Marlowe's Faustus: Goethe's Faust

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G. Routledge and sons, 1889 - 315 Seiten
 

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Seite 64 - Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss! Her lips suck forth my soul! See, where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.
Seite 14 - 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...
Seite 38 - Nor will I henceforth: pardon me in this, And Faustus vows never to look to Heaven, Never to name God, or to pray to him, To burn his Scriptures, slay his ministers, And make my spirits pull his churches down.
Seite 69 - That, when you vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, So that my soul may but ascend to heaven ! [The clock strikes the half-hour.] Ah, half the hour is past!
Seite 35 - And long ere this I should have slain myself, Had not sweet pleasure conquer'd deep despair. Have not I made blind Homer sing to me Of Alexander's love, and QEnon's death ? And hath not he, that built the walls of Thebes, With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, Made music with my Mephistophilis ? Why should I die, then, or basely despair? I am resolv'd ; Faustus shall ne'er repent. — Come, Mephistophilis, let us dispute again, And argue of divine astrology.
Seite 68 - Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of Heaven, 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 damned.
Seite 69 - O, no end is limited to damned souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or, why is this immortal that thou hast? Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Unto some brutish beast.
Seite 22 - Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it; Think'st thou that I, that 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!
Seite 14 - Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve 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...
Seite 63 - His faith is great: I cannot touch his soul; But what I may afflict his body with I will attempt, which is but little worth. FAUST. One thing, good servant...

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