FIRST SCHOLAR. Tempt not God, sweet friend; but let us into the
next room, and pray for him.
FAUSTUS. Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever
you hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me.
you; if not, Faustus is gone to hell.
For that must be thy mansion, there to dwell.
'Twas I that, when thou wert i'the way to heaven,
Damm'd up thy passage; when thou took'st the book
To view the Scriptures, then I turn'd the leaves,
And led thine eye.<251>
What, weep'st thou? 'tis too late; despair! Farewell:
Fools that will laugh on earth must weep in hell.
Innumerable joys had follow'd thee!
But thou didst love the world.
And now must taste hell-pains<253> perpetually.
GOOD ANGEL. O, what will all thy riches, pleasures, pomps,
Avail thee now?
To want in hell, that had on earth such store.
Pleasures unspeakable, bliss without end
Hadst thou affected sweet divinity,
Hell or the devil had had no power on thee:
Hadst thou kept on that way, Faustus, behold,
[Music, while a throne descends.]
In what resplendent glory thou hadst sit<254>
In yonder throne, like those bright-shining saints,
And triumph'd over hell! That hast thou lost;
And now, poor soul, must thy good angel leave thee: even his guardian angel leaves F.
The jaws of hell are open<255> to receive thee.
[Exit. The throne ascends.]
EVIL ANGEL. Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with horror stare
[Hell is discovered.]
Into that vast perpetual torture-house:
There are the Furies tossing damned souls
On burning forks; there bodies boil<256> in lead;
There are live quarters broiling on the coals,
That ne'er can die; this ever-burning chair
Is for o'er-tortur'd souls to rest them in;
These that are fed with sops of flaming fire,
Were gluttons, and lov'd only delicates,
And laugh'd to see the poor starve at their gates:
But yet all these are nothing; thou shalt see
Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be.
FAUSTUS. O, I have seen enough to torture me!
He that loves pleasure must for pleasure fall:
And so I leave thee, Faustus, till anon;
Then wilt thou tumble in confusion.
[Exit. Hell disappears.--The clock strikes eleven.]
FAUSTUS. O Faustus, final soliloquy, heroic eloquence
Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, his final hour, 60 lines!
And then thou must be damn'd perpetually!
Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven,
That time may cease, and midnight never come;
Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make
Perpetual day; or let this hour be but you cannot negotiate with death
A year, a month, a week, a natural day, (as in Everyman)
That Faustus may repent and save his soul!
O lente, lente currite, noctis equi!
The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike,
The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd. extraordinary conciseness
O, I'll leap up to heaven!--Who pulls me down?--
See, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!<257>
One drop of blood will save me: O my Christ!-- he shows remorse
Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ;
Yet will I call on him: O, spare me, Lucifer!-- but is not strong enough in his faith
Where is it now? 'tis gone:
And, see, a threatening arm, an<258> angry brow!
Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me,
And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven!
Then will I headlong run into the earth:
You stars that reign'd at my nativity,
Whose influence hath<259> allotted death and hell,
Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist,
Into the entrails of yon<260> labouring cloud[s],
That, when you<261> vomit forth into the air,
My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths;
But let my soul mount and ascend to heaven!
[The clock strikes the half-hour.] 30 lines
O, half the hour is past! 'twill all be past anon.
O, if<262> my soul must suffer for my sin,
Impose some end to my incessant pain;
Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years,
A hundred thousand, and at last<263> be sav'd!
No end is limited to damned souls.
Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?
Or why is this immortal that thou hast?
O, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true,
This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd
Into some brutish beast! all beasts are happy,
For, when they die,
Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements;
But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell.
Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me!
No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer
That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven.
[The clock strikes twelve.]
It strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air,
Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell!
O soul, be chang'd into small water-drops,
And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found!
Thunder. Enter DEVILS.
O, mercy, heaven! look not so fierce on me!
Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while!
Ugly hell, gape not! come not, Lucifer!
I'll burn my books!--O Mephistophilis! Prospero
[Exeunt DEVILS with FAUSTUS.]
For such a dreadful night was never seen;
Since first the world's creation did begin,
Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard:
Pray heaven the doctor have escap'd the danger.
O, help us, heaven!<265> see, here are Faustus' limbs,
All torn asunder by the hand of death!
The devils whom Faustus serv'd have<266> torn him thus;
For, twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought,
I heard him shriek and call aloud for help;
At which self<267> time the house seem'd all on fire
With dreadful horror of these damned fiends.
As every Christian heart laments to think on,
Yet, for he was a scholar once admir'd
For wondrous knowledge in our German schools,
We'll give his mangled limbs due burial;
And all the students, cloth'd in mourning black,
Shall wait upon his heavy funeral.
CHORUS. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
And burned is Apollo's laurel-bough,
That sometime grew within this learned man. Moral teaching
Faustus is gone: regard his hellish fall,
Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise,
Only to wonder at unlawful things,
Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits
To practise more than heavenly power permits.
Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus.