Cardinals, Bishops, Monks, Friars, Soldiers, Servants,
Nor marching in the fields of Tharsimen,
Where Mars did mate the warlike Carthagen;
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 his heavenly verse;
Only this, gentles, we must now perform,
The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad:
And now to patient judgments we appeal,
And speak for Faustus in his infancy.
Now is he born of parents base of stock,
In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes:
At riper years to Wittenberg he went,
Whereas his kinsman chiefly brought him up.
So much he profits in divinity,
That shortly he was grac'd with Doctor's name,
Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute
In th' heavenly matters of theology:
Till swoln with cunning, and a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And melting heavens conspired his overthrow:
For falling to a devilish exercise,
And glutted now with learning's golden gifts,
He surfeits on the 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.
FAUST. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin
To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess;
Having commenc'd, be a divine in show,
Yet level at the end of every art,
And live and die in Aristotle's works.
Sweet analytics, 'tis thou 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 end.
A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit:
Bid economy farewell: and Galen come.
Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold,
And be eterniz'd for some wondrous cure:
Summum bonum medicinæ sanitas;
The end of physic is our bodies' health.
Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end?
Are not thy bills hung up as monuments,
Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague,
And thousand desperate maladies been cur'd?
Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.
Couldst thou make men to live eternally,
Or, being dead, raise them to life again,
Then this profession were to be esteem'd.
Physic farewell. Where is Justinian?
Si una eademque res legatur duobus,
Alter rem, alter valorem rei, &c.
A petty case of paltry legacies.
Exhereditari filium non potest pater, nisi, &c.
Such is the subject of the institute,
And universal body of the law.
This study fits a mercenary drudge,
Who aims at nothing but external trash,
Too servile and illiberal for me.
When all is done, divinity is best.
Jerome's bible, Faustus; view it well.
Stipendium peccati mors est: ha! stipendium, &c.
The reward of sin is death: that's hard.
Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis
If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and
there is no truth in us.
Why then belike we must sin,
And so consequently die.
Aye, we must die an everlasting death.
What doctrine call you this? Che, sera, sera :
What will be, shall be; divinity adieu.
These metaphysics of magicians,
And necromantic books, are heavenly.
Lines, circles, letters, characters:
Aye, these are those that Faustus most desires.
O what a world of profit and delight,
Of power, of honour, and omnipotence,
Is promised to the studious artizan !
All things that move between the quiet poles
Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings
Are but obey'd in their several provinces ;
But his dominion that exceeds in this,
Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man:
A sound magician is a demigod.
Here tire my brains to get a deity.
Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends,
The German Valdes, and Cornelius :
Request them earnestly to visit me.
FAUST. Their conference will be a greater help to
Than all my labours, plod I ne'er so fast.
Enter a GooD and BAD ANGEL..
GOOD ANG. O Faustus! lay that damned book
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.
BAD ANG. Go forward, Faustus, in that famous
Wherein all nature's treasure is contain'd.
Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky,
|
