The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Dr. Faustus (B Text)

Act: 5 Scene: 1
Faustus
Gentlemen, for that I know your friendship is unfeigned,
It is not Faustus' custom to deny
The just request of those that wish him well.
You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece,
No otherwise for pomp or majesty,
Than when Sir Paris cross the seas with her,
And brought the spoils to rich Dardania.
Be silent then, for danger is in words.
Faustus
Gentlemen, farewell; the same wish I to you.
Faustus
Where art thou, Faustus? Wretch, what hast thou done?
Hell claims his right, and with a roaring voice
Says, Faustus, come, thine hour is almost come,Mephistophilis
And Faustus now will come to do thee right.
Faustus
O, friend, I feel thy words to comfort my distressed soul.
Leave me a while to ponder on my sins.
Faustus
Accursed Faustus, wretch what hast thou done?
I do repent, and yet I do despair,
Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast.
What shall I do to shun the snares of death?
Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul,
For disobedience to my sovereign lord.
Revolt or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh.
Faustus
I do repent I e'er offended him.
Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord
To pardon my unjust presumption,
And with my blood again I will confirm
The former vow I made to Lucifer.
Do it then, Faustus, with unfeigned heart,
Lest greater dangers do attend thy drift.
Torment, sweet friend, that base and aged man
That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer,
With greatest torment that our hell affords.
Faustus
One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee
To glut the longing of my heart's desire,
That I may have unto my paramour,
That heavenly Helen, which I saw of late,
Whose sweet embraces may extinguish clear
Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow,
And keep my vow I made to Lucifer.
Faustus
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
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 Wittenberg 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.
O, thou art fairer than the evening's air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
Brighter art thou then flaming Jupiter,
When he appeared to hapless Semele,
More lovely than the Monarch of the sky,
In wanton Arethusa's azure arms,
And none but thou shalt be my paramour. Exeunt.