Act 3 — Act III

Scene I.—Faustus' study. Enter Wagner.

Wagner: I think my master means to die shortly. He has made his will, and given me his wealth, his house, his goods, and store of golden plate, besides two thousand ducats ready coined. I wonder what he means? If death were nigh, he would not frolic thus. He's now at supper with the scholars, where there's such cheer as Wagner in his life ne'er saw the like. Here he comes; belike the feast is ended.

[Exit. Enter Faustus; Mephistophilis follows.

Faustus: Accursed Faustus! Wretch, what hast thou done? I do repent, and yet I do despair. Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast; What shall I do to shun the snares of death?

Mephistophilis: Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul For disobedience to my sovereign lord! Revolt, or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh!

Faustus: I do repent I e'er offended him! Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord To pardon my unjust presumption; And with my blood again I will confirm The former vow I made to Lucifer.

Mephistophilis: Do it, then, Faustus, with unfeignéd heart, Lest greater dangers do attend thy drift.

Faustus: One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee: Bring that fair Helen, whose admiréd worth Made Greece with ten years' war afflict poor Troy; Whose sweet embraces may extinguish clean Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, And keep my oath I made to Lucifer.

Mephistophilis: This, or what else my Faustus may desire, Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye.

[Enter Helen, passing over the stage between two cupids.

Faustus: Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!

[Kisses her.

Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again! Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars: Brighter art thou than naming Jupiter, When he appeared to hapless Semele: More lovely than the monarch of the sky, In wanton Arethusa's azured arms! Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.

Scene II.—The same. Faustus. Enter Scholars.

First Scholar: Worthy Faustus, methinks your looks are changed!

Faustus: Oh, gentlemen!

Second Scholar: What ails Faustus?

Faustus: Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee, then I had lived still; but now must die eternally! Look, sirs; comes he not? Comes he not?

First Scholar: O my dear Faustus, what imports this fear?

Third Scholar: 'Tis but a surfeit, sir; fear nothing.

Faustus: A surfeit of deadly sin, that hath damned both body and soul.

Second Scholar: Yet, Faustus, look up to Heaven, and remember mercy is infinite.

Faustus: But Faustus' offence can ne'er be pardoned; the serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. He must remain in hell for ever; hell, Oh, hell for ever. Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus, being in hell for ever?

Second Scholar: Yet, Faustus, call on God.

Faustus: On God, whom Faustus hath abjured! On God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed! O my God, I would weep! But the Devil draws in my tears. Gush forth blood, instead of tears! Yea, life, and soul! Oh, he stays my tongue! I would lift up my hands; but see, they hold 'em, they hold 'em!

Scholars: Who, Faustus?

Faustus: Why, Lucifer and Mephistophilis. O gentlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning!

Second Scholar: Oh, what may we do to save Faustus?

Faustus: Talk not of me, but save yourselves and depart.

Third Scholar: God will strengthen me; I will stay with Faustus.

First Scholar: Tempt not God, sweet friend; but let us into the next room and pray for him.

Faustus: Aye, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me.

Second Scholar: Pray thou, and we will pray that God may have mercy on thee.

Faustus: Gentlemen, farewell. If I live till morning, I'll visit you; if not, Faustus is gone to hell.

Scholars: Faustus, farewell!

[Exeunt Scholars. The clock strikes eleven.

Faustus: Oh, 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 eyes, rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day; or let this hour be but 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 damn'd. Oh, I'll leap up 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 threatening arm, an angry brow! Mountains and hills, come, come and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of Heaven! No? Then will I headlong run into the earth; Gape, earth! Oh, no, it will not harbour me. Yon stars that reigned at my nativity, Whose influence hath 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 clock strikes the half hour.

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 pains; Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, A hundred thousand, and at last be saved! No end is limited to damnéd souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul, Or why is this immortal that thou hast? Oh, 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, and be plagued in hell. Curs'd be the parents that engender'd 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. Enter Devils.

Oh, 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. O Mephistophilis!

[Exeunt Devils with Faustus. Enter Chorus.

Chorus: Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned Apollo's laurel-bough, That sometime grew within this learnéd 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 practice more than heavenly power permits.

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