_O Faustus, lay that damned book aside,_ _And gaze not on it lest it tempt thy soul,_ _And heap God’s heavy wrath upon thy head._ _Read, read, the Scriptures; that is blasphemy...._ _Sweet Faustus, think of heaven, and heavenly things._ To which the evil angel replies: _No, Faustus, think of honour and of wealth._ And in another place: _Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art,_ _Wherein all nature’s treasure is contained._ _Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky,_ _Lord and commander of these elements._ There can be no doubt that the devil here represents the natural ideal of Faustus, or of any child of the Renaissance; he appeals to the vague but healthy ambitions of a young soul, that would make trial of the world. In other words, this devil represents the true good, and it is no wonder if the honest Faustus cannot resist his suggestions. We like him for his love of life, for his trust in nature, for his enthusiasm for beauty. He speaks for us all when he cries: _Was this the face that launched a thousand ships_ _And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?_ Even his irreverent pranks, being directed against the pope, endear him the more to an anti-clerical public; and he appeals to courtiers and cavaliers by his lofty poetical scorn for such crabbed professions as the law, medicine, or theology. In a word, Marlowe’s Faustus is a martyr to everything that the Renaissance prized,--power, curious knowledge, enterprise, wealth, and beauty.