Faust. Ah, gentlemen.

[The text then proceeds as in ed. 1604; but after l. 63, when the scholars retire, the following additions are found :

Meph. I, Faustus, now thou hast no hope of heaven; Therefore despair; think only upon hell,

For that must be thy mansion, there to dwell.

Faust. O thou bewitching fiend! 'twas thy temptation. Hath robb'd me of eternal happiness!

Meph. I do confess it, Faustus, and rejoice:

'Twas I that, when thou wert i' the way to heaven,
Damm'd up thy passage; when thou took'st the book
To view the Scriptures, then I turned the leaves,
And led thine eye.

What, weep'st thou? 'tis too late; despair! Farewell!
Fools that will laugh on earth must weep in hell. [Exit.
Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL at several doors.
Good Ang. O Faustus! if thou hadst given ear to me,
Innumerable joys had follow'd thee!

But thou didst love the world.

Evil Ang. Gave ear to me,

And now must taste hell-pains perpetually.

Good Ang. O, what will all thy riches, pleasures, pomps, Avail thee now?

Evil. Ang. Nothing, but vex thee more,

To want in hell, that had on earth such store.

Good Ang. O, thou hast lost celestial happiness, Pleasures unspeakable, bliss without end.

Hadst thou affected sweet divinity,

Hell or the devil had had no power on thee:

Hadst thou kept on that way, Faustus, behold,

[Music, while a throne descends.

In what resplendent glory thou hadst sit

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. The throne ascends. Evil Ang. Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with horror [Hell is discovered.

stare

Into that vast perpetual torture-house :
There are the furies tossing damnèd souls
On burning forks; there 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-tortured 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. O, I have seen enough to torture me!

Evil 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 tumble in confusion.

[Exit. Hell disappears.

[SCENE XVIa.]

At the close of SCENE XVI. in ed. 1616 follows a scene which I suppose to have been written by Marlowe :

Enter Scholars.

First Schol. 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.

Sec. Schol. O help us, Heaven! see, here are Faustus'

limbs,

All torn asunder by the hand of death!

Third Schol. The devils whom Faustus serv'd have torn him thus ;

For, 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought,

I heard him shriek and call aloud for help;

At which self time the house seem'd all on fire

With dreadful horror of these damnèd fiends.

Sec. Schol. 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, cloth'd in mourning black,
Shall wait upon his heavy funeral.

[Exeunt.

BALLAD OF FAUSTUS.

"A ballad of the life and death of Doctor Faustus the great congerer," perhaps founded on Marlowe's play, was licensed to be printed 28th February 1588. It was perhaps the ballad printed below from the Roxburghe Collection.

The judgment of God shewed upon one John Faustus, Doctor in

Divinity.

Tune of Fortune my Foe.

All Christian men, give ear a while to me,
How I am plung'd in pain, but cannot die :
I liv'd a life the like did none before,
Forsaking Christ, and I am damn'd therefore.

At Wittenburge, a town in Germany,
There was I born and bred of good degree;
Of honest stock, which afterwards I sham'd;
Accurst therefore, for Faustus was I nam'd.
In learning, loe, my uncle brought up me,
And made me Doctor in Divinity;
And, when he dy'd, he left me all his wealth,
Whose cursed gold did hinder my souls health.

Then did I shun the holy Bible-book,
Nor on Gods word would ever after look;
But studied accursed conjuration,

Which was the cause of my utter damnation.

The devil in fryars weeds appear'd to me,
And streight to my request he did agree,
That I might have all things at my desire :
I gave him soul and body for his hire.

Twice did I make my tender flesh to bleed,
Twice with my blood I wrote the devils deed,
Twice wretchedly I soul and body sold,
To live in peace1 and do what things I would.

For four and twenty years this bond was made,
And at the length my soul was truly paid!
Time ran away, and yet I never thought

How dear my soul our Saviour Christ had bought.
Would I at first been made a beast by kind!
Then had not I so vainly set my mind ;

Or would, when reason first began to bloom,
Some darksome den had been my deadly tomb!
Woe to the day of my nativity!

Woe to the time that once did foster me!
And woe unto the hand that seal'd the bill!
Woe to myself, the cause of all my ill!

The time I passed away, with much delight,
'Mongst princes, peers, and many a worthy knight:

I wrought such wonders by my magick skill,
That all the world may talk of Faustus still.

The devil he carried me up into the sky,

Where I did see how all the world did lie;

1"Another copy of this ballad in the British Museum,-Ballads, &c., 643, m. 10,-has, pleasure.'"-Dyce.