Monday 4 April 2022

Red Skies














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

     THIRD SCHOLAR. God will strengthen me; I will stay with Faustus.

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

     FAUSTUS. Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever
     ye hear,171 come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me.

     SECOND SCHOLAR. Pray thou, and we will pray that God may have
     mercy upon thee.

     FAUSTUS. 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.]

     FAUSTUS. 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,172 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 harbour 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 labouring cloud[s],
     That, when you173 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!174 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.

     CHORUS. 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 fiendful fortune may exhort the wise,
     Only to wonder at unlawful things,
     Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits
     To practice more than heavenly power permits.
          [Exit.]

     Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus.

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