CHAPTER V
The third parley between Doctor Faustus and Mephostophiles about a conclusion
After Doctor Faustus had made his promise to the Devil, in the morning betimes he called the Spirit before him and commanded him that he should always come to him like a Friar, after the order of Saint Francis, with a bell in his hand like Saint Anthony, and to ring it once or twice before he appeared, that he might know of his certain coming: Then Faustus demanded the Spirit, what was his name? The Spirit answered, my name is as thou sayest, Mephostophiles, and I am a prince, but servant to Lucifer: and all the circuit from Septentrio to the Meridian, I rule under him. Even at these words was this wicked wretch Faustus inflamed, to hear himself to have gotten so great a Potentate to be his servant, forgot the Lord his maker, and Christ his redeemer, became an enemy unto all mankind, yea, worse than the Giants whom the Poets feign to climb the hills to make war with the Gods: not unlike that enemy of God and his Christ, that for his pride was cast into Hell: so likewise Faustus forgot that the high climbers catch the greatest falls, and that the sweetest meat requires the sourest sauce.
After a while, Faustus promised Mephostophiles to write and make his Obligation, with full assurance of the Articles in the Chapter before rehearsed. A pitiful case, (Christian Reader), for certainly this Letter or Obligation was found in his house after his most lamentable end, with all the rest of his damnable practices used in his whole life. Therefore I wish all Christians to take an example by this wicked Faustus, and to be comforted in Christ, contenting themselves with that vocation whereunto it hath pleased God to call them, and not to esteem the vain delights of this life, as did this unhappy Faustus, in giving his Soul to the Devil: and to confirm it the more assuredly, he took a small penknife, and pricked a vein in his left hand, and for certainty thereupon, were seen on his hand these words written, as if they had been written with blood, Ô HOMO FUGE: whereat the Spirit vanished, but Faustus continued in his damnable mind, and made his writing as followeth.