The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus (eBook)

FROM THE QUARTO OF 1604.


          Enter CHORUS.

     CHORUS. 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 overturn'd;
     Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds,
     Intends our Muse to vaunt2 her3 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 call'd Rhodes:
     Of riper years, to Wertenberg he went,
     Whereas4 his kinsmen chiefly brought him up.
     So soon he profits in divinity,
     The fruitful plot of scholarism grac'd,
     That shortly he was grac'd with doctor's name,
     Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes
     In heavenly matters of theology;
     Till swoln with cunning,5 of a self-conceit,
     His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
     And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow;
     For, falling to a devilish exercise,
     And glutted now6 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.
          [Exit.]

          FAUSTUS discovered in his study.7
     FAUSTUS. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin
     To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess:
     Having commenc'd, be a divine in shew,
     Yet level at the end of every art,
     And live and die in Aristotle's works.
     Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou8 hast ravish'd 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 attain'd that9 end:
     A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit:
     Bid Economy10 farewell, and11 Galen come,
     Seeing, Ubi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus:
     Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold,
     And be eterniz'd for some wondrous cure:
     Summum bonum medicinae sanitas,
     The end of physic is our body's health.
     Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end?
     Is not thy common talk found aphorisms?
     Are not thy bills hung up as monuments,
     Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague,
     And thousand desperate maladies been eas'd?
     Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.
     Couldst12 thou make men13 to live eternally,
     Or, being dead, raise them to life again,
     Then this profession were to be esteem'd.
     Physic, farewell!  Where is Justinian?

          [Reads.]
     Si una eademque res legatur14 duobus, alter rem,
     alter valorem rei, &c.

     A pretty case of paltry legacies!

          [Reads.]
     Exhoereditare filium non potest pater, nisi, &c.15
     Such is the subject of the institute,
     And universal body of the law:16     This17 study fits a mercenary drudge,
     Who aims at nothing but external trash;
     Too servile18 and illiberal for me.
     When all is done, divinity is best:
     Jerome's Bible, Faustus; view it well.

          [Reads.]
     Stipendium peccati mors est.
                                   Ha!
                                        Stipendium, &c.

     The reward of sin is death:  that's hard.

          [Reads.]
     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,19     What will be, shall be?  Divinity, adieu!
     These metaphysics of magicians,
     And necromantic books are heavenly;
     Lines, circles, scenes,20 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 promis'd to the studious artizan!
     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, tire21 thy brains to gain a deity.

          Enter WAGNER.22
     Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends,
     The German Valdes and Cornelius;
     Request them earnestly to visit me.

     WAGNER. I will, sir.
          [Exit.]

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

          Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL.

     GOOD ANGEL. 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.

     EVIL ANGEL. Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art
     Wherein all Nature's treasure23 is contain'd:
     Be thou on earth as Jove24 is in the sky,
     Lord and commander of these elements.25          [Exeunt Angels.]

     FAUSTUS. How am I glutted with conceit of this!
     Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please,
     Resolve26 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 new-found 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,27     Wherewith the students shall be bravely...