Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher · published 1604 · first performed or written 1592 [1592-1593] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Ah Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And than thou must be damned 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 lent lent curite noctis equi: The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned. 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, oh 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 reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell, Now draw up Faustus like a foggy mist, Into the entrails of yond labouring cloud, That when you vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, So that my soul may but ascend to heaven: Ah, half the hour is past: 'twill all be passed anon: Oh God, if thou wilt not have mercy on my soul, Yet for Christ's sake, whose blood hath ransomed me, Impose some end to my incessant pain, Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, A hundred thousand, and at last be saved. 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 changed Unto some brutish beast: all beasts are happy, for when they die, Their souls are soon dissolved in elements, But mine must live still to be plagued in hell: Cursed be the parents that engendered me: No Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, That hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven: O it strikes, it strikes, now body turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell: Oh soul, be changed into little water drops, And fall into the Ocean, near be found: My God, my God, look not so fierce on me: Adders, and Serpents, let me breath a while: Ugly hell gape not, come not Lucifer, I'll burn my books, ah Mephastophilis. 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 practise more than heavenly power permits.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ah Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hower to liue, And then thou must be damnd perpetually: Stand stil you euer moouing spheres of heauen, That ime may cease, and midnight neuer come: Faire Natures eie, rise rise, againe, and make Perpetuall day, or let this houre be but a yeere, A moneth, a wéeke, a naturall day, That Faustus may repent and saue his soule, O lente lente curite noctis equi: The starres mooue stil, time runs, the clocke wil strike, The diuel wil come, and Faustus must be damnd. O Ile leape vp to my God: who pulles me downe? See see where Christs blood streames in the firmament, One drop would saue my soule, halfe a drop, ah my Christ, Ah rend not my heart for naming of my Christ, Yet wil I call on him, oh spare me Lucifer! Where is it now? tis gone: And see where God stretcheth out his arme, And bends his irefull browes: Mountaines and hilles, come come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heauy wrath of God. No no, then wil I headlong runne into the earth: Earth gape, O no, it wil not harbour me: You starres that raignd at my natiuitie, whose influence hath alotted death and hel, Now draw vp Faustus like a foggy mist, Into the intrailes of yon labring cloude, That when you vomite foorth into the ayre, My limbes may issue from your smoaky mouthes, So that my soule may but ascend to heauen: Ah, halfe the houre is past: Twil all be past anone: Oh God, if thou wilt not haue mercy on my soule, Yet for Christs sake, whose bloud hath ransomd me, Impose some end to my incessant paine, Let Faustus liue in hel a thousand yeeres, A hundred thousand, and at last be saud. O no end is limited to damned soules, Why wert thou not a creature wanting soule? Or, why is this immortall that thou hast? Ah Pythagoras metem su cossis were that true, This soule should flie from me, and I be changde Unto some brutish beast: al beasts are happy, for when they die, Their soules are soone dissolud in elements, But mine must liue still to be plagde in hel: Curst be the parents that ingendred me: No Faustus, curse thy selfe, curse Lucifer, That hath depriude thée of the ioyes of heauen: O it strikes, it strikes, now body turne to ayre, Or Lucifer wil beare thée quicke to hel: Oh soule, be changde into little water drops, And fal into the Ocean, nere be found: My God, my God, looke not so fierce on me: Adders, and Serpents, let me breathe a while: Ugly hell gape not, come not Lucifer, Ile burne my bookes, ah Mephastophilis. Cut is the branch that might haue growne ful straight, And burned is Apolloes Laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man: Faustus is gone, regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise, Onely to wonder at vnlawful things, whose deepenesse doth intise such forward wits, To practise more than heauenly power permits.