The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Dr. Faustus (A Text)

Act: 2 Scene: 14
Faust.
Gentlemen,
For that I know your friendship is unfeigned,
And Faustus' custom is not to deny
The just requests of those that wish him well,
You shalt behold that peerless dame of Greece,
No otherways for pomp and majesty,
Than when Sir Paris crossed the seas with her,
And brought the spoils to rich Dardania.
Be silent, then, for danger is in words.
[Music sounds, and HELEN
passeth wer the stage. 2nd SchoL Too simple is my wit to tell her praise, Whom all the world admires for majesty.
Faustus.
Gentlemen, farewell—the same I wish to you.
[Exeunt Scholars. Enter an Old Man.
Faust.
Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done?
Damned art thou, Faustus, damned; 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 the right
[Mephistophilisgives htm a dagger.
Faust.
Ah, my sweet friend, I feel
Thy words do comfort my distressed soul.
Leave me a while to ponder on my sins.
Faust.
AccursÈD Faustus, where is Mercy now?
I do repent; and yet I do despair:
Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast:
What shalt I do to shun the snares of death?
Faust.
Sweet0 Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord
To pardon my unjust presumption.
And with my blood again I will confirm
My former vow I made to Lucifer.
Faust.
Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age,
That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer,
With greatest torments that our Hell affords.
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
These thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow,
And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer.
Faust.
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. [Kisses her.
Her lips sucks 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, shalt Wertenberg be sacked:
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest:
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter are thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appeared 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.