Faustus (7 page)

WIFE:
It is an adamantine monument. To sin for surely it must be the fruit of crime though what I know not to have elected that course which concludes in such calamity Or were it better never to have lived? Or spent a life barren and envious. For could not envy
be borne? You were envious. Your theme was covetousness—and self-worship.

FAUSTUS:
Whom does she address?

MAGUS:
As you suspect.

WIFE:
You envied all fame but your own, and basked in the self-awarded mantle of simplicity And we who loved, indulged you. To your cost. As the petted dog, pierces our assumed severity. He understands innocuous chastisement as praise. And seeks it. By soiling his home. You strove for fame. For the delusion of popular love. My son my son, sacrifice to a profligate, absconding father … And I chose you. Fool, wicked fool. Perpetually damned mother—for what sin was I coupled to you in penance? Unnatural vicious father. How odd. When devotion engulfed you.

FAUSTUS:
My wife.

WIFE:
This is a mother’s plaint. Formed as a fugue: of pride and fear, regret and uncertainty. It is the most ancient song of conquest. For women conquer but the once, and then are self-schooled. Poor story. To live supine. First to conceive, and then to bear. At long last only licensed to revolve, our face to the ground. But to weep. (
We hear the pealing of the bell) …
Yes, I attend …

MAGUS:
See how the circularity augments the grief.

WIFE:
Fool woman who was content with little. With so little … (
The
WIFE
exits
.)

MAGUS:
Indeed, dashing all barriers to its intensification. The dropped stone stops at earth; gluttony brings repletion, the libertine copulates but to debility, in each the cure grows apace with the malady. It is a law. In all things but grief.

FAUSTUS:
Grief must find a rest.

MAGUS:
Behold the exception. She is a suicide, and lives forever. A self-perpetuating energy, increased in moment through sheer force of contemplation. Must we not stand unabashed, to receive whate’er of insight, awe, or entertainment our various natures may propose.

FAUSTUS:
God Damn You.

MAGUS:
Blasphemy and prayer are one. An appeal, thus an assertion of a superior power. Do you acknowledge it? I ask. Do you, at length, sense the true meaning of confession?

FAUSTUS:
I wish to see my son.

MAGUS:
You have bartered and been paid.

FAUSTUS:
I call upon God …

MAGUS:
And I invite you to denounce God.

FAUSTUS:
I denounce the Devil, in all of his undertakings. I convict myself, of a life of heresy. My every thought idolatrous, all my devotions sham, and homage to a false god. I disclaim them, I renounce every thought, exhortation, observance, devotion, and deed as sin and prostrate myself, helpless, before the One True God. It cannot lack precedent. Grant me the power to frame my contrition. Dear God, hear my prayer.

MAGUS:
Why should a god prefer your prayers to your agony?

FAUSTUS:
Let that stand as my offering: the anguish of a contrite heart. I beg for recision of my child’s death, of my wife’s suffering. God, who can read my heart, mighty judge, with no deeds to plead for him, here stands your servant, shriven, at last, to your will. Hear me.

MAGUS:
The voices of the Damned may not be heard above.

FAUSTUS:
I then plead for an intercessor. To one consecrated to Heaven. To speak for me. I call upon my son. My son, an angel.

MAGUS:
Do not name him.

FAUSTUS:
Then there exists that intuited mercy. Yes. To which your speech testifies. My son, untouched by sin, unimplicated, blameless. Is there not that bond?
Stronger than death—a sweet, unending child’s love, oh son. Say that you hear my prayer.

(
The drop parts behind
FAUSTUS
to now reveal Heaven, where we find
FAUSTUS’
s
SON
.)

CHILD:
I hear you …

(
FAUSTUS
turns to see his
SON
,
and advances to him
.)

FAUSTUS:
O blessed Child, how the sweet moment stuns me to chastisement. Dear Child. Oh, son, of my heart, exult the power which vouchsafed this interview. Oh, son. Intercede for me.

CHILD:
Intercede …

FAUSTUS:
For a poor penitent. Who implores your forgiveness. Plead for me, not for my worth, I have none. For yours. Forward your merit in my case. Bear my petition.

CHILD:
Ah, that is why you have appeared today.

FAUSTUS:
… today.

CHILD:
Today is the day of atonement.

FAUSTUS:
Of atonement …

CHILD:
You bear a petition.

FAUSTUS:
I do.

CHILD:
Say it to me.

FAUSTUS:
Yes, I shall—my angel—that my wife, that my child, and myself may return, to the earth, whole, and restored, as before.

CHILD:
Whole and restored.

FAUSTUS:
Bear my plea. Best of the two worlds. Through all my criminal confusion one truth endured, undoubted, and pure. That of your love—pity me, and preach your benignity in my cause on high.

CHILD:
I shall.

FAUSTUS:
Praise God—Oh, praise God.

CHILD:
But to plead in the cause of whom? (
Pause
)

FAUSTUS:
Can you not know me?

CHILD:
How should I know you? (
Pause
) Am I not endless blessed?

FAUSTUS:
You are.

CHILD:
In what could eternal blessing consist save in oblivion? (
Pause
)

FAUSTUS:
… my son.

CHILD:
Am I your son?

FAUSTUS:
Surely there’s a residuary memory. An ineradicable memory.

CHILD:
Of?

FAUSTUS:
Of love. Between a father and son. Which transcends death. I know it. In my soul. It is an attribute of God. Our love.

CHILD:
And did I love you?

FAUSTUS:
Oh, my son.

CHILD:
Tell me of love.

FAUSTUS:
… no, can you doubt me?

CHILD:
I am unfitted to perceive duplicity I ask as for a gift.

FAUSTUS:
Yes, I shall tell you of love.

CHILD:
In this particular: the better to fit me to plead your case. It is the hour of audience.

FAUSTUS:
Yes.

CHILD:
When the bell toll, and until the bell cease. And the gates have closed.

FAUSTUS:
A man, a family begs to be reunited. In love … you wrote of it.

CHILD:
Tell me.

FAUSTUS:
You wrote a poem. You composed me a poem. Bear it on high. Attend:

CHILD:
But this is a sad recital.

FAUSTUS:
’Tis but the preamble.

CHILD:
It awakens memory.

FAUSTUS:
Yes.

CHILD:
But, ’tis memory of pain.

FAUSTUS:
Of pain …

CHILD:
Yes …

FAUSTUS:
No, but let me continue.

CHILD:
’Tis a sad song.

FAUSTUS:
It turns. Wait… see: at the end …

CHILD:
You say it speaks of love.

FAUSTUS:
It does.

CHILD:
Complete it for me. (
Pause
) Why do you hesitate? (
Pause. We hear a bell tolling
) I must go. It is the hour of intercession. Until the bell cease. Give me the poem, and it shall plead for you.

FAUSTUS:
Wait… (
The
CHILD
begins to disappear. The
MAGUS
appears
.)

FAUSTUS:
Return me my book.

MAGUS:
You have renounced it.

FAUSTUS:
Give me the poem.

MAGUS:
You remark I bid you peruse it.

FAUSTUS:
I am summoned to approach the Throne.

MAGUS:
And you are debarred. (
Pause
) The biddable ape, whose antics delight in their travesty of understanding. His fist closed tight around the nut in the glass jar. He rallies heaven for an explanation. He invokes
his merit and his ancestry. See now his simian face contort in travesty of philosophic consternation. You wonder why you are pursued? For entertainment.

FAUSTUS:
I am to you but a diversion.

MAGUS:
In fine.

FAUSTUS:
Then pay me.

MAGUS:
Pay you?

FAUSTUS:
For the one thing’s true, in heaven or hell, and by your own admission, one must pay for entertainment. Pay me, then, who has entertained you. Give me my poem. Give me my poem.

MAGUS:
Who has vexed me since you first besought me.

(
FAUSTUS
is handed the poem—starts to leave
.)

FAUSTUS:
I ne’er besought you, sir, my friend besought you.

MAGUS:
I was summoned by your o’erweening pride.

FAUSTUS:
My pride …

MAGUS:
And your impertinence.

FAUSTUS:
And have I not prevailed?

MAGUS:
Then go boast of your victory. I tire of you.

FAUSTUS:
Or do you fear me.

MAGUS:
… fear you …

FAUSTUS:
Or do I see, in your capitulation, a man taken at his word. His word ratified by the respect, which attends his approach.

(
A bell rings
.)

MAGUS:
The gates are closing.

FAUSTUS:
And that you, with your trumpery scorn, seek to dismiss him who had bested you. Who wrenched from you license to see heav’n and hell and walk free. Who has Probed the Center.

(
A bell rings
.)

MAGUS:
… to have found …?

FAUSTUS:
… the Secret Engine of the World. O sacred light, the signs congeal, you are come to induct me …

(
A bell rings
.)

MAGUS:
The gates are closing.

FAUSTUS:
I am become as God.

MAGUS:
And now the gates are closed.

FAUSTUS:
I am completed.

MAGUS:
As, My Lord, am I.

A VINTAGE ORIGINAL, JULY 2004

Copyright © 2004 by David Mamet

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

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CAUTION:
This play is protected in whole, in part, or in any form under the Copyright Laws of the United States of America, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Canada, and all other countries of the Copyright Union, and is subject to royalty. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, recitation, radio, television, and public reading, are strictly reserved. All inquiries concerning performance rights should be addressed to the author’s agent: Howard Rosenstone, 38 East 29th Street, New York, NY 10016.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Mamet, David.
Faustus: a play / David Mamet.
p.cm.
“A Vintage original”—T.p. verso.
eISBN: 978-0-307-48471-0
1. Faust, d. ca. 1540—Drama. I. Title: Faustus.
II. Title.
PS3563.A4345D7 2004
812′.54—dc22 2003064506

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