My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me, and it was during sleep alone that I could taste joy. O blessed sleep! often, when most miserable, I sank to repose, and my dreams lulled me even to rapture. The spirits that guarded me had provided these moments, or rather hours, of happiness, that I might retain strength to fulfil my pilgrimage. Deprived of this respite, I should have sunk under my hardships. During the day I was sustained and inspirited by the hope of night: for in sleep I saw my friends, my wife, and my beloved country; again I saw the benevolent countenance of my father, heard the silver tones of my Elizabeth's voice, and beheld Clerval enjoying health and youth. Often, when wearied by a toilsome march, I persuaded myself that I was dreaming until night should come, and that I should then enjoy reality in the arms of my dearest friends. What agonizing fondness did I feel for them! how did I cling to their dear forms, as sometimes they haunted even my waking hours, and persuade myself that they still lived! At such moments vengeance, that burned within me, died in my heart, and I pursued my path towards the destruction of the dæmon, more as a task enjoined by heaven, as the mechanical impulse of some power of which I was unconscious, than as the ardent desire of my soul.


What his feelings were whom I pursued, I cannot know. Sometimes, indeed, he left marks in writing on the barks of the trees, or cut in stone, that guided me, and instigated my fury. "My reign is not yet over," (these words were legible in one of these inscriptions); "you live, and my power is complete. Follow me; I seek the everlasting ices of the north, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost, to which I am impassive. You will find near this place, if you follow not too tardily, a dead hare; eat, and be refreshed. Come on, my enemy; we have yet to wrestle for our lives; but many hard and miserable hours must you endure, until that period shall arrive."


Scoffing devil! Again do I vow vengeance; again do I devote thee, miserable fiend, to torture and death. Never will I omit my search, until he or I perish; and then with what ecstacy shall I join my Elizabeth, and those who even now prepare for me the reward of my tedious toil and horrible pilgrimage.


As I still pursued my journey to the northward, the snows thickened, and the cold increased in a degree almost too severe to support. The peasants were shut up in their hovels, and only a few of the most hardy ventured forth to seize the animals whom starvation had forced from their hiding places to seek for prey. The rivers were covered with ice, and no fish could be procured; and thus I was cut off from my chief article of maintenance.


The triumph of my enemy increased with the difficulty of my labours. One inscription that he left was in these words: "Prepare! your toils only begin: wrap yourself in furs, and provide food, for we shall soon enter upon a journey where your sufferings will satisfy my everlasting hatred."


My courage and perseverance were invigorated by these scoffing words; I resolved not to fail in my purpose; and, calling on heaven to support me, I continued with unabated fervour to traverse immense deserts, until the ocean appeared at a distance, and formed the utmost boundary of the horizon. Oh! how unlike it was to the blue seas of the south! Covered with ice, it was only to be distinguished from land by its superior wildness and ruggedness. The Greeks wept for joy when they beheld the Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, and hailed with rapture the boundary of their toils. I did not weep; but I knelt down, and, with a full heart, thanked my guiding spirit for conducting me in safety to the place where I hoped, notwithstanding my adversary's gibe, to meet and grapple with him.


Some weeks before this period I had procured a sledge and dogs, and thus traversed the snows with inconceivable speed. I know not whether the fiend possessed the same advantages; but I found that, as before I had daily lost ground in the pursuit, I now gained on him; so much so, that when I first saw the ocean, he was but one day's journey in advance, and I hoped to intercept him before he should reach the beach. With new courage, therefore, I pressed on, and in two days arrived at a wretched hamlet on the seashore. I inquired of the inhabitants concerning the fiend, and gained accurate information. A gigantic monster, they said, had arrived the night before, armed with a gun and many pistols; putting to flight the inhabitants of a solitary cottage, through fear of his terrific appearance. He had carried off their store of winter food, and, placing it in a sledge, to draw which he had seized on a numerous drove of trained dogs, he had harnessed them, and the same night, to the joy of the horror-struck villagers, had pursued his journey across the sea in a direction that led to no land; and they conjectured that he must speedily be destroyed by the breaking of the ice, or frozen by the eternal frosts.


On hearing this information, I suffered a temporary access of despair. He had escaped me; and I must commence a destructive and almost endless journey across the mountainous ices of the ocean,—amidst cold that few of the inhabitants could long endure, and which I, the native of a genial and sunny climate, could not hope to survive. Yet at the idea that the fiend should live and be triumphant, my rage and vengeance returned, and, like a mighty tide, overwhelmed every other feeling. After a slight repose, during which the spirits of the dead hovered round, and instigated me to toil and revenge, I prepared for my journey.


I exchanged my land sledge for one fashioned for the inequalities of the frozen ocean; and, purchasing a plentiful stock of provisions, I departed from land.


I cannot guess how many days have passed since then; but I have endured misery, which nothing but the eternal sentiment of a just retribution burning within my heart could have enabled me to support. Immense and rugged mountains of ice often barred up my passage, and I often heard the thunder of the ground sea, which threatened my destruction. But again the frost came, and made the paths of the sea secure.


By the quantity of provision which I had consumed I should guess that I had passed three weeks in this journey; and the continual protraction of hope, returning back upon the heart, often wrung bitter drops of despondency and grief from my eyes. Despair had indeed almost secured her prey, and I should soon have sunk beneath this misery; when once, after the poor animals that carried me had with incredible toil gained the summit of a sloping ice mountain, and one sinking under his fatigue died, I viewed the expanse before me with anguish, when suddenly my eye caught a dark speck upon the dusky plain. I strained my sight to discover what it could be, and uttered a wild cry of ecstacy when I distinguished a sledge, and the distorted proportions of a well-known form within. Oh! with what a burning gush did hope revisit my heart! warm tears filled my eyes, which I hastily wiped away, that they might not intercept the view I had of the dæmon; but still my sight was dimmed by the burning drops, until, giving way to the emotions that oppressed me, I wept aloud.


But this was not the time for delay; I disencumbered the dogs of their dead companion, gave them a plentiful portion of food; and, after an hour's rest, which was absolutely necessary, and yet which was bitterly irksome to me, I continued my route. The sledge was still visible; nor did I again lose sight of it, except at the moments when for a short time some ice rock concealed it with its intervening crags. I indeed perceptibly gained on it; and when, after nearly two days' journey, I beheld my enemy at no more than a mile distant, my heart bounded within me.


But now, when I appeared almost within grasp of my enemy, my hopes were suddenly extinguished, and I lost all trace of him more utterly than I had ever done before. A ground sea was heard; the thunder of its progress, as the waters rolled and swelled beneath me, became every moment more ominous and terrific. I pressed on, but in vain. The wind arose; the sea roared; and, as with the mighty shock of an earthquake, it split, and cracked with a tremendous and overwhelming sound. The work was soon finished: in a few minutes a tumultuous sea rolled between me and my enemy, and I was left drifting on a scattered piece of ice, that was continually lessening, and thus preparing for me a hideous death.


In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died; and I myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress, when I saw your vessel riding at anchor, and holding forth to me hopes of succour and life. I had no conception that vessels ever came so far north, and was astounded at the sight. I quickly destroyed part of my sledge to construct oars; and by these means was enabled, with infinite fatigue, to move my ice-raft in the direction of your ship. I had determined, if you were going southward, still to trust myself to the mercy of the seas, rather than abandon my purpose. I hoped to induce you to grant me a boat with which I could still pursue my enemy. But your direction was northward. You took me on board when my vigour was exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my multiplied hardships into a death, which I still dread,—for my task is unfulfilled.


Oh! when will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the dæmon, allow me the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live? If I do, swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape; that you will seek him, and satisfy my vengeance in his death. Yet, do I dare ask you to undertake my pilgrimage, to endure the hardships that I have undergone? No; I am not so selfish. Yet, when I am dead, if he should appear; if the ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he shall not live—swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated woes, and live to make another such a wretch as I am. He is eloquent and persuasive; and once his words had even power over my heart: but trust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery and fiend-like malice. Hear him not; call on the manes of William, Justine, Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the wretched Victor, and thrust your sword into his heart. I will hover near, and direct the steel aright.


WALTON, in continuation.


You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not feel your blood congealed with horror, like that which even now curdles mine? Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his tale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with difficulty the words so replete with agony. His fine and lovely eyes were now lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow, and quenched in infinite wretchedness. Sometimes he commanded his countenance and tones, and related the most horrible incidents with a tranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression of the wildest rage, as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor.


His tale is connected, and told with an appearance of the simplest truth; yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he shewed me, and the apparition of the monster, seen from our ship, brought to me a greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than his asseverations, however earnest and connected. Such a monster has then really existence; I cannot doubt it; yet I am lost in surprise and admiration. Sometimes I endeavoured to gain from Frankenstein the particulars of his creature's formation; but on this point he was impenetrable.


"Are you mad, my friend?" said he, "or whither does your senseless curiosity lead you? Would you also create for yourself and the world a demoniacal enemy? Or to what do your questions tend? Peace, peace! learn my miseries, and do not seek to increase your own."


Frankenstein discovered that I made notes concerning his history: he asked to see them, and then himself corrected and augmented them in many places; but principally in giving the life and spirit to the conversations he held with his enemy. "Since you have preserved my narration," said he, "I would not that a mutilated one should go down to posterity."


Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest tale that ever imagination formed. My thoughts, and every feeling of my soul, have been drunk up by the interest for my guest, which this tale, and his own elevated and gentle manners have created. I wish to soothe him; yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of every hope of consolation, to live? Oh, no! the only joy that he can now know will be when he composes his shattered feelings to peace and death. Yet he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and delirium: he believes, that, when in dreams he holds converse with his friends, and derives from that communion consolation for his miseries, or excitements to his vengeance, that they are not the creations of his fancy, but the real beings who visit him from the regions of a remote world. This faith gives a solemnity to his reveries that render them to me almost as imposing and interesting as truth.


Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and misfortunes. On every point of general literature he displays unbounded knowledge, and a quick and piercing apprehension. His eloquence is forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates a pathetic incident, or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love, without tears. What a glorious creature must he have been in the days of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin. He seems to feel his own worth, and the greatness of his fall.


"When younger," said he, "I felt as if I were destined for some great enterprise. My feelings are profound; but I possessed a coolness of judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment of the worth of my nature supported me, when others would have been oppressed; for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief those talents that might be useful to my fellow-creatures. When I reflected on the work I had completed, no less a one than the creation of a sensitive and rational animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of common projectors. But this feeling, which supported me in the commencement of my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in the dust. All my speculations and hopes are as nothing; and, like the archangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am chained in an eternal hell. My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of analysis and application were intense; by the union of these qualities I conceived the idea, and executed the creation of a man. Even now I cannot recollect, without passion, my reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod heaven in my thoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea of their effects. From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty ambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! my friend, if you had known me as I once was, you would not recognize me in this state of degradation. Despondency rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me on, until I fell, never, never again to rise."


Must I then lose this admirable being? I have longed for a friend; I have sought one who would sympathize with and love me. Behold, on these desert seas I have found such a one; but, I fear, I have gained him only to know his value, and lose him. I would reconcile him to life, but he repulses the idea.


"I thank you, Walton," he said, "for your kind intentions towards so miserable a wretch; but when you speak of new ties, and fresh affections, think you that any can replace those who are gone? Can any man be to me as Clerval was; or any woman another Elizabeth? Even where the affections are not strongly moved by any superior excellence, the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our minds, which hardly any later friend can obtain. They know our infantine dispositions, which, however they may be afterwards modified, are never eradicated; and they can judge of our actions with more certain conclusions as to the integrity of our motives. A sister or a brother can never, unless indeed such symptoms have been shewn early, suspect the other of fraud or false dealing, when another friend, however strongly he may be attached, may, in spite of himself, be invaded with suspicion. But I enjoyed friends, dear not only through habit and association, but from their own merits; and, wherever I am, the soothing voice of my Elizabeth, and the conversation of Clerval, will be ever whispered in my ear. They are dead; and but one feeling in such a solitude can persuade me to preserve my life. If I were engaged in any high undertaking or design, fraught with extensive utility to my fellow-creatures, then could I live to fulfil it. But such is not my destiny; I must pursue and destroy the being to whom I gave existence; then my lot on earth will be fulfilled, and I may die."


I write to you, encompassed by peril, and ignorant whether I am ever doomed to see again dear England, and the dearer friends that inhabit it. I am surrounded by mountains of ice, which admit of no escape, and threaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave fellows, whom I have persuaded to be my companions, look towards me for aid; but I have none to bestow. There is something terribly appalling in our situation, yet my courage and hopes do not desert me. We may survive; and if we do not, I will repeat the lessons of my Seneca, and die with a good heart.


Yet what, Margaret, will be the state of your mind? You will not hear of my destruction, and you will anxiously await my return. Years will pass, and you will have visitings of despair, and yet be tortured by hope. Oh! my beloved sister, the sickening failings of your heart-felt expectations are, in prospect, more terrible to me than my own death. But you have a husband, and lovely children; you may be happy: heaven bless you, and make you so!


My unfortunate guest regards me with the tenderest compassion. He endeavours to fill me with hope; and talks as if life were a possession which he valued. He reminds me how often the same accidents have happened to other navigators, who have attempted this sea, and, in spite of myself, he fills me with cheerful auguries. Even the sailors feel the power of his eloquence: when he speaks, they no longer despair: he rouses their energies, and, while they hear his voice, they believe these vast mountains of ice are mole-hills, which will vanish before the resolutions of man. These feelings are transitory; each day's expectation delayed fills them with fear, and I almost dread a mutiny caused by this despair.


A scene has just passed of such uncommon interest, that although it is highly probable that these papers may never reach you, yet I cannot forbear recording it.


We are still surrounded by mountains of ice, still in imminent danger of being crushed in their conflict. The cold is excessive, and many of my unfortunate comrades have already found a grave amidst this scene of desolation. Frankenstein has daily declined in health: a feverish fire still glimmers in his eyes; but he is exhausted, and, when suddenly roused to any exertion, he speedily sinks again into apparent lifelessness.


I mentioned in my last letter the fears I entertained of a mutiny. This morning, as I sat watching the wan countenance of my friend—his eyes half closed, and his limbs hanging listlessly,—I was roused by half a dozen of the sailors, who desired admission into the cabin. They entered; and their leader addressed me. He told me that he and his companions had been chosen by the other sailors to come in deputation to me, to make me a demand, which, in justice, I could not refuse. We were immured in ice, and should probably never escape; but they feared that if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate, and a free passage be opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage, and lead them into fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmounted this. They desired, therefore, that I should engage with a solemn promise, that if the vessel should be freed, I would instantly direct my coarse southward.


This speech troubled me. I had not despaired; nor had I yet conceived the idea of returning, if set free. Yet could I, in justice, or even in possibility, refuse this demand? I hesitated before I answered; when Frankenstein, who had at first been silent, and, indeed, appeared hardly to have force enough to attend, now roused himself; his eyes sparkled, and his cheeks flushed with momentary vigour. Turning towards the men, he said—


"What do you mean? What do you demand of your captain? Are you then so easily turned from your design? Did you not call this a glorious expedition? and wherefore was it glorious? Not because the way was smooth and placid as a southern sea, but because it was full of dangers and terror; because, at every new incident, your fortitude was to be called forth, and your courage exhibited; because danger and death surrounded, and these dangers you were to brave and overcome. For this was it a glorious, for this was it an honourable undertaking. You were hereafter to be hailed as the benefactors of your species; your name adored, as belonging to brave men who encountered death for honour and the benefit of mankind. And now, behold, with the first imagination of danger, or, if you will, the first mighty and terrific trial of your courage, you shrink away, and are content to be handed down as men who had not strength enough to endure cold and peril; and so, poor souls, they were chilly, and returned to their warm fire-sides. Why, that requires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far, and dragged your captain to the shame of a defeat, merely to prove yourselves cowards. Oh! be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your purposes, and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your hearts might be; it is mutable, cannot withstand you, if you say that it shall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma of disgrace marked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought and conquered, and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe."


He spoke this with a voice so modulated to the different feelings expressed in his speech, with an eye so full of lofty design and heroism, that can you wonder that these men were moved. They looked at one another, and were unable to reply. I spoke; I told them to retire, and consider of what had been said: that I would not lead them further north, if they strenuously desired the contrary; but that I hoped that, with reflection, their courage would return.


They retired, and I turned towards my friend; but he was sunk in languor, and almost deprived of life.


How all this will terminate, I know not; but I had rather die, than return shamefully,—my purpose unfulfilled. Yet I fear such will be my fate; the men, unsupported by ideas of glory and honour, can never willingly continue to endure their present hardships.


The die is cast; I have consented to return, if we are not destroyed. Thus are my hopes blasted by cowardice and indecision; I come back ignorant and disappointed. It requires more philosophy than I possess, to bear this injustice with patience.


It is past; I am returning to England. I have lost my hopes of utility and glory;—I have lost my friend. But I will endeavour to detail these bitter circumstances to you, my dear sister; and, while I am wafted towards England, and towards you, I will not despond.


September 19th, the ice began to move, and roarings like thunder were heard at a distance, as the islands split and cracked in every direction. We were in the most imminent peril; but, as we could only remain passive, my chief attention was occupied by my unfortunate guest, whose illness increased in such a degree, that he was entirely confined to his bed. The ice cracked behind us, and was driven with force towards the north; a breeze sprung from the west, and on the 11th the passage towards the south became perfectly free. When the sailors saw this, and that their return to their native country was apparently assured, a shout of tumultuous joy broke from them, loud and long-continued. Frankenstein, who was dozing, awoke, and asked the cause of the tumult. "They shout," I said, "because they will soon return to England."


"Do you then really return?"


"Alas! yes; I cannot withstand their demands. I cannot lead them unwillingly to danger, and I must return."


"Do so, if you will; but I will not. You may give up your purpose; but mine is assigned to me by heaven, and I dare not. I am weak; but surely the spirits who assist my vengeance will endow me with sufficient strength." Saying this, he endeavoured to spring from the bed, but the exertion was too great for him; he fell back, and fainted.


It was long before he was restored; and I often thought that life was entirely extinct. At length he opened his eyes, but he breathed with difficulty, and was unable to speak. The surgeon gave him a composing draught, and ordered us to leave him undisturbed. In the mean time he told me, that my friend had certainly not many hours to live.


His sentence was pronounced; and I could only grieve, and be patient. I sat by his bed watching him; his eyes were closed, and I thought he slept; but presently he called to me in a feeble voice, and, bidding me come near, said—"Alas! the strength I relied on is gone; I feel that I shall soon die, and he, my enemy and persecutor, may still be in being. Think not, Walton, that in the last moments of my existence I feel that burning hatred, and ardent desire of revenge, I once expressed, but I feel myself justified in desiring the death of my adversary. During these last days I have been occupied in examining my past conduct; nor do I find it blameable. In a fit of enthusiastic madness I created a rational creature, and was bound towards him, to assure, as far as was in my power, his happiness and well-being. This was my duty; but there was another still paramount to that. My duties towards my fellow-creatures had greater claims to my attention, because they included a greater proportion of happiness or misery. Urged by this view, I refused, and I did right in refusing, to create a companion for the first creature. He shewed unparalleled malignity and selfishness, in evil: he destroyed my friends; he devoted to destruction beings who possessed exquisite sensations, happiness, and wisdom; nor do I know where this thirst for vengeance may end. Miserable himself, that he may render no other wretched, he ought to die. The task of his destruction was mine, but I have failed. When actuated by selfish and vicious motives, I asked you to undertake my unfinished work; and I renew this request now, when I am only induced by reason and virtue.


"Yet I cannot ask you to renounce your country and friends, to fulfil this task; and now, that you are returning to England, you will have little chance of meeting with him. But the consideration of these points, and the well-balancing of what you may esteem your duties, I leave to you; my judgment and ideas are already disturbed by the near approach of death. I dare not ask you to do what I think right, for I may still be misled by passion.


"That he should live to be an instrument of mischief disturbs me; in other respects this hour, when I momentarily expect my release, is the only happy one which I have enjoyed for several years. The forms of the beloved dead flit before me, and I hasten to their arms. Farewell, Walton! Seek happiness in tranquillity, and avoid ambition, even if it be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in science and discoveries. Yet why do I say this? I have myself been blasted in these hopes, yet another may succeed."


His voice became fainter as he spoke; and at length, exhausted by his effort, he sunk into silence. About half an hour afterwards he attempted again to speak, but was unable; he pressed my hand feebly, and his eyes closed for ever, while the irradiation of a gentle smile passed away from his lips.


Margaret, what comment can I make on the untimely extinction of this glorious spirit? What can I say, that will enable you to understand the depth of my sorrow? All that I should express would be inadequate and feeble. My tears flow; my mind is overshadowed by a cloud of disappointment. But I journey towards England, and I may there find consolation.


I am interrupted. What do these sounds portend? It is midnight; the breeze blows fairly, and the watch on deck scarcely stir. Again; there is a sound as of a human voice, but hoarser; it comes from the cabin where the remains of Frankenstein still lie. I must arise, and examine. Good night, my sister.


I entered the cabin, where lay the remains of my ill-fated and admirable friend. Over him hung a form which I cannot find words to describe; gigantic in stature, yet uncouth and distorted in its proportions. As he hung over the coffin, his face was concealed by long locks of ragged hair; but one vast hand was extended, in colour and apparent texture like that of a mummy. When he heard the sound of my approach, he ceased to utter exclamations of grief and horror, and sprung towards the window. Never did I behold a vision so horrible as his face, of such loathsome, yet appalling hideousness. I shut my eyes involuntarily, and endeavoured to recollect what were my duties with regard to this destroyer. I called on him to stay.


He paused, looking on me with wonder; and, again turning towards the lifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my presence, and every feature and gesture seemed instigated by the wildest rage of some uncontrollable passion.


"That is also my victim!" he exclaimed; "in his murder my crimes are consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close! Oh, Frankenstein! generous and self-devoted being! what does it avail that I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by destroying all thou lovedst. Alas! he is cold; he may not answer me."


His voice seemed suffocated; and my first impulses, which had suggested to me the duty of obeying the dying request of my friend, in destroying his enemy, were now suspended by a mixture of curiosity and compassion. I approached this tremendous being; I dared not again raise my looks upon his face, there was something so scaring and unearthly in his ugliness. I attempted to speak, but the words died away on my lips. The monster continued to utter wild and incoherent self-reproaches. At length I gathered resolution to address him, in a pause of the tempest of his passion: "Your repentance," I said, "is now superfluous. If you had listened to the voice of conscience, and heeded the stings of remorse, before you had urged your diabolical vengeance to this extremity, Frankenstein would yet have lived."


"And do you dream?" said the dæmon; "do you think that I was then dead to agony and remorse?—He," he continued, pointing to the corpse, "he suffered not more in the consummation of the deed;—oh! not the ten-thousandth portion of the anguish that was mine during the lingering detail of its execution. A frightful selfishness hurried me on, while my heart was poisoned with remorse. Think ye that the groans of Clerval were music to my ears? My heart was fashioned to be susceptible of love and sympathy; and, when wrenched by misery to vice and hatred, it did not endure the violence of the change without torture such as you cannot even imagine.


"After the murder of Clerval, I returned to Switzerland, heart-broken and overcome. I pitied Frankenstein; my pity amounted to horror: I abhorred myself. But when I discovered that he, the author at once of my existence and of its unspeakable torments, dared to hope for happiness; that while he accumulated wretchedness and despair upon me, he sought his own enjoyment in feelings and passions from the indulgence of which I was for ever barred, then impotent envy and bitter indignation filled me with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. I recollected my threat, and resolved that it should be accomplished. I knew that I was preparing for myself a deadly torture; but I was the slave, not the master of an impulse, which I detested, yet could not disobey. Yet when she died!—nay, then I was not miserable. I had cast off all feeling, subdued all anguish to riot in the excess of my despair. Evil thenceforth became my good. Urged thus far, I had no choice but to adapt my nature to an element which I had willingly chosen. The completion of my demoniacal design became an insatiable passion. And now it is ended; there is my last victim!"


I was at first touched by the expressions of his misery; yet when I called to mind what Frankenstein had said of his powers of eloquence and persuasion, and when I again cast my eyes on the lifeless form of my friend, indignation was re-kindled within me. "Wretch!" I said, "it is well that you come here to whine over the desolation that you have made. You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they are consumed you sit among the ruins, and lament the fall. Hypocritical fiend! if he whom you mourn still lived, still would he be the object, again would he become the prey of your accursed vengeance. It is not pity that you feel; you lament only because the victim of your malignity is withdrawn from your power."


"Oh, it is not thus—not thus," interrupted the being; "yet such must be the impression conveyed to you by what appears to be the purport of my actions. Yet I seek not a fellow-feeling in my misery. No sympathy may I ever find. When I first sought it, it was the love of virtue, the feelings of happiness and affection with which my whole being overflowed, that I wished to be participated. But now, that virtue has become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am content to suffer alone, while my sufferings shall endure: when I die, I am well satisfied that abhorrence and opprobrium should load my memory. Once my fancy was soothed with dreams of virtue, of fame, and of enjoyment. Once I falsely hoped to meet with beings, who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of bringing forth. I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and devotion. But now vice has degraded me beneath the meanest animal. No crime, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to mine. When I call over the frightful catalogue of my deeds, I cannot believe that I am he whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and transcendant visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am quite alone.


"You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to have a knowledge of my crimes and his misfortunes. But, in the detail which he gave you of them, he could not sum up the hours and months of misery which I endured, wasting in impotent passions. For whilst I destroyed his hopes, I did not satisfy my own desires. They were for ever ardent and craving; still I desired love and fellowship, and I was still spurned. Was there no injustice in this? Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all human kind sinned against me? Why do you not hate Felix, who drove his friend from his door with contumely? Why do you not execrate the rustic who sought to destroy the saviour of his child? Nay, these are virtuous and immaculate beings! I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on. Even now my blood boils at the recollection of this injustice.


"But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and the helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept, and grasped to death his throat who never injured me or any other living thing. I have devoted my creator, the select specimen of all that is worthy of love and admiration among men, to misery; I have pursued him even to that irremediable ruin. There he lies, white and cold in death. You hate me; but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself. I look on the hands which executed the deed; I think on the heart in which the imagination of it was conceived, and long for the moment when they will meet my eyes, when it will haunt my thoughts, no more.


"Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My work is nearly complete. Neither your's nor any man's death is needed to consummate the series of my being, and accomplish that which must be done; but it requires my own. Do not think that I shall be slow to perform this sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel on the ice-raft which brought me hither, and shall seek the most northern extremity of the globe; I shall collect my funeral pile, and consume to ashes this miserable frame, that its remains may afford no light to any curious and unhallowed wretch, who would create such another as I have been. I shall die. I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me, or be the prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched. He is dead who called me into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance of us both will speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun or stars, or feel the winds play on my cheeks. Light, feeling, and sense, will pass away; and in this condition must I find my happiness. Some years ago, when the images which this world affords first opened upon me, when I felt the cheering warmth of summer, and heard the rustling of the leaves and the chirping of the birds, and these were all to me, I should have wept to die; now it is my only consolation. Polluted by crimes, and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?


"Farewell! I leave you, and in you the last of human kind whom these eyes will ever behold. Farewell, Frankenstein! If thou wert yet alive, and yet cherished a desire of revenge against me, it would be better satiated in my life than in my destruction. But it was not so; thou didst seek my extinction, that I might not cause greater wretchedness; and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hast not yet ceased to think and feel, thou desirest not my life for my own misery. Blasted as thou wert, my agony was still superior to thine; for the bitter sting of remorse may not cease to rankle in my wounds until death shall close them for ever.


"But soon," he cried, with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly, and exult in the agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell."


He sprung from the cabin-window, as he said this, upon the ice-raft which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves, and lost in darkness and distance.


Title: The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus


Author: Christopher Marlowe


Editor: Alexander Dyce


Release date: January 1, 1997 [eBook #779] Most recently updated: November 18, 2023


Credits: Produced by Gary R. Young, and David Widger


By Christopher Marlowe


From The Quarto of 1604


Edited by The Rev. Alexander Dyce


In reprinting this edition, I have here and there amended the text by means of the later 4tos,--1616, 1624, 1631.--Of 4to 1663, which contains various comparatively modern alterations and additions, I have made no use.


THE POPE. CARDINAL OF LORRAIN. THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY. DUKE OF VANHOLT. FAUSTUS. VALDES, ] friends to FAUSTUS. CORNELIUS, ] WAGNER, servant to FAUSTUS. Clown. ROBIN. RALPH. Vintner. Horse-courser. A Knight. An Old Man. Scholars, Friars, and Attendants.


LUCIFER. BELZEBUB. MEPHISTOPHILIS. Good Angel. Evil Angel. The Seven Deadly Sins. Devils. Spirits in the shapes of ALEXANDER THE GREAT, of his Paramour and of HELEN.


Chorus.


CHORUS. Not marching now in fields of Thrasymene, Where Mars did mate[1] the Carthaginians; Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, In courts of kings where state is overturn'd; Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds, Intends our Muse to vaunt[2] her[3] heavenly verse: Only this, gentlemen,--we must perform The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad: To patient judgments we appeal our plaud, And speak for Faustus in his infancy. Now is he born, his parents base of stock, In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes: Of riper years, to Wertenberg he went, Whereas[4] his kinsmen chiefly brought him up. So soon he profits in divinity, The fruitful plot of scholarism grac'd, That shortly he was grac'd with doctor's name, Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes In heavenly matters of theology; Till swoln with cunning,[5] of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow; For, falling to a devilish exercise, And glutted now[6] with learning's golden gifts, He surfeits upon cursed necromancy; Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss: And this the man that in his study sits. [Exit.]


FAUSTUS discovered in his study.[7]


FAUSTUS. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess: Having commenc'd, be a divine in shew, Yet level at the end of every art, And live and die in Aristotle's works. Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou[8] hast ravish'd me! Bene disserere est finis logices. Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end? Affords this art no greater miracle? Then read no more; thou hast attain'd that[9] end: A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit: Bid Economy[10] farewell, and[11] Galen come, Seeing, Ubi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus: Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold, And be eterniz'd for some wondrous cure: Summum bonum medicinae sanitas, The end of physic is our body's health. Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end? Is not thy common talk found aphorisms? Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague, And thousand desperate maladies been eas'd? Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man. Couldst[12] thou make men[13] to live eternally, Or, being dead, raise them to life again, Then this profession were to be esteem'd. Physic, farewell! Where is Justinian?


A pretty case of paltry legacies!


Such is the subject of the institute, And universal body of the law:[16] This[17] study fits a mercenary drudge, Who aims at nothing but external trash; Too servile[18] and illiberal for me. When all is done, divinity is best: Jerome's Bible, Faustus; view it well.


The reward of sin is death: that's hard.


If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and there's no truth in us. Why, then, belike we must sin, and so consequently die: Ay, we must die an everlasting death. What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera,[19] What will be, shall be? Divinity, adieu! These metaphysics of magicians, And necromantic books are heavenly; Lines, circles, scenes,[20] letters, and characters; Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. O, what a world of profit and delight, Of power, of honour, of omnipotence, Is promis'd to the studious artizan! All things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command: emperors and kings Are but obeyed in their several provinces, Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds; But his dominion that exceeds in this, Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man; A sound magician is a mighty god: Here, Faustus, tire[21] thy brains to gain a deity.


Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends, The German Valdes and Cornelius; Request them earnestly to visit me.


WAGNER. I will, sir. [Exit.]


FAUSTUS. Their conference will be a greater help to me Than all my labours, plod I ne'er so fast.


Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL.


GOOD ANGEL. O, Faustus, lay that damned book aside, And gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy soul, And heap God's heavy wrath upon thy head! Read, read the Scriptures:--that is blasphemy.


EVIL ANGEL. Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art Wherein all Nature's treasure[23] is contain'd: Be thou on earth as Jove[24] is in the sky, Lord and commander of these elements.[25] [Exeunt Angels.]


FAUSTUS. How am I glutted with conceit of this! Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve[26] 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; I'll have them read me strange philosophy, And tell the secrets of all foreign kings; I'll have them wall all Germany with brass, And make swift Rhine circle fair Wertenberg; I'll have them fill the public schools with silk,[27] Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad; I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring, And chase the Prince of Parma from our land, And reign sole king of all the[28] provinces; Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war, Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp's bridge,[29] I'll make my servile spirits to invent.


Come, German Valdes, and Cornelius, And make me blest with your sage conference. Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius, Know that your words have won me at the last To practice magic and concealed arts: Yet not your words only,[30] but mine own fantasy, That will receive no object; for my head But ruminates on necromantic skill. Philosophy is odious and obscure; Both law and physic are for petty wits; Divinity is basest of the three, Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile:[31] 'Tis magic, magic, that hath ravish'd me. Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt; And I, that have with concise syllogisms[32] Gravell'd the pastors of the German church, And made the flowering pride of Wertenberg Swarm to my problems, as the infernal spirits On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell, Will be as cunning[33] as Agrippa[34] was, Whose shadow[35] made all Europe honour him.


VALDES. Faustus, these books, thy wit, and our experience, Shall make all nations to canonize us. As Indian Moors obey their Spanish lords, So shall the spirits[36] of every element Be always serviceable to us three; Like lions shall they guard us when we please; Like Almain rutters[37] with their horsemen's staves, Or Lapland giants, trotting by our sides; Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids, Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows Than have the[38] white breasts of the queen of love: From[39] Venice shall they drag huge argosies, And from America the golden fleece That yearly stuffs old Philip's treasury; If learned Faustus will be resolute.


FAUSTUS. Valdes, as resolute am I in this As thou to live: therefore object it not.


CORNELIUS. The miracles that magic will perform Will make thee vow to study nothing else. He that is grounded in astrology, Enrich'd with tongues, well seen in[40] minerals, Hath all the principles magic doth require: Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be renowm'd,[41] And more frequented for this mystery Than heretofore the Delphian oracle. The spirits tell me they can dry the sea, And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks, Ay, all the wealth that our forefathers hid Within the massy entrails of the earth: Then tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want?


FAUSTUS. Nothing, Cornelius. O, this cheers my soul! Come, shew me some demonstrations magical, That I may conjure in some lusty grove, And have these joys in full possession.


VALDES. Then haste thee to some solitary grove, And bear wise Bacon's and Albertus'[42] works, The Hebrew Psalter, and New Testament; And whatsoever else is requisite We will inform thee ere our conference cease.


CORNELIUS. Valdes, first let him know the words of art; And then, all other ceremonies learn'd, Faustus may try his cunning[43] by himself.


VALDES. First I'll instruct thee in the rudiments, And then wilt thou be perfecter than I.


FAUSTUS. Then come and dine with me, and, after meat, We'll canvass every quiddity thereof; For, ere I sleep, I'll try what I can do: This night I'll conjure, though I die therefore. [Exeunt.]


Enter two SCHOLARS.[44]


FIRST SCHOLAR. I wonder what's become of Faustus, that was wont to make our schools ring with sic probo.


SECOND SCHOLAR. That shall we know, for see, here comes his boy.


FIRST SCHOLAR. How now, sirrah! where's thy master?


WAGNER. God in heaven knows.


SECOND SCHOLAR. Why, dost not thou know?


WAGNER. Yes, I know; but that follows not.


FIRST SCHOLAR. Go to, sirrah! leave your jesting, and tell us where he is.


WAGNER. That follows not necessary by force of argument, that you, being licentiates, should stand upon:[45] therefore acknowledge your error, and be attentive.


SECOND SCHOLAR. Why, didst thou not say thou knewest?


WAGNER. Have you any witness on't?


FIRST SCHOLAR. Yes, sirrah, I heard you.


WAGNER. Ask my fellow if I be a thief.


SECOND SCHOLAR. Well, you will not tell us?


WAGNER. Yes, sir, I will tell you: yet, if you were not dunces, you would never ask me such a question; for is not he corpus naturale? and is not that mobile? then wherefore should you ask me such a question? But that I am by nature phlegmatic, slow to wrath, and prone to lechery (to love, I would say), it were not for you to come within forty foot of the place of execution, although I do not doubt to see you both hanged the next sessions. Thus having triumphed over you, I will set my countenance like a precisian, and begin to speak thus:-- Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at dinner, with Valdes and Cornelius, as this wine, if it could speak, would[46] inform your worships: and so, the Lord bless you, preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren, my dear brethren![47] [Exit.]


FIRST SCHOLAR. Nay, then, I fear he is fallen into that damned art for which they two are infamous through the world.


SECOND SCHOLAR. Were he a stranger, and not allied to me, yet should I grieve for him. But, come, let us go and inform the Rector, and see if he by his grave counsel can reclaim him.


FIRST SCHOLAR. O, but I fear me nothing can reclaim him!


SECOND SCHOLAR. Yet let us try what we can do. [Exeunt.]


FAUSTUS. Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth, Longing to view Orion's drizzling look, Leaps from th' antartic world unto the sky, And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath, Faustus, begin thine incantations, And try if devils will obey thy hest, Seeing thou hast pray'd and sacrific'd to them. Within this circle is Jehovah's name, Forward and backward anagrammatiz'd,[49] Th' abbreviated[50] names of holy saints, Figures of every adjunct to the heavens, And characters of signs and erring[51] stars, By which the spirits are enforc'd to rise: Then fear not, Faustus, but be resolute, And try the uttermost magic can perform.-- Sint mihi dei Acherontis propitii! Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe! Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete! Orientis princeps Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris:[52] per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus[53] Mephistophilis!


I charge thee to return, and change thy shape; Thou art too ugly to attend on me: Go, and return an old Franciscan friar; That holy shape becomes a devil best. [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.]


I see there's virtue in my heavenly words: Who would not be proficient in this art? How pliant is this Mephistophilis, Full of obedience and humility! Such is the force of magic and my spells: No, Faustus, thou art conjuror laureat, That canst command great Mephistophilis: Quin regis Mephistophilis fratris imagine.


MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have me do?


FAUSTUS. I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, To do whatever Faustus shall command, Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world.


MEPHIST. I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave: No more than he commands must we perform.


FAUSTUS. Did not he charge thee to appear to me?


MEPHIST. No, I came hither[55] of mine own accord.


FAUSTUS. Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee? speak.


MEPHIST. That was the cause, but yet per accidens;[56] For, when we hear one rack the name of God, Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ, We fly, in hope to get his glorious soul; Nor will we come, unless he use such means Whereby he is in danger to be damn'd. Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity, And pray devoutly to the prince of hell.


FAUSTUS. So Faustus hath Already done; and holds this principle, There is no chief but only Belzebub; To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself. This word "damnation" terrifies not him, For he confounds hell in Elysium: His ghost be with the old philosophers! But, leaving these vain trifles of men's souls, Tell me what is that Lucifer thy lord?


MEPHIST. Arch-regent and commander of all spirits.


FAUSTUS. Was not that Lucifer an angel once?


MEPHIST. Yes, Faustus, and most dearly lov'd of God.


FAUSTUS. How comes it, then, that he is prince of devils?


MEPHIST. O, by aspiring pride and insolence; For which God threw him from the face of heaven.


FAUSTUS. And what are you that live with Lucifer?


MEPHIST. Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, Conspir'd against our God with Lucifer, And are for ever damn'd with Lucifer.


MEPHIST. In hell.


FAUSTUS. How comes it, then, that thou art out of hell?


MEPHIST. Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it:[57] Think'st thou that I, who 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!


FAUSTUS. What, is great Mephistophilis so passionate For being deprived of the joys of heaven? Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude, And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess. Go bear these[58] tidings to great Lucifer: Seeing Faustus hath incurr'd eternal death By desperate thoughts against Jove's[59] deity, Say, he surrenders up to him his soul, So he will spare him four and twenty[60] years, Letting him live in all voluptuousness; Having thee ever to attend on me, To give me whatsoever I shall ask, To tell me whatsoever I demand, To slay mine enemies, and aid my friends, And always be obedient to my will. Go and return to mighty Lucifer, And meet me in my study at midnight, And then resolve[61] me of thy master's mind.


FAUSTUS. Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistophilis. By him I'll be great emperor of the world, And make a bridge thorough[62] the moving air, To pass the ocean with a band of men; I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore, And make that country[63] continent to Spain, And both contributory to my crown: The Emperor shall not live but by my leave, Nor any potentate of Germany. Now that I have obtain'd what I desir'd,[64] I'll live in speculation of this art, Till Mephistophilis return again. [Exit.]


WAGNER. Sirrah boy, come hither.


CLOWN. How, boy! swowns, boy! I hope you have seen many boys with such pickadevaunts[66] as I have: boy, quotha!


WAGNER. Tell me, sirrah, hast thou any comings in?


CLOWN. Ay, and goings out too; you may see else.


WAGNER. Alas, poor slave! see how poverty jesteth in his nakedness! the villain is bare and out of service, and so hungry, that I know he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood-raw.


CLOWN. How! my soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though 'twere blood-raw! not so, good friend: by'r lady,[67] I had need have it well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear.


WAGNER. Well, wilt thou serve me, and I'll make thee go like Qui mihi discipulus?[68]


WAGNER. No, sirrah; in beaten silk and staves-acre.[69]


CLOWN. How, how, knaves-acre! ay, I thought that was all the land his father left him. Do you hear? I would be sorry to rob you of your living.


WAGNER. Sirrah, I say in staves-acre.


CLOWN. Oho, oho, staves-acre! why, then, belike, if I were your man, I should be full of vermin.[70]


WAGNER. So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no. But, sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me for seven years, or I'll turn all the lice about thee into familiars,[71] and they shall tear thee in pieces.


CLOWN. Do you hear, sir? you may save that labour; they are too familiar with me already: swowns, they are as bold with my flesh as if they had paid for their[72] meat and drink.


WAGNER. Well, do you hear, sirrah? hold, take these guilders. [Gives money.]


CLOWN. Gridirons! what be they?


WAGNER. Why, French crowns.


CLOWN. Mass, but for the name of French crowns, a man were as good have as many English counters. And what should I do with these?


WAGNER. Why, now, sirrah, thou art at an hour's warning, whensoever or wheresoever the devil shall fetch thee.


CLOWN. No, no; here, take your gridirons again.


WAGNER. Truly, I'll none of them.


CLOWN. Truly, but you shall.


WAGNER. Bear witness I gave them him.


CLOWN. Bear witness I give them you again.


WAGNER. Well, I will cause two devils presently to fetch thee away.--Baliol and Belcher!


CLOWN. Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and I'll knock them, they were never so knocked since they were devils: say I should kill one of them, what would folks say? "Do ye see yonder tall fellow in the round slop?[73] he has killed the devil." So I should be called Kill-devil all the parish over.


Enter two DEVILS; and the CLOWN runs up and down crying.


WAGNER. Baliol and Belcher,--spirits, away! [Exeunt DEVILS.]


CLOWN. What, are they gone? a vengeance on them! they have vile[74] long nails. There was a he-devil and a she-devil: I'll tell you how you shall know them; all he-devils has horns, and all she-devils has clifts and cloven feet.


WAGNER. Well, sirrah, follow me.


CLOWN. But, do you hear? if I should serve you, would you teach me to raise up Banios and Belcheos?


WAGNER. I will teach thee to turn thyself to any thing, to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or any thing.


CLOWN. How! a Christian fellow to a dog, or a cat, a mouse, or a rat! no, no, sir; if you turn me into any thing, let it be in the likeness of a little pretty frisking flea, that I may be here and there and every where: O, I'll tickle the pretty wenches' plackets! I'll be amongst them, i'faith.


WAGNER. Well, sirrah, come.


CLOWN. But, do you hear, Wagner?


CLOWN. O Lord! I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep.


WAGNER. Villain, call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be diametarily fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigiis nostris[75] insistere. [Exit.]


CLOWN. God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian. Well, I'll follow him; I'll serve him, that's flat. [Exit.]


FAUSTUS discovered in his study.


FAUSTUS. Now, Faustus, must Thou needs be damn'd, and canst thou not be sav'd: What boots it, then, to think of God or heaven? Away with such vain fancies, and despair; Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub: Now go not backward; no, Faustus, be resolute: Why waver'st thou? O, something soundeth in mine ears, "Abjure this magic, turn to God again!" Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again. To God? he loves thee not; The god thou serv'st is thine own appetite, Wherein is fix'd the love of Belzebub: To him I'll build an altar and a church, And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes.


GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art.


FAUSTUS. Contrition, prayer, repentance--what of them?


GOOD ANGEL. O, they are means to bring thee unto heaven!


EVIL ANGEL. Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy, That make men foolish that do trust them most.


GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, think of heaven and heavenly things.


EVIL ANGEL. No, Faustus; think of honour and of[76] wealth. [Exeunt ANGELS.]


FAUSTUS. Of wealth! Why, the signiory of Embden shall be mine. When Mephistophilis shall stand by me, What god can hurt thee, Faustus? thou art safe Cast no more doubts.--Come, Mephistophilis, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer;-- Is't not midnight?--come, Mephistophilis, Veni, veni, Mephistophile!


Now tell me[77] what says Lucifer, thy lord?


MEPHIST. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives,[78] So he will buy my service with his soul.


FAUSTUS. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee.


MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood; For that security craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to hell.


FAUSTUS. Stay, Mephistophilis, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord?


MEPHIST. Enlarge his kingdom.


FAUSTUS. Is that the reason why[79] he tempts us thus?


FAUSTUS. Why,[81] have you any pain that torture[82] others!


MEPHIST. As great as have the human souls of men. But, tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul? And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee, And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask.


FAUSTUS. Ay, Mephistophilis, I give it thee.


MEPHIST. Then, Faustus,[83] stab thine arm courageously, And bind thy soul, that at some certain day Great Lucifer may claim it as his own; And then be thou as great as Lucifer.


FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night! View here the blood that trickles from mine arm, And let it be propitious for my wish.


MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must Write it in manner of a deed of gift.


FAUSTUS. Ay, so I will [Writes]. But, Mephistophilis, My blood congeals, and I can write no more.


MEPHIST. I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. [Exit.]


FAUSTUS. What might the staying of my blood portend? Is it unwilling I should write this bill?[84] Why streams it not, that I may write afresh? FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL: ah, there it stay'd! Why shouldst thou not? is not thy soul shine own? Then write again, FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL.


Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with a chafer of coals.


MEPHIST. Here's fire; come, Faustus, set it on.[85]


FAUSTUS. So, now the blood begins to clear again; Now will I make an end immediately. [Writes.]


MEPHIST. O, what will not I do to obtain his soul? [Aside.]


FAUSTUS. Consummatum est; this bill is ended, And Faustus hath bequeath'd his soul to Lucifer. But what is this inscription[86] on mine arm? Homo, fuge: whither should I fly? If unto God, he'll throw me[87] down to hell. My senses are deceiv'd; here's nothing writ:-- I see it plain; here in this place is writ, Homo, fuge: yet shall not Faustus fly.


MEPHIST. I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind. [Aside, and then exit.]


Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with DEVILS, who give crowns and rich apparel to FAUSTUS, dance, and then depart.


FAUSTUS. Speak, Mephistophilis, what means this show?


MEPHIST. Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind withal, And to shew thee what magic can perform.


FAUSTUS. But may I raise up spirits when I please?


MEPHIST. Ay, Faustus, and do greater things than these.


FAUSTUS. Then there's enough for a thousand souls. Here, Mephistophilis, receive this scroll, A deed of gift of body and of soul: But yet conditionally that thou perform All articles prescrib'd between us both.


MEPHIST. Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer To effect all promises between us made!


FAUSTUS. Then hear me read them. [Reads] ON THESE CONDITIONS FOLLOWING. FIRST, THAT FAUSTUS MAY BE A SPIRIT IN FORM AND SUBSTANCE. SECONDLY, THAT MEPHISTOPHILIS SHALL BE HIS SERVANT, AND AT HIS COMMAND. THIRDLY, THAT MEPHISTOPHILIS SHALL DO FOR HIM, AND BRING HIM WHATSOEVER HE DESIRES.[88] FOURTHLY, THAT HE SHALL BE IN HIS CHAMBER OR HOUSE INVISIBLE. LASTLY, THAT HE SHALL APPEAR TO THE SAID JOHN FAUSTUS, AT ALL TIMES, IN WHAT FORM OR SHAPE SOEVER HE PLEASE. I, JOHN FAUSTUS, OF WERTENBERG, DOCTOR, BY THESE PRESENTS, DO GIVE BOTH BODY AND SOUL TO LUCIFER PRINCE OF THE EAST, AND HIS MINISTER MEPHISTOPHILIS; AND FURTHERMORE GRANT UNTO THEM, THAT,[89] TWENTY-FOUR YEARS BEING EXPIRED, THE ARTICLES ABOVE-WRITTEN INVIOLATE, FULL POWER TO FETCH OR CARRY THE SAID JOHN FAUSTUS, BODY AND SOUL, FLESH, BLOOD, OR GOODS, INTO THEIR HABITATION WHERESOEVER. BY ME, JOHN FAUSTUS.


MEPHIST. Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as your deed?


FAUSTUS. Ay, take it, and the devil give thee good on't!


MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, ask what thou wilt.


FAUSTUS. First will I question with thee about hell. Tell me, where is the place that men call hell?


MEPHIST. Under the heavens.


FAUSTUS. Ay, but whereabout?


MEPHIST. Within the bowels of these[90] elements, Where we are tortur'd and remain for ever: Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one self place; for where we are is hell, And where hell is, there[91] must we ever be: And, to conclude, when all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are[92] not heaven.


FAUSTUS. Come, I think hell's a fable.


MEPHIST. Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind.


FAUSTUS. Why, think'st thou, then, that Faustus shall be damn'd?


MEPHIST. Ay, of necessity, for here's the scroll Wherein thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer.


FAUSTUS. Ay, and body too: but what of that? Think'st thou that Faustus is so fond[93] to imagine That, after this life, there is any pain? Tush, these are trifles and mere old wives' tales.


MEPHIST. But, Faustus, I am an instance to prove the contrary, For I am damn'd, and am now in hell.


FAUSTUS. How! now in hell! Nay, an this be hell, I'll willingly be damn'd here: What! walking, disputing, &c.[94] But, leaving off this, let me have a wife,[95] The fairest maid in Germany; For I am wanton and lascivious, And cannot live without a wife.


MEPHIST. How! a wife! I prithee, Faustus, talk not of a wife.


FAUSTUS. Nay, sweet Mephistophilis, fetch me one, for I will have one.


MEPHIST. Well, thou wilt have one? Sit there till I come: I'll fetch thee a wife in the devil's name. [Exit.]


Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with a DEVIL drest like a WOMAN, with fire-works.


MEPHIST. Tell me,[96] Faustus, how dost thou like thy wife?


FAUSTUS. A plague on her for a hot whore!


MEPHIST. Tut, Faustus, Marriage is but a ceremonial toy; If thou lovest me, think no[97] more of it. I'll cull thee out the fairest courtezans, And bring them every morning to thy bed: She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall have, Be she as chaste as was Penelope, As wise as Saba,[98] or as beautiful As was bright Lucifer before his fall. Hold, take this book, peruse it thoroughly: [Gives book.]


The iterating[99] of these lines brings gold; The framing of this circle on the ground Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder, and lightning; Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself, And men in armour shall appear to thee, Ready to execute what thou desir'st.


FAUSTUS. Thanks, Mephistophilis: yet fain would I have a book wherein I might behold all spells and incantations, that I might raise up spirits when I please.


MEPHIST. Here they are in this book. [Turns to them.]


FAUSTUS. Now would I have a book where I might see all characters and planets of the heavens, that I might know their motions and dispositions.


MEPHIST. Here they are too. [Turns to them.]


FAUSTUS. Nay, let me have one book more,--and then I have done,-- wherein I might see all plants, herbs, and trees, that grow upon the earth.


MEPHIST. Here they be.


FAUSTUS. O, thou art deceived.


MEPHIST. Tut, I warrant thee. [Turns to them.]


FAUSTUS. When I behold the heavens, then I repent, And curse thee, wicked Mephistophilis, Because thou hast depriv'd me of those joys.


MEPHIST. Why, Faustus, Thinkest thou heaven is such a glorious thing? I tell thee, 'tis not half so fair as thou, Or any man that breathes on earth.


FAUSTUS. How prov'st thou that?


MEPHIST. 'Twas made for man, therefore is man more excellent.


FAUSTUS. If it were made for man, 'twas made for me: I will renounce this magic and repent.


GOOD ANGEL. Faustus, repent; yet God will pity thee.


EVIL ANGEL. Thou art a spirit; God cannot pity thee.


FAUSTUS. Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit? Be I a devil, yet God may pity me; Ay, God will pity me, if I repent.


EVIL ANGEL. Ay, but Faustus never shall repent. [Exeunt ANGELS.]


FAUSTUS. My heart's so harden'd, I cannot repent: Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven, But fearful echoes thunder in mine ears, "Faustus, thou art damn'd!" then swords, and knives, Poison, guns, halters, and envenom'd steel Are laid before me to despatch myself; 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 Oenon'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.[100] Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon Are all celestial bodies but one globe, As is the substance of this centric earth?


MEPHIST. As are the elements, such are the spheres, Mutually folded in each other's orb, And, Faustus, All jointly move upon one axletree, Whose terminine is term'd the world's wide pole; Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter Feign'd, but are erring[101] stars.


FAUSTUS. But, tell me, have they all one motion, both situ et tempore?


MEPHIST. All jointly move from east to west in twenty-four hours upon the poles of the world; but differ in their motion upon the poles of the zodiac.


FAUSTUS. Tush, These slender trifles Wagner can decide: Hath Mephistophilis no greater skill? Who knows not the double motion of the planets? The first is finish'd in a natural day; The second thus; as Saturn in thirty years; Jupiter in twelve; Mars in four; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year; the Moon in twenty-eight days. Tush, these are freshmen's[102] suppositions. But, tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intelligentia?


FAUSTUS. How many heavens or spheres are there?


MEPHIST. Nine; the seven planets, the firmament, and the empyreal heaven.


FAUSTUS. Well, resolve[103] me in this question; why have we not conjunctions, oppositions, aspects, eclipses, all at one time, but in some years we have more, in some less?


FAUSTUS. Well, I am answered. Tell me who made the world?


MEPHIST. I will not.


FAUSTUS. Sweet Mephistophilis, tell me.


MEPHIST. Move me not, for I will not tell thee.


FAUSTUS. Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me any thing?


MEPHIST. Ay, that is not against our kingdom; but this is. Think thou on hell, Faustus, for thou art damned.


FAUSTUS. Think, Faustus, upon God that made the world.


MEPHIST. Remember this. [Exit.]


FAUSTUS. Ay, go, accursed spirit, to ugly hell! 'Tis thou hast damn'd distressed Faustus' soul. Is't not too late?


GOOD ANGEL. Never too late, if Faustus can repent.


EVIL ANGEL. If thou repent, devils shall tear thee in pieces.


GOOD ANGEL. Repent, and they shall never raze thy skin. [Exeunt ANGELS.]


FAUSTUS. Ah, Christ, my Saviour, Seek to save[104] distressed Faustus' soul!


LUCIFER. Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just: There's none but I have interest in the same.


FAUSTUS. O, who art thou that look'st so terrible?


LUCIFER. I am Lucifer, And this is my companion-prince in hell.


FAUSTUS. O, Faustus, they are come to fetch away thy soul!


LUCIFER. We come to tell thee thou dost injure us; Thou talk'st of Christ, contrary to thy promise: Thou shouldst not think of God: think of the devil, And of his dam too.


FAUSTUS. 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.


LUCIFER. Do so, and we will highly gratify thee. Faustus, we are come from hell to shew thee some pastime: sit down, and thou shalt see all the Seven Deadly Sins appear in their proper shapes.


FAUSTUS. That sight will be as pleasing unto me, As Paradise was to Adam, the first day Of his creation.


LUCIFER. Talk not of Paradise nor creation; but mark this show: talk of the devil, and nothing else.--Come away!


Enter the SEVEN DEADLY SINS.[105]


Now, Faustus, examine them of their several names and dispositions.


FAUSTUS. What art thou, the first?


PRIDE. I am Pride. I disdain to have any parents. I am like to Ovid's flea; I can creep into every corner of a wench; sometimes, like a perriwig, I sit upon her brow; or, like a fan of feathers, I kiss her lips; indeed, I do--what do I not? But, fie, what a scent is here! I'll not speak another word, except the ground were perfumed, and covered with cloth of arras.


FAUSTUS. What art thou, the second?


COVETOUSNESS. I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl, in an old leathern bag: and, might I have my wish, I would desire that this house and all the people in it were turned to gold, that I might lock you up in my good chest: O, my sweet gold!


FAUSTUS. What art thou, the third?


WRATH. I am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother: I leapt out of a lion's mouth when I was scarce half-an-hour old; and ever since I have run up and down the world with this case[106] of rapiers, wounding myself when I had nobody to fight withal. I was born in hell; and look to it, for some of you shall be my father.


FAUSTUS. What art thou, the fourth?


ENVY. I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt. I am lean with seeing others eat. O, that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone! then thou shouldst see how fat I would be. But must thou sit, and I stand? come down, with a vengeance!


FAUSTUS. Away, envious rascal!--What art thou, the fifth?


GLUTTONY. Who I, sir? I am Gluttony. My parents are all dead, and the devil a penny they have left me, but a bare pension, and that is thirty meals a-day and ten bevers,[107]--a small trifle to suffice nature. O, I come of a royal parentage! my grandfather was a Gammon of Bacon, my grandmother a Hogshead of Claret-wine; my godfathers were these, Peter Pickle-herring and Martin Martlemas-beef; O, but my godmother, she was a jolly gentlewoman, and well-beloved in every good town and city; her name was Mistress Margery March-beer. Now, Faustus, thou hast heard all my progeny; wilt thou bid me to supper?


FAUSTUS. No, I'll see thee hanged: thou wilt eat up all my victuals.


GLUTTONY. Then the devil choke thee!


FAUSTUS. Choke thyself, glutton!--What art thou, the sixth?


SLOTH. I am Sloth. I was begotten on a sunny bank, where I have lain ever since; and you have done me great injury to bring me from thence: let me be carried thither again by Gluttony and Lechery. I'll not speak another word for a king's ransom.


FAUSTUS. What are you, Mistress Minx, the seventh and last?


LECHERY. Who I, sir? I am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better than an ell of fried stock-fish; and the first letter of my name begins with L.[108]


FAUSTUS. Away, to hell, to hell![109] [Exeunt the SINS.]


LUCIFER. Now, Faustus, how dost thou like this?


FAUSTUS. O, this feeds my soul!


LUCIFER. Tut, Faustus, in hell is all manner of delight.


FAUSTUS. O, might I see hell, and return again, How happy were I then!


LUCIFER. Thou shalt; I will send for thee at midnight.[110] In meantime take this book; peruse it throughly, And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt.


FAUSTUS. Great thanks, mighty Lucifer! This will I keep as chary as my life.


LUCIFER. Farewell, Faustus, and think on the devil.


Come, Mephistophilis. [Exeunt.]


CHORUS. Learned Faustus, To know the secrets of astronomy[112] Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament, Did mount himself to scale Olympus' top, Being seated in a chariot burning bright, Drawn by the strength of yoky dragons' necks. He now is gone to prove cosmography, And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome, To see the Pope and manner of his court, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, That to this day is highly solemniz'd. [Exit.]


FAUSTUS. Having now, my good Mephistophilis, Pass'd with delight the stately town of Trier,[114] Environ'd round with airy mountain-tops, With walls of flint, and deep-entrenched lakes, Not to be won by any conquering prince; From Paris next,[115] coasting the realm of France, We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine, Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines; Then up to Naples, rich Campania, Whose buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye, The streets straight forth, and pav'd with finest brick, Quarter the town in four equivalents: There saw we learned Maro's golden tomb, The way he cut,[116] an English mile in length, Thorough a rock of stone, in one night's space; From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest, In one of which a sumptuous temple stands,[117] That threats the stars with her aspiring top. Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time: But tell me now what resting-place is this? Hast thou, as erst I did command, Conducted me within the walls of Rome?


MEPHIST. Faustus, I have; and, because we will not be unprovided, I have taken up his Holiness' privy-chamber for our use.


FAUSTUS. I hope his Holiness will bid us welcome.


MEPHIST. Tut, 'tis no matter; man; we'll be bold with his good cheer. And now, my Faustus, that thou mayst perceive What Rome containeth to delight thee with, Know that this city stands upon seven hills That underprop the groundwork of the same: Just through the midst[118] runs flowing Tiber's stream With winding banks that cut it in two parts; Over the which four stately bridges lean, That make safe passage to each part of Rome: Upon the bridge call'd Ponte[119] Angelo Erected is a castle passing strong, Within whose walls such store of ordnance are, And double cannons fram'd of carved brass, As match the days within one complete year; Besides the gates, and high pyramides, Which Julius Caesar brought from Africa.


FAUSTUS. Now, by the kingdoms of infernal rule, Of Styx, of[120] Acheron, and the fiery lake Of ever-burning Phlegethon, I swear That I do long to see the monuments And situation of bright-splendent Rome: Come, therefore, let's away.


MEPHIST. Nay, Faustus, stay: I know you'd fain see the Pope, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, Where thou shalt see a troop of bald-pate friars, Whose summum bonum is in belly-cheer.


FAUSTUS. Well, I'm content to compass then some sport, And by their folly make us merriment. Then charm me, that I[121] May be invisible, to do what I please, Unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome. [Mephistophilis charms him.]


MEPHIST. So, Faustus; now Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discern'd.


Sound a Sonnet.[122] Enter the POPE and the CARDINAL OF LORRAIN to the banquet, with FRIARS attending.


POPE. My Lord of Lorrain, will't please you draw near?


FAUSTUS. Fall to, and the devil choke you, an you spare!


POPE. How now! who's that which spake?--Friars, look about.


FIRST FRIAR. Here's nobody, if it like your Holiness.


POPE. My lord, here is a dainty dish was sent me from the Bishop of Milan.


FAUSTUS. I thank you, sir. [Snatches the dish.]


POPE. How now! who's that which snatched the meat from me? will no man look?--My lord, this dish was sent me from the Cardinal of Florence.


FAUSTUS. You say true; I'll ha't. [Snatches the dish.]


POPE. What, again!--My lord, I'll drink to your grace.


FAUSTUS. I'll pledge your grace. [Snatches the cup.]


C. OF LOR. My lord, it may be some ghost, newly crept out of Purgatory, come to beg a pardon of your Holiness.


POPE. It may be so.--Friars, prepare a dirge to lay the fury of this ghost.--Once again, my lord, fall to. [The POPE crosses himself.]


FAUSTUS. What, are you crossing of yourself? Well, use that trick no more, I would advise you. [The POPE crosses himself again.]


Well, there's the second time. Aware the third; I give you fair warning. [The POPE crosses himself again, and FAUSTUS hits him a box of the ear; and they all run away.]


Come on, Mephistophilis; what shall we do?


MEPHIST. Nay, I know not: we shall be cursed with bell, book, and candle.


FAUSTUS. How! bell, book, and candle,--candle, book, and bell,-- Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell! Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, and an ass bray, Because it is Saint Peter's holiday.


Re-enter all the FRIARS to sing the Dirge.


FIRST FRIAR. Come, brethren, let's about our business with good devotion.


They sing.


CURSED BE HE THAT STOLE AWAY HIS HOLINESS' MEAT FROM THE TABLE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT STRUCK HIS HOLINESS A BLOW ON THE FACE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT TOOK FRIAR SANDELO A BLOW ON THE PATE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT DISTURBETH OUR HOLY DIRGE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT TOOK AWAY HIS HOLINESS' WINE! maledicat Dominus? ['?' sic] Et omnes Sancti! Amen!


[MEPHISTOPHILIS and FAUSTUS beat the FRIARS, and fling fire-works among them; and so exeunt.]


CHORUS. When Faustus had with pleasure ta'en the view Of rarest things, and royal courts of kings, He stay'd his course, and so returned home; Where such as bear his absence but with grief, I mean his friends and near'st companions, Did gratulate his safety with kind words, And in their conference of what befell, Touching his journey through the world and air, They put forth questions of astrology, Which Faustus answer'd with such learned skill As they admir'd and wonder'd at his wit. Now is his fame spread forth in every land: Amongst the rest the Emperor is one, Carolus the Fifth, at whose palace now Faustus is feasted 'mongst his noblemen. What there he did, in trial of his art, I leave untold; your eyes shall see['t] perform'd. [Exit.]


Enter ROBIN[123] the Ostler, with a book in his hand.


ROBIN. O, this is admirable! here I ha' stolen one of Doctor Faustus' conjuring-books, and, i'faith, I mean to search some circles for my own use. Now will I make all the maidens in our parish dance at my pleasure, stark naked, before me; and so by that means I shall see more than e'er I felt or saw yet.


Enter RALPH, calling ROBIN.


RALPH. Robin, prithee, come away; there's a gentleman tarries to have his horse, and he would have his things rubbed and made clean: he keeps such a chafing with my mistress about it; and she has sent me to look thee out; prithee, come away.


ROBIN. Keep out, keep out, or else you are blown up, you are dismembered, Ralph: keep out, for I am about a roaring piece of work.


RALPH. Come, what doest thou with that same book? thou canst not read?


ROBIN. Yes, my master and mistress shall find that I can read, he for his forehead, she for her private study; she's born to bear with me, or else my art fails.


RALPH. Why, Robin, what book is that?


ROBIN. What book! why, the most intolerable book for conjuring that e'er was invented by any brimstone devil.


RALPH. Canst thou conjure with it?


ROBIN. I can do all these things easily with it; first, I can make thee drunk with ippocras[124] at any tabern[125] in Europe for nothing; that's one of my conjuring works.


RALPH. Our Master Parson says that's nothing.


ROBIN. True, Ralph: and more, Ralph, if thou hast any mind to Nan Spit, our kitchen-maid, then turn her and wind her to thy own use, as often as thou wilt, and at midnight.


RALPH. O, brave, Robin! shall I have Nan Spit, and to mine own use? On that condition I'll feed thy devil with horse-bread as long as he lives, of free cost.


ROBIN. No more, sweet Ralph: let's go and make clean our boots, which lie foul upon our hands, and then to our conjuring in the devil's name. [Exeunt.]


Enter ROBIN and RALPH[126] with a silver goblet.


ROBIN. Come, Ralph: did not I tell thee, we were for ever made by this Doctor Faustus' book? ecce, signum! here's a simple purchase[127] for horse-keepers: our horses shall eat no hay as long as this lasts.


RALPH. But, Robin, here comes the Vintner.


ROBIN. Hush! I'll gull him supernaturally.


Drawer,[128] I hope all is paid; God be with you!--Come, Ralph.


VINTNER. Soft, sir; a word with you. I must yet have a goblet paid from you, ere you go.


ROBIN. I a goblet, Ralph, I a goblet!--I scorn you; and you are but a, &c. I a goblet! search me.


VINTNER. I mean so, sir, with your favour. [Searches ROBIN.]


VINTNER. I must say somewhat to your fellow.--You, sir!


RALPH. Me, sir! me, sir! search your fill. [VINTNER searches him.] Now, sir, you may be ashamed to burden honest men with a matter of truth.


VINTNER. Well, tone[129] of you hath this goblet about you.


ROBIN. You lie, drawer, 'tis afore me [Aside].--Sirrah you, I'll teach you to impeach honest men;--stand by;--I'll scour you for a goblet;--stand aside you had best, I charge you in the name of Belzebub.--Look to the goblet, Ralph [Aside to RALPH].


ROBIN. I'll tell you what I mean. [Reads from a book] Sanctobulorum Periphrasticon--nay, I'll tickle you, Vintner.--Look to the goblet, Ralph [Aside to RALPH].--[Reads] Polypragmos Belseborams framanto pacostiphos tostu, Mephistophilis, &c.


Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS, sets squibs at their backs, and then exit. They run about.


VINTNER. O, nomine Domini! what meanest thou, Robin? thou hast no goblet.


RALPH. Peccatum peccatorum!--Here's thy goblet, good Vintner. [Gives the goblet to VINTNER, who exit.]


ROBIN. Misericordia pro nobis! what shall I do? Good devil, forgive me now, and I'll never rob thy library more.


MEPHIST. Monarch of Hell,[130] under whose black survey Great potentates do kneel with awful fear, Upon whose altars thousand souls do lie, How am I vexed with these villains' charms? From Constantinople am I hither come, Only for pleasure of these damned slaves.


ROBIN. How, from Constantinople! you have had a great journey: will you take sixpence in your purse to pay for your supper, and be gone?


MEPHIST. Well, villains, for your presumption, I transform thee into an ape, and thee into a dog; and so be gone! [Exit.]


ROBIN. How, into an ape! that's brave: I'll have fine sport with the boys; I'll get nuts and apples enow.


RALPH. And I must be a dog.


ROBIN. I'faith, thy head will never be out of the pottage-pot. [Exeunt.]


Enter EMPEROR,[131] FAUSTUS, and a KNIGHT, with ATTENDANTS.


EMPEROR. Master Doctor Faustus,[132] I have heard strange report of thy knowledge in the black art, how that none in my empire nor in the whole world can compare with thee for the rare effects of magic: they say thou hast a familiar spirit, by whom thou canst accomplish what thou list. This, therefore, is my request, that thou let me see some proof of thy skill, that mine eyes may be witnesses to confirm what mine ears have heard reported: and here I swear to thee, by the honour of mine imperial crown, that, whatever thou doest, thou shalt be no ways prejudiced or endamaged.


KNIGHT. I'faith, he looks much like a conjurer. [Aside.]


FAUSTUS. My gracious sovereign, though I must confess myself far inferior to the report men have published, and nothing answerable to the honour of your imperial majesty, yet, for that love and duty binds me thereunto, I am content to do whatsoever your majesty shall command me.


EMPEROR. Then, Doctor Faustus, mark what I shall say. As I was sometime solitary set Within my closet, sundry thoughts arose About the honour of mine ancestors, How they had won[133] by prowess such exploits, Got such riches, subdu'd so many kingdoms, As we that do succeed,[134] or they that shall Hereafter possess our throne, shall (I fear me) ne'er attain to that degree Of high renown and great authority: Amongst which kings is Alexander the Great, Chief spectacle of the world's pre-eminence, The bright[135] shining of whose glorious acts Lightens the world with his reflecting beams, As when I hear but motion made of him, It grieves my soul I never saw the man: If, therefore, thou, by cunning of thine art, Canst raise this man from hollow vaults below, Where lies entomb'd this famous conqueror, And bring with him his beauteous paramour, Both in their right shapes, gesture, and attire They us'd to wear during their time of life, Thou shalt both satisfy my just desire, And give me cause to praise thee whilst I live.


FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, I am ready to accomplish your request, so far forth as by art and power of my spirit I am able to perform.


KNIGHT. I'faith, that's just nothing at all. [Aside.]


FAUSTUS. But, if it like your grace, it is not in my ability[136] to present before your eyes the true substantial bodies of those two deceased princes, which long since are consumed to dust.


KNIGHT. Ay, marry, Master Doctor, now there's a sign of grace in you, when you will confess the truth. [Aside.]


FAUSTUS. But such spirits as can lively resemble Alexander and his paramour shall appear before your grace, in that manner that they both[137] lived in, in their most flourishing estate; which I doubt not shall sufficiently content your imperial majesty.


EMPEROR. Go to, Master Doctor; let me see them presently.


KNIGHT. Do you hear, Master Doctor? you bring Alexander and his paramour before the Emperor!


FAUSTUS. How then, sir?


KNIGHT. I'faith, that's as true as Diana turned me to a stag.


FAUSTUS. No, sir; but, when Actaeon died, he left the horns for you.--Mephistophilis, be gone. [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.]


KNIGHT. Nay, an you go to conjuring, I'll be gone. [Exit.]


FAUSTUS. I'll meet with you anon for interrupting me so. --Here they are, my gracious lord.


Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with SPIRITS in the shapes of ALEXANDER and his PARAMOUR.


EMPEROR. Master Doctor, I heard this lady, while she lived, had a wart or mole in her neck: how shall I know whether it be so or no?


FAUSTUS. Your highness may boldly go and see.


EMPEROR. Sure, these are no spirits, but the true substantial bodies of those two deceased princes. [Exeunt Spirits.]


FAUSTUS. Wilt please your highness now to send for the knight that was so pleasant with me here of late?


EMPEROR. One of you call him forth. [Exit ATTENDANT.]


Re-enter the KNIGHT with a pair of horns on his head.


How now, sir knight! why, I had thought thou hadst been a bachelor, but now I see thou hast a wife, that not only gives thee horns, but makes thee wear them. Feel on thy head.


KNIGHT. Thou damned wretch and execrable dog, Bred in the concave of some monstrous rock, How dar'st thou thus abuse a gentleman? Villain, I say, undo what thou hast done!


FAUSTUS. O, not so fast, sir! there's no haste: but, good, are you remembered how you crossed me in my conference with the Emperor? I think I have met with you for it.


EMPEROR. Good Master Doctor, at my entreaty release him: he hath done penance sufficient.


FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, not so much for the injury he offered me here in your presence, as to delight you with some mirth, hath Faustus worthily requited this injurious knight; which being all I desire, I am content to release him of his horns:--and, sir knight, hereafter speak well of scholars.--Mephistophilis, transform him straight.[138] [MEPHISTOPHILIS removes the horns.] --Now, my good lord, having done my duty, I humbly take my leave.


EMPEROR. Farewell, Master Doctor: yet, ere you go, Expect from me a bounteous reward. [Exeunt EMPEROR, KNIGHT, and ATTENDANTS.]


FAUSTUS. Now, Mephistophilis,[139] the restless course That time doth run with calm and silent foot, Shortening my days and thread of vital life, Calls for the payment of my latest years: Therefore, sweet Mephistophilis, let us Make haste to Wertenberg.


MEPHIST. What, will you go on horse-back or on foot[?]


FAUSTUS. Nay, till I'm past this fair and pleasant green, I'll walk on foot.


Enter a HORSE-COURSER.[140]


HORSE-COURSER. I have been all this day seeking one Master Fustian: mass, see where he is!--God save you, Master Doctor!


FAUSTUS. What, horse-courser! you are well met.


HORSE-COURSER. Do you hear, sir? I have brought you forty dollars for your horse.


FAUSTUS. I cannot sell him so: if thou likest him for fifty, take him.


HORSE-COURSER. Alas, sir, I have no more!--I pray you, speak for me.


MEPHIST. I pray you, let him have him: he is an honest fellow, and he has a great charge, neither wife nor child.


FAUSTUS. Well, come, give me your money [HORSE-COURSER gives FAUSTUS the money]: my boy will deliver him to you. But I must tell you one thing before you have him; ride him not into the water, at any hand.


HORSE-COURSER. Why, sir, will he not drink of all waters?


FAUSTUS. O, yes, he will drink of all waters; but ride him not into the water: ride him over hedge or ditch, or where thou wilt, but not into the water.


HORSE-COURSER. Well, sir.--Now am I made man for ever: I'll not leave my horse for forty:[141] if he had but the quality of hey-ding-ding, hey-ding-ding, I'd make a brave living on him: he has a buttock as slick as an eel [Aside].--Well, God b'wi'ye, sir: your boy will deliver him me: but, hark you, sir; if my horse be sick or ill at ease, if I bring his water to you, you'll tell me what it is?


FAUSTUS. Away, you villain! what, dost think I am a horse-doctor? [Exit HORSE-COURSER.]


What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemn'd to die? Thy fatal time doth draw to final end; Despair doth drive distrust into[142] my thoughts: Confound these passions with a quiet sleep: Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the Cross; Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit. [Sleeps in his chair.]


Re-enter HORSE-COURSER, all wet, crying.


HORSE-COURSER. Alas, alas! Doctor Fustian, quoth a? mass, Doctor Lopus[143] was never such a doctor: has given me a purgation, has purged me of forty dollars; I shall never see them more. But yet, like an ass as I was, I would not be ruled by him, for he bade me I should ride him into no water: now I, thinking my horse had had some rare quality that he would not have had me know of,[144] I, like a venturous youth, rid him into the deep pond at the town's end. I was no sooner in the middle of the pond, but my horse vanished away, and I sat upon a bottle of hay, never so near drowning in my life. But I'll seek out my doctor, and have my forty dollars again, or I'll make it the dearest horse!--O, yonder is his snipper-snapper.--Do you hear? you, hey-pass,[145] where's your master?


MEPHIST. Why, sir, what would you? you cannot speak with him.


HORSE-COURSER. But I will speak with him.


MEPHIST. Why, he's fast asleep: come some other time.


HORSE-COURSER. I'll speak with him now, or I'll break his glass-windows about his ears.


MEPHIST. I tell thee, he has not slept this eight nights.


HORSE-COURSER. An he have not slept this eight weeks, I'll speak with him.


MEPHIST. See, where he is, fast asleep.


HORSE-COURSER. Ay, this is he.--God save you, Master Doctor, Master Doctor, Master Doctor Fustian! forty dollars, forty dollars for a bottle of hay!


MEPHIST. Why, thou seest he hears thee not.


HORSE-COURSER. So-ho, ho! so-ho, ho! [Hollows in his ear.] No, will you not wake? I'll make you wake ere I go. [Pulls FAUSTUS by the leg, and pulls it away.] Alas, I am undone! what shall I do?


FAUSTUS. O, my leg, my leg!--Help, Mephistophilis! call the officers.--My leg, my leg!


MEPHIST. Come, villain, to the constable.


HORSE-COURSER. O Lord, sir, let me go, and I'll give you forty dollars more!


MEPHIST. Where be they?


HORSE-COURSER. I have none about me: come to my ostry,[146] and I'll give them you.


MEPHIST. Be gone quickly. [HORSE-COURSER runs away.]


FAUSTUS. What, is he gone? farewell he! Faustus has his leg again, and the Horse-courser, I take it, a bottle of hay for his labour: well, this trick shall cost him forty dollars more.


How now, Wagner! what's the news with thee?


WAGNER. Sir, the Duke of Vanholt doth earnestly entreat your company.


FAUSTUS. The Duke of Vanholt! an honourable gentleman, to whom I must be no niggard of my cunning.[147]--Come, Mephistophilis, let's away to him. [Exeunt.]


Enter the DUKE OF VANHOLT, the DUCHESS, and FAUSTUS.[148]


DUKE. Believe me, Master Doctor, this merriment hath much pleased me.


FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, I am glad it contents you so well. --But it may be, madam, you take no delight in this. I have heard that great-bellied women do long for some dainties or other: what is it, madam? tell me, and you shall have it.


DUCHESS. Thanks, good Master Doctor: and, for I see your courteous intent to pleasure me, I will not hide from you the thing my heart desires; and, were it now summer, as it is January and the dead time of the winter, I would desire no better meat than a dish of ripe grapes.


FAUSTUS. Alas, madam, that's nothing!--Mephistophilis, be gone. [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.] Were it a greater thing than this, so it would content you, you should have it.


Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with grapes.


Here they be, madam: wilt please you taste on them?


DUKE. Believe me, Master Doctor, this makes me wonder above the rest, that being in the dead time of winter and in the month of January, how you should come by these grapes.


FAUSTUS. If it like your grace, the year is divided into two circles over the whole world, that, when it is here winter with us, in the contrary circle it is summer with them, as in India, Saba,[149] and farther countries in the east; and by means of a swift spirit that I have, I had them brought hither, as you see. --How do you like them, madam? be they good?


DUCHESS. Believe me, Master Doctor, they be the best grapes that e'er I tasted in my life before.


FAUSTUS. I am glad they content you so, madam.


DUKE. Come, madam, let us in, where you must well reward this learned man for the great kindness he hath shewed to you.


DUCHESS. And so I will, my lord; and, whilst I live, rest beholding[150] for this courtesy.


FAUSTUS. I humbly thank your grace.


DUKE. Come, Master Doctor, follow us, and receive your reward. [Exeunt.]


WAGNER. I think my master means to die shortly, For he hath given to me all his goods:[152] And yet, methinks, if that death were near, He would not banquet, and carouse, and swill Amongst the students, as even now he doth, Who are at supper with such belly-cheer As Wagner ne'er beheld in all his life. See, where they come! belike the feast is ended. [Exit.]


Enter FAUSTUS with two or three SCHOLARS, and MEPHISTOPHILIS.


FIRST SCHOLAR. Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifulest in all the world, we have determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived: therefore, Master Doctor, if you will do us that favour, as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much beholding unto you.