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Masters ungrateful servants rear from naught,
And then they hate them that did bring them up.

The Painter enters.

Pain. God bless you, sir.

Hier. Wherefore? why, thou scornful villain ?
How, where, or by what means should I be blest ?

Isa. What wouldst thou have, good fellow?
Pain. Justice, madam.

Hier. O ambitious beggar, wouldst thou have that
That lives not in the world?
Why, all the undelved mines cannot buy
An ounce of justice, 'tis a jewel so inestimable.
I tell thee, God hath engrossed all justice in His hands,
And there is none but what comes from Him.
Pain. O then I see that God must right me for my

murdered son.
Hier. How, was thy son murdered ?
Pain. Ay, sir; no man did hold a son so dear.

Hier. What, not as thine ? that's a lie,
As massy as the earth : I had a son,
Whose least unvalued hair did weigh
A thousand of thy sons, and he was murdered.

Pain. Alas, sir, I had no more but he.

Hier. Nor I, nor I; but this same one of mine
Was worth a legion.

But all is one.
Pedro, Jaques, go in a doors; Isabella, go,
And this good fellow here, and I,
Will

range this hideous orchard up and down,
Like two she-lions, 'reaved of their young.
Go in a doors, I say.

[Exeunt.

Christopher Marlowe.

THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND DEATH

OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS.

(1589.)

How Faustus fell to the study of Magic.
... Born of parents base of stock
In Germany, within a town called Rhodes :
At riper years to Wirtemberg he went,
Whereat his kinsmen chiefly brought him up.
So much he profits in Divinity,
That shortly he was graced with Doctor's name,
Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute
In the heavenly matters of theology:
Till, swol'n with cunning and a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And melting, Heaven 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.

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The Death of Faustus.

Faustus alone. The clock strikes eleven.

Faust. O Faustus,
Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,
And then thou must be damned 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 put
A year, a month, a week, a natural day,
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 damned !
Oh, I will leap to heaven !-who pulls me down?
See where Christ's blood streams in the firmament:
One drop of blood will save me; O my Christ,
Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ.
Yet will I call on Him: oh, spare me, Lucifer.
Where is it now? 'tis gone !
And see, a threat’ning arm,

and
angry

brow!
Mountains and hills, come, come and fall on me,
And hide me from the heavy wrath of Heaven !
No? then I will headlong run into the earth :
Gape, earth! Oh, no, it will not harbour me.
You stars that reigned at my nativity,
Whose influence have allotted death and hell,
Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist
Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud;
That when you vomit forth into the air,
My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths ;
But let my soul mount, and ascend to heaven.

[The watch 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,
A hundred thousand, and at the last be saved :

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 changed
Into some brutish beast.
All beasts are happy, for when they die,
Their souls are soon dissolved in elements;
But mine must live still, to be plagued in hell.
Cursed be the parents that engendered me !-
No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer,
That hath deprived 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 changed into small water-drops,
And fall into the ocean; ne'er be found.

Thunder, and enter the Devils.

O mercy Heaven, look not so fierce on me!
Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile :
Ugly hell, gape not: come not, Lucifer :
I'll burn my books : 0 Mephistophilis !

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First Sch. 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 eard ! Pray Heaven the Doctor have escaped the danger.

Sec. Sch. O help us, Heavens !--see, here are Faustus’

limbs, All torn asunder by the hand of Death! Third Sch. The devil, whom Faustus served, hath torn

him thus :
For 'twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought
I heard him shriek, and call aloud for help;
At which same time the house seemed all on fire
With dreadful horror of these damned fiends.

Sec. Sch. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be such As every

Christian heart laments to think on:
Yet for he was a scholar once admired
For wondrous knowledge in our German schools,
We'll give his mangled limbs due burial :
And all the scholars, clothed 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:
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.

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