(
FAUSTUS
takes the newspaper
.)
FAUSTUS:
But this is not the gazette. The page is blank …
WIFE:
The child is unwell.
FAUSTUS:
He is but overset.
WIFE:
Yes.
FRIEND:
Must we annul the entertainment?
WIFE:
Come with me now, Faustus. Enough.
FAUSTUS:
One moment, while I close with the jester. (
To
FRIEND
) Would you fetch my purse?
FRIEND
:
(
AS HE HANDS
FAUSTUS
a purse
) Here is mine.
FAUSTUS
:
(
AS HE HANDS A SHEET OF PAPER TO HIS
FRIEND
) Thank you, please, and be so good as to return this page to my manuscript. You remark, it is the final page …
FRIEND:
… great honor.
FAUSTUS:
Go with my wife. Do not fret for the child. Surfeit must be released. Heavy air weighs on the lungs, the storms discharge it.
(
The
FRIEND
exits
.)
FAUSTUS
:
(
TO THE
MAGUS
) Maestro, my pardon. Take this (
Of the purse
), and with my thanks, I would not for the world release you, but as you perceive …
MAGUS:
Servant, sir.
FAUSTUS:
I pray but for the restoration of the gazette.
MAGUS:
I beg your pardon?
FAUSTUS:
Where is the journal?
MAGUS:
Sir, it is vanished.
FAUSTUS:
Quite. But where? Shall I turn my back?
MAGUS:
Sir, I have made the incantation, and the component atoms of the subject article …
FAUSTUS:
Indeed, then, I must class myself with those who, doubtless, importune you to reveal the secrets of your worthy craft.
MAGUS:
Would you, again, sir, trade delight for disillusionment … ?
FAUSTUS:
I do not seek delight, but restoration. I require the journal.
MAGUS:
Sir, I am at a stand.
FAUSTUS:
Sir: did you have me swear? Did you tax me to swear?
MAGUS:
I do not know, how, in faith, I may unclothe my craft.
FAUSTUS:
Did you not have me mime a ceremony, to do just that?
MAGUS:
Indeed, it was but to augment th’ effect… ’tis not for the uninitiated …
FAUSTUS:
Oh. Do I transgress a magical divide? Do I encroach upon the netherworld …? Shall I avert
my unschooled gaze lest it be seared by the mysteries …? Poor uninitiate, to wander, sightless in the sacred grove. Do I offend? I beg pardon; but have I not contracted for your energy? And now have you, as comes to any artist, o’er reached yourself? Must you renounce your excellence, and crawl to kennel like a beaten dog, your poor trick revealed? How unlike the omnipotent priest you impersonate. (
Pause
) Have you not been paid? Why do you hesitate?
MAGUS:
I held, sir, but the one moment to compose my thought. For onlookers, discovering an illusion, fall into self-contempt, and, indeed, oft, to anger. I strove but for a happy way to effect the restoration. I assure you I intended no disrespect. (
Of purse
) You have over-rewarded me, who did not, in fact, perform. If I, in my search for a graceful exit, caused offense, I humbly beg your pardon. Please guard this pledge of my sincerity. (
The
MAGUS
restores the purse to
FAUSTUS
.) The journal may be found beneath your feet.
(
The
MAGUS
begins to exit
.)
FAUSTUS:
Wait, friend, wait, I beg you hear me, though, indeed, I have no merit to plead. I have, I second you, traduced whatever claim upon your gracious-ness. And I have mocked you. In giddy self-absorption. I have no excuse, and can but beg your pardon.
MAGUS:
I do not comprehend you, sir.
FAUSTUS:
Indeed you do, oh, stay, and forgive me. Wait, while I delineate it: We had engaged you. To perform, who bought your time, and owe you, in return, attention …
MAGUS:
Not were my play to fail…
FAUSTUS:
In any case, civility. From which we may not be exempted. I am in breach. And plead, not as your contractor, but as one man to his like, you feign a god, and I a philosopher. Forgive me. Who most completely regrets his offense.
MAGUS:
(
Pause
) It were above me to forgive you.
FAUSTUS:
Oh no, naught but our parity wipes the slate clean.
MAGUS:
None but you has the power to suggest it.
FAUSTUS:
Must that debar me from my suit?
MAGUS:
You plead your right to waive preferment.
FAUSTUS:
I do.
MAGUS:
And yet, I cannot waive my subordination.
FAUSTUS:
Oh, my friend. Which makes my gaffe the less excusable. I am ashamed of my intemperate speech and offer my sincere apology. (
Pause
)
MAGUS:
You entice me to my better self.
FAUSTUS:
I ask your pardon.
MAGUS:
Were I to forward but its simulacrum?
FAUSTUS:
Come, sir, finally, let us be friends. Shall we not be friends? Mired together, in this what shall we say …?
Aid
me … in …?
MAGUS:
In a dark wood.
FAUSTUS:
In this underworld. Which you and I know as the world’s nickname. Two philosophers, two showmen, seeking to astound, are we not?
MAGUS:
You, sir, through your perception, I through trickery…
FAUSTUS:
Each though, libel to frightened slander. Do I tax the conceit? My yokemate, as we pull the world on?
MAGUS:
You o’er flatter me …
FAUSTUS:
As we: reason and folly, two paired oxen, wrestle the wagon of the world … ah, you smile, and now, encouraged by your approbation, having tapped its depth shall I now try its elasticity? Where did I leave my burden?
MAGUS:
In a dark wood …
FAUSTUS:
In the dark wood, yes, our rough conveyance, fast in the mire, no purchase, night coming on …
MAGUS:
You have neglected the storm.
FAUSTUS:
I stipulate it per tradition. And the cart, aid me, my friend.
MAGUS:
Upon whose side we daub the name Humanity …
FAUSTUS:
… oh, precious perishable cargo … left to the strength …
MAGUS:
Abandoned to the faltering strength …
FAUSTUS:
Of its mismatched beasts of travail: philosophy and Magic … its castrated fattened cattle: Amuse me from this Wood, oh, Magus. From this dark wood. From loneliness, my brother. Oh, poor souls—who would begrudge us our self-pity—alone empowered, are we not?
MAGUS:
Are we, sir?
FAUSTUS:
Possessors of that Secret Knowledge. And unable to discharge the burden.
MAGUS:
To the which end, the paired oxen must pull together.
FAUSTUS:
There you are, my friend. A meeting in the dark wood. For it doth turn a burden, now and then …
MAGUS:
In any pursuit…
FAUSTUS:
I would imagine, the uncertainty, the need to please …
MAGUS:
Recurring, periodic self-doubt, sir, as we, increasing, master the few tricks, and, daily, doubt their worth.
FAUSTUS:
You speak, sir, for the company. (
Pause
)
MAGUS:
Who drives your figure?
FAUSTUS:
Eh?
MAGUS:
You speak of the oxen, and their cart… who is it directs them?
FAUSTUS:
Ah, yes, whom may we say? Who is the goad?
MAGUS:
Perhaps, the family …
FAUSTUS:
The family.
MAGUS:
Perhaps one toils for their comfort, their safety and education.
FAUSTUS:
Perhaps.
MAGUS:
Is it not so?
FAUSTUS:
Though, oft in our secret selves, we indict them, do we not?
MAGUS:
Indict them, you say, sir?
FAUSTUS:
For their claim upon us.
MAGUS:
A legitimate claim.
FAUSTUS:
How much the more oppressive?
MAGUS:
When is a man content?
FAUSTUS:
I ask you. When may one be content? When work, and admiration, family, fame, nay, and
posterity
continually importune for acknowledgment. What poor conflicted souls. Who falsely name their pursuit “liberty ”
MAGUS:
What is its secret name? (
Pause
)
FAUSTUS:
Revenge. Those with whom I contend, are phantoms. Those I instruct fools, or e’er either to avoid, or e’er applaud the obvious. I fear failure, I sicken of success, my sinews set in the mold in which work has stiffened them. I am unfitted even to unbend. I beg thee, brother, purge my soul of its self-content, show me the upper world, and I will follow. Poor, petted Faustus implores thee.
MAGUS:
I scarce know how to take you, sir.
FAUSTUS:
No, no, induct me. Blister my flesh upon the candle, cause me to proffer oaths.
MAGUS:
What oaths?
FAUSTUS:
Whate’er is traditional…
(
Offstage cries are heard
.)
MAGUS:
The child cries.
FAUSTUS:
Its cries will cease. Shrive me. Bid me renounce th’ immaterial world. I regret my preferment and beg for the chance to begin anew.
MAGUS:
Ah: That is a plea I recognize.
FAUSTUS:
Then pity me. Ultimate physician.
MAGUS:
Another bears that name.
FAUSTUS:
Perhaps you are his servant?
MAGUS:
All are within his thrall.
FAUSTUS:
Indeed?
MAGUS:
Is there not said to be salvation?
FAUSTUS:
Who returns to demonstrate it? (
Pause
) What powers shall we importune?
MAGUS:
I cede to you the choice.
FAUSTUS:
Teach me a trick.
MAGUS:
I shall reveal a trick, in fact, the greatest of illusions: (
The
MAGUS
prepares to perform a magical flourish
.)
(
The
FRIEND
appears
.)
FRIEND:
Faustus.
MAGUS:
… Behold.
FRIEND:
Your wife sends to summon you.
FAUSTUS:
It is the child.
FRIEND:
It is.
MAGUS:
May all its trials be transient.
FAUSTUS:
It cries from excitement. It cries for a bruise at play. Its cries are sweet, for it may be comforted.
FRIEND:
Your wife bids you attend immediately. (
Pause
) Faustus.
FAUSTUS
:
(
TO THE
MAGUS
) Sir, I would not for the world, again, offend you. But, as you see. Sadly, as you see.
MAGUS:
Of course.
FAUSTUS:
(
To the
FRIEND
) I come on the instant. (
The
FRIEND
exits. To the
MAGUS
) My thanks, sir, from the heart, for your companionship. I forestall, until that day, the renewed delight of our continued brotherhood.
MAGUS:
You asked to be taught a trick.
FAUSTUS:
I must plead a postponement.
MAGUS:
E’en to discover the most complete effect?
FAUSTUS:
I do not doubt your skill. Howe’er, my duties abrogate even your power, O Magus, to transfix me. Servant, sir.
(
FAUSTUS
starts to depart
.)
MAGUS:
Your manuscript contains an error.
FAUSTUS:
(
Pause
) What?
MAGUS:
As I have said.
FAUSTUS:
Ah. Yes. Well done. My manuscript. An overheard exchange prompts an improvisation. A misplaced punctuation mark, an orthographic fault.
MAGUS:
It hides an error, which, to posterity serves to nullify the work entire.
FAUSTUS:
Have you then seen the future?
MAGUS:
It is one with the past.
FAUSTUS:
Absent the provoking generalities.
MAGUS:
Do you challenge me?
FAUSTUS:
I do. What do you know of my philosophy?
MAGUS:
’Tis said you are like Adam, before whom were brought all God’s creation, and whate’er he chose to call them, so they were called. And now you are complete. Your long years journey summarized in mathematical perfection.
FAUSTUS:
You speak of my new work?
MAGUS:
I do.
FAUSTUS:
I penned the last page but this afternoon.
MAGUS:
You wish me to quote it to you.
FAUSTUS:
I do.
MAGUS:
“Wherein we find that number …”
FAUSTUS:
No …
MAGUS:
Indeed, “is not, and signifies not a quantity, but a progression.” Shall I continue? Shall I quote the formula?