Hadst thou affected sweet divinity,

Hell or the devil had had no power on thee: Hadst thou kept on that way, Faustus, behold In what resplendent glory thou hadst set

In yonder throne, like those bright shining saints, And triumph'd over hell; that hast thou lost: And now (poor soul!) must thy good angel leave thee;

The jaws of hell are open to receive thee. [Exit. (Hell is discovered.)

Bad Ang. Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with

horror stare

Into that vast perpetual torture-house :
There are the furies tossing damned souls
On burning forks; their bodies boil in lead:
There are live quarters broiling on the coals,
That ne'er can die; this ever-burning chair
Is for o'er-tortur'd souls to rest them in;
These that are fed with sops of flaming fire,
Were gluttons, and lov'd only delicates,
And laugh'd to see the poor starve at their gates;
But yet all these are nothing; thou shalt see
Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be.

Faust. Oh! I have seen enough to torture me! Bad Ang. Nay, thou must feel them, taste the smart of all;

He that loves pleasure, must for pleasure fall: And so I leave thee, Faustus, till anon;

Then wilt thou tremble in confusion.

(The clock strikes eleven.)

Faust. Oh, Faustus!

Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,

[Exit.

And then thou must be damn'd perpetually.

Stand still you ever-moving spheres of heav'n,
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!

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike,

The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd. Oh, I'll leap up to heav'n !-Who pulls me down? See where Christ's blood streams in the firma

ment*:

One drop of blood will save me: oh, my Christ! Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ; Yet will I call on him. Oh, spare me, Lucifer!--

Where is it now?-'tis gone!

And see, a threatening arm, an angry brow.
Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me,
And hide me from the heavy wrath of heav'n!
No! Then will I headlong run into the earth :
Gape, earth!-O no, it will not harbour me.
You stars that reign'd at my nativity,
Whose influence hath allotted death and hell,
Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist,
Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud;
That when you vomit forth into the air,
My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths
But let my soul mount and ascend to heav'n.

(The watch strikes.)

;

Oh! half the hour is past: 'twill all be past anon.

*This whole line is omitted in the edit. 1616.

Oh! if my soul must suffer for my sin,
Impose some end to my incessant pain.
Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years,
A hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd:
No end is limited to damned souls.

Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?
Or why is this immortal that thou hast?

Oh! Pythagoras, Metemsycosis! were that true,
This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd
Into some brutish beast.

All beasts are happy, for when they die
Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements;
But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell.
Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me!
No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer,
That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heav'n.
(The clock strikes twelve.)

་

It strikes, it strikes! now, body, turn to air,
Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell.
O soul! be chang'd into small water-drops,
And fall into the ocean; ne'er be found.

(Thunder.) Enter the DEVILS.

Oh! mercy, heav'n, look not so fierce on me!
Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile!—
Ugly hell, gape not!-Come not, Lucifer!—
I'll burn my books!-Oh, Mephostophilis !
[Exeunt.

Enter the SCHOLARS.

1 Scho. Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faustus, For such a dreadful night was never seen Since first the world's creation did begin; Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard;

Pray heaven the Doctor have escap'd the danger.

2 Scho. Oh, help us, heavens! see, here are Faustus' limbs,

All torn asunder by the hand of death.

3 Scho. The devils whom Faustus serv'd have torn him thus;

For twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought
I heard him shriek and cry aloud for help;
At which self-time the house seem'd all on fire,
With dreadful horror of these damned fiends.
2 Scho. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end
be such

As every christian heart laments to think on;
Yet, for he was a scholar once admir'd

For wondrous knowledge in our German schools,
We'll give his mangled limbs due burial;

And all the students, clothed in mourning black, Shall wait upon his heavy funeral. [Exeunt.

Enter CHORUS.

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.

Terminat hora diem, terminat Author opus.

WHITTINGHAM and ROWLAND, Printers, Goswell Street, London.