of Doctor Faustus
The Watch strikes.
O, if my soule must suffer for my sinne,
Impose some end to my incessant paine:
Let Faustus live in hell a thousand yeares,
A hundred thousand, and at the last be sav'd:
No end is limited to damned soules.
Why wert thou not a creature wanting soule?
Or why is this immortall that thou hast?
Oh Pythagoras Metemsycosis, were that true,
This soule should flie from me, and I be chang'd
Into some brutish beast.
All beasts are happy, for when they die,
Their soules are soone dissolv'd in Elements:
But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell.
Curst be the parents that ingendred me:
No Faustus, curse thy selfe, curse Lucifer,
That hath depriv'd thee of the joyes of heaven.
The clock strikes twelve.
Or Lucifer will beare thee quicke to hell.
O soule be chang'd into small water drops,
And fall into the Ocean nere be found.
Thunder, and enter the Devils.
Adders and Serpents let me breathe a while:
Ugly Hell gape not; come not Lucifer,
Ile burne my bookes: Oh Mephostophilis.
Enter Schollers.
1
Come Gentlemen, let us goe visit Faustus,
For such a dreadfull night was never scene,
Since first the worlds creation did begin.
Such fearfull shriekes and cries were never heard:
Pray heaven the Doctor have escapt the danger.
2
O helpe us Heavens, see here are Faustus limbs,
All torne asunder by the hand of death.
