For that I know your friendship is unfeign'd, And Faustus' custom is not to deny

The just requests of those that wish him well You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece,

No otherways for pomp and majesty

Than when Sir Paris cross'd the seas with her,

And brought the spoils to rich Dardania. Be silent, then, for danger is in words. [Music sounds, and Helen passeth over the stage]

Sec. Schol. Too simple is my wit to tell her praise,

Whom all the world admires for majesty. Third Schol. No marvel though the angry Greeks pursu'd

With ten years' war the rape of such a queen, Whose heavenly beauty passeth all compare.

First Schol. Since we have seen the pride of Nature's works,

And only paragon of excellence,

Let us depart; and for this glorious deed Happy and blest be Faustus evermore! Faust. Gentlemen, farewell: the same I wish to you. [Exeunt Scholars.

Enter an Old Man

Old Man. Ah, Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail

To guide thy steps unto the way of life, By which sweet path thou mayst attain the goal

That shall conduct thee to celestial rest! Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears,

Tears falling from repentant heaviness
Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness,
The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul
With such flagitious crimes of heinous sin
As no commiseration may expel,

But mercy, Faustus, of thy Saviour sweet, Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt.

Faust. Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done?

Damn'd art thou, Faustus, damn'd; despair and die!

Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice Says, "Faustus, come; thine hour is almost come";

And Faustus now will come to do thee right. [Mephistophilis gives him a dagger. Old Man. Ah, stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps!

I see an angel hovers o'er thy head,
And, with a vial full of precious grace,
Offers to pour the same into thy soul:
Then call for mercy, and avoid despair.
Faust. Ah, my sweet friend, I feel
Thy words to comfort my distressed soul!
Leave me a while to ponder on my sins.
Old Man. I go, sweet Faustus; but with
heavy cheer,

Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul.

Faust. Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord

To pardon my unjust presumption,
And with my blood again I will confirm
My former vow I made to Lucifer.

Meph. Do it, then, quickly, with unfeigned heart,

Lest greater danger do attend thy drift. Faust. Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age,

That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer,
With greatest torments that our hell affords.
Meph. His faith is great; I cannot touch his
soul;

But what I may afflict his body with
I will attempt, which is but little worth.
Faust. One thing, good servant, let me
crave of thee,

To glut the longing of my heart's desire,—
That I might have unto my paramour
That heavenly Helen which I saw of late,
Whose sweet embracings may extinguish
clean

Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my

Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!

Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.

I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sack'd;
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colors on my plumed crest;
Yes, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appear'd to hapless Semele;
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms;
And none but thou shalt be my paramour!
[Exeunt.

That from thy soul exclud'st the grace of heaven,

And fly'st the throne of his tribunal-seat!
Enter Devils

Satan begins to sift me with his pride:
As in this furnace God shall try my faith,
My faith, vile hell, shall triumph over thee,
Ambitious fiends, see how the heavens smile
At your repulse, and laugh your state to
scorn!

Hence, hell! for hence I fly unto my God. [Exeunt on one side, Devils, on the other, Old Man.

Enter FAUSTUS, with Scholars

Faust. Ah, gentlemen!

First Schol. What ails Faustus? Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee, then had I lived still! but now I die eternally. Look, comes he not? comes he not?

Sec. Schol. What means Faustus? Third Schol. Belike he is grown into some sickness by being over-solitary.

First Schol. If it be so, we'll have physicians to cure him.-'Tis but a surfeit; never fear, man.

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

:

Sec. Schol. Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven; remember God's mercies are infinite. Faust. But Faustus' offence can ne'er be pardoned the serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. Ah, gentlemen, hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches! Though my heart pants and quivers to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years, O, would I had never seen Wertenberg, never read book! and what wonders I have done, all Germany can witness, yea, all the world; for which Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world, yea, heaven itself, heaven, the seat of God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy; and must remain in hell for ever, hell, ah, hell, for ever! Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus, being in hell for ever?

Third Schol. Yet, Faustus, call on God.
Faust.

On God, whom Faustus hath abjured! on God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed! Ah, my God, I would weep! but the devil draws in my tears. Gush forth blood, instead of tears! yea,

Faust. God forbade it, indeed; but Faustus hath done it: for vain pleasure of twenty-four years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own blood; the date is expired; the time will come, and he will fetch me. First Schol. Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, that divines might have prayed for thee?

Faust. Oft have I thought to have done so; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces, if I named God, to fetch both body and soul, if I once gave ear to divinity and now 'tis too late. Gentlemen, away, lest you perish with me. Sec. Schol. O, what shall we do 'to save Faustus?

Faust. Talk not of me, but save yourselves, and depart.

Third Schol. God will strengthen me; I will stay with Faustus.

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

Faust. Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever ye hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. Sec. Schol. Pray thou, and we will pray that God may have mercy upon thee. Faust. Gentlemen, farewell: if I live till morning, I'll visit you; if not, Faustus is gone to hell. All. Faustus, farewell.

[Exeunt Scholars-The clock strikes eleven. Faust. Ah, Faustus.

Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,
And then thou must be damn'd 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 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.

O, I'll leap up to my God!-Who pulls me down?

See, see, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!

One drop would save my soul, half a drop: ah, my Christ!

Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ!

Yet will I call on him: O, spare me, Lucifer!

Where is it now? 'tis gone: and see, where God

Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows!

Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall

on me,

And hide me from the heavy wrath of God!
No, No!

Then will I headlong run into the earth:
Earth, gape! O, no, it will not harbor me!
You stars that reign'd at my nativity,
Whose influence hath allotted death and hell
Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist,
Into the entrails of yon laboring clouds,
That, when you vomit forth into the air,
My limbs may issue from your smoky
mouths,

So that my soul may but ascend to heaven! [The clock strikes the half-hour. Ah, half the hour is past! 'twill all be past

anon.

O God,

If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul, Yet for Christ's sake, whose blood hath ransom'd me,

Impose some end to my incessant pain;
Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years,
A hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd.
O, no end is limited to damned souls!
Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul?
Or why is this immortal that thou hast?
Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that
true,

This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd

Unto some brutish beast! all beasts are happy, For, when they die,

Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements; But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell. Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me! No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven.

[The clock strikes twelve. O, it strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air,

Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell!

[Thunder and lightning. O soul, be chang'd into little water-drops, And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found!

Enter Devils

My God, my God, look not so fierce on me!
Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while!
Ugly hell, gape not! come not, Lucifer!
I'll burn my books!-Ah, Mephistophilis!
[Exeunt Devils with Faustus.

Enter Chorus

Chor. 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 fiend ful 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.

[Exit. Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus

SELECTIONS FROM TAMBURLAINE

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

1. The Will to Power

Meander (to the Persian Prince). Your majesty shall shortly have your wish, And ride in triumph through Persepolis. [Exeunt all except Tamburlaine and his

three Captains.

Tamb. And ride in triumph through Persepolis!-

Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles!-
Usumcasane and Theridamas,

Is it not passing brave to be a king,
And ride in triumph through Persepolis?
Tech. O, my lord, it is sweet and full of
pomp!

Usum. To be a king, is half to be a god.
Ther. A god is not so glorious as a king:
I think the pleasure they enjoy in heaven,
Cannot compare with kingly joys in earth;-
To wear a crown enchas'd with pearl and
gold,

Whose virtues carry with it life and death;
To ask and have, command and be obey'd;
When looks breed love, with looks to gain
the prize,

Such power attractive shines in princes'

eyes.

Tamb. Why, say, Theridamas, wilt thou be a king?

Tamburlaine (to the Persian Prince, whom he has conquered). The thirst of reign and sweetness of a crown,

That caus'd the eldest son of heavenly Ops To thrust his doting father from his chair, And place himself in the empyreal heaven, Mov'd me to manage arms against thy state. What better precedent than mighty Jove? Nature, that fram'd us of four elements Warring within our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds: Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's

course,

Still climbing after knowledge infinite,
And always moving as the restless spheres,
Will us to wear ourselves, and never rest,
Until we reach the ripest fruit of all,
That perfect bliss and sole felicity,
The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
[From Act II, Sc. vii.]

3. In Praise of Beauty

Ah, fair Zenocrate!-divine Zenocrate!
Fair is too foul an epithet for thee,-
That in thy passion for thy country's love,
And fear to see thy kingly father's harm,
With hair dishevel'd wip'st thy watery
cheeks;

And, like to Flora in her morning's pride,
Shaking her silver tresses in the air,

Rain'st on the earth resolved pearl in show

ers,

And sprinklest sapphires on thy shining face,

Where Beauty, mother to the Muses, sits,
And comments volumes with her ivory pen,
Taking instructions from thy flowing eyes;
Eyes, when that Ebena steps to heaven,
In silence of thy solemn evening's walk,
Making the mantle of the richest night,
The moon, the planets, and the meteors,
light;

There angels in their crystal armors fight
A doubtful battle with my tempted thoughts
For Egypt's freedom and the Soldan's life,
His life that so consumes Zenocrate;
Whose sorrows lay more siege unto my soul
Than all my army to Damascus' walls;
And neither Persia's sovereign nor the Turk
Troubled my senses with conceit of foil
So much by much as doth Zenocrate.
What is beauty, saith my sufferings, then?
If all the pens that ever poets held

Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts,

And every sweetness that inspir'd their hearts,

Their minds, and muses on admired themes;
If all the heavenly quintessence they still
From their immortal flowers of poesy,
Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive
The highest reaches of a human wit;
If these had made one poem's period,
And all combin'd in beauty's worthiness,
Yet should there hover in their restless heads
One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the
least,

Which into words no virtue can digest.
But how unseemly is it for my sex,
My discipline of arms and chivalry,
My nature, and the terror of my name,
Te harbor thoughts effeminate and faint!
Save only that in beauty's just applause,
With whose instinct the soul of man is
touched;

And every warrior that is rapt with love
Of fame, of valor, and of victory,
Must needs have beauty beat on his conceits:

I thus conceiving, and subduing both, That which hath stoop'd the chiefest of the gods,

Even from the fiery-spangled veil of heaven, To feel the lovely warmth of shepherds' flames,

And mask in cottages of strowed reeds,
Shall give the world to note, for all my birth,
That virtue solely is the sum of glory,
And fashions men with true nobility.-
[From Act V, Sc. i.]

"ALL KNOWLEDGE TO BE MY PROVINCE"
FRANCIS BACON

[A Letter to Lord Chancellor Burghley]

MY LORD-With as much confidence as mine own honest and faithful devotion unto your service and your honorable correspondence unto me and my poor estate can breed in a man, do I commend myself unto your Lordship. I wax now somewhat ancient; one and thirty years is a great deal of sand in the hour glass. My health, I thank God, I find confirmed; and I do not fear that action shall impair it, because I account my ordinary course of study and meditation to be more painful than most parts of action are. I ever bare a mind (in some middle place that I could discharge) to serve her majesty, not as a man born under Sol, that loveth honor; nor under Jupiter, that loveth business (for the contemplative planet carrieth me away wholly); but as a man born under an excellent sovereign, that deserveth the dedication of all men's abilities. Besides, I do not find in myself so much self-love, but that the greater parts of my thoughts are to deserve well (if I be able) of my friends, and namely of your Lordship; who, being the Atlas of this commonwealth, the honor of my house, and the second founder of my poor estate, I am tied by all duties, both of a good patriot and of an unworthy kinsman, and of an obliged servant, to employ whatsoever I am to do you service. Again, the meanness of my estate doth somewhat move me: for, though I cannot accuse myself that I am either prodigal or slothful, yet my health is not to spend, nor my course to get.

Lastly, I confess that I have as vast contemplative ends as I have moderate civil ends: for I have taken all knowledge to be my province; and if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, whereof the one with frivolous disputations, confutations, and verbosi