Dr. Faustus | Page 7

I should kill one of them, what would folks say? "Do ye see yonder tall fellow in the round slop? he has killed the devil." So I should be called Kill-devil all the parish over.
Enter two DEVILS; and the CLOWN runs up and down crying.
WAGNER. Baliol and Belcher,--spirits, away! [Exeunt DEVILS.]
CLOWN. What, are they gone? a vengeance on them! they have vile long nails. There was a he-devil and a she-devil: I'll tell you how you shall know them; all he-devils has horns, and all she-devils has clifts and cloven feet.
WAGNER. Well, sirrah, follow me.
CLOWN. But, do you hear? if I should serve you, would you teach me to raise up Banios and Belcheos?
WAGNER. I will teach thee to turn thyself to any thing, to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or any thing.
CLOWN. How! a Christian fellow to a dog, or a cat, a mouse, or a rat! no, no, sir; if you turn me into any thing, let it be in the likeness of a little pretty frisking flea, that I may be here and there and every where: O, I'll tickle the pretty wenches' plackets! I'll be amongst them, i'faith.
WAGNER. Well, sirrah, come.
CLOWN. But, do you hear, Wagner?
WAGNER. How!--Baliol and Belcher!
CLOWN. O Lord! I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep.
WAGNER. Villain, call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be diametarily fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigiis nostris insistere. [Exit.]
CLOWN. God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian. Well, I'll follow him; I'll serve him, that's flat. [Exit.]
FAUSTUS discovered in his study.
FAUSTUS. Now, Faustus, must Thou needs be damn'd, and canst thou not be sav'd: What boots it, then, to think of God or heaven? Away with such vain fancies, and despair; Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub: Now go not backward; no, Faustus, be resolute: Why waver'st thou? O, something soundeth in mine ears, "Abjure this magic, turn to God again!" Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again. To God? he loves thee not; The god thou serv'st is thine own appetite, Wherein is fix'd the love of Belzebub: To him I'll build an altar and a church, And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes.
Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL.
GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art.
FAUSTUS. Contrition, prayer, repentance--what of them?
GOOD ANGEL. O, they are means to bring thee unto heaven!
EVIL ANGEL. Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy, That make men foolish that do trust them most.
GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, think of heaven and heavenly things.
EVIL ANGEL. No, Faustus; think of honour and of wealth. [Exeunt ANGELS.]
FAUSTUS. Of wealth! Why, the signiory of Embden shall be mine. When Mephistophilis shall stand by me, What god can hurt thee, Faustus? thou art safe Cast no more doubts.--Come, Mephistophilis, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer;-- Is't not midnight?--come, Mephistophilis, Veni, veni, Mephistophile!
Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS.
Now tell me what says Lucifer, thy lord?
MEPHIST. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives, So he will buy my service with his soul.
FAUSTUS. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee.
MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood; For that security craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to hell.
FAUSTUS. Stay, Mephistophilis, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord?
MEPHIST. Enlarge his kingdom.
FAUSTUS. Is that the reason why he tempts us thus?
MEPHIST. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.
FAUSTUS. Why, have you any pain that torture others!
MEPHIST. As great as have the human souls of men. But, tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul? And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee, And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask.
FAUSTUS. Ay, Mephistophilis, I give it thee.
MEPHIST. Then, Faustus, stab thine arm courageously, And bind thy soul, that at some certain day Great Lucifer may claim it as his own; And then be thou as great as Lucifer.
FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night! View here the blood that trickles from mine arm, And let it be propitious for my wish.
MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must Write it in manner of a deed of gift.
FAUSTUS. Ay, so I will [Writes]. But, Mephistophilis, My blood congeals, and I can write no more.
MEPHIST. I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. [Exit.]
FAUSTUS. What might the staying of my blood portend? Is it unwilling I should write this bill? Why streams it not, that I may write afresh? FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL: ah, there it stay'd! Why shouldst thou not? is not thy soul shine own? Then write again, FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL.
Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with a chafer of