Only this, gentles—We must now perform The form of Faustus’ fortunes, good or bad: And now to patient judgements we appeal And speak for Faustus in his infancy. Now is he born of parents base of stock In Germany within a town called Rhode . . . So much he profits in divinity That shortly he was graced with doctor’s name, Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute In th’ heavenly matters of theology[.]
Settle thy studies Faustus, and begin To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess. Having commenced, be a divine in show— Yet level at the end of every art And live and die in Aristotle’s works.
Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius, Know that your words have won me at the last To practice magic and concealèd arts. Philosophy is odious and obscure. Both law and physic are for petty wits, Divinity is basest of the three— Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile. ’Tis magic, magic, that hath ravished me!
Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at dinner, with Valdes and Cornelius, as this wine, if it could speak, would inform your worships; and so, the Lord bless you, preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren.
Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at their death have good inspirations. Therefore the lottery that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you, will no doubt never be chosen by any rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection toward any of these princely suitors that are already come?
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