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Cardinals, Bishops, Monks, Friars, Soldiers, Servants, &c. &c.

THE

TRAGEDY

OF

DOCTOR FAUSTUS.

Enter CHORUS.

NoT 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.

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 Oeconomy 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.

* The edition of 1624 read "divers."

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 véritas,

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.

*It may, perhaps, be advisable here, to apologize for the unpleasing repetition of the name of "the most high," and the irreverend sporting with the best feelings of our nature, which will be found throughout the first part of this Play, in the mouth of Faustus; but it should be remembered that Marlowe is not particular in this; that some of the greatest, and best men, not scrupled to represent vice speaking her own language. And it must be observed, that the moral of the parts, as of the whole, is excellent: the very devil is opposed to Faustus, and painted hating sin.

bave

Lines, Circles, Letters, Characters:

Aye, these are those that Faustus most desires.
O what a world of profit and delight,
Of power, of honour, and omnipotence,
Is promised to the studious artizan !

All things that move between the quiet poles
Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings.
Are but obey'd in their several provinces;
But his dominion that exceeds in this,
Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man:
A sound Magician is a Demigod.

Here tire my brains to get a deity.

Enter WAGner.

Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends,

The German Valdes, and Cornelius:

Request them earnestly to visit me.

Wag. I will, sir.

[Exit.

Faust. Their conference will be a greater help*

Than all my labours, plod I ne'er so fast.

Enter a GOOD and BAD ANGEL.

Good Ang. 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.

* The original editions read, "help to me;" but as it was unnecessary to the sense, and destructive of the metre, I struck it out: but I wish it to be here understood, that I have invariably preferred presenting the original in its corrupt state, and leav ing the alteration to the judgment of the reader, to hazarding a conjectural emendation; and that when I have presumed on any, I bore in mind the directions of Augustus to the friends of Virgil, when he delivered to them the Æneid for revision.

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