where is the place that men call hell?

Under the Heavens.

Ay, but whereabout?

Within the bowels of these elements,
Where we are tortured and remain forever:
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed
In one self place; for where we are is hell,
And where hell is, there must we ever be:
And, to conclude, when all the world dissolves,
And every creature shall be purified,
All places shall be hell that are not Heaven.

Come, I think hell’s a fable.

Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind.

Why, think’st thou, then that Faustus shall be damned?

Ay, of necessity, for here’s the scroll
Wherein thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer.

Ay, and body too; but what of that?
Think’st thou that Faustus is so fond33 to imagine
That, after this life, there is any pain?
Tush; these are trifles, and mere old wives’ tales.

But, Faustus, I am an instance to prove the contrary,
For I am damned, and am now in hell.

How! now in hell?
Nay, an this be hell, I’ll willingly be damned here;
What? walking, disputing, etc.?
But, leaving off this, let me have a wife,
The fairest maid in Germany;
For I am wanton and lascivious,
And cannot live without a wife.

How⁠—a wife?
I prithee, Faustus, talk not of a wife.

Nay, sweet Mephistopheles, fetch me one, for I will have one.

Well⁠—thou wilt have one. Sit there till I come: I’ll fetch thee a wife in the Devil’s name.

Tell me, Faustus, how dost thou like thy wife?

Tut, Faustus,
Marriage is but a ceremonial toy;
If thou lovest me, think no more of it.
I’ll cull thee out the fairest courtesans,
And bring them every morning to thy bed;
She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall have,
Be she as chaste as was Penelope,
As wise as Saba,34 or as beautiful
As was bright Lucifer before his fall.
Hold, take this book, peruse it thoroughly: Gives book.
The iterating35 of these lines brings gold;
The framing of this circle on the ground
Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder and lightning;
Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself,
And men in armour shall appear to thee,
Ready to execute what thou desir’st.

Here they are, in this book. Turns to them.

Here they are too. Turns to them.

Here they be.

Tut, I warrant thee.

When I behold the heavens, then I repent,
And curse thee, wicked Mephistopheles,
Because thou hast deprived me of those joys.

Why, Faustus,
Thinkest thou Heaven is such a glorious thing?
I tell thee ’tis not half so fair as thou,
Or any man that breathes on earth.

How prov’st thou that?

’Twas made for man, therefore is man more excellent.

If it were made for man, ’twas made for me;
I will renounce this magic and repent.

Faustus, repent; yet God will pity thee.

Thou art a spirit; God cannot pity thee.

Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit?
Be I a devil, yet God may pity me;
Ay, God will pity me if I repent.

Ay, but Faustus never shall repent.

My heart’s so hardened I cannot repent.
Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven,
But fearful echoes thunder in mine ears
“Faustus, thou art damned!” Then swords, and knives,
Poison, gun, halters, and envenomed steel
Are laid before me to despatch myself,
And long ere this I should have slain myself,
Had not sweet pleasure conquered deep despair.
Have not I made blind Homer sing to me
Of Alexander’s love and Oenon’s death?
And hath not he that built the walls of Thebes
With ravishing sound of his melodious harp,
Made music with my Mephistopheles?
Why should I die then, or basely despair?
I am resolved; Faustus shall ne’er repent⁠—
Come, Mephistopheles, let us dispute again,
And argue of divine astrology.
Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon?
Are all celestial bodies but one globe,
As is the substance of this centric earth?

As are the elements, such are the spheres
Mutually folded in each other’s orb,
And, Faustus,
All jointly move upon one axletree
Whose terminine is termed the world’s wide pole;
Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter
Feigned, but are erring stars.

Tush!
These slender trifles Wagner can decide;
Hath Mephistopheles no greater skill?
Who knows not the double motion of the planets?
The first is finished in a natural day;

The second thus; as Saturn in thirty years; Jupiter in twelve; Mars in four; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year; the moon in twenty eight days. Tush, these are freshmen’s suppositions. But tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intelligentia?

Ay.

How many heavens, or spheres, are there?

Per inoequalem motum respectu totius.

Well, I am answered. Tell me who made the world?

I will not.

Sweet Mephistopheles, tell me.

Move me not, for I will not tell thee.

Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me anything?

Ay, that is not against our kingdom; but this is. Think thou on hell, Faustus, for thou art damned.

Think, Faustus, upon God that made the world.

Remember this.

Ay, go, accursed spirit, to ugly hell.
’Tis thou hast damned distressed Faustus’ soul.
Is’t not too late?

Too late.

Never too late, if Faustus can repent.

If thou repent, devils shall tear thee in pieces.

Repent, and they shall never raze thy skin.

Ah, Christ, my Saviour,
Seek to save distressed Faustus’ soul!

Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just;
There’s none but I have interest in the same.

O, who art thou that look’st so terrible?

I am Lucifer,
And this is my companion-prince in hell.

O Faustus! they are come to fetch away thy soul!

We come to tell thee thou dost injure us;
Thou talk’st of Christ contrary to thy promise;
Thou should’st not think of God: think of the Devil.37

Nor will I henceforth: pardon me in this,
And Faustus vows never to look to Heaven,
Never to name God, or to pray to him,
To burn his Scriptures, slay his ministers,
And make my spirits pull his churches down.

That sight will be as pleasing unto me,
As Paradise was to Adam, the first day
Of his creation.

Thou shalt; I will send for thee at midnight.
In meantime take this book; peruse it throughly,
And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt.

Learned Faustus,
To know the secrets of astronomy,
Graven in the book of Jove’s high firmament,
Did mount himself to scale Olympus’ top,
Being seated in a chariot burning bright,
Drawn by the strength of yoky dragons’ necks.
He now is gone to prove cosmography,
And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome,
To see the Pope and manner of his court,
And take some part of holy Peter’s feast,
That to this day is highly solemnised.44

Having now, my good Mephistopheles,
Passed with delight the stately town of Trier,46
Environed round with airy mountain-tops,
With walls of flint, and deep-entrenched lakes,
Not to be won by any conquering prince;
From Paris next, coasting the realm of France,
We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine,
Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines;
Then up to Naples, rich Campania,
Whose buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye,
The streets straight forth, and paved with finest brick,
Quarter the town in four equivalents:
There saw we learned Maro’s golden tomb,
The way he cut, an English mile in length,
Thorough a rock of stone, in one night’s space;47
From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest,
In one48 of which a sumptuous temple stands,
That threats the stars with her aspiring top.49
Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time:
But tell me now what resting-place is this?
Hast thou, as erst I did command,
Conducted me within the walls of Rome?

Tut, ’tis no matter, man, we’ll be bold with his good cheer.
And now, my Faustus, that thou may’st perceive
What Rome containeth to delight thee with,
Know that this city stands upon seven hills
That underprop the groundwork of the same:
Just through the midst runs flowing Tiber’s stream,
With winding banks that cut it in two parts:
Over the which four stately bridges lean,
That make safe passage to each part of Rome:
Upon the bridge called Ponte Angelo
Erected is a castle passing strong,
Within whose walls such store of ordnance are,
And double50 cannons framed of carved brass,
As match the days within one complete year;
Besides the gates and high pyramides,51
Which Julius Caesar brought from Africa.

Now by the kingdoms of infernal rule,
Of Styx, of Acheron, and the fiery lake
Of ever-burning Phlegethon, I swear
That I do long to see the monuments
And situation of bright-splendent Rome:
Come therefore, let’s away.

Nay, Faustus, stay; I know you’d fain see the Pope,
And take some part of holy Peter’s feast,
Where thou shalt see a troop of baldpate friars,
Whose summum bonum is in belly-cheer.

Well, I’m content to compass then some sport,
And by their folly make us merriment.
Then charm me, Mephistopheles, that I
May be invisible, to do what I please
Unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome.

So, Faustus; now
Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discerned.

How! bell, book, and candle⁠—candle, book, and bell,
Forward and backward to curse Faustus to hell!
Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, and an ass bray,
Because it is Saint Peter’s holiday.

Cursed be he that stole away his Holiness’ meat from the table! Maledicat Dominus!
Cursed be he that struck his Holiness a blow on the face! Maledicat Dominus!
Cursed be he that took Friar Sandelo a blow on the pate! Maledicat Dominus!
Cursed be he that disturbeth our holy dirge! Maledicat Dominus!
Cursed be he that took away his Holiness’ wine! Maledicat Dominus Et omnes sancti! Amen!

When Faustus had with pleasure ta’en the view
Of rarest things, and royal courts of kings,
He stayed his course, and so returned home;
Where such as bear his absence but with grief,
I mean his friends, and near’st companions,
Did gratulate his safety with kind words,
And in their conference of what befell,
Touching his journey through the world and air,
They put forth questions of Astrology,
Which Faustus answered with such learned skill
As they admired and wondered at his wit.
Now is his fame spread forth in every land;
Amongst the rest the Emperor is one,
Carolus the Fifth, at whose palace now
Faustus is feasted ’mongst his noblemen.
What there he did in trial of his art,
I leave untold⁠—your eyes shall see performed.

Me, sir! me, sir! search your fill. Vintner searches him. Now, sir, you may be ashamed to burden honest men with a matter of truth.

Monarch of hell, under whose black survey
Great potentates do kneel with awful fear,
Upon whose altars thousand souls do lie,
How am I vexed with these villains’ charms?
From Constantinople am I hither come
Only for pleasure of these damned slaves.

Then, Doctor Faustus, mark what I shall say.
As I was sometime solitary set
Within my closet, sundry thoughts arose
About the honour of mine ancestors,
How they had won by prowess such exploits,
Got such riches, subdued so many kingdoms
As we that do succeed, or they that shall
Hereafter possess our throne, shall
(I fear me) ne’er attain to that degree
Of high renown and great authority:
Amongst which kings is Alexander the Great,
Chief spectacle of the world’s preeminence,
The bright shining of whose glorious acts
Lightens the world with his reflecting beams,
As when I hear but motion made of him
It grieves my soul I never saw the man.
If therefore thou by cunning of thine art,
Canst raise this man from hollow vaults below,
Where lies entombed this famous conqueror,
And bring with him his beauteous paramour,
Both in their right shapes, gesture, and attire
They used to wear during their time of life,
Thou shalt both satisfy my just desire,
And give me cause to praise thee whilst I live.

Thou damned wretch and execrable dog,
Bred in the concave of some monstrous rock,
How darest thou thus abuse a gentleman?
Villain, I say, undo what thou hast done!

Farewell, Master Doctor; yet, ere you go,
Expect from me a bounteous reward.

Now, Mephistopheles, the restless course
That Time doth run with calm and silent foot,
Shortening my days and thread of vital life,
Calls for the payment of my latest years:
Therefore, sweet Mephistopheles, let us
Make haste to Wertenberg.

What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemned to die?
Thy fatal time doth draw to final end;
Despair doth drive distrust into my thoughts:
Confound these passions with a quiet sleep:
Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the cross;
Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit.
Sleeps in his chair.

I think my master shortly means to die,
For he hath given to me all his goods:
And yet, methinks, if that death were so near,
He would not banquet, and carouse and swill
Amongst the students, as even now he doth,
Who are at supper with such belly-cheer
As Wagner ne’er beheld in all his life.
See where they come! belike the feast is ended.

Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifulest in all the world, we have determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived: therefore, Master Doctor, if you will do us that favour, as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much beholding unto you.

Gentlemen,
For that I know your friendship is unfeigned,
And Faustus’ custom is not to deny
The just requests of those that wish him well,
You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece,
No otherways for pomp and majesty
Than when Sir Paris crossed the seas with her,
And brought the spoils to rich Dardania.
Be silent, then, for danger is in words.

Too simple is my wit to tell her praise,
Whom all the world admires for majesty.

No marvel though the angry Greeks pursued
With ten years’ war the rape of such a queen,
Whose heavenly beauty passeth all compare.

Since we have seen the pride of Nature’s works,
And only paragon of excellence,
Let us depart; and for this glorious deed
Happy and blest be Faustus evermore!

Ah, Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail
To guide thy steps unto the way of life,
By which sweet path thou may’st attain the goal
That shall conduct thee to celestial rest!
Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears,
Tears falling from repentant heaviness
Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness,
The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul
With such flagitious crimes of heinous sin
As no commiseration may expel,
But mercy, Faustus, of thy Saviour sweet,
Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt.

Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done?
Damned art thou, Faustus, damned; despair and die!
Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice
Says, “Faustus! come! thine hour is almost come!”
And Faustus now will come to do the right.
Mephistopheles gives him a dagger.

Ah, stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps!
I see an angel hovers o’er thy head,
And, with a vial full of precious grace,
Offers to pour the same into thy soul:
Then call for mercy, and avoid despair.

Ah, my sweet friend, I feel
Thy words to comfort my distressed soul!
Leave me a while to ponder on my sins.

I go, sweet Faustus, but with heavy cheer,
Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul.

Accursed Faustus, where is mercy now?
I do repent; and yet I do despair:
Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast:
What shall I do to shun the snares of death?

Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul
For disobedience to my sovereign lord;
Revolt, or I’ll in piecemeal tear thy flesh.

Sweet Mephistopheles, entreat thy lord
To pardon my unjust presumption.
And with my blood again I will confirm
My former vow I made to Lucifer.

Do it, then, quickly, with unfeigned heart,
Lest greater danger do attend thy drift.

Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age,
That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer,
With greatest torments that our hell affords.

His faith is great: I cannot touch his soul;
But what I may afflict his body with
I will attempt, which is but little worth.

One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee,
To glut the longing of my heart’s desire⁠—
That I might have unto my paramour
That heavenly Helen, which I saw of late,
Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean
Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow,
And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer.

Faustus, this or what else thou shalt desire
Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye.

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships71
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Kisses her.
Her lips suck forth my soul; see, where it flies!⁠—
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sacked:
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest:
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appeared to hapless Semele:
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa’s azured arms:
And none but thou shalt be my paramour!

Accursed Faustus, miserable man,
That from thy soul exclud’st the grace of Heaven,
And fly’st the throne of his tribunal seat!

Satan begins to sift me with his pride:
As in this furnace God shall try my faith,
My faith, vile hell, shall triumph over thee.
Ambitious fiends, see how the heavens smile
At your repulse, and laugh your state to scorn!
Hence, hell! for hence I fly unto my God.

Ah, Faustus,
Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,
And then thou must be damned perpetually!
Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of Heaven,
That time may cease, and midnight never come;
Fair Nature’s eye, rise, rise again and make
Perpetual day; or let this hour be but
A year, a month, a week, a natural day,
That Faustus may repent and save his soul!
O lente, lente, currite noctis equi!74
The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike,
The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.
O, I’ll leap up to my God! Who pulls me down?
See, see where Christ’s blood streams in the firmament!
One drop would save my soul⁠—half a drop: ah, my Christ!
Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ!
Yet will I call on him: O spare me, Lucifer!⁠—
Where is it now? ’tis gone; and see where God
Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows!
Mountains and hills come, come and fall on me,
And hide me from the heavy wrath of God!
No! no!
Then will I headlong run into the earth;
Earth, gape! O no, it will not harbour me!
You stars that reigned at my nativity,
Whose influence hath allotted death and hell,
Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist
Into the entrails of yon labouring clouds,
That, when you vomit forth into the air,
My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths,
So that my soul may but ascend to Heaven.

Ah, half the hour is past! ’twill all be past anon!
O God!
If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul,
Yet for Christ’s sake whose blood hath ransomed me,
Impose some end to my incessant pain;
Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years⁠—
A hundred thousand, and⁠—at last⁠—be saved!
O, no end is limited to damned souls!
Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?
Or why is this immortal that thou hast?
Ah, Pythagoras’ metempsychosis! were that true,
This soul should fly from me, and I be changed
Unto some brutish beast! all beasts are happy,
For, when they die,
Their souls are soon dissolved in elements;
But mine must live, still to be plagued in hell.
Cursed be the parents that engendered me!
No, Faustus: curse thyself: curse Lucifer
That hath deprived thee of the joys of Heaven.

O, it strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air,
Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell!

O soul, be changed into little water-drops,
And fall into the ocean⁠—ne’er be found!

My God! my God! look not so fierce on me!
Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while!
Ugly hell, gape not! come not, Lucifer!
I’ll burn my books!⁠—Ah, Mephistopheles!

Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
And burned is Apollo’s laurel-bough,
That sometime grew within this learned man.
Faustus is gone; regard his hellish fall,
Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise
Only to wonder at unlawful things,
Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits
To practice more than heavenly power permits.