The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus, written by Ch. Marloe. London, printed for John Wright, and are to be sold at his shop without Newgate, at the signe of the Bible. Black letter, 4to. 1616. Į

Mr. Malone is of opinion that this play was exhibited before 1590. It appears to have been acted by the Lord Admiral's Servants in 1594 and 1597. It was first published in 1604, 4to. and was reprinted in 1616, 1624 and 1663, all in quarto. The last edition contains some new scenes, and the one at Rome is left out and another copied from The Rich Jew of Malta substituted. Indeed it is probable that none of the editions contain the entire text of the author, for it appears from Henslowe's MS. that after Marlow's death, and before the first edition, the play had been altered in the representation. The entry is as follows: "Lent unto the company 22nd November, 1602, to pay unto William Bride and Samuel Rowley for their adycions in Doctor Fostes, the sum £4;" and if the additions were estimated at the rate at which plays were then usually paid for, they were not by any means inconsiderable. The character of Faustus was played by Edward Alleyn.

Cardinals, Bishops, Monks, Friars, Soldiers, Servants,

&c. &c.

DOCTOR FAUSTUS.

Enter CHORUS.

Nor marching in the fields of Tharsimen, Where Mars did mate the warlike Carthagen; 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 vaunt his heavenly verse; Only this, gentles, we must now perform, The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad: And now to patient judgments we appeal, And speak for Faustus in his infancy. Now is he born of parents base of stock, In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes: At riper years to Wittenberg he went, Whereas his kinsman chiefly brought him up. So much he profits in divinity,

That shortly he was grac'd with Doctor's name, Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute

In th' heavenly matters of theology:

Till swoln with cunning, and 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 on the 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.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

FAUSTUS in his study.

FAUST. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess; Having commenc'd, 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 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 that end.

A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit:

Bid economy farewell: and Galen come.
Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold,
And be eterniz'd for some wondrous cure:
Summum bonum medicinæ sanitas;
The end of physic is our bodies' health.
Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end?
Are not thy bills hung up as monuments,
Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague,

And thousand desperate maladies been cur'd?
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 esteem'd.
Physic farewell. Where is Justinian?
Si una eademque res legatur duobus,
Alter rem, alter valorem rei, &c.
A petty case of paltry legacies.
Exhereditari filium non potest pater, nisi, &c.
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, &c. The reward of sin is death: that's hard.

Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis

veritas,

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and

there is no truth in us.

Why then belike we must sin,

And so consequently die.

Aye, we must die an everlasting death.

What doctrine call you this? Che, sera, sera:

What will be, shall be; divinity adieu.

These metaphysics of magicians,

And necromantic books, are heavenly.