Online Library of Liberty: The Works of Christopher Marlowe vol. 1 Portable Library of Liberty

[Music, while a throne descends.
In what resplendent glory thou hadst sit
In yonder throne, like those bright-shining saints,
And triuinph'd over hell! That hast thou lost;
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And now, poor soul, must thy good angel leave thee:
The jaws of hell are open to receive thee.
[Exit. The throne ascends.
E
VIL
A
NG
.
Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with horror stare
[Hell is discovered.
Into that vast perpetual torture-house:
There are the furies tossing damngd souls
On burning forks; there bodies boil in lead;
There are live quarters broiling on the coals,
That ne'er can die; this ever-burning chair
Is for o'er-tortured 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.
F
AUST
.
0, I have seen enough to torture me!
E
VIL
A
NG
.
Nay, thou must feel them, taste the smart of all:
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.
At the close of SCENE XVI. in ed. 1616 follows a scene which I suppose to have been
written by Marlowe:—
Enter Scholars.
F
IRST
S
CHOL
.
Come, gentlemen, let us go visit 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.
S
EC
. S
CHOL
.
O help us, Heaven! see, here are Faustus'
limbs, All torn asunder by the hand of death!
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T
HIRD
S
CHOL
.
The devils whom Faustus serv'd havt torn him thus;
For, 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought,
I heard him shriek and call aloud for help;
At which self time the house seem'd all on fire
With dreadful horror of these damned fiends.
S
EC
. S
CHOL
.
Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be such
As every Christian heart laments to think on,
Yet, for he was a scholar once adrmVd
For wondrous knowledge in our German schools,
We'll give his mangled limbs due burial;
And all the students, cloth'd in mourning black,
Shalt wait upon his heavy funeral.
[Exeunt.
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[Back to Table of Contents]
BALLAD OF FAUSTUS.
“A ballad of the life and death of Doctor Faustus the great con-gerer,” perhaps
founded on Marlowe's play, was licensed to be printed 28th February 1588-9. It was
perhaps the ballad printed below from the Roxburghe Collection.
The judgment of God shewed upon one John Faustus, Doctor in Divinity.
Tuneof Fortune my Foe.
All Christian men, give ear a while to me,
How I am plung'd in pain, but cannot die:
I liv'd a life the like did none before,
Forsaking Christ, and I am damn'd therefore.
At Wittenburge, a town in Germany,
There was I born and bred of good degree;
Of honest stock, which afterwards I sham'd;
Accurst therefore, for Faustus was I nam'd.
In learning, loe, my uncle brought up me,
And made me Doctor in Divinity;
And, when he dy'd, he left me all his wealth,
Whose cursèd gold did hinder my souls health.
Then did I shun the holy Bible-book,
Nor on Gods word would ever after look;
But studied accursèd conjuration,
Which was the cause of my utter damnation.
The devil in fryars weeds appeared to me,
And straight to my request he did agree,
That I might have all things at my desire:
I gave him soul and body for his hire.
Twice did I make my tender flesh to bleed,
Twice with my blood I wrote the devils deed,
Twice wretchedly I soul and body sold,
To live in peace
1
and do what things I would.
For four and twenty years this bond was made,
And at the length my soul was truly paid!
Time ran away, and yet I never thought
How dear my soul our Saviour Christ had bought.
Wouldf I Hi first been made a beast by kind!
Then had not I so vainly set my mind;
Or would, when reason first began to bloom,
Some darksome den had been my deadly tomb!
Woe to the day of my nativity!
Woe to the time that once did foster me!
And woe unto the hand that seal'd the bill!
Woe to myself, the cause of all my ill!
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The time I passed away, with much delight,
Mongst princes, peers, and many a worthy knight:
I wrought such wonders by my magick skill,
That all the world may talk of Faustus still.
The devil he carried me up into the sky,
Where I did see how all the world did lie;
I went about the world in eight daies space,
And then return'd unto my native place.
What pleasure I did wish to please my mind
He did perform, as bond and seal did bind;
The secrets of the stars and planets told,
Of earth and sea, with wonders manifold.
When four and twenty years was almost run,
I thought of all things that was past and done;
How that the devil would soon claim his right,
And carry me to everlasting night.
Then all too late I curst my wicked deed,
The dread
1
whereof doth make my heart to bleed;
All daies and hours I mourned wondrous sore,
Repenting me of all things done before.
I then did wish both sun and moon to stay,
All times and seasons never to decay;
Then had my time nere come to dated end,
Nor soul and body down to hell descend.
At last, when I had but one hour to come,
I turn'd my glass, for my last hour to run,
And call'd in learned men to comfort me;
But faith was gone, and none could comfort me.
By twelve a clock my glass was almost out:
My grieved conscience then began to doubt;
I wisht the students stay in chamber by; But,
as they staid, they heard a dreadful cry.
Then present, lo,
1
they came into the hall,
Whereas my brains was cast against the wall;
Both arms and legs in pieces torn they see,
My bowels gone: this was an end of me.
You conjurers and damned witches all,
Example take by my unhappy fall:
Give not your souls and bodies unto hell,
See that the smallest hair you do not sell.
But hope that Christ his kingdom you may gain,
Where you shalt never fear such mortal pain;
Forsake the devil and all his crafty ways,
Embrace true faith that never more decays.