The Tragicall History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus/Scene 19

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Thunder. Enter Lucifer, Belzebub, and Mephostophilis.

Thus from infernall Dis doe we ascend,
To view the subjects of our monarchie,
Those soules which sinne seales the blacke sonnes of hell,
'Mong which as chiefe, Faustus we come to thee,
Bringing with us lasting damnation,
To wait upon thy soule; the time is come
Which makes it forfeit.

And this gloomy night,
Here in this roome will wretched Faustus be.

And here wee'le stay,
To marke him how he doth demeane himselfe.

How should he, but in desperate lunacy?
Fond worldling now his heart-bloud dries with griefe;
His conscience kils it, and his labouring braine
Begets a world of idle fantasies,
To over-reach the Divell; but all in vaine,
His store of pleasures must be sauc'd with paine.
He and his servant Wagner are at hand,
Both come from drawing Faustus latest Will.
See where they come. Enter Faustus and Wagner.

Say Wagner, thou hast perus'd my Will,
How dost thou like it?

Sir, so wondrous well,
As in all humble duty I do yeeld
My life and lasting service for your love. Enter the Schollers.

Gramarcy Wagner.
Welcome Gentlemen.

Now worthy Faustus, me thinks your looks are chang'd.

Oh Gentlemen.

What ayles Faustus?

Ah my sweet Chamber-fellow, had I liv'd with thee,
Then had I liv'd still, but now must die eternally.
Looke sirs, comes he not, comes he not?

O my deare Faustus, what imports this feare?

Is all our pleasure turn'd to melancholy?

He is not well with being over solitary.

If it be so, weele have Physitians, and Faustus shall be cur'd.

Tis but a surfet, feare nothing.

A surfet of deadly sinne, that hath damn'd both body and soule.

Yet Faustus looke up to heaven, and remember mercy is infinite.

But Faustus offence can nere be pardoned:
The Serpent that tempted Eve may be saved,
But not Faustus: O Gentlemen, heare with patience, and tremble not at my speeches, though my heart pant and quiver to remember that I have been a Student here these 30. years. O would I had nere seene Wittenberge, never read booke, and what wonders I have done, all Germany can witnesse, yea all the world: for which Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world, yea Heaven it selfe: Heaven, the seat of God, the Throne of the blessed, the Kingdome of joy, and must remaine in Hell for ever. Hell, O Hell for ever. Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus being in Hell for ever?

Yet Faustus call on God.

On God, whom Faustus hath abjur'd? On God, whom Faustus hath blasphem'd? O my God, I would weepe, but the Devill drawes in my teares. Gush forth bloud in stead of teares, yea life and soule: Oh he staies my tongue: I would lift up my hands, but see they hold 'em, they hold 'em?

Who Faustus?

Why Lucifer and Mephostophilis, O Gentlemen,

I gave them my soule for my cunning.

O God forbid.

God forbade it indeed, but Faustus hath done it: for the vaine pleasure of foure and twenty yeares hath Faustus lost eternall joy and felicity. I writ them a Bill with mine own bloud, the date is expired: this is the time, and he will fetch me.

Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, that Divines might have prai'd for thee?

Oft have I thought to have done so: but the Devill threatned to teare me in peecces if I nam'd God: to fetch me body and soule if I once gave eare to Divinity: and now it is too late. Gentlemen away, lest you perish with me.

O what may we doe to save Faustus?

Talke not of me, but save your selves and depart.

God will strengthen me, I will stay with Faustus.

Tempt not God sweet friend, but let us into the next roome and pray for him.

I, pray for me, pray for me, and what noise soever you heare, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me.

Pray, thou and we will pray, that God may have mercy upon thee.

Gentlemen, farewell: if I live till morning, Ile visit you; if not, Faustus is gone to hell.

Faustus, farewell.

Exeunt Schollers.

I Faustus, now thou hast no hope of heaven,
Therefore despaire, thinke onely upon hell:
For that must be thy mansion there to dwell.

O thou bewitching Fiend! twas thy temptation,
Hath rob'd me of eternall happinesse.

I doe confesse it Faustus, and rejoyce
'Twas I, that when thou wert i'th way to heaven,
Dam'd up thy passage, when thou tookst the booke,
To view the Scriptures, then I turn'd the leaves,
And led thine eie.
What weep'st thou? 'tis too late: despaire. Farewell.

Fooles that will laugh on earth, most weepe in Hell.


Enter the Good Angell, and the Bad, at
severall doores.

O Faustus, if thou hadst given ears to me,
Innumerable joyes had followed thee.
But thou didst love the world.

Gave eare to me,
And now must taste hell paines perpetually.

O what will all thy riches, pleasures, pomps,
Availe thee now?

Nothing but vex thee more,
To want in hell, that had on earth such store.

Musicke while the Throne descends.

O thou hast lost celestiall happinesse,
Pleasures unspeakable, blisse without end.
Hadst thou affected sweet Divinity,
Hell or the Devill had had no power on thee:
Hadst thou kept on that way, Faustus behold,
In what resplendent glory thou hadst sit
In yonder Throne, like those bright shining Saints,
And triumpht over Hell: that hast thou lost,
And now (poor soule) must thy good Angell leave thee,
The jawes of Hell is ready to receive thee. Exit.

Hell is discovered.


Now Faustus let shine eyes with horror stare
Into that vast perpetuall torture house:
There are the Furies tossing damned soules,
On burning Forkes, their bodies boyle in Lead.
There are live quarters broiling on the Coles,
That ne're can die: this ever-burning chaire,
Is for o're tortured soules to rest them in.
These that are fed with sops of flaming fire,
Were gluttons, and lov'd only delicates,
And laught to see the poore starve at their gates:
But yet all these are nothing, thou shalt see

Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be.

O, I have seene enough to torture me.

Nay thou must feele 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.

The clock strikes eleven.

O Faustus,
Now hast thou but one bare houre to live,
And then thou must be damn'd perpetually.
Stand still you ever-moving Spheares of Heaven,
That time may cease, and midnight never come,
Faire natures eye, rise, rise againe and make
Perpetuall day: or let this houre be but a yeare,
A moneth, a weeke, a naturall day,
That Faustus may repent and save his soule.
O lente lente currite noctis equi.
The stars move still, time runnes, the clocke will strike,
The devill will come, and Faustus must be damn'd.
O Ile leap up to Heaven, who puls me downe?
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: O spare me Lucifer.
Where is it now? 'tis gone.
And see a threatning arme, and angry brow.
Mountaines and hills, come, come, and fall on me,
And hide me from the heavy wrath of Heaven.
No? then will I headlong run into the earth:
Gape earth; Oh no, it will not harbour me.
You Starres that raign'd at my nativity,
Whose influence have alotted death and hell,
Now draw up Faustus like a foggie mist,
Into the entrals of your labouring cloud;
That when you vomit forth into the Ayre,
My limbs may issue from your smoakie mouths,
But let my soule mount, and ascend to heaven.

The Watch strikes.

O halfe the houre is past: 'twill all be past anon:

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.

It strikes, it strikes, now body turne to ayre,

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.

O mercy Heaven, looke not so fierce on me,

Adders and Serpents let me breathe a while:
Ugly Hell gape not; come not Lucifer,
Ile burne my bookes: Oh Mephostophilis.