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Faustus: Prologue [Alternate]

[Enter Narrator.]

Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye!
To all who have gathered here today
to judge Faustus' fortunes, good or bad.
When the bells tolls, then render your verdict.
Determine whether Faustus shall repent.
To your judgement we apppeal Faustus' case.
Now is he born, his parents base of stock.
Whereas his kinsmen chiefly brought him up.
So soon he profits in divinity,
The fruitful plot of scholarism grac'd,
That shortly he was grac'd with doctor's name,
Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes
In heavenly matters of theology;
Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit,
His waxen wings (Icarus) did mount above his reach,
And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow;
For, falling to a devilish exercise,
And glutted with learning's golden gifts,
He surfeits upon cursed necromancy.
Nothing so sweet as magic is to him,
Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss.
And this the man that in his study sits!
[Exit Narrator.]