THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF

DOCTOR FAUSTUS

THE HONOURABLE HISTORY OF

FRIAR BACON AND FRIAR BUNGAY

Chorus. NOT marching now in fields of Thrasimene, Where Mars did mate the Carthaginians;

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, gentlemen,-we must perform
The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad:
To patient judgments we appeal our plaud,
And speak for Faustus in his infancy.
Now is he born, his parents base of stock,
In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes:
Of riper years, to Wittenberg he went,
Whereas his kinsmen chiefly brought him up.
So soon he profits in divinity,

The fruitful plot of scholarism grac'd,

That shortly he was grac'd with doctor's name,
Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes

B

In heavenly matters of theology;

Till swoln with cunning, of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow;
For, falling to a devilish exercise,

And glutted now with learning's golden gifts,
He surfeits upon cursèd 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.

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Faust.

SCENE I. Faustus's study.

FAUSTUS discovered.

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[Exit.

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.

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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,

Seeing, Ubi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus:

Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold,

And be eterniz'd for some wondrous cure!
Summum bonum medicinae sanitas:

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The end of physic is our body's health.
Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end?
Is not thy common talk found aphorisms?
Are not thy bills hung up as monuments,
Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague,
And thousand desp'rate maladies been eas'd?
Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.
Couldst thou make men to live eternally,

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Or, being dead, raise them to life again,
Then this profession were to be esteem'd.
Physic, farewell! Where is Justinian?

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[Reads.

Si una eademque res legatur duobus, alter rem, alter valorem

rei, etc.

A pretty case of paltry legacies!

Exbaereditare filium non potest pater, nisi, etc.

Such is the subject of the institute,

And universal body of the law:
His 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, etc.
The reward of sin is death: that's hard.

[Reads.

Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis veritas: 40
If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and
there's no truth in us.

Why, then, belike we must sin, and so consequently die:
Ay, 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,

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And necromantic books are heavenly;

Lines, circles, scenes, letters, and characters;

Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires.

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O, what a world of profit and delight,
Of power, of honour, of omnipotence,

!

Is promis'd to the studious artizan!

All things that move between the quiet poles
Shall be at my command: emperors and kings
Are but obeyed in their several provinces,

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Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds;
But his dominion that exceeds in this,

Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man;

A sound magician is a mighty god:

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Here, Faustus, tire thy brains to gain a deity!