foul pool of the damned, that the rebel shall one day blaspheme, and curse this and the hour of his birth.”

He went away wrapt in a veil of smoke, and the fiends pursued him with loud huzzas.

Faustus stood within the magic circle, while his breast swelled with rage.  For the third time he repeated the dreadful formula, in a voice that resembled thunder.  The door suddenly flew open; a thick vapour hovered around the margin of the circle; he struck into it with his magic rod, and cried in triumph, “Unveil thyself, thou thing of darkness!”  The vapour dispersed, and Faustus saw a tall figure concealed beneath a red mantle.

Faustus.  Why this tedious disguise to one who wishes to see thee?  Discover thyself to him, who fears thee not in whatever shape thou mayst appear.

The Devil flung back his mantle, and stood in a daring and majestic attitude before the circle. 

His fiery eyes sparkled from beneath their black brows, between which malice, hatred, fury, agony, and scorn had formed themselves in thick folds.  These furrows were sunk in a smooth, clear, high-arched forehead, which contrasted strangely with the fiendish marks between the eyes.  A finely-formed aquiline nose inclined towards a mouth which seemed to have been framed only for the enjoyment of immortal things.  He had the mien of a fallen angel, whose countenance was once illuminated by the Godhead, but which was now obscured by a gloomy veil.

Faustus (in surprise).  Is man, then, every where at home?  Who art thou?

Devil.  I am a prince of hell, and come because thy mighty call compels me.

Faustus.  A prince of hell under this mask; under the figure of a man!  I wished for a fiend, and not one of my own race.

Devil.  Perhaps, Faustus, we are most so when we resemble ye; at least, no mask suits us better.  Besides, is it not your custom to conceal what ye are, and to appear what ye are not?

Faustus.  Bitter enough, and yet true as bitter; for, if our outsides looked like our insides, we should not be very different from that which we imagine you to be; still, I expected to see thee more terrible, and even hoped that thy appearance would try the strength of my courage.

Devil.  Thus do ye always imagine things contrary to what they are.  Probably you expected a devil with horns and a cloven foot, as the cowardly age has depicted him.  But since you have ceased to worship the powers of nature, they have forsaken you, and you can no longer conceive any thing great.  If I were to stand before thee such as I really am,—my eyes threatening comets, my body a dark, hovering cloud, which shoots lightning from its gloom, in my hand the sword which I once brandished against the Avenger, and on my arm the ponderous shield which his thunder pierced,—thou wouldst become a heap of ashes in thy circle.

Faustus.  But then I should at least see something great.

Devil.  I might admire your courage; but

you are never more ridiculous than in these would-be grand bursts of feeling, when you contrast the little you can embrace with the monstrous and great which are so high above you.  Thus may the worm measure the trampling elephant, and reckon his weight in the moment when it dies beneath his powerful foot.

Faustus.  Mocker! and what, then, is the spirit within me, which, if it once get fairly on the ladder, will mount from step to step into infinity?  What are its limits?

Devil.  The length of your own nose.  But, if you called me out of hell merely for this chit-chat, permit me to return for ever.  I have long known your inclination to prate about that which you do not understand.

Faustus.  Thy bitterness pleases me; it chimes in with my humour, and I should like to be better acquainted with thee.  What is thy name?

Devil.  Leviathan; which signifies all, for I can do all.

Faustus.  Hear the braggart!  Are devils, then, so boastful?

Devil.  ’Twas said merely to do honour to the shape in which thou seest me: but words are vain.  Set me to the proof.  What dost thou require?

Faustus.  Require?  What an indefinite word for a devil!  If thou art what thou seemest, anticipate desires, and gratify them ere they become wishes.

Devil.  The noble steed champs the bit in fury when curbed by a timid rider: how he then resembles the man who feels wings that could bear him into light, yet who is kept down in the dark abyss!  Faustus, thou art one of those fiery spirits who are not contented with the scanty meal of knowledge which Omniscience has set before them.  Great is thy strength, mighty is thy soul, and bold thy will; but the curse of finite reason lies upon thee, as it does upon all.  Faustus, thou art as great as man can be.

Faustus.  Masquerading fiend, return into hell; must thou, too, deceive us by flattery?

Devil.  Faustus, I am a spirit formed of flaming light; I saw the monstrous worlds arise out of nothing: thou art of dust, and of yesterday.  Do I flatter thee?

Faustus.  And yet must thou serve me if I command.

Devil.  For that I expect the approbation of hell, besides a reward; neither man nor devil will work for nothing.

Faustus.  What reward dost thou expect?

Devil.  To have that which animates thee; that which would make thee my equal if it had power.

Faustus.  I were well off then, truly; yet, adept as thou art, thou knowest little of men, if thou doubtest the strength of one who has set himself free from the bonds which nature has drawn so tightly round our hearts.  How gentle did they appear to me once, when the eye of my youth clothed men and the world in the pure colours of morning!  ’Tis gone; dark is my horizon; I stand on the gloomy verge of eternity, and have broken through the laws which keep the human race in harmony.

Devil.  What madness is this, Faustus?  Harmony! does she rule the confused dance of life?

Faustus.  Silence!  I feel it perhaps for the last time; and perhaps look back for the last time upon the pleasant, joyous days of youth.  How lamentable that man must awake from this dream of bliss; that the plant must shoot up, in order to wither away as a tree, or be felled!  Ha, demon, smile; I was once happy.  But let that be forgotten which can never be recalled.  Yes, we have only strength when we pursue wickedness.  But wherein am I great?  If I were so, should I want thee?  Go, cunning flatterer; thou wilt only make me feel my own littleness.

Devil.  He who is capable of feeling where the shoe pinches him, and has courage enough to tear away the cause of it, is at least great so far.  More I will not say, and woe to thee if I were to stimulate thee with words.

Faustus.  Observe me now, and tell me what my spirit requires, but what I dare not utter.

At these words Faustus pointed to himself, then towards the heavens, and moved his magic staff towards the east and the west.  He then continued, “Thou wast, when nothing was.”  He

laid his hand upon his breast and forehead: “Here is darkness; let it be dispelled.”

Devil.  Desperate man! full well I know thy wish, and tremble,