Dr. Faustus, Christopher Marlowe [ink ebook reader .txt] 📗
- Author: Christopher Marlowe
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Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS like a Franciscan friar.
MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have me do?
FAUSTUS. 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.
MEPHIST. I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave: No more than he commands must we perform.
FAUSTUS. Did not he charge thee to appear to me?
MEPHIST. No, I came hither of mine own accord.
FAUSTUS. Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee? speak.
MEPHIST. 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 damn’d. Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity, And pray devoutly to the prince of hell.
FAUSTUS. 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?
MEPHIST. Arch-regent and commander of all spirits.
FAUSTUS. Was not that Lucifer an angel once?
MEPHIST. Yes, Faustus, and most dearly lov’d of God.
FAUSTUS. How comes it, then, that he is prince of devils?
MEPHIST. O, by aspiring pride and insolence; For which God threw him from the face of heaven.
FAUSTUS. And what are you that live with Lucifer?
MEPHIST. Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, Conspir’d against our God with Lucifer, And are for ever damn’d with Lucifer.
FAUSTUS. Where are you damn’d?
MEPHIST. In hell.
FAUSTUS. How comes it, then, that thou art out of hell?
MEPHIST. 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 depriv’d of everlasting bliss? O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands, Which strike a terror to my fainting soul!
FAUSTUS. What, is great Mephistophilis 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 incurr’d 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 resolve me of thy master’s mind.
MEPHIST. I will, Faustus. [Exit.]
FAUSTUS. Had I as many souls as there be stars, I’d give them all for Mephistophilis. 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 obtain’d what I desir’d, I’ll live in speculation of this art, Till Mephistophilis return again. [Exit.]
Enter WAGNER and CLOWN.
WAGNER. Sirrah boy, come hither.
CLOWN. How, boy! swowns, boy! I hope you have seen many boys with such pickadevaunts as I have: boy, quotha!
WAGNER. Tell me, sirrah, hast thou any comings in?
CLOWN. Ay, and goings out too; you may see else.
WAGNER. Alas, poor slave! see how poverty jesteth in his nakedness! the villain is bare and out of service, and so hungry, that I know he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood-raw.
CLOWN. How! my soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though ‘twere blood-raw! not so, good friend: by’r lady, I had need have it well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear.
WAGNER. Well, wilt thou serve me, and I’ll make thee go like Qui mihi discipulus?
CLOWN. How, in verse?
WAGNER. No, sirrah; in beaten silk and staves-acre.
CLOWN. How, how, knaves-acre! ay, I thought that was all the land his father left him. Do you hear? I would be sorry to rob you of your living.
WAGNER. Sirrah, I say in staves-acre.
CLOWN. Oho, oho, staves-acre! why, then, belike, if I were your man, I should be full of vermin.
WAGNER. So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no. But, sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me for seven years, or I’ll turn all the lice about thee into familiars, and they shall tear thee in pieces.
CLOWN. Do you hear, sir? you may save that labour; they are too familiar with me already: swowns, they are as bold with my flesh as if they had paid for their meat and drink.
WAGNER. Well, do you hear, sirrah? hold, take these guilders. [Gives money.]
CLOWN. Gridirons! what be they?
WAGNER. Why, French crowns.
CLOWN. Mass, but for the name of French crowns, a man were as good have as many English counters. And what should I do with these?
WAGNER. Why, now, sirrah, thou art at an hour’s warning, whensoever or wheresoever the devil shall fetch thee.
CLOWN. No, no; here, take your gridirons again.
WAGNER. Truly, I’ll none of them.
CLOWN. Truly, but you shall.
WAGNER. Bear witness I gave them him.
CLOWN. Bear witness I give them you again.
WAGNER. Well, I will cause two devils presently to fetch thee away.—Baliol and Belcher!
CLOWN. Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and I’ll knock them, they were never so knocked since they were devils: say I should kill one of them, what would folks say? “Do ye see yonder tall fellow in the round slop? he has killed the devil.” So I should be called Kill-devil all the parish over.
Enter two DEVILS; and the CLOWN runs up and down crying.
WAGNER. Baliol and Belcher,—spirits, away! [Exeunt DEVILS.]
CLOWN. What, are they gone? a vengeance on them! they have vile long nails. There was a he-devil and a she-devil: I’ll tell you how you shall know them; all he-devils has horns, and all she-devils has clifts and cloven feet.
WAGNER. Well, sirrah, follow me.
CLOWN. But, do you hear? if I should serve you, would you teach me to raise up Banios and Belcheos?
WAGNER. I will teach thee to turn thyself to any thing, to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or any thing.
CLOWN. How! a Christian fellow to a dog, or a cat, a mouse, or a rat! no, no, sir; if you turn me into any thing, let it be in the likeness of a little pretty frisking flea, that I may be here and there and every where: O, I’ll tickle the pretty wenches’ plackets! I’ll be amongst them, i’faith.
WAGNER. Well, sirrah, come.
CLOWN. But, do you hear, Wagner?
WAGNER. How!—Baliol and Belcher!
CLOWN. O Lord! I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep.
WAGNER. Villain, call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be diametarily fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigiis nostris insistere. [Exit.]
CLOWN. God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian. Well, I’ll follow him; I’ll serve him, that’s flat. [Exit.]
FAUSTUS discovered in his study.
FAUSTUS. Now, Faustus, must Thou needs be damn’d, and canst thou not be sav’d: 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 fix’d the love of Belzebub: To him I’ll build an altar and a church, And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes.
Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL.
GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art.
FAUSTUS. Contrition, prayer, repentance—what of them?
GOOD ANGEL. O, they are means to bring thee unto heaven!
EVIL ANGEL. Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy, That make men foolish that do trust them most.
GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, think of heaven and heavenly things.
EVIL ANGEL. No, Faustus; think of honour and of wealth. [Exeunt ANGELS.]
FAUSTUS. Of wealth! Why, the signiory of Embden shall be mine. When Mephistophilis shall stand by me, What god can hurt thee, Faustus? thou art safe Cast no more doubts.—Come, Mephistophilis, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer;— Is’t not midnight?—come, Mephistophilis, Veni, veni, Mephistophile!
Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS.
Now tell me what says Lucifer, thy lord?
MEPHIST. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives, So he will buy my service with his soul.
FAUSTUS. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee.
MEPHIST. 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.
FAUSTUS. Stay, Mephistophilis, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord?
MEPHIST. Enlarge his kingdom.
FAUSTUS. Is that the reason why he tempts us thus?
MEPHIST. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.
FAUSTUS. Why, have you any pain that torture others!
MEPHIST. 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.
FAUSTUS. Ay, Mephistophilis, I give it thee.
MEPHIST. 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.
FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm] Lo, Mephistophilis, 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.
MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must Write it in manner of a deed of gift.
FAUSTUS. Ay, so I will [Writes]. But, Mephistophilis, My blood congeals, and I can write no more.
MEPHIST. I’ll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. [Exit.]
FAUSTUS. 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 stay’d! Why shouldst thou not? is not thy soul shine own? Then write again, FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL.
Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with a chafer of coals.
MEPHIST. Here’s fire; come, Faustus, set it on.
FAUSTUS. So, now the blood begins to clear again; Now will I make an end immediately. [Writes.]
MEPHIST. O, what will not I do to obtain his soul? [Aside.]
FAUSTUS. Consummatum est; this bill is ended, And Faustus hath bequeath’d 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 deceiv’d; here’s nothing writ:— I see it
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