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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
http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE AND DEATH OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS MADE INTO A FARCE ***

To

H. T. Swedenberg, Junior

founder, protector, friend

He that delights to Plant and Set, Makes After-Ages in his Debt. 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:
'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 bad 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
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