ACT III.
SCENE a Wood.
Mephostopholis and Dr. Faustus.
Faust. How have I been delighted by thy Art; and in Twelve Years have seen the utmost Limits of the spacious World; feasted my self with all Varieties; pleasur'd my Fancy with my Magick Art, and liv'd sole Lord o'er every Thing I wish'd for.
Meph. Ay, Faustus, is it not a splendid Life?
Faust. It is my Spirit; but prithee now retire, while I repose my self within this Shade, and when I wake attend on me again.
Meph. Faust, I will. [Exit.
Faust. What art thou, Faustus, but a Man condemn'd. Thy Lease of Years expire apace; and, Faustus, then thou must be Lucifers: Here rest my Soul, and in my Sleep my future State be buried.
Good and bad Angel descends.
Good An. Faustus, sweet Faustus, yet remember Heav'n. Oh! think upon the everlasting Pain thou must endure, For all thy short Space of Pleasure.
Bad An. Illusions, Fancies, Faustus; think of Earth. The Kings thou shalt command: The Pleasures Rule. Be, Faustus, not a whining, pious Fool. [Ascend.
Enter Horse-courser.
Hors. Oh! what a couz'ning Doctor was this: I riding my Horse into the Water, thinking some hidden Mystery had been in 'em, found my self on a Bundle of Straw, and was drag'd by Something in the Water, like a Bailiff through a Horse-pond. Ha! he's a Sleep: So ho, Mr. Doctor, so ho. Why Doctor, you couz'ning, wheedling, hypocritical, cheating, chousing, Son of a Whore; awake, rise, and give me my Mony again, for your Horse is turn'd into a Bottle of Hay. Why Sirrah, Doctor; 'sfoot I think he's dead. Way Doctor Scab; you mangy Dog. [pulls him by the Leg. 'Zounds I'm undone, I have pull'd his Leg off.
Faust. O help! the Villain has undone me; Murder.
Hors. Murder, or not Murder, now he has but one Leg I'll out-run him. [Exit.
Faust. Stop, stop him; ha, ha, ha, Faustus has his Leg again, and the Horse-courser a Bundle of Hay for his Forty Dollars. Come, Mephostopholis, let's now attend the Emperor. [Exit Faust. and Meph.
Enter Horse-courser, and Carter, with Pots of Ale.
Cart. Here's to thee; and now I'll tell thee what I came hither for: You have heard of a Conjurer they call Doctor Faustus.
Hors. Heard of him, a Plague take him, I have Cause to know him; has he play'd any Pranks with you?
Cart. I'll tell thee, as I was going to the Market a while ago, with a Load of Hay, he met me, and askt me, What he should give me for as much Hay as his Horse would Eat: Now, Sir, I thinking that a little would serve his Turn, bad him take as much as he would for Three Farthings.
Hors. So.
Cart. So he presently gave me Mony, and fell to Eating: And as I'm a cursen Man, he never left Yeating and Yeating, 'till he had eaten up my whole Load of Hay.
Hors. Now you shall hear how he serv'd me: I went to him Yesterday to buy a Horse of him, which I did; and he bad me be sure not to ride him into the Water.
Cart. Good.
Hors. Ad's Wounds 'twas Bad, as you shall hear: For I thinking the Horse had some rare Quality, that he would not have me know, what do me I but rides him in the Water; and when I came just in the midst of the River, I found my self a Straddle on a Bottle of Hay.
Cart. O rare Doctor!
Hors. But you shall hear how I serv'd him bravely for it; for finding him a Sleep just now in a By-Field, I whoop'd and hollow'd in his Ears, but could not wake him; so I took hold of his Leg, and never left pulling till I had pull'd it quite off.
Cart. And has the Doctor but one Leg then? That's Rare. But come, this is his House, let's in and see for our Mony; look you, we'll pay as we come back.
Hors. Done, done; and when we have got our Mony let's laugh at his one Leg: Ha, ha, ha. [Exeunt Laughing.
Enter Hostess.
Host. What have the Rogues left my Pots, and run away, without paying their Reck'ning? I'll after 'em, cheating Villains, Rogues, Cut-purses; rob a poor Woman, cheat the Spittle, and rob the King of his Excise; a parcel of Rustick, Clownish, Pedantical, High-shoo'd, Plow-jobbing, Cart-driving, Pinch-back'd, Paralytick, Fumbling, Grumbling, Bellowing, Yellowing, Peas-picking, Stinking, Mangy, Runagate, Ill-begotten, Ill-contriv'd, Wry-mouth'd, Spatrifying, Dunghill-raking, Costive, Snorting, Sweaty, Farting, Whaw-drover Dogs. [Exit
Enter Faustus.
Faust. My Time draws near, and 20 Years are past: I have but Four poor Twelve Months for my Life, and then I am damn'd for ever.
Enter an Old Man.
Old M. O gentle Faustus, leave this damn'd Art; this Magick, that will charm thy Soul to Hell, and quite bereave thee of Salvation: Though thou hast now offended like a Man, do not, oh! do not persist in't like a Devil. It may be this my Exhortation seems harsh, and all unpleasant; let it not, for, gentle Son, I speak in tender Love and Pity of thy future Misery; and so have hope that this my kind Rebuke, checking thy Body, may preserve thy Soul.
Faust. Where art thou, Faustus? Wretch, what hast thou done? O Friend, I feel thy Words to comfort my distressed Soul; retire, and let me ponder on my Sins.
Old M. Faustus, I leave thee, but with grief of Heart, Fearing thy Enemy will near depart. [Exit.
Enter Mephostopholis.
Meph. Thou Traytor, I arrest thee for Disobedience to thy Sovereign Lord; revolt, or I'll in piece-meal tear thy Flesh.
Faust. I do repent I e'er offended him; torment, sweet Friend, that old Man that durst disswade me from thy Lucifer.
Meph. His Faith is great, I cannot touch his Soul; but what I can afflict his Body with I will.
Enter Horse-courser and Carter.
Hors. We are come to drink a Health to your wooden Leg.
Faust. My wooden Leg; what dost thou mean, Friend?
Hors. Ha, ha! he has forgot his Leg.
Cart. Psha, 'tis not a Leg he stands upon. Pray, let me ask you one Question; Are both your Legs Bed-fellows?
Faust. Why dost thou ask?
Cart. Because I believe you have a good Companion of one.
Hors. Why, don't you remember I pull'd off one o' your Legs when you were a Sleep?
Faust. But I have it again now I am awake.
Cart. Ad's Wounds, had the Doctor three Legs!—--You, Sir, don't you remember you gave a Peny for as much Hay as your Horse would eat, and then eat up my whole Load.
Hors. Look you, Mr. Doctor, you must not carry it off so; I come to have the Mony again I gave for the Ho-o-o-
[Faustus waves his Wand.
Cart. And I come to be paid far my Load of Ha-a-a.
Enter Hostess.
Host. O Mr. Doctor! do you harbour Rogues that bilk poor Folks, and wont pay their Reck'nings? Who must pay me for my A-a-a-a [Waves again.
Enter Scaramouche.
Scar. Mr. Doctor, I can't be quiet for your Devil Mr. Me-o-o— [Waves again.
[Exeunt Faustus and Mephostopholis. They all stare at one another, and so go off, crying O, o, o, o- to the Emperor's Pallace.
Enter Emperor, Faustus, Gent. Guards. Benoolio above.
Emp. Wonder of Men, thrice Learned Faustus, Renowned Magician, welcome to our Court; and as thou late didst promise us, I would behold the Famous Alexander fighting with his great Rival Darius, in their true Shapes, and State Majestical.
Faust. Your Majesty shall see 'em presently.
Ben. If thou bring'st Alexander, or Darius here, I'll be content to be Actæon, and turn my self to a Stag.
Faust. And I'll play Diana, and send you the Horns presently.
Enter Darius and Alexander; they Fight: Darius falls. Alexander takes his Crown, and puts it on his Head.
[Exit. Darius sinks.
Faust. Away, be gon; see, my Gracious Lord, what Beast is that that thrusts his Head out of yon' Window.
Emp. O wondrous Sight! see two Horns on young Benoolio's Head; call him, Lords.
Lord. What, ho! Benoolio.
Ben. A Plague upon you, let me Sleep.
Lord. Look up, Benoolio, 'tis the Emperor calls.
Ben. The Emperor; O my Head.
Faust. And thy Horns hold, 'tis no matter for thy Head.
Ben. Doctor, this is your Villany.
Faust. O say not so, Sir; the Doctor has no Skill, if he bring Alexander or Darius here you'll be Actæon, and turn to a Stag: Therefore, if it please your Majesty, I'll bring a Kennel of Hounds to hunt him. Ho! Helmot, Argiron, Asterot.
Ben. Hold, he'll raise a Kennel of Devils. Good, my Lord, intreat.
Emp. Prithee remove his Horns, he has done Penance enough.
Faust. Away; and remember hereafter you speak well of Scholars.
Ben. If Scholars be such Cuckolds to put Horns upon honest Mens Heads, I'll ne'er trust Smooth-face and Small-band more: But if I been't reveng'd, may I be turn'd to a Gaping Oyster, and drink nothing but Salt-water.
Emp. Come, Faustus, in recompence of this high Desert, Thou shalt command the State of Germany, and live belov'd of mighty Carolus. [Exeunt omnes.
SCENE a Garden.
Lord. Nay, sweet Benoolio, let us sway thy Thoughts from this Attempt against the Conjurer.
Ben. My Head is lighter than it was by the Horns:
And yet my Heart's more pond'rous than my Head,
And pants, until I see the Conjurer dead.
2 Lord. Consider.
Ben. Away; disswade me not, he comes. [Draws.
Enter Faustus with a false Head.
Now Sword strike home:
For Horns he gave, I'll have his Head anon.
Runs Faustus through, he falls.
Faust. Oh, oh.
Ben. Groan you, Mr. Doctor, now for his Head.
[Cuts his Head off.
Lord. Struck with a willing Hand.
Ben. First, on this Scull, in quittance of my Wrongs, I'll nail huge forked Horns within the Window where he yoak'd me first, that all the World may see my just Revenge; and thus having settled his Head——
Faust. What shall the Body do, Gentlemen.
Ben. The Devil's alive again?
Lord. Give the Devil his Head again.
Faust. Nay, keep it; Faustus will have Heads and Hands;
I call your Hearts to recompence this Deed.
Ho; Asteroth, Belincoth, Mephostopholis.
Enter Devils, and Horse 'em upon others.
Go Horse these Traytors on your fiery Backs.
Drag 'em through Dirt and Mud, through Thorns and Briers.
Lord. Pity us, gentle Faustus, save our Lives.
Faust. Away.
Ben. He must needs go whom the Devil drives.
[Spirits fly away. Exit Faustus.
SCENE a Hall.
Enter Harlequin in a Beggar's Habit.
Harl. I find this Scaramouche is a Villain; he has left the Doctor, and is come to be Steward to a rich Widdow, whose Husband dyed Yesterday, and here he is coming to give the Poor their Doles, of which I'll ha' my Share.
Scaramouche, and poor People, with a Basket of Bread and Money.
Scar. Come hither, poor Devils; stand in Order, and be Damn'd. I came to distribute what your deceased good Master hath bequeath'd. [They all stare at Scar.
Harl. God bless you, Mr. Steward.
Scar. Let me tell you, Gentlemen, he was as good a Man as ever piss'd, or cry'd Stand on the High-way.
[Scaramouche takes out a Leaf and a Shilling, holds it out, and Harlequin takes it.
He spent a good Estate, 'tis true; but he was no Body's Foe but his own. I never left him while he was worth a Groat. [Again.] He would now and then Curse in his Passion, and give a Soul to the Devil, or so; yet, what of that? He always paid his Club, and no Man can say he owes this. [Again.] He had a Colt's Tooth, and over-laid one of his Maids; yet, what of that? All Flesh is frail. [Again.] 'Tis thought that her Body workt him off on his Legs; why, what of that? his Legs were his own, and his Arse never hung in your Light. [Again.] Sometimes, you'll say, he wou'd rap out an Oath; what then, Words are but Wind, and he meant no more harm than a sucking Pig does by squeaking. [Again.] Now let's consider his good Deeds; he brew'd a Firkin of strong Drink for the poor every Year, and kill'd an old Ram every Easter: The Meat that was stale, and his Drink that was sowre, was always yours. [Again.] He allow'd you in Harvest to Glean after his Rake. [Again.] And now, at his Death, has given you all this. [Again.
Scar. So, setting the Hare's Head against the Goose Giblets, he was a good Hospitable Man; and much good may do you with what you had.
Poor. I have had nothing.
2 Poor. Nor I.
3 Po. Nor I.
4 Po. Nor. I.
Scar. Nothing.
All. Nothing, nothing.
Scar. Nothing, nothing; you lying Rogues, then there's something for you. [Beats 'em all off.
Enter Harlequin in a Cloak, laughing.
Har. So now I am Victual'd, I may hold out Siege against Hunger. [A Noise within; this way, this way.
Ha! they are hunting after me, and will kill me. Let me see, I will take this Gibbet for my Preserver, and with this long Cloak make as if I were hang'd. Now when they find a Man hang'd, not knowing me in this Disguise, they'll look no farther after me, but think the Thief's hang'd.——I hear 'em coming. [Throws himself off the Ladder.
Enter Scaramouche.
Scar. Ha! what's here, a Man hang'd? But what Paper is this in his Hand?
[Whil'st Scaramouche reads, Harlequin puts the Rope over him.
I have cheated the Poor of their Mony, and took the Bread out of their Mouths, for which I was much troubled in Conscience, fell into Dispair, and, as you see, hang'd my self.
O the Devil! Murder, murder!
Enter Poor.
Poor. O Neighbours, here hangs the Rogue.
Scar. Help me down?
Poor. No, you are very well as you are.
Scar. Don't you know me?
Poor. Ay, for a Rogue; e'en finish your Work, and save the Hang-man a Labour. Yet, now I think on't, self-murder is a crying Sin, and may damn his Soul. Come, Neighbours, we'll take him down, and have him hang'd according to Law. [When he's down he trips up their Heels, and runs out, they after him.
All. Stop Thief, stop Thief.
Thunder and Lightning; Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Mephostopholis.
Luc. Thus from the infernal Dis do we ascend, bringing with us the Deed; the Time is come which makes it forfeit.
Enter Faustus, an old Man, and a Scholar.
Old M. Yet, Faustus, call on Heav'n.
Faust. Oh! 'tis too late; behold, they lock my Hands.
Old M. Who, Faustus?
Faust. Lucifer and Mephostopholis; I gave 'em my Soul for Four and twenty Years.
Old M. Heav'n forbid.
Fau. Ay, Heav'n forbad it indeed, but Faustus has done it; for the vain Pleasure of Four and twenty Years, Faustus has lost eternal Joy and Felicity: I writ 'em a Bill with my own Blood, the Date is expired; this is the Time, and they are come to fetch me.
Old M. Why would not Faustus tell me of that before?
Faust. I oft intended it, but the Devil threat'ned to tear me in Pieces. O Friend, retire, and save your self.
Old M. I'll into the next Room, and there pray for thee.
Faust. Ay, pray for me; and what Noise soever you hear stir not, for nothing can rescue me.
Old M. Pray thou, and I'll pray. Adieu.
Faust. If I live till Morning I'll visit you; if not, Faustus is gon to Hell. [Exeunt old Man and Scholar.
Meph. Ay, Faustus, now thou hast no hopes on Heav'n.
Faust. O thou bewitching Fiend; 'twas thou, and thy
Temptations, hath rob'd me of eternal Happiness.
Meph. I do confess it, Faustus, and rejoyce.
What weep'st thou, 'tis too late; hark to thy Knell:
Fools that will Laugh on Earth, must Weep in Hell.
Ext.
Good and bad Angel descend.
Good An. O Faustus, if thou hadst given Ear to me,
Innumerable Joys had followed thee:
But thou didst love the World.
Bad An. Gave Ear to me, and now must taste Hell's Pains perpetual.
Throne of Heaven appears.
Good An. Had'st thou affected sweet Divinity,
Hell, nor the Devil, had no Power on thee.
Had'st thou kept on that way, Faustus, behold in what resplendid
Glory thou had'st sat; that hast thou Lost.
And now, poor Soul, must thy good Angel leave:
The Jaws of Hell are ready to receive thee. [Ascends.
Hell is discovered.
Bad An. Now, Faustus, let thy Eyes with Horror stare
Into that Vast perpetual torturing House.
Faust. O I have seen enough to torture me.
Bad An. Nay thou must feel 'em, 'taste the Smart of all.
He that loves Pleasure must for Pleasure fall:
And so I leave thee, Faustus, till anon.
Thou'lt tumble into Confusion. [Descends.
The Clock strikes Eleven.
Faust. Now, Faustus, hast thou but one bear Hour to Live,
And then thou must be Damn'd perpetually:
Stand still you ever-moving Spheres of Heav'n,
That Time may cease, and Mid-night never come.
Or let this Hour be but a Year, a Month, a Week, a natural Day; that Faustus may repent, and save his Soul. Mountains and Hills come, come, and fall on me, and hide me from the heavy Wrath of Heav'n. Gape Earth; Oh no, it will not harbour me. [The Clock strikes. Oh! half the Hour is past; 'twill all be past anon. Oh! if my Soul must suffer for my Sin, impose some end to my incessant Pain. Let Faustus live in Hell a Thousand Years, an Hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd. [Strikes Twelve. No End is limitted to damn'd Souls: It strikes, it strikes. Now, Body, turn to Air, to Earth, or Water. Oh! avoid the Fire: They come. Oh! mercy, Heaven; ugly Hell gape not. Come not Lucifer; O Mephostopholis.
[Sink with Devils. Thunder.
Enter old Man and Scholar.
Old M. Come, Friend, let's visit Faustus: For such a dreadful Night was never seen.
Scene discovers Faustus's Limbs.
Schol. O help us, Heav'n; see here are Faustus's Limbs,
All torn asunder by the Hand of Hell.
Old M. May this a fair Example be to all,
To avoid such Ways which brought poor Faustus's Fall.
And whatsoever Pleasure does invite,
Sell not your Souls to purchase vain Delight.
[Exeunt.
Scene changes to Hell.
Faustus Limbs come together. A Dance, and Song.
FINIS.
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK
MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
The Augustan Reprint Society
PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
The Augustan Reprint Society
PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
1948-1949
16. Henry Nevil Payne, The Fatal Jealousie (1673).
17. Nicholas Rowe, Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear (1709).
18. Anonymous, "Of Genius," in The Occasional Paper, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to The Creation (1720).
1949-1950
19. Susanna Centlivre, The Busie Body (1709).
20. Lewis Theobald, Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1734).
22. Samuel Johnson, The Vanity of Human Wishes (1749), and two Rambler papers (1750).
23. John Dryden, His Majesties Declaration Defended (1681).
1951-1952
26. Charles Macklin, The Man of the World (1792).
31. Thomas Gray, An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard (1751), and The Eton College Manuscript.
1952-1953
41. Bernard Mandeville, A Letter to Dion (1732).
1962-1963
98. Selected Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's Temple ... (1697).
1964-1965
109. Sir William Temple, An Essay Upon the Original and Nature of Government (1680).
110. John Tutchin, Selected Poems (1685-1700).
111. Anonymous, Political Justice (1736).
112. Robert Dodsley, An Essay on Fable (1764).
113. T. R., An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning (1698).
114. Two Poems Against Pope: Leonard Welsted, One Epistle to Mr. A. Pope (1730), and Anonymous, The Blatant Beast (1742).
1965-1966
115. Daniel Defoe and others, Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal.
116. Charles Macklin, The Covent Garden Theatre (1752).
117. Sir Roger L'Estrange, Citt and Bumpkin (1680).
118. Henry More, Enthusiasmus Triumphatus (1662).
119. Thomas Traherne, Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation (1717).
120. Bernard Mandeville, Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables (1740).
1966-1967
123. Edmond Malone, Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed to Mr. Thomas Rowley (1782).
124. Anonymous, The Female Wits (1704).
125. Anonymous, The Scribleriad (1742). Lord Hervey, The Difference Between Verbal and Practical Virtue (1742).
1967-1968
129. Lawrence Echard, Prefaces to Terence's Comedies (1694) and Plautus's Comedies (1694).
1968-1969
133. John Courtenay, A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral Character of the Late Samuel Johnson (1786).
134. John Downes, Roscius Anglicanus (1708).
135. Sir John Hill, Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise (1766).
136. Thomas Sheridan, Discourse ... Being Introductory to His Course of Lectures on Elocution and the English Language (1759).
137. Arthur Murphy, The Englishman From Paris (1736).
1969-1970
138. [Catherine Trotter], Olinda's Adventures (1718).
139. John Ogilvie, An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients (1762).
140. A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling (1726) and Pudding Burnt to Pot or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation on Dumpling (1727).
141. Selections from Sir Roger L'Estrange's Observator (1681-1687).
142. Anthony Collins, A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in Writing (1729).
143. A Letter From A Clergyman to His Friend, With An Account of the Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver (1726).
144. The Art of Architecture, A Poem. In Imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry (1742).
1970-1971
145-146. Thomas Shelton, A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing (1642) and Tachygraphy (1647).
147-148. Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson (1782).
149. Poeta de Tristibus: or the Poet's Complaint (1682).
150. Gerard Langbaine, Momus Triumphans: or the Plagiaries of the English Stage (1687).
1971-1972
151-152. Evan Lloyd, The Methodist. A Poem (1766).
153. Are these Things So? (1740), and The Great Man's Answer to Are these Things So? (1740).
154. Arbuthnotiana: The Story of the St. Alb-ns Ghost (1712), and A Catalogue of Dr. Arbuthnot's Library (1779).
155-156. A Selection of Emblems from Herman Hugo's Pia Desideria (1624), with English Adaptations by Francis Quarles and Edmund Arwaker.