Ay, go, accursed spirit, to ugly hell!
'Tis thou hast damn'd distressed Faustus' soul.
Is't not too late?
Re-enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL.
Never too late, if Faustus can repent.
If thou repent, devils shall tear thee in pieces.
Repent, and they shall never raze thy skin.
Ah, Christ, my Saviour,
Seek to save distressed Faustus' soul!
Enter LUCIFER, BELZEBUB, and MEPHISTOPHILIS.
Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just:
There's none but I have interest in the same.
O, who art thou that look'st so terrible?
I am Lucifer,
And this is my companion-prince in hell.
O, Faustus, they are come to fetch away thy soul!
We come to tell thee thou dost injure us;
Thou talk'st of Christ, contrary to thy promise:
Thou shouldst not think of God: think of the devil,
And of his dam too.
Nor will I henceforth: pardon me in this,
And Faustus vows never to look to heaven,
Never to name God, or to pray to him,
To burn his Scriptures, slay his ministers,
And make my spirits pull his churches down.
Do so, and we will highly gratify thee. Faustus, we are
come from hell to shew thee some pastime: sit down, and thou
shalt see all the Seven Deadly Sins appear in their proper shapes.
That sight will be as pleasing unto me,
As Paradise was to Adam, the first day
Of his creation.
Talk not of Paradise nor creation; but mark this show:
talk of the devil, and nothing else. — Come away!
Enter the SEVEN DEADLY SINS.
Now, Faustus, examine them of their several names and dispositions.
What art thou, the first?
I am Pride. I disdain to have any parents. I am like to
Ovid's flea; I can creep into every corner of a wench; sometimes,
like a perriwig, I sit upon her brow; or, like a fan of feathers,
I kiss her lips; indeed, I do — what do I not? But, fie, what a
scent is here! I'll not speak another word, except the ground
were perfumed, and covered with cloth of arras.
What art thou, the second?
I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl, in an
old leathern bag: and, might I have my wish, I would desire that
this house and all the people in it were turned to gold, that I
might lock you up in my good chest: O, my sweet gold!
What art thou, the third?
I am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother: I leapt out
of a lion's mouth when I was scarce half-an-hour old; and ever
since I have run up and down the world with this case
of rapiers, wounding myself when I had nobody to fight withal.
I was born in hell; and look to it, for some of you shall be
What art thou, the fourth?
I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife.
I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt. I am lean
with seeing others eat. O, that there would come a famine through
all the world, that all might die, and I live alone! then thou
shouldst see how fat I would be. But must thou sit, and I stand?
come down, with a vengeance!
Away, envious rascal! — What art thou, the fifth?
Who I, sir? I am Gluttony. My parents are all dead,
and the devil a penny they have left me, but a bare pension, and
that is thirty meals a-day and ten bevers, — a small trifle
to suffice nature. O, I come of a royal parentage! my grandfather
was a Gammon of Bacon, my grandmother a Hogshead of Claret-wine;
my godfathers were these, Peter Pickle-herring and Martin
Martlemas-beef; O, but my godmother, she was a jolly gentlewoman,
and well-beloved in every good town and city; her name was Mistress
Margery March-beer. Now, Faustus, thou hast heard all my progeny;
wilt thou bid me to supper?
No, I'll see thee hanged: thou wilt eat up all my victuals.