The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus Christopher Marlowe (philippa perry book .TXT) 📖
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- Author: Christopher Marlowe
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wretch and execrable dog,
Bred in the concave of some monstrous rock,
How darest thou thus abuse a gentleman?
Villain, I say, undo what thou hast done! Faustus O, not so fast, sir; there’s no haste; but, good, are you remembered how you crossed me in my conference with the Emperor? I think I have met with you for it. Emperor Good Master Doctor, at my entreaty release him: he hath done penance sufficient. Faustus My gracious lord, not so much for the injury he offered me here in your presence, as to delight you with some mirth, hath Faustus worthily requited this injurious knight: which being all I desire, I am content to release him of his horns: and, sir knight, hereafter speak well of scholars. Mephistopheles, transform him straight. Mephistopheles removes the horns. Now, my good lord, having done my duty I humbly take my leave. Emperor
Bred in the concave of some monstrous rock,
How darest thou thus abuse a gentleman?
Villain, I say, undo what thou hast done! Faustus O, not so fast, sir; there’s no haste; but, good, are you remembered how you crossed me in my conference with the Emperor? I think I have met with you for it. Emperor Good Master Doctor, at my entreaty release him: he hath done penance sufficient. Faustus My gracious lord, not so much for the injury he offered me here in your presence, as to delight you with some mirth, hath Faustus worthily requited this injurious knight: which being all I desire, I am content to release him of his horns: and, sir knight, hereafter speak well of scholars. Mephistopheles, transform him straight. Mephistopheles removes the horns. Now, my good lord, having done my duty I humbly take my leave. Emperor
Farewell, Master Doctor; yet, ere you go,
Expect from me a bounteous reward.
Now, Mephistopheles, the restless course
That Time doth run with calm and silent foot,
Shortening my days and thread of vital life,
Calls for the payment of my latest years:
Therefore, sweet Mephistopheles, let us
Make haste to Wertenberg.
What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemned to die?
Thy fatal time doth draw to final end;
Despair doth drive distrust into my thoughts:
Confound these passions with a quiet sleep:
Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the cross;
Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit.
Sleeps in his chair.
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