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Title: The Life and Death of Doctor Faustus Made into a Farce

Author: William Mountfort
        Christopher Marlowe

Editor: Anthony Kaufman

Release date: September 14, 2011 [eBook #37422]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Katie Hernandez, Joseph Cooper
        and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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Produced by Chris Curnow, Katie Hernandez, Joseph Cooper
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To H. T. Swedenberg,
Junior _founder_, _protector_, _friend_

[Illustration: _He that delights to_ Plant _and_ Set, _Makes_ After-Ages
_in his_ Debt.]

    Where could they find another formed so fit,
    To poise, with solid sense, a sprightly wit?
    Were these both wanting, as they both abound,
    Where could so firm integrity be found?


The verse and emblem are from George Wither, _A Collection of Emblems,
Ancient and Modern_ (London, 1635), illustration xxxv, page 35.

The lines of poetry (123-126) are from "To My Honoured Kinsman John
Driden," in John Dryden, _The Works of John Dryden_, ed. Sir Walter
Scott, rev. and corr. George Saintsbury (Edinburgh: William Patterson,
1885), xi, 78.


THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

WILLIAM MOUNTFORT

The LIFE and DEATH of _Doctor Faustus_ Made into a FARCE

(1697)

_Introduction by_ ANTHONY KAUFMAN

PUBLICATION NUMBER 157

WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES

1973




GENERAL EDITORS

    William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
    George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles
    Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles
    David S. Rodes, University of California, Los Angeles


ADVISORY EDITORS

    Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan
    James L. Clifford, Columbia University
    Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia
    Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles
    Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago
    Louis A. Landa, Princeton University
    Earl Miner, Princeton University
    Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota
    Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles
    Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
    James Sutherland, University College, London
    H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles
    Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
    Carl A. Zimansky, State University of Iowa


CORRESPONDING SECRETARY

Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library


EDITORIAL ASSISTANT

Jean T. Shebanek, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library

Typography by Wm. M. Cheney




INTRODUCTION


According to "Some Account of the Life of Mr. W. Mountfort" prefixed to
the collected plays of 1720, William Mountfort, successful playwright
and actor, was born "the Son of Captain _Mountfort_, a Gentleman of a
good Family in _Staffordshire_; and he spent the greatest Part of his
Younger Years in that County, without being bred up to any Employment."
Since "his Gaiety of Temper and Airy Disposition ... could not be easily
restrain'd to the solitary Amusements of a Rural Life,"[1] he set out to
make his fortune in London, and was employed by the Duke's Company at
the Dorset Garden Theater. First notice of him appears in the part of
the "boy" in _The Counterfeits_, attributed to John Leanerd, and
produced in May, 1678.[2]

Mountfort was to win notice as an actor in the part of Talboy in Brome's
_The Jovial Crew_, where as a rejected lover he was called upon for
storms of comic tears. In his _Apology_, Cibber praises Mountfort in
this part: "in his Youth, he had acted Low Humour, with great Success,
even down to _Tallboy_ in the _Jovial Crew_"[3] and Mountfort himself
alluded to his early success in the prologue to his first play, _The
Injured Lovers_, where he defies the critics: "True Talboy to the last
I'll Cry and Write."

Mountfort scored his first major success as an actor when he played the
title role in Crowne's _Sir Courtly Nice_. The play's popularity owed
much to Mountfort's acting of a part which recalls Etherege's Sir
Fopling Flutter. The "Account" of 1720 says that Mountfort "gain'd a
great and deserved Reputation, as a Player; particularly in Acting the
part of Sir _Courtly Nice_," and Cibber, who was later to create the
great Sir Novelty Fashion, says of Mountfort's Sir Courtly:

     There his whole Man, Voice, Mien, and Gesture, was no longer
     _Monfort_, but another Person. There, the insipid, soft
     Civility, the elegant, and formal Mien; the drawling delicacy
     of Voice, the stately Flatness of his Address, and the empty
     Eminence of his Attitudes were ... nicely observ'd.... If, some
     Years after the Death of _Monfort_, I my self had any Success,
     in either of these Characters, I must pay the Debt I owe to his
     Memory, in confessing the Advantages I receiv'd from the just
     Idea, and strong Impression he had given me, from his action
     them (_Apology_, p. 76).

In 1686, Mountfort married one of the attractive young actresses then
appearing in London, Susanna Percival, and the Mountforts appeared
together in a number of plays until his untimely death.

Mountfort brought his first play, _The Injured Lovers_: or, _The
Ambitious Father_, a tragedy, to be acted at Drury Lane early in
February, 1688. The play was not a great success. Gildon mentions that
it "did not succeed as the Author wish'd,"[4] although the play was
brilliantly cast, with Betterton, Mrs. Bracegirdle, and Mrs. Barry in
chief parts. Mountfort himself played second lead to Betterton, and the
comedians Leigh, Jevon, and Underhill appeared in boisterous roles. But
this rather extravagant account of passion and thwarted love did not
take. Such lines as the heroine's "Thy _Antelina_, she shall be the Pile
On which I'll burn, and as I burn I'll smile," reveals an uncertain
poetic talent. In the prologue Mountfort manages more wit:

    JO. _Hayne's Fate is now become my Share,
    For I'm a Poet, Marry'd, and a Player:
    The greatest of these Curses is the First;
    As for the latter Two, I know the worst ..._

And of the play's fate:

    _Damn it who will, Damn me, I'll write again;
    Clap down each Thought, nay, more than I can think,
    Ruin my Family in Pen and Ink.
    And tho' my Heart should burst to see your Spite,
    True Talboy to the last, I'll Cry and Write...._

Unsuccessful at tragedy, Mountfort moved to surer ground, and if tragedy
did not sell on the market of the 1680's, farce was surefire.
Mountfort's _The Life and Death of Doctor Faustus, Made into a Farce ...
with the Humours of Harlequin and Scaramouche_, is a most interesting
example of Restoration farce. The Queen's Theater in Dorset Garden was
well-fitted for stage spectacle and effect, and Mountfort took advantage
of his knowledge of the stage and the contemporary audience to produce
an amusing and popular hit. The play was revived in 1697, five years
after Mountfort's death, and again in 1724, at a time when, as Borgman
tells us (p. 39), _The Injured Lovers_ had been long forgotten.

Mountfort continued his acting career with great success; he was one of
twenty-two men and six women who, on 12 January 1688, were given the
position of "Comoedians in Ordinary" to King James, and he acted in a
variety of plays, including Shadwell's _The Squire of Alsatia_, in May,
1688, and _Bury Fair_, in April, 1689. In Dryden's _Don Sebastian_,
produced in December, 1689, he played the young and noble Don Antonio,
described as "the wittiest Woman's toy in Portugal." Although Mountfort
was best known for comic roles, he scored a success as Alexander in
Nathaniel Lee's _The Rival Queens_, January, 1690. Cibber says of his
Alexander:

     In Tragedy he was the most affecting Lover within my Memory.
     His Addresses had a resistless Recommendation from the very
     Tone of his Voice ... All this he particularly verify'd in that
     Scene of _Alexander_, where the Heroe throws himself at the
     Feet of _Statira_ for Pardon of his past Infidelities. There we
     saw the Great, the Tender, the Penitent, the Despairing, the
     Transported, and the Amiable, in the highest Perfection
     (_Apology_, pp. 74-75).

Mountfort's third play was acted in January, 1690, although it may have
been produced as early as December of the previous year. _The Successful
Strangers_, a tragi-comedy, was based on a novel by Scarron, _The Rival
Brothers_. In his Preface, Mountfort confesses, "_I am no Scholar, which
renders me incapable of stealing from Greek and Latin Authors, as the
better Learned have done_". The play was a success; its combination of
comedy and tragedy appealed to the town, and it was revived several
times in the early eighteenth century.

As Borgman notes (p. 80), Mountfort's acting career peaked in the season
of 1690-1691, when he acted nine new roles, eight of which were leads.
He also prepared a comedy of his own, _Greenwich Park_, and assisted in
the writing or preparation of three other plays. He assisted Settle with
_Distress'd Innocence_, and his name is linked with two plays by John
Bancroft, _Edward III_ and _Henry the Second_, although his contribution
here, if any, is uncertain. The publishers of the collected plays of
1720 note that "we have annex'd, _King Edward the Third_, and _Henry the
Second_; which tho' not wholly composed by him, it is presum'd he had,
at least, a Share in fitting them for the Stage, otherwise it cannot be
supposed he would have taken the Liberty of Writing Dedications to
them." Borgman says of these plays that Mountfort "doubtless scanned the
script with a critical eye and made such changes as would seem necessary
to an experienced man of the theater" (p. 90).

In _Greenwich Park_, Mountfort scored his greatest success. The comedy
is a hilarious mixture of the comedy of manners, humours, and farce. The
prologue sounds the dominant motif of the play, that of satiric and
energetic sex-intrigue: "At Greenwich lies the Scene, where many a Lass
Has bin Green-gown'd upon the tender Grass." The play hits wittily at
fortune-hunters, cits, and old fellows who attempt to ignore their age.
There is heavy reference to the contemporary London scene. The comedy
was produced in April, 1691, with great success; Gildon says of it: "a
very pretty Comedy, and has been always received with general Applause"
(_Lives and Characters_, p. 102). The gay and witty Florella was played
by Mrs. Mountfort--who played a part very much like that in which she
was so successful previously, Sir Anthony Love. Mrs. Barry played the
passionate Dorinda, a promiscuous and mercenary woman who, at one point
in the play, cries out in the best tradition of sentimental comedy: "Oh
what a Curse 'tis, when for filthy Gain We affect a Pleasure in a real
Pain." Sir Thomas Reveller, the heavy but comic father, was played by
Leigh; Nokes and Underhill played comic cits, and Mountfort himself
played opposite his wife as Young Reveller. The play was revived
repeatedly, and remains a delightful work.

Mountfort's best part of his last year came in December, 1691, when he
played the hilarious lout, Mr. Friendall, of Southerne's _The Wives'
Excuse_. The play is good comedy, but quite serious, as Southerne
focuses on the distress of an intelligent, sensitive woman, saddled with
a foolish husband who is the perfect representative of a frivolous and
malicious society. On Friday, 2 December 1692, Mountford acted what must
have been his final role, Alexander in _The Rival Queens_.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mountfort's life ended at the height of his fame, in the most
spectacular and dramatic murder of its time. The notorious Lord Mohun,
then age fifteen, frequented the playhouse in 1692, often in the company
of Captain Richard Hill, age twenty. Hill hoped to win the affections of
Anne Bracegirdle, known not only for her beauty and acting ability, but
also for her chastity--supposedly a scarce virtue among the actresses of
the time. In _A Comparison between the Two Stages_, the following
dialogue takes place:

     _Sullen_: But does that _Romantick Virgin_ [Bracegirdle] still
     keep up her great Reputation?

     _Critick_: D'ye mean her Reputation for Acting?

     _Sullen_: I mean her Reputation for not acting; you understand
     me--....[5]

Hill, making no headway with Mrs. Bracegirdle, concluded that she was in
fact interested in Mountfort; they had often appeared on the stage
together. More than once Hill was heard to utter threats against the
actor, although Mohun was apparently on friendly terms with Mountfort
Hill, determined to abduct the actress, persuaded Mohun to be his
accomplice. They set Friday, 9 December 1692, as the date, and about ten
o'clock in the evening, accompanied by some soldiers under Hill's
command, they ambushed Mrs. Bracegirdle, her mother and her brother,
Hamlet Bracegirdle, along with a man named Page, in Drury Lane. The
actress's mother and Mr. Page fended the villains off for a time, in a
moment a crowd gathered, and the would-be kidnappers saw that their plan
was useless. Hill escorted the actress home and after having muttered a
threat at Mr. Page proceeded to pace up and down outside their door.
Approximately an hour and a half later, Mountfort appeared in Howard
Street--apparently intent on confronting Hill and Mohun. Mohun greeted
the actor courteously and asked if he had been sent for. Mountfort
professed that he did not know anything of the business at hand, that he
had come there by chance, adding that Mrs. Bracegirdle was no concern of
his. What happened then happened fast and the witnesses disagree (see
Borgman, pp. 135ff). It would seem, however, that Hill first struck the
actor, then quickly drew and ran him through before Mountfort could
draw. On his deathbed, traditionally the locale for truth-telling,
Mountfort reported that "_My Lord Mohun offered me no Violence, but
whilst I was talking with my Lord Mohun, Hill struck me with his Left
Hand, and with his Right Hand run me through, before I could put my Hand
to my Sword_" (Borgman, p. 140). It would seem clear that Hill gave the
actor his deathblow and then, while the cry of murder was raised,
escaped into the night. Mountfort, fatally wounded, staggered toward his
own home in the next street. As Mrs. Mountfort opened the door, her
husband fell bleeding into her arms; at one o'clock in the afternoon of
the next day, he died. According to the "Account," he was to have played
Bussy D'Ambois that night--Marlowe's tragedy of a young man who meets
his death through assassination.

Although Hill made good his escape, Lord Mohun stood trial in
Westminster before his peers. Mohun's defense was simply that he was not
privy to Hill's design and did not assist and encourage him in it. The
lords, having heard the evidence, retired, and the next day, Saturday, 5
February, acquitted Mohun of wrongdoing by a vote of 69-14. The prisoner
was discharged.

The United Company found themselves seriously hampered by the death of
Mountfort, and even more so when fifteen days later the great comedian
Anthony Leigh died. The "Account" says that Mountfort's death "had so
great an Affect on his Dear Companion, Mr. LEE the Comedian, that he did
not survive him above the space of a Week." The Company delayed the
opening of a new play by one William Congreve, _The Old Bachelor_. But
when that smash hit finally came on the boards in March 1693, Susanna
Mountfort played the gay évaporée, Belinda, to great applause. And on 31
January 1694, she married the actor John Verbruggen. The rather
mysterious Anne Bracegirdle, for whom Mountfort had been killed, played
female leads in all of Congreve's plays, and just as the public had once
speculated on her relationship to Mountfort, they now speculated on her
relationship to Congreve.

Although farce was popular with London audiences during the Restoration,
there was considerable controversy as to what it was and what it was
worth. In a period in which the canon of English literary criticism was
being formed, farce illustrates the disparity between received classical
principles and the playwright's actual craft. Dryden, who himself
"stooped" to writing farce, nonetheless sneers in his preface to _An
Evening's Love, or The Mock-Astrologer_ [1671]:

     Farce ... consists principally of grimaces ... Comedy consists,
     though of low persons, yet of natural actions and characters; I
     mean such humours, adventures, and designs, as are to be found
     and met with in the world. Farce, on the other side, consists
     of forced humours, and unnatural events. Comedy presents us
     with the imperfections of human nature: Farce entertains us
     with what is monstrous and chimerical.[6]

Farce was theoretically unpopular because it relied on the extravagant
and unnatural, as opposed to the play of real character found in comedy.
And whereas in seventeenth-century comedy the avowed intention is
usually to expose and thus to reform the vices and follies of the age,
farce uses the grossly physical to draw a laugh; there is nothing to be
learned from the slapstick and pigsbladder.

Though sneered at by theorists and subject to endless abuse in the
prologues and epilogues of the day, farce continued as pleasing to
Restoration audiences as it is today. James Sutherland notes that shrewd
actor-playwrights such as Mountfort, Betterton, Underhill, Jevon,
Dogget, Powell--men who knew intimately the tastes of the town, chose to
write farce.[7] Tate's _A Duke and No Duke_, Aphra Behn's _The Emperor
of the Moon_, and Jevon's _The Devil of a Wife_, were among the most
popular offerings, and although the Restoration wit may have gone to
"Dr. Faustus" with a certain sense of intellectual slumming, he did
continue to support quite generously the _farceurs_ of that time.
Moreover, farcical elements appear regularly in the supposedly elegant
and artificial Restoration comedy of manners.

"Dr. Faustus" is a highly competent putting-together of those components
which the experienced actor-playwright knew to be surefire. The date of
its premier production is not known and has been assigned to a date as
early as 1684 and as late as 1688. The farce was not published until the
quarto of 1697, which appeared without cast-list, prologue, or
epilogue.[8] The title page, however, states that the farce was acted at
Dorset Garden "several times," by "Lee" (Anthony Leigh) and Jevon, and,
as the editor of _The London Stage_ points out, since Jevon died in
December of 1688, the premiere was probably no later than the season of
1687-1688.[9] Borgman maintains that "Dr. Faustus" is Mountfort's second
work, after _The Injured Lovers_ of February, 1688, noting that the
epilogue to that play, spoken by Jevon, suggests that Mountfort was
planning, or had written, a farce:

    _Pardon but this, and I will pawn my life,
    His next shall match my Devil of a Wife,
    We'll grace it with the Imbellishment of Song and Dance;
    We'll have the Monsieur once again from _France_,
    With's Hoop and Glasses, and when that is done,
    He shall divert you with his Riggadoon._

We might guess, then, that if the epilogue does refer to "Dr. Faustus,"
the date of that play is as late as the Spring of 1688.

Mountfort took as his raw material Marlowe's great tragedy and for that
reason "Dr. Faustus" may be to some extent thought of as a burlesque.
The Restoration audience delighted in Marlowe's Faustus; the Elizabethan
tragedy had been played in 1662, and there was a performance at the
Duke's Theater in September, 1675. Edward Phillips wrote in his
_Theatrum Poetarum_, that "of all that [Marlowe] hath written to the
Stage his Dr. _Faustus_ hath made the greatest noise with its Devils and
such like Tragical sport."[10] Here lies the suggestion that Mountfort
was to take up, for as Borgman notes, Marlowe's tragedy has two distinct
lines: the mighty verse which makes up the tragedy of an heroic
overreacher, and a comic line of farcical _lazzi_. Mountfort has trimmed
away the poetry of Marlowe and, for the most part, retained the farcical
elements of the earlier play.[11]

Mountfort keeps the compact with Mephostopholis, the appearance of good
and bad angels, the visit of Lucifer and Beelzebub, the pageant of the
seven deadly sins, the cheating of the horse-courser, the admonitions of
the Old Man, the summoning of the spirits of Alexander and Darius, the
tricking of Benvolio, the final moments of remorse before Faustus is
dragged down to hell, and finally, the discovery of Faustus's limbs in
his study. Mountfort's purpose, as Borgman notes, was not to convert an
Elizabethan tragedy into a Restoration one, but to affix additional
farcical materials to a work that already contained scenes of slapstick.

Mountfort's unique contribution to his source was the introduction of
the _commedia dell'arte_ figures which had become well-known to London
theatergoers because of several visits to London by Italian actors since
the Restoration. Probably, as Borgman notes (p. 36), the first
Englishmen to play Scaramouche and Harlequin were Griffin and Haynes who
had in 1677 appeared with the King's Company in Ravenscroft's
_Scaramouch a Philosopher, Harlequin a School-Boy, Bravo, Merchant, and
Magician_. When Aphra Behn's _The Emperor of the Moon_ appeared in
March, 1687, Leigh played Scaramouche and Harlequin was taken by Jevon.
It seems probable that in order that these two actors might have a
further opportunity to appear as these popular characters, a place was
found for Scaramouche and Harlequin in Mountfort's farce.

The text of Mountfort's "Dr. Faustus" reveals that his farce, like any,
must depend to a great extent on its _farceurs_. In Jevon and Leigh he
had talented players and much of the script can be regarded merely as an
improvisational chart allowing the two famed comics to maneuver. Jevon,
as Leo Hughes points out, built up a considerable reputation, chiefly in
low comedy roles since his first notice as Osric in a revival of Hamlet
in 1673.[12] Having a slight, thin figure, he was noted for his grace of
movement and agility on the stage; he played Harlequin. Although Jevon
could play such straight roles as Young Bellair in _The Man of Mode_,
he, along with Nokes, Underhill, and Leigh, made his reputation in the
boisterous farce of which "Dr. Faustus" is an excellent example.

Anthony Leigh played Scaramouche. Of his acting Cibber says:

     In Humour, he lov'd to take a full Career, but was careful
     enough to stop short, when just upon the Precipice: He had
     great Variety, in his manner, and was famous in very different
     Characters.... But no wonder _Leigh_ arriv'd to such Fame, in
     what was so completely written for him; when Characters that
     would make the Reader yawn, in the Closet, have by the Strength
     of his Action, been lifted into the lowdest Laughter, on the
     Stage (_Apology_, p. 85-86).

That Jevon and Leigh played well together is evident, and one can see
great possibilities in their improvisation of such _lazzi_ as the
episode of the "dead body," Act I, Scene i, or in the elaborate show of
compliment which ends the first act.

The presence of Scaramouche and Harlequin in Mountfort's adaptation
suggests the influence of the Italian and French _commedia_ on the
Restoration stage, although, as Leo Hughes points out, the native
tradition of farce is paramount (pp. 134-141). Hughes notes that
although the _commedia_ influence is obvious, Italian farce is different
in style from the English, and that although there were four or five
tours by _commedia_ troops between 1660 and 1700, these visits were not
enough to influence significantly English farce writing. Furthermore,
the Italian's art was improvisational--they used no printed texts, and
the English would therefore have even less chance to copy from the
_commedia_. Readers of "Dr. Faustus" will find little trace of
_commedia_ influence apart from the conventional names. Hughes
acknowledges (p. 141) the greater influence of the French stage in the
Restoration, owing chiefly to the great popularity of Molière, whose
influence on farce, especially on the afterpiece which became a staple
on the English stage after 1695, was long-lived. His prestige was great;
he appealed to English taste, and such characters as M. Jourdain, M.
Pourceaugnac, and Sganarelle appear repeatedly in English adaptations.

The action of farce is typically a string of blow-ups, stage business
highly dependent on fast pacing. Characteristically on the English stage
there is a great deal of stage-effect; "Dr. Faustus," produced at the
Dorset Garden Theater where farce was often produced in order to take
advantage of the elaborate stage machinery available there, makes use
of rising tables, a giant which divides in two, good and bad angels
which rise and descend, fireworks, a vanishing feast, a view of hell,
and even more. Indeed, the often hilarious stage directions give us good
insight into the capabilities of the Restoration stage. The finale is
typical: "_Scene discovers Faustus's Limbs_." After the Old Man piously
hopes that this "May ... a fair Example be to all, To avoid such Ways
which brought poor Faustus's Fall," the "_Scene changes to Hell. Faustus
Limbs come together. A Dance, and Song._"

Farce often verges on satire, and, as he was to demonstrate in
_Greenwich Park_, Mountfort had an eye for contemporary foibles. At the
end of Act I, Harlequin and Scaramouche engage in dialogue which
suggests similar passages of rough satire in Wycherley. Asked what
practice his master, a doctor, has, Harlequin replies:

     Why his Business is to patch up rotten Whores against the Term
     for Country Lawyers, and Attorneys Clerks; and against
     _Christmas_, _Easter_ and _Whitsun_ Holidays, for City
     Apprentices; and if his Pills [to cure clap] be destroy'd,
     'twill ruin him in one Term.

Mountford altered the pageant of the seven sins that he found in
Marlowe, changing it in at least one case to bring it up to date. He
begins by paraphrasing Marlowe:

     _Faustus_: What art thou the Third?

     _Envy_: I am _Envy_; begot by a Chimny-sweeper upon an
     Oyster-wench. I cannot read, and wish all Books burnt.

But then Mountford departs from his source, adding the following lines:

     I always curst the Governement, that I was not prefer'd; and
     was a Male-content in Three Kings Reigns (II, i).

The three kings are, I suppose, Charles I, Charles II, and James II, and
the satiric jab is against those who perennially oppose the
Establishment. Furthermore, it is easy to imagine that the role of
Faustus, whoever played it, could well have been acted as a parody of
the "tragical" acting style of the day, with its curious sing-song tone
and stylized gestures.

Mountfort's "Dr. Faustus" gives us an often amusing insight into that
much despised, ever-popular bastard-child of the Restoration stage:
farce. If the direct influence of the _commedia_ is slight, the spirit
of improvisational comedy is embodied in the inspired buffoonery of
Leigh and Jevon, reinforced by stage-effect and spots of contemporary
satire. The play proved a hit and that undoubtedly was the playwright's
sole intention. The farce is workmanlike, and as the "Account" prefixed
to the 1720 collected plays observes, "THE Life and Death of Doctor
_FAUSTUS_ has a great deal of low, but Entertaining Humour; it
sufficiently shews his Talents that way."


    University of Illinois
    Urbana




NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION

    1. _Six Plays, written by Mr. Mountfort_ (London, 1720), 2 volumes.
       All references to plays other than "Dr. Faustus" are taken from
       this collection.

    2. The substance of my account of Mountfort's life and work is based
       on Albert S. Borgman, _The Life and Death of William Mountfort_
       (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1935).

    3. _An Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber_, ed. B. R. S. Fone
       (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1968), p. 117.

    4.  Charles Gildon, _The Lives and Characters of the English
        Dramatick Poets_ (London, [1698?]), p. 102.

    5.  (London, 1702), p. 17.

    6.  _Essays of John Dryden_, ed. W. P. Ker (New York: Russell &
        Russell, 1900; rpt. 1961), I, 135-136.

    7.  _English Literature of the Late Seventeenth Century_ (Oxford:
        Clarendon Press, 1969), p. 132.

    8. The first edition, page 5, omits the period at the end of 1. 23
       and the speech prefix "Meph." for 1. 24. These are correctly added
       in the second edition (1720).

    9.  _The London Stage 1660-1800, Part I: 1660-1700_, ed. W. Van
        Lennep (Carbondale, Ill.: Southern Illinois University Press,
        1965), 342.

    10.  (London, 1675), p. 25.

    11.  Borgman outlines the changes Mountfort made in his source; see
         pp. 35ff and Appendix A.

    12. _A Century of English Farce_ (Princeton: Princeton University
        Press, 1956), pp. 165-166.



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE


The facsimile of Mountfort's _The Life and Death of Doctor Faustus_
(1697) is reproduced by permission from a copy of the first edition
(Shelf Mark: 131909) in _The Huntington Library, San Marino,
California_. The total type-page (p. 17) measures 195 X 112 mm.




    THE

    LIFE and DEATH

    OF

    Doctor Faustus,

    Made into a

    FARCE.

    By Mr. _MOUNTFORD_.

    _First Edition_

    WITH THE

    Humours of _Harlequin_ and _Scaramouche_:

    As they were several times Acted

    By Mr. _LEE_ and Mr. _JEVON_,

    AT THE

    Queens Theatre in _Dorset_ Garden.

    Newly Revived,

    At the Theatre in _Lincolns Inn Fields_,

    With _Songs_ and _Dances_ between the ACTS.

    _LONDON_,

    Printed and sold by _E. Whitlock_ near _Stationers_ Hall, (1697)





The Life and Death of

Dr. FAUSTUS.




ACT I. SCENE I.

_Dr._ Faustus _seated in his Chair, and reading in his Study_.

_Good and bad Angel ready._


    _Faust._ Settle thy Study, _Faustus_, and begin
    To sound the Depth of that thou wilt profess;
    These Metaphysicks of Magicians,
    And Negromantick Books, are heav'nly
    Lines, Circles, Letters, Characters,
    Ay, these are those that _Faustus_ most desires;
    A sound Magician is a Demi-God:
    Here tire my Brains to get a Deity.

Mephostopholis _under the Stage_. _A good and bad Angel fly down._

    _Good Ang._ O _Faustus_! lay that damn'd Book aside;
    And gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy heart to blasphemy.

    _Bad Ang._ Go forward, _Faustus_, in that famous Art
    Wherein all Natures Treasure is contain'd:
    Be thou on Earth as _Jove_ is in the Sky,
    Lord and Commander of these Elements.

_Spirits ascend._

    _Faust._ How am I glutted with conceit of this?
    Shall I make Spirits fetch me what I please?
    I'll have 'em fly to _India_ for Gold,
    Ransack the Ocean for Orient Pearl.
    I'll have 'em Wall all _Germany_ with Brass:
    I'll levy Soldiers with the Coin they bring,
    And chase the Prince of _Parma_ from our Land.      [_Rises._
    'Tis now the Dead nigh Noon of Night,
    And _Lucifer_ his Spirits freedom gives;
    I'll try if in this Circle I can Raise
    A _Dæmon_ to inform me what I long for.

_Sint mihi Dii Acherontis propitii, Orientis Princeps, Beelzebub,
German. Demogorgon._ [Thunders. _Mephostopholis, Mephostopholis, surgat
Spiritus._

Mephostopholis _speaks under Ground_. [Thunders.

_Meph._ _Faustus_, I attend thy Will.

_Faust._ Where art thou?

_Meph._ Here. [_a Flash of Light._

_Scar. within._ Oh, oh, oh.

_Faust._ What Noise is that? Hast thou any Companions with thee?

_Meph._ No.

_Faust._ It comes this way?

_Scar._ Oh, oh, O----. [_Enter_ Scaramouche.

_Faust._ What ail'st thou?

_Scar._ O' o' o'

_Faust._ Speak, Fellow, what's the Matter?

_Scar._ O poor _Scaramouche_!

_Faust._ Speak, I conjure thee; or _Acherontis Dii Demogorgon_.----

_Scar._ O I beseech you Conjure no more, for I am frighted into a
_Diabetes_ already.

_Faust._ Frighted at what?

_Scar._ I have seen, Oh, oh----

_Faust._ What?

_Scar._ The Devil.

_Faust._ Art sure it was the Devil?

_Scar._ The Devil, or the Devil's Companion: He had a Head like a Bulls,
with Horns on; and two Eyes that glow'd like the Balls of a dark
Lantern: His Hair stood a Tiptoe, like your new-fashion'd Top-knots;
with a Mouth as large as a King's Beef Eater: His Nails was as sharp as
a Welshman's in Passion; and he look'd as frightful as a Sergeant to an
_Alsatian_.

_Faust._ But why art thou afraid of the Devil?

_Scar._ Why I never said my Prayers in all my Life, but once; and that
was when my damn'd Wife was sick, that she might dye: My Ears are as
deaf to good Council, as _French_ Dragoons are to Mercy. And my
Conscience wants as much sweeping as a Cook's Chimny. And I have as many
Sins to answer for as a Church-warden, or an Overseer of the Poor.

_Faust._ Why, the Devil loves Sinners at his Heart.

_Scar._ Does he so?

_Faust._ He hates none, but the Vertuous, and the Godly. Such as Fast,
and go to Church, and give Alms-deeds.

_Scar._ I never saw a Church in my Life, thank God, (I mean the Devil;)
and for Fasting, it was always my Abomination; and for Alms, I never
gave any Thing in my Life, but the Itch once to a Pawn-broker. Therefore
I hope he may Love me.

_Faust._ And he shall Love thee; I'll bring thee acquainted with him.

_Scar._ Acquainted with the Devil?

_Faust._ Ay; _Tanto metropontis Acherontis_.

_Scar._ Oh, oh, oh.

_Faust._ Fear nothing _Mephostopholis_, be visible.

[Scaramouche _sinks behind the Doctor, and peeps his Head out behind the
Slip of his Gown._ _A Devil rises in Thunder and Lightning._

I charge thee to be gon, and change thy Shape; thou art too ugly to
attend on me. I find there's Virtue in my Charm; Come, rise up, Fool,
the Devil's gon.

[_The Devil sinks._

_Scar._ The Devil go with him.

_Faust._ Fear nothing, I command the Devil. If thou wilt leave thy
Chimny-sweeping Trade, and live with me, thou shalt have Meat and Drink
in Plenty; and 40 Crowns a Year shall be thy Wages; I'll make thee
Learned in the black Art.

_Scar._ I am a Student in that already: But let me consider, Good Meat
and Drink, and 40 Crowns a Year. Then I'll change my black Art for
yours.

_Faust._ There's Earnest, thou art now my Servant; dispose of thy Brooms
and Poles, they'll be useless to thee here; take this Key, go into my
Study, and clean; take all the Books you find scatter'd about, and range
'em orderly upon the Shelves.

_Scar._ Happy _Scaramouche_, now may'st thou Swear, Lye, Steal, Drink
and Whore; for thy Master is the Devil's Master, and thou in time may'st
master 'em both.

[_Exit_ Scaram.

_Enter_ Mephostopholis.

_Meph._ Now, _Faustus_, what wouldst thou have with me?

    _Faust._ I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live,
    And do what-ever _Faustus_ shall command.

_Meph._ Ay _Faustus_, so I will, if thou wilt purchase me of _Lucifer_.

_Faust._ What says _Lucifer_, thy Lord?

    _Meph._ That I shall Wait on _Faustus_ whilst he Lives,
    So thou wilt buy my Service with thy Blood.

_Faust._ Already _Faustus_ has hazarded that for thee.

    _Meph._ Ay, but thou must bequeath it solemnly,
    And write a Deed of Gift with it;
    For that Security craves _Lucifer_.
    If thou deny it, I must back to Hell.

    _Bad Ang._ But _Faustus_, if I shall have thy Soul,
    I'll be thy Slave, and worship thy Commands,
    And give thee more than thou hast Will of.

    _Faust._ If he wilt spare me Four and twenty Years,
    Letting me Live in all Voluptuousness,
    To have thee ever to attend on me,
    To give me whatsoever I shall ask,
    And tell me whatsoever I demand;
    On these Conditions I resign it to him.

    _Meph._ Then, _Faustus_ stab thy Arm couragiously,
    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_.

    _Faust._ Lo, _Mephostopholis_, for Love of thee, _Faustus_ has cut
    His Arm, and with his proper Blood
    Assures his Soul to be great _Lucifers_.

_Meph._ But, _Faustus_, write it in manner of a Deed, and Gift.

_Faust._ Ay, so I do; but, _Mephostopholis_, my Blood congeals, and I
can write no more.

_Meph._ I'll fetch thee Fire to dissolve it streight. [_Exit._

    _Faust._ What might the staying of my Blood portend,
    It is unwilling I should write this Bill.

_Good and Bad Angel descend._

_Good An._ Yet, _Faustus_, think upon thy precious Soul.

_Bad An._ No, _Faustus_, think of Honour, and of Wealth.

_Faust._ Of Wealth. Why all the _Indies_, _Ganges_, shall be mine.

_Good An._ No, _Faustus_, everlasting Tortures shall be thine.

    _Bad An._ No, _Faustus_, everlasting Glory shall be thine.
    The World shall raise a Statue of thy Name,
    And on it write, This, this is he that could command the
    World.      [_Good Angel ascends, bad Angel descends._

    _Faust._ Command the World; Ay, _Faustus_, think on that,
    Why streams not then my Blood that I may write?
    _Faustus_ gives to thee his Soul; Oh! there it stops. Why
    shouldst thou not? Is not thy Soul thy own?

_Enter_ Mephostopholis _with a Chafer of Fire_.

_Meph._ See, _Faustus_, here is Fire, set it on.

_Faust._ So now the Blood begins to clear again.

_Meph._ What is't I would not do to obtain his Soul?

    _Faust._ _Consummatum est_; the Bill is ended.
    But what is this Inscription on my Arm?
    _Homo fuge_: Whether shall I fly?
    My Senses are deceiv'd, here's nothing writ;
    O yes, I see it plain, even here is writ
    _Homo fuge_; yet shall not _Faustus_ fly,
    I'll call up something to delight his Mind.

[_Song._ Mephostopholis _waves his Wand_. _Enter several Devils, who
present Crowns to_ Faustus, _and after a Dance vanish_.

_Faust._ What means this then?

    _Meph._ 'Tis to delight thy Mind, and let thee see
    What Magick can perform.

_Faust._ And may I raise such Spirits when I please.

_Meph._ Ay, _Faustus_, and do greater Things than these.

    _Faust._ Then, _Mephostopholis_ receive this Deed of Gift;
    But set Conditionally, that thou perform all
    Covenants and Articles herein subscribed.

    _Meph._ I swear by Hell, and _Lucifer_, to effect all
    Promises between us both.

_Faust._ Then take it.

_Meph._ Do you deliver it as your Deed, and Gift?

_Faust._ Ay, and the Devil do you good on't.

_Meph._ So, now, _Faustus_, ask what thou wilt.

_Faust._ Then let me have a Wife.

Faustus _waves his Wand, and a Woman Devil rises: Fire-works about
whirles round, and sinks_.

_Faust._ What sight is this?

_Meph._ Now, _Faustus_ wilt thou have a Wife?

_Faust._ Here's a hot Whore indeed, I'll have no Wife.

    _Meph._ Marriage is but a Ceremonial Toy;
    I'll cull thee out the fairest Curtezans,
    And bring 'em every Morning to thy Bed:
    She whom thy Eye shall like, thy Heart shall have.

_Faust._ Then, _Mephostopholis_, let me behold the Famous _Hellen_, who
was the Occasion of great _Troys'_ Destruction.

_Meph._ _Faustus_, thou shalt. [_Waves his Wand, enters._

_Faust._ O _Mephostopholis_! what would I give to gain a Kiss from off
those lovely Lips.

_Meph._ _Faustus_, thou may'st. [_He kisses her._

_Faust._ My Soul is fled; come _Hellen_, come, give me my Soul again;
she's gon. [_He goes to kiss her again, and she sinks._

_Meph._ Women are shy you know at the first Sight; but come, _Faustus_,
command me somewhat else.

_Faust._ Then tell me, is Hell so terrible as Church-men write it.

_Meph._ No, _Faustus_ 'tis Glorious as the upper World; but that we have
Night and Day, as you have here: Above there's no Night.

_Faust._ Why sighs my _Mephostopholis_, I think Hell's a meer Fable.

_Meph._ Ay, think so still.

_Faust._ Tell me who made the World?

_Meph._ I will not.

_Faust._ Sweet _Mephos._

_Meph._ Move me no further.

_Faust._ Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me any Thing.

    _Meph._ That's not against our Kingdom, this is: Thou art
    Lost; think thou of Hell.

_Faust._ Think, _Faustus_, upon him that made the World.

_Meph._ Remember this. [_Sinks._

    _Faust._ Ay, go accursed Spirit to ugly Hell,
    'Tis thou hast damn'd distressed _Faustus_ Soul:
    I will Repent: Ha!      [_Goes to his Books._
    This Bible's fast, but here's another:

[_They both fly out of's Hand, and a flaming Thing appears written_, &c.

    Is't not too late?      [_Ring. Good and bad descend._

_Bad An._ Too late.

_Good An._ Never too late, if _Faustus_ will repent.

    _Bad An._ _Faustus_, behold, behold thy Deed; if thou repent
    Devils will tear thee in Pieces.

_Good An._ Repent, and they shall never raze thy Skin.

[_Scene shuts, Ang. ascends._

_Scene changes to the Street._ _Enter_ Harlequin.

_Harl._ This must be Mr. Doctor's House; I'll make bold to knock: My
Heart fails me already.

[Harlequin _opens the Door, peeps about, and shuts it_.

I begin to tremble at the Thoughts of seeing the Devil.

[_Knocks again._

    Here's a great Resort of Devils, the very Doors smell of
    Brimstone: I'll e'en back----No: I'll be a Man of Resolution:
    But if Mr. Doctor should send a Familiar to open the
    Door, in what language should I speak to the Devil?      [_Knocks._

_Enter_ Scaramouche.

_Scar. peeping._ This is some malicious Spirit, that will not let me
alone at my Study; but I'll go in, and conn my Book. [_Exit._

_Harl._ I believe Mr. Doctor is very Busy; but I'll rap this time with
Authority.

[Harlequin _raps at the Door_, Scaramouche _peeps out_. Harlequin
_strikes him, and jumps back, runs frighted off_.

_Scene changes to a Room in the Doctor's House._

_Enter_ Scaramouche, _with a Book in the Doctor's Gown_.

_Scar._ I have left the Door open to save the Devil the labour of
Knocking, if he has a mind to come in: For I am resolved not to stir
from my Book; I found it in the Doctor's Closet, and know it must
contain Something of the Black Art.

_Enter_ Harlequin.

_Harl._ Oh here's Mr. Doctor himself; he's reading some conjuring Book.
_Ide fain jecit._

_Scar._ This must be a conjuring Book by the hard Words. AB, EB, IB, OB,
UB, BA, BO, BU, BI.

_Harl._ Its a Child's Primer. [Harlequin _looks over him_.

_Scar._ The Devil, the Devil; be gon, avoid Satan. [_Runs off._

_Harl._ O the Devil! Now will I lye as if I were Dead, and let the Devil
go hunt for my Soul. [_Lyes down._

_Enter_ Scaramouche.

_Scar._ I have learn'd to raise the Devil, but how the Devil shall I do
to lay him. Ha! what's here, a dead Body? The Devil assum'd this Body,
and when I began to mutter my Prayers, he was in such haste he left his
Carcass behind him. Ha! it stirs; no, 'twas but my Fancy.

[Scaram. _lifts up all his Limbs, and lets 'em fall, whil'st_ Harl.
_hits him on the Breech, lifts his Head, which falls gently_.

    All's dead but's Head.      [_Sets him upright._
    The Devil, the Devil! Be gon; what art thou?

_Harl._ A poor unfortunate Devil.

_Scar._ The Devil; _Avant_ then _Hagon mogon strogon_.

_Harl._ O good Mr. Doctor, conjure up no more Devils and I'll be gon, or
any thing.--I came only to ask your Black Artship a Question.

_Scar._ No, this is not the Devil. Who art thou? Whence comest thou?
What's thy Business, Quick, or _Hogon strogon_?

_Harl._ Hold, hold, hold, I am poor _Harlequin_: By the Learned I am
called _Zane_, by the Vulgar _Jack Pudding_. I was late Fool to a
Mountebank; and last Night, in the mistaking the Pipkin, I eat up a Pot
of _Bolus_ instead of Hasty Pudding; and devour'd Three Yards of
_Diaculum_ Plaister instead of Pancake, for which my Master has turn'd
me out of Doors instead of Wages: Therefore, to be reveng'd, I come to
hire a Devil or two of you, Mr. Doctor, of a strong Constitution, that
may swallow up his Turpentine Pills as fast as he makes 'em, that he may
never cure poor Whore more of a Clap; and then he'll be undone, for they
are his chief Patients.

_Scar._ What Practice has he?

_Harl._ Why his Business is to patch up rotten Whores against the Term
for Country Lawyers, and Attorneys Clerks; and against _Christmas_,
_Easter_ and _Whitsun_ Holidays, for City Apprentices; and if his Pills
be destroy'd, 'twill ruin him in one Term.

_Scar._ Come in; and for a Crown a Week I'll lett thee out a Devil, as
they do Horses at Livery, shall swallow him a Peck of Pills a day,
though every one were as big as a Pumpkin; and make nothing of a _Bolus_
for a Breakfast.

_Harl._ O brave Mr. Doctor! O dainty Mr. Devil!

_Scar._ Seigniora. [_Here they Complement who shall go first._


_The End of the First Act._




ACT II.

Faustus _in his Study_.

_Good and Bad Angel descend._


_Good An._ _Faustus_, Repent; yet Heav'n will pity thee.

_Bad An._ Thou art a Spirit, Heav'n cannot pity thee.

_Fau._ Who buzzes in my Ear, I am a Spirit; be I a Devil yet Heaven can
pity me: Yea, Heaven will pity me, if I repent.

_Bad An._ Ay, but _Faustus_ never shall repent.

_Good An._ Sweet _Faustus_ think of Heav'n, and heavenly Things.
[_Ascends._

    _Fau._ My Heart is hardened, I cannot repent.
    Scarce can I name Salvation, Faith, or Heav'n,
    But I am pinch'd, and prick'd, in thousand Places.
    O help distressed _Faustus_!

Lucifer, Beelzebub. _and_ Mephostopholis _rises_.

_Luc._ None can afford thee help; for only I have Interest in thee,
_Faustus_.

_Fau._ Oh! What art thou, that looks so terrible?

_Luc._ I am _Lucifer_, and this is my Companion Prince in Hell.

_Beel._ We are come to tell thee thou dost injure us.

_Luc._ Thou call'st on Heav'n contrary to thy Promise.

_Beel._ Thou should'st not think on Heav'n.

    _Fau._ Nor will I henceforth pardon him for this,
    And _Faustus_ Vows never to look to Heav'n.

    _Beel._ So shalt thou shew thy self a faithful Servant,
    And we will highly gratify thee for it.

_Fau._ Those Words delight my Soul.

_Luc._ _Faustus_, we are come in Person to shew thee Passtime; sit down,
and thou shalt behold the Seven Deadly Sins in their own proper Shapes
and Likeness.

_Fau._ That Sight will be as pleasant to my Eye, as Paradise to _Adam_
the first Day of his Creation.

_Beel._ Talk not of Paradise, but mind the Show. Go, _Mephostopholis_,
and fetch 'em in; and, _Faustus_, question 'em their Names. _Enter
Pride._

_Fau._ What art thou?

_Prid._ I am _Pride_; I was begot by Disdain and Affectation. I always
took the Wall of my Betters; had ever the first Cut, or else would not
eat: I scorn'd all Advice, never thought any one handsom but my self;
had the best Pue in the Church, though a Tradesman's Wife; and at last
dyed of the Spleen, for want of a Coach and Six Horses. Why is not thy
Room perfum'd, and spread with Cloth of _Tissue_? What must you sit, and
I stand? Rise up Brute.

_Fau._ Go, thou art a proud Slut indeed. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Covetousness.

Now what art thou the Second.

_Cov._ I am _Covetousness_; I was begot by a close Fist, and a griping
Heart, in a Usurer's Chest. I never eat, to save Charges: This Coat has
cover'd me for Fourscore Winters: This Beard has seen as many more. I
never slept in my Life, but always watch'd my Gold.

_Fau._ What wert thou on Earth?

_Cov._ I was first an Exciseman, and cheated the King and Country; then
I was a Baker, and from every Neighbor's Loaf I stole Two Pound, and
swore 'twas shrunk in the Oven. I was a Vintner, and by bribing of
Quest-men had leave to sell in Pint Bottles for Quarts: At last I was a
Horse-courser, made _Smithfield_ too hot to hold me, and rid Post to the
Devil? Give me some Gold, Father? [_Exit._

_Enter_ Envy.

_Fau._ What art thou the Third?

_Env._ I am _Envy_; begot by a Chimny-sweeper upon an Oyster-wench. I
cannot read, and wish all Books burnt. I always curst the Government
that I was not prefer'd; and was a Male-content in Three Kings Reigns. I
am Lean with seeing others Eat; and I wish the Devil would make a Sponge
of thy Heart, to wipe out the Score of my Sins.

_Enter_ Wrath.

_Fau._ Out, Envious Wretch. What art thou the Fourth?

_Wra._ I am _Wrath_; I had neither Father nor Mother, but leap'd out of
a Lion's Mouth when I was scarce an Hour old. I always abhor'd the Art
of Patience, and curst all Fisher-men. I beat my Wife for my Pleasure;
curst Heav'n in my Passion, 'cause it gave me no Fortune, and was hang'd
for a Rape on a _Scotch_ Pedlar. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Gluttony.

_Fau._ What art thou the Fifth?

_Glut._ I am _Gluttony_; begot by a Plow-man on a Washer-woman, who
devour'd a _Chedder_ Cheese in two Hours. I am of a Royal Pedigree: My
Grand-father was a Sur-loin of Beef, and my Mother a Gammon of Bacon: My
Sisters were Sows, which supply'd me with Pork: My Brothers were Calves,
which afforded me Veal: My God-fathers were _Peter_ Pickled-Herring, and
_Michael_ Milk-Porredg: My God-mothers were _Susan_ Salt-butter, and
_Margery_ Sous'd-Hog's-Face. Now, _Faustus_, thou hast heard my
Pedigree, wilt thou invite me to Supper?

_Fau._ Not I.

_Glut._ Then the Devil choak thee.

_Enter_ Sloth.

_Fau._ What art thou the Sixth?

_Slo._ Hey ho! I am _Sloth_; I was begotten at Church by a sleepy Judg
on a Costermonger's Wife, in the middle of a long Sermon. I am as Lazy
as a Fishmonger in the Dog-days, or a Parson in _Lent_: I would not
speak another Word for a King's Ransom.

_Enter_ Leachery.

_Fau._ And what are you, Mr. _Minks_, the Seventh and last?

_Leach._ I am one that love an Inch of Raw Mutton better than an Ell of
Fry'd Stock-fish, and the first Letter of my Name begins with
_Leachery_. [_Exit._

_Fau._ This Sight delights my Soul.

_Luc._ _Faustus_ in Hell are all manner of Delights.

_Fau._ O might I see Hell once, and return safe.

_Luc.__ Faustus_, thou shalt; give me thy hand. Hence let's descend, and
we will _Faustus_ show The mighty Pleasures in the World below.
[_Vanishes._


SCENE _Changes_.

_Enter_ Harlequin, _and_ Scaramouche _in the Doctor's Gown; a Wand, and
a Circle_.

_Scar._ So, now am I in my _Pontificalibus_: Now can I shew my Black
Art; for I have found that heavenly Book which _Faustus_ used to raise
the Dead in: Come, stand within this Circle.

_Har._ 'Tis time to Conjure, for I am almost famish'd. We have fasted
like Priests for a Miracle.

_Scar._ I'll make thee amends presently; I'll conjure up a Spirit, ask
what thou wilt thou shalt have it.

_Har._ Let me alone for asking.

_Scar._ Be very earnest with him, and intreat mightily.

_Har._ I'll intreat Earnestly.

_Scar._ Silence. _Sint mihi Dii Acherontis propitii Nobis Diccatus
Mephostopholis, &c._

Mephostopholis _rises_.

    _Meph._ How am I tortur'd by these Villains Charms?
    From _Constantinople_ have they brought me now,
    Only for Measure of these idle Slaves? What
    Would you with _Mephostopholis_?

_Scar._ Wee'd know how Dr. _Faustus_ does.

_Meph._ Well.

_Scar._ When comes he home?

_Meph._ Within Two Days.

_Scar._ What was he doing when you left him?

_Meph._ He was at Supper, eating good Chear.

_Har._ Good Mr. Devil, tell him we are almost starv'd; and desire him to
send us some of his good Chear.

_Meph._ Is that all?

_Har._ Some Wine too?

_Meph._ What else.

_Har._ What else: Why if Fornication been't against your Commandments,
we would have some live Flesh; a handsom Wench.

_Scar._ Only for a third Person, and please your Damnation.

_Meph._ You shall have your Desires.

_Har._ We desire your Mephostopholiship too, not to let us stay the
Roasting and Boiling of any thing: For we are as Eager as the Wine in
_Smithfield_, and want no whetting.

_Meph._ You shall.

Scaramouche _and_ Harlequin _pull off their Caps_.

Now if your mighty Darkness would please to Retire.

_Meph._ Farewell. [_Vanish._

Scaramouche _steps out of the Circle, and struts about_.

_Scar._ Now how do you like my Art?

_Har._ O rare Art! O divine Mr. Doctor _Scaramouche_! If the Devil be as
good as his Word, I'll owe him a good Turn as long as I live: But I wish
our third Person would come.

_A Giant rises._

Ha! What's here?

_Gi._ I am sent by _Pluto_ to bear you Company.

_Har._ Is this his third Person? Or is it Three Generations in One? Come
you from _Guild-hall_, Sir?

_Gi._ No, Mortal, from the _Stygian_ Lake. I am the Giant which St.
_George_ destroy'd; and in the Earth have been decaying ever since, but
now am come to Eat with you.

_Scar._ To pick up your Crums, Sir: You'r heartily Welcome.

Scaramouche _gets upon_ Harlequin, _and salutes him_.

_Gi._ I have lain now within the _Stygian_ Lake 2000 Years.

_Scar._ Your Honour is not much shrunk in the Wetting.

_Gi._ But we loose Time, and Dinner cools.

_Har._ Where is it?

_Gi._ In the next Room.

_Scar._ Will it please your Lustiness to lead the Way?

_Har._ Will it please you then to make way for him?

_Gi._ I can divide my self to serve my Friends?

[_Giant leaps in two._

Breeches be you my Page, and follow me.

Harleq. _and_ Scaram. _complement the Breeches_. [_Exeunt._


SCENE _draws, and discovers a Table furnished with Bottles of Wine, and
a Venison Pasty, a Pot of wild Fowl_, &c.

_Enter_ Scaramouche, Giant, _and_ Harlequin.

_Har._ O heavenly Apparition!

_Scar._ Come, let's sit down.

_The upper part of the Giant flies up, and the under sinks, and
discovers a Woman in the Room._

Harlequin _and_ Scaramouche _start_.

_Scar._ Ha! What's here, a Woman?

_Har._ O happy Change! Madam, with your good Leave.

[_Kisses._

_Scar._ Never too late in good Breeding. [_Kisses._] Rare Wench! And as
Luscious as Pig-sauce.

_Har._ Heav'n be prais'd for all.

[_Woman sinks, a Flash of Lightning._

_Scar._ Your unseasonable Thankfulness has rob'd us of our Strumpet.

_Har._ No matter, no matter; we shall meet her in the Cloisters after
the Fair. Come let's fall too.

[_They put their Caps before their Faces._

Ha!

_Scar._ The Table runs away from us.

_Har._ We'll bestow the Pains to follow it again; this I see is a
running Banquet.

[_They put their Caps on again, the Table removes._

_Scar._ I have found the Secret: We must not say Grace at the Devil's
Feast.

_Har._ Come then let's fall too, _San's_ Ceremony; Will you be Carver?

_Scar._ Every one for himself, I say.

_Har._ Ay, every one for himself, and God for us all.

[_Table flies up into the Air._

_Scar._ A Plague o'your Proverb; it has a Word in't must not be named.

_Har._ Ah, Mr. Doctor, do but intreat Mr. _Mephostopholis_ to let the
Table down to us, or send us to that, and I'll be his Servant as long as
I live. [_They are hoisted up to the Table._

_Scar. and Har._ Oh, oh, oh.

_Scar._ Now have a care of another Proverb: We go without our Supper.

_Har._ Nay, now I know the Devil's Humour, I'll hit him to a Hair: Pray,
Mr. Doctor, cut up that Pasty.

_Scar._ I can't get my Knife into it, 'tis over-bak'd.

_Har._ Ay, 'tis often so: God sends Meat, and the Devil sends Cooks.
[_Table flies down._

_Scar._ Thou Varlet, dost thou see what thy Proverb has done?

_Har._ Now could I curse my Grand-mother, for she taught 'em me: Well,
if sweet _Mephostopholis_ will be so kind as but to let us and the Table
come together again, I'll promise never to say Grace, or speak Proverb
more, as long as I live.

[_They are let down to the Table._

_Scar._ Your Prayers are heard, now be careful; for if I lose my Supper
by thy Negligence I'll cut thy Throat.

_Har._ Do, and eat me when you have done. I am damnably hungry; I'll cut
open this Pasty, while you open that Pot of wild Fowl.

[Harlequin _takes off the Lid of the Pasty, and a Stag's Head peeps out;
and out of the Pot of Fowl flies Birds_. Harlequin _and_ Scaramouche
_start back, fall over their Chairs, and get up_.

_Har._ Here's the Nest but the Birds are flown: Here's Wine though, and
now I'll conjure for a Supper. I have a Sallad within of my own
Gathering in the Fields to Day.

_Scar._ Fetch it in; Bread, Wine, and a Salad may serve for a
Collation.

_Enter_ Harlequin _with a Tray of Sallad_.

_Har._ Come, no Ceremony among Friends. _Bon. fro._

_Scar._ _Sallad mal adjuste_; here's neither Fat nor Lean.

_Har._ O Mr. Doctor, neither Fat nor Lean in a Sallad.

_Scar._ Neither Oyl, nor Vinegar.

_Har._ Oh! I'll fetch you that presently.

[Harlequin _fetches a Chamber-pot of Piss, and a Lamp of Oyl, and pours
on the Sallad_.

_Scar._ O thy Sallad is nothing but Thistles and Netles; and thy Oyl
stinks worse than _Arsefetito_.

_Har._ Bread and Wine be our Fare. Ha! the Bread's alive. [_Bread
stirs._

_Scar._ Or the Devil's in't. Hey! again. [_Bread sinks._

_Har._ My Belly's as empty as a Beggar's Purse.

_Scar._ And mine as full of Wind as a Trumpeter's Cheeks.

[_Table sinks, and Flash of Lightning._

But since we can't Eat, let's Drink: Come, here's Dr. _Faustus_'s
Health.

_Har._ Ay, come; God bless Dr. _Faustus_.

[_Bottles fly up, and the Table sinks._

_Scar._ What all gone: Here's a Banquet stole away like a City Feast.
[_Musick._

_Har._ Ha! here's Musick to delight us.

[_Two Chairs rises._ Harlequin _and_ Scaramouche _sits down, and are
caught fast_.

_Scar._ Ha! the Devil. We are lock'd in.

_Har._ As fast as a Counter Rat.

_Enter several Devils, who black_ Harlequin _and_ Scaramouche's _Faces,
and then squirt Milk upon them_. _After the Dance they both sink._

_Scar. and Har._ O' o, o'----


_The End of the Second Act._




ACT III.


SCENE _a Wood_.

Mephostopholis _and Dr._ Faustus.

_Faust._ How have I been delighted by thy Art; and in Twelve Years have
seen the utmost Limits of the spacious World; feasted my self with all
Varieties; pleasur'd my Fancy with my Magick Art, and liv'd sole Lord
o'er every Thing I wish'd for.

_Meph._ Ay, _Faustus_, is it not a splendid Life?

_Faust._ It is my Spirit; but prithee now retire, while I repose my
self within this Shade, and when I wake attend on me again.

_Meph._ _Faust_, I will. [_Exit._

_Faust._ What art thou, _Faustus_, but a Man condemn'd. Thy Lease of
Years expire apace; and, _Faustus_, then thou must be _Lucifers_: Here
rest my Soul, and in my Sleep my future State be buried.

_Good and bad Angel descends._

_Good An._ _Faustus_, sweet _Faustus_, yet remember Heav'n. Oh! think
upon the everlasting Pain thou must endure, For all thy short Space of
Pleasure.

_Bad An._ Illusions, Fancies, _Faustus_; think of Earth. The Kings thou
shalt command: The Pleasures Rule. Be, _Faustus_, not a whining, pious
Fool. [_Ascend._

_Enter_ Horse-courser.

_Hors._ Oh! what a couz'ning Doctor was this: I riding my Horse into the
Water, thinking some hidden Mystery had been in 'em, found my self on a
Bundle of Straw, and was drag'd by Something in the Water, like a
Bailiff through a Horse-pond. Ha! he's a Sleep: So ho, Mr. Doctor, so
ho. Why Doctor, you couz'ning, wheedling, hypocritical, cheating,
chousing, Son of a Whore; awake, rise, and give me my Mony again, for
your Horse is turn'd into a Bottle of Hay. Why Sirrah, Doctor; 'sfoot I
think he's dead. Way Doctor Scab; you mangy Dog. [_pulls him by the
Leg._ 'Zounds I'm undone, I have pull'd his Leg off.

_Faust._ O help! the Villain has undone me; Murder.

_Hors._ Murder, or not Murder, now he has but one Leg I'll out-run him.
[_Exit._

_Faust._ Stop, stop him; ha, ha, ha, _Faustus_ has his Leg again, and
the Horse-courser a Bundle of Hay for his Forty Dollars. Come,
_Mephostopholis_, let's now attend the Emperor. [_Exit_ Faust. _and_
Meph.

_Enter_ Horse-courser, _and_ Carter, _with Pots of Ale_.

_Cart._ Here's to thee; and now I'll tell thee what I came hither for:
You have heard of a Conjurer they call Doctor _Faustus_.

_Hors._ Heard of him, a Plague take him, I have Cause to know him; has
he play'd any Pranks with you?

_Cart._ I'll tell thee, as I was going to the Market a while ago, with
a Load of Hay, he met me, and askt me, What he should give me for as
much Hay as his Horse would Eat: Now, Sir, I thinking that a little
would serve his Turn, bad him take as much as he would for Three
Farthings.

_Hors._ So.

_Cart._ So he presently gave me Mony, and fell to Eating: And as I'm a
cursen Man, he never left Yeating and Yeating, 'till he had eaten up my
whole Load of Hay.

_Hors._ Now you shall hear how he serv'd me: I went to him Yesterday to
buy a Horse of him, which I did; and he had me be sure not to ride him
into the Water.

_Cart._ Good.

_Hors._ Ad's Wounds 'twas Bad, as you shall hear: For I thinking the
Horse had some rare Quality, that he would not have me know, what do me
I but rides him in the Water; and when I came just in the midst of the
River, I found my self a Straddle on a Bottle of Hay.

_Cart._ O rare Doctor!

_Hors._ But you shall hear how I serv'd him bravely for it; for finding
him a Sleep just now in a By-Field, I whoop'd and hollow'd in his Ears,
but could not wake him; so I took hold of his Leg, and never left
pulling till I had pull'd it quite off.

_Cart._ And has the Doctor but one Leg then? That's Rare. But come, this
is his House, let's in and see for our Mony; look you, we'll pay as we
come back.

_Hors._ Done, done; and when we have got our Mony let's laugh at his one
Leg: Ha, ha, ha. [_Exeunt Laughing._

_Enter_ Hostess.

_Host._ What have the Rogues left my Pots, and run away, without paying
their Reck'ning? I'll after 'em, cheating Villains, Rogues, Cut-purses;
rob a poor Woman, cheat the Spittle, and rob the King of his Excise; a
parcel of Rustick, Clownish, Pedantical, High-shoo'd, Plow-jobbing,
Cart-driving, Pinch-back'd, Paralytick, Fumbling, Grumbling, Bellowing,
Yellowing, Peas-picking, Stinking, Mangy, Runagate, Ill-begotten,
Ill-contriv'd, Wry-mouth'd, Spatrifying, Dunghill-raking, Costive,
Snorting, Sweaty, Farting, Whaw-drover Dogs. [_Exit_

_Enter_ Faustus.

_Faust._ My Time draws near, and 20 Years are past: I have but Four poor
Twelve Months for my Life, and then I am damn'd for ever.

_Enter an_ Old Man.

_Old M._ O gentle _Faustus_, leave this damn'd Art; this Magick, that
will charm thy Soul to Hell, and quite bereave thee of Salvation: Though
thou hast now offended like a Man, do not, oh! do not persist in't like
a Devil. It may be this my Exhortation seems harsh, and all unpleasant;
let it not, for, gentle Son, I speak in tender Love and Pity of thy
future Misery; and so have hope that this my kind Rebuke, checking thy
Body, may preserve thy Soul.

_Faust._ Where art thou, _Faustus_? Wretch, what hast thou done? O
Friend, I feel thy Words to comfort my distressed Soul; retire, and let
me ponder on my Sins.

_Old M._ _Faustus_, I leave thee, but with grief of Heart, Fearing thy
Enemy will near depart. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Mephostopholis.

_Meph._ Thou Traytor, I arrest thee for Disobedience to thy Sovereign
Lord; revolt, or I'll in piece-meal tear thy Flesh.

_Faust._ I do repent I e'er offended him; torment, sweet Friend, that
old Man that durst disswade me from thy _Lucifer_.

_Meph._ His Faith is great, I cannot touch his Soul; but what I can
afflict his Body with I will.

_Enter_ Horse-courser _and_ Carter.

_Hors._ We are come to drink a Health to your wooden Leg.

_Faust._ My wooden Leg; what dost thou mean, Friend?

_Hors._ Ha, ha! he has forgot his Leg.

_Cart._ Psha, 'tis not a Leg he stands upon. Pray, let me ask you one
Question; Are both your Legs Bed-fellows?

_Faust._ Why dost thou ask?

_Cart._ Because I believe you have a good Companion of one.

_Hors._ Why, don't you remember I pull'd off one o' your Legs when you
were a Sleep?

_Faust._ But I have it again now I am awake.

_Cart._ Ad's Wounds, had the Doctor three Legs!----You, Sir, don't you
remember you gave a Peny for as much Hay as your Horse would eat, and
then eat up my whole Load.

_Hors._ Look you, Mr. Doctor, you must not carry it off so; I come to
have the Mony again I gave for the Ho-o-o-

[Faustus _waves his Wand_.

_Cart._ And I come to be paid far my Load of Ha-a-a.

_Enter_ Hostess.

_Host._ O Mr. Doctor! do you harbour Rogues that bilk poor Folks, and
wont pay their Reck'nings? Who must pay me for my A-a-a-a [_Waves
again._

_Enter_ Scaramouche.

_Scar._ Mr. Doctor, I can't be quiet for your Devil Mr. _Me-o-o--_
[_Waves again._

[_Exeunt_ Faustus _and_ Mephostopholis. _They all stare at one another,
and so go off, crying O, o, o, o- to the Emperor's Pallace._

_Enter Emperor_, Faustus, _Gent. Guards._ Benoolio _above_.

_Emp._ Wonder of Men, thrice Learned _Faustus_, Renowned Magician,
welcome to our Court; and as thou late didst promise us, I would behold
the Famous _Alexander_ fighting with his great Rival _Darius_, in their
true Shapes, and State Majestical.

_Faust._ Your Majesty shall see 'em presently.

_Ben._ If thou bring'st _Alexander_, or _Darius_ here, I'll be content
to be _Actæon_, and turn my self to a Stag.

_Faust._ And I'll play _Diana_, and send you the Horns presently.

_Enter_ Darius _and_ Alexander; _they Fight_: Darius _falls_. Alexander
_takes his Crown, and puts it on his Head_.

[_Exit._ Darius _sinks_.

_Faust._ Away, be gon; see, my Gracious Lord, what Beast is that that
thrusts his Head out of yon' Window.

_Emp._ O wondrous Sight! see two Horns on young _Benoolio_'s Head; call
him, Lords.

_Lord._ What, ho! _Benoolio_.

_Ben._ A Plague upon you, let me Sleep.

_Lord._ Look up, _Benoolio_, 'tis the Emperor calls.

_Ben._ The Emperor; O my Head.

_Faust._ And thy Horns hold, 'tis no matter for thy Head.

_Ben._ Doctor, this is your Villany.

_Faust._ O say not so, Sir; the Doctor has no Skill, if he bring
_Alexander_ or _Darius_ here you'll be _Actæon_, and turn to a Stag:
Therefore, if it please your Majesty, I'll bring a Kennel of Hounds to
hunt him. Ho! _Helmot_, _Argiron_, _Asterot_.

_Ben._ Hold, he'll raise a Kennel of Devils. Good, my Lord, intreat.

_Emp._ Prithee remove his Horns, he has done Penance enough.

_Faust._ Away; and remember hereafter you speak well of Scholars.

_Ben._ If Scholars be such Cuckolds to put Horns upon honest Mens Heads,
I'll ne'er trust Smooth-face and Small-band more: But if I been't
reveng'd, may I be turn'd to a Gaping Oyster, and drink nothing but
Salt-water.

_Emp._ Come, _Faustus_, in recompence of this high Desert, Thou shalt
command the State of _Germany_, and live belov'd of mighty _Carolus_.
[_Exeunt omnes._


SCENE _a Garden_.

_Lord._ Nay, sweet _Benoolio_, let us sway thy Thoughts from this
Attempt against the Conjurer.

    _Ben._ My Head is lighter than it was by the Horns:
    And yet my Heart's more pond'rous than my Head,
    And pants, until I see the Conjurer dead.

_2 Lord._ Consider.

_Ben._ Away; disswade me not, he comes. [_Draws._

_Enter_ Faustus _with a false Head_.

    Now Sword strike home:
    For Horns he gave, I'll have his Head anon.

_Runs_ Faustus _through, he falls_.

_Faust._ Oh, oh.

_Ben._ Groan you, Mr. Doctor, now for his Head.

[_Cuts his Head off._

_Lord._ Struck with a willing Hand.

_Ben._ First, on this Scull, in quittance of my Wrongs, I'll nail huge
forked Horns within the Window where he yoak'd me first, that all the
World may see my just Revenge; and thus having settled his Head----

_Faust._ What shall the Body do, Gentlemen.

_Ben._ The Devil's alive again?

_Lord._ Give the Devil his Head again.

    _Faust._ Nay, keep it; _Faustus_ will have Heads and Hands;
    I call your Hearts to recompence this Deed.
    Ho; _Asteroth_, _Belincoth_, _Mephostopholis_.

_Enter Devils, and Horse 'em upon others._

    Go Horse these Traytors on your fiery Backs.
    Drag 'em through Dirt and Mud, through Thorns and Briers.

_Lord._ Pity us, gentle _Faustus_, save our Lives.

_Faust._ Away.

_Ben._ He must needs go whom the Devil drives.

[_Spirits fly away._ _Exit_ Faustus.


SCENE _a Hall_.

_Enter_ Harlequin _in a Beggar's Habit_.

_Harl._ I find this _Scaramouche_ is a Villain; he has left the Doctor,
and is come to be Steward to a rich Widdow, whose Husband dyed
Yesterday, and here he is coming to give the Poor their Doles, of which
I'll ha' my Share.

Scaramouche, _and poor People, with a Basket of Bread and Money_.

_Scar._ Come hither, poor Devils; stand in Order, and be Damn'd. I came
to distribute what your deceased good Master hath bequeath'd. [_They all
stare at_ Scar.

_Harl._ God bless you, Mr. Steward.

_Scar._ Let me tell you, Gentlemen, he was as good a Man as ever piss'd,
or cry'd Stand on the High-way.

[Scaramouche _takes out a Leaf and a Shilling, holds it out, and_
Harlequin _takes it_.

He spent a good Estate, 'tis true; but he was no Body's Foe but his own.
I never left him while he was worth a Groat. [_Again._] He would now and
then Curse in his Passion, and give a Soul to the Devil, or so; yet,
what of that? He always paid his Club, and no Man can say he owes this.
[_Again._] He had a Colt's Tooth, and over-laid one of his Maids; yet,
what of that? All Flesh is frail. [_Again._] 'Tis thought that her Body
workt him off on his Legs; why, what of that? his Legs were his own, and
his Arse never hung in your Light. [_Again._] Sometimes, you'll say, he
wou'd rap out an Oath; what then, Words are but Wind, and he meant no
more harm than a sucking Pig does by squeaking. [_Again._] Now let's
consider his good Deeds; he brew'd a Firkin of strong Drink for the poor
every Year, and kill'd an old Ram every _Easter_: The Meat that was
stale, and his Drink that was sowre, was always yours. [_Again._] He
allow'd you in Harvest to Glean after his Rake. [_Again._] And now, at
his Death, has given you all this. [_Again._

_Scar._ So, setting the Hare's Head against the Goose Giblets, he was a
good Hospitable Man; and much good may do you with what you had.

_Poor._ I have had nothing.

_2 Poor._ Nor I.

_3 Po._ Nor I.

_4 Po._ Nor. I.

_Scar._ Nothing.

_All._ Nothing, nothing.

_Scar._ Nothing, nothing; you lying Rogues, then there's something for
you. [_Beats 'em all off._

_Enter_ Harlequin _in a Cloak, laughing_.

_Har._ So now I am Victual'd, I may hold out Siege against Hunger. [_A
Noise within; this way, this way._

Ha! they are hunting after me, and will kill me. Let me see, I will take
this Gibbet for my Preserver, and with this long Cloak make as if I were
hang'd. Now when they find a Man hang'd, not knowing me in this
Disguise, they'll look no farther after me, but think the Thief's
hang'd.----I hear 'em coming. [_Throws himself off the Ladder._

_Enter_ Scaramouche.

_Scar._ Ha! what's here, a Man hang'd? But what Paper is this in his
Hand?

[_Whil'st_ Scaramouche _reads_, Harlequin _puts the Rope over him_.

I have cheated the Poor of their Mony, and took the Bread out of their
Mouths, for which I was much troubled in Conscience, fell into Dispair,
and, as you see, hang'd my self.

[_Pulls him up, and runs out_

O the Devil! Murder, murder!

_Enter_ Poor.

_Poor._ O Neighbours, here hangs the Rogue.

_Scar._ Help me down?

_Poor._ No, you are very well as you are.

_Scar._ Don't you know me?

_Poor._ Ay, for a Rogue; e'en finish your Work, and save the Hang-man a
Labour. Yet, now I think on't, self-murder is a crying Sin, and may damn
his Soul. Come, Neighbours, we'll take him down, and have him hang'd
according to Law. [_When he's down he trips up their Heels, and runs
out, they after him._

_All._ Stop Thief, stop Thief.

_Thunder and Lightning_; Lucifer, Beelzebub, _and_ Mephostopholis.

_Luc._ Thus from the infernal _Dis_ do we ascend, bringing with us the
Deed; the Time is come which makes it forfeit.

_Enter_ Faustus, _an old Man, and a Scholar_.

_Old M._ Yet, _Faustus_, call on Heav'n.

_Faust._ Oh! 'tis too late; behold, they lock my Hands.

_Old M._ Who, _Faustus_?

_Faust._ _Lucifer_ and _Mephostopholis_; I gave 'em my Soul for Four and
twenty Years.

_Old M._ Heav'n forbid.

_Fau._ Ay, Heav'n forbad it indeed, but _Faustus_ has done it; for the
vain Pleasure of Four and twenty Years, _Faustus_ has lost eternal Joy
and Felicity: I writ 'em a Bill with my own Blood, the Date is expired;
this is the Time, and they are come to fetch me.

_Old M._ Why would not _Faustus_ tell me of that before?

_Faust._ I oft intended it, but the Devil threat'ned to tear me in
Pieces. O Friend, retire, and save your self.

_Old M._ I'll into the next Room, and there pray for thee.

_Faust._ Ay, pray for me; and what Noise soever you hear stir not, for
nothing can rescue me.

_Old M._ Pray thou, and I'll pray. Adieu.

_Faust._ If I live till Morning I'll visit you; if not, _Faustus_ is gon
to Hell. [_Exeunt old Man and Scholar._

_Meph._ Ay, _Faustus_, now thou hast no hopes on Heav'n.

    _Faust._ O thou bewitching Fiend; 'twas thou, and thy
    Temptations, hath rob'd me of eternal Happiness.

    _Meph._ I do confess it, _Faustus_, and rejoyce.
    What weep'st thou, 'tis too late; hark to thy Knell:
    Fools that will Laugh on Earth, must Weep in Hell.

_Ext._

_Good and bad Angel descend._

    _Good An._ O _Faustus_, if thou hadst given Ear to me,
    Innumerable Joys had followed thee:
    But thou didst love the World.

_Bad An._ Gave Ear to me, and now must taste Hell's Pains perpetual.

_Throne of Heaven appears._

    _Good An._ Had'st thou affected sweet Divinity,
    Hell, nor the Devil, had no Power on thee.
    Had'st thou kept on that way, _Faustus_, behold in what resplendid
    Glory thou had'st sat; that hast thou Lost.
    And now, poor Soul, must thy good Angel leave:
    The Jaws of Hell are ready to receive thee.      [_Ascends._

_Hell is discovered._

    _Bad An._ Now, _Faustus_, let thy Eyes with Horror stare
    Into that Vast perpetual torturing House.

_Faust._ O I have seen enough to torture me.

    _Bad An._ Nay thou must feel 'em, 'taste the Smart of all.
    He that loves Pleasure must for Pleasure fall:
    And so I leave thee, _Faustus_, till anon.
    Thou'lt tumble into Confusion.      [_Descends._

_The Clock strikes Eleven._

    _Faust._ Now, _Faustus_, hast thou but one bear Hour to Live,
    And then thou must be Damn'd perpetually:
    Stand still you ever-moving Spheres of Heav'n,
    That Time may cease, and Mid-night never come.

Or let this Hour be but a Year, a Month, a Week, a natural Day; that
_Faustus_ may repent, and save his Soul. Mountains and Hills come, come,
and fall on me, and hide me from the heavy Wrath of Heav'n. Gape Earth;
Oh no, it will not harbour me. [_The Clock 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, an Hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd. [_Strikes
Twelve._ No End is limitted to damn'd Souls: It strikes, it strikes.
Now, Body, turn to Air, to Earth, or Water. Oh! avoid the Fire: They
come. Oh! mercy, Heaven; ugly Hell gape not. Come not _Lucifer_; O
_Mephostopholis_.

[_Sink with Devils. Thunder._

_Enter old Man and Scholar._

_Old M._ Come, Friend, let's visit _Faustus_: For such a dreadful Night
was never seen.

_Scene discovers_ Faustus's _Limbs_.

    _Schol._ O help us, Heav'n; see here are _Faustus_'s Limbs,
    All torn asunder by the Hand of Hell.

    _Old M._ May this a fair Example be to all,
    To avoid such Ways which brought poor _Faustus_'s Fall.
    And whatsoever Pleasure does invite,
    Sell not your Souls to purchase vain Delight.

[_Exeunt._

_Scene changes to Hell._

Faustus _Limbs come together_. _A Dance, and Song._


_FINIS._




    WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK
    MEMORIAL LIBRARY

    UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES

    The Augustan Reprint Society

    PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT


The Augustan Reprint Society

PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT

=1948-1949=

16. Henry Nevil Payne, _The Fatal Jealousie_ (1673).

17. Nicholas Rowe, _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear_
    (1709).

18. Anonymous, "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10
    (1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).

=1949-1950=

19. Susanna Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709).

20. Lewis Theobald, _Preface to the Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).

22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and two
    _Rambler_ papers (1750).

23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).

=1951-1952=

26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792).

31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751), and
    _The Eton College Manuscript_.

=1952-1953=

41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732).

=1962-1963=

98. Selected Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's _Temple_ ... (1697).

=1964-1965=

109. Sir William Temple, _An Essay Upon the Original and Nature of
     Government_ (1680).

110. John Tutchin, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700).

111. Anonymous, _Political Justice_ (1736).

112. Robert Dodsley, _An Essay on Fable_ (1764).

113. T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_ (1698).

114. Two Poems Against Pope: Leonard Welsted, _One Epistle to Mr. A.
     Pope_ (1730), and Anonymous, _The Blatant Beast_ (1742).

=1965-1966=

115. Daniel Defoe and others, _Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal_.

116. Charles Macklin, _The Covent Garden Theatre_ (1752).

117. Sir Roger L'Estrange, _Citt and Bumpkin_ (1680).

118. Henry More, _Enthusiasmus Triumphatus_ (1662).

119. Thomas Traherne, _Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation_
     (1717).

120. Bernard Mandeville, _Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables_
     (1740).

=1966-1967=

123. Edmond Malone, _Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed to Mr.
     Thomas Rowley_ (1782).

124. Anonymous, _The Female Wits_ (1704).

125. Anonymous, _The Scribleriad_ (1742). Lord Hervey, _The Difference
     Between Verbal and Practical Virtue_ (1742).

=1967-1968=

129. Lawrence Echard, Prefaces to _Terence's Comedies_ (1694) and
     _Plautus's Comedies_ (1694).

=1968-1969=

133. John Courtenay, _A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral
     Character of the Late Samuel Johnson_ (1786).

134. John Downes, _Roscius Anglicanus_ (1708).

135. Sir John Hill, _Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise_ (1766).

136. Thomas Sheridan, _Discourse ... Being Introductory to His Course of
     Lectures on Elocution and the English Language_ (1759).

137. Arthur Murphy, _The Englishman From Paris_ (1736).

=1969-1970=

138. [Catherine Trotter], _Olinda's Adventures_ (1718).

139. John Ogilvie, _An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients_
     (1762).

140. _A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1726) and _Pudding Burnt to
     Pot or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1727).

141. Selections from Sir Roger L'Estrange's _Observator_ (1681-1687).

142. Anthony Collins, _A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in
     Writing_ (1729).

143. _A Letter From A Clergyman to His Friend, With An Account of the
     Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver_ (1726).

144. _The Art of Architecture, A Poem. In Imitation of Horace's Art of
     Poetry_ (1742).

=1970-1971=

145-146. Thomas Shelton, _A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing_
         (1642) and _Tachygraphy_ (1647).

147-148. _Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson_ (1782).

149. _Poeta de Tristibus: or the Poet's Complaint_ (1682).

150. Gerard Langbaine, _Momus Triumphans: or the Plagiaries of the
     English Stage_ (1687).

=1971-1972=

151-152. Evan Lloyd, _The Methodist_. A Poem (1766).

153. _Are these Things So?_ (1740), and _The Great Man's Answer to Are
     these Things So?_ (1740).

154. Arbuthnotiana: _The Story of the St. Alb-ns Ghost_ (1712), and _A
     Catalogue of Dr. Arbuthnot's Library_ (1779).

155-156. A Selection of Emblems from Herman Hugo's _Pia Desideria_
         (1624), with English Adaptations by Francis Quarles and Edmund
         Arwaker.




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