Free Faustus by David Mamet

ACT ONE

    At rise, we see the portico of
FAUSTUS ’
s home. Large double doors open onto a room hung with tinsel and streamers, a party scene gotten up as a fantasy
.
    FAUSTUS ’
s
WIFE
is involved in decoration
. FAUSTUS
enters and looks around. Pause. He holds a sheet of paper in his hand
.
    FAUSTUS: It seems a very dream.
    WIFE: It is a dream. Delightful, as it is temporary.
    FAUSTUS: Temporary.
    WIFE: How otherwise?
    FAUSTUS: To what do you refer?
    WIFE: Have I mistook you?
    FAUSTUS: What is it you indict of transience?
    WIFE: Of transience—the décor.
    FAUSTUS: The décor, of course.
    WIFE: Which, you remark, will serve but the day’s brief turn …
    FAUSTUS: … of course …
    WIFE: … divert the child, and then …
    FAUSTUS: How is the boy?
    WIFE: He would be thrilled to find you at this unaccustomed hour. What has released you … ?
    FAUSTUS: … and where is Fabian … ?
    WIFE: I believe he marshals the festivities. I beg your pardon, are you anxious for his news?
    FAUSTUS: What news?
    WIFE: Today is Friday …
    FAUSTUS: Yes …
    WIFE: He generally brings the gazette. Are you cold, Faustus? The day is cold.
    FAUSTUS: The chill livens the mind. Life grows in the cold. Does it not?
    WIFE: It grows however you should bid.
    FAUSTUS: My bidding cannot alter its growth.
    WIFE: But it shall affect how I perceive it.
    FAUSTUS: I believe I have completed my work. (
Of the paper in his hand
)
    WIFE: What… ?
    FAUSTUS: I believe I have completed it.
    WIFE: Your most sanguine of expectations could not put the end sooner than years.
    FAUSTUS: So indeed I thought.
    WIFE: Then how … ?
    FAUSTUS: It rests in the rendition of the false. Which, like a bridal veil, could not be lifted by force—solely through devotion. (
He hands her the paper
.)
    WIFE: I cannot follow it. The argument’s beyond me.
    FAUSTUS: Then take me on faith, and pardon me.
    WIFE: … for what conceivable sin?
    FAUSTUS: … to leach attention from another’s feast. How is the child?
    WIFE: He loves you. You repeat yourself.
    FAUSTUS: Then you may claim a forfeit.
    WIFE: Your soul.
    FAUSTUS: Have I not given it?
    WIFE: How can you live without your soul?
    FAUSTUS: It flourishes without me. While within it was bound by my vice, and vanity each step for its supposed cultivation only brought it blight. Since consecrated, I observe it to grow strong. Its reproofs are of the most gentle, and its instructions delight.
    WIFE: What has it taught you?
    FAUSTUS: To yield, to wait, to hope, to believe. In fine, it has taught gratitude.
    WIFE: Smile, then, on your faults, as those do who love you. For all must wax and wane.
    FAUSTUS: Indeed?
    WIFE: Must I quote you the Moon?
    FAUSTUS: Oh, simple and good soul, are you not my salvation?
    WIFE: As you are mine.
    FAUSTUS: Who counted himself honored merely to be your support.
    WIFE: Do we not profit, nay, thrive, nay, delight in your wisdom?
    FAUSTUS: It is derivative.
    WIFE: Must not all wisdom be?
    FAUSTUS: Must it?
    WIFE: As it derives from God. Our excellence is not in Creation, which is the Lord’s, but in our humble wonderment.
    FAUSTUS: Which you indict me of?
    WIFE: I do.
    FAUSTUS: You honor me.
    WIFE: I must see to the boy.
    FAUSTUS: Stay.
    WIFE: He is somewhat overborne by the excitement.
    FAUSTUS: Stay. This one moment. Anchor me.
    WIFE: This may suffice. (
Hands him a sheet of paper
)
    FAUSTUS: What is it?
    WIFE: His gift to you.
    FAUSTUS: ’Tis his day for gifts.
    WIFE: Does he not long to pace you in all things? Who are his god? You fret, he frets; you work, he mimics you, you prepare a gift, so must he … and his mind, formed like yours, revolves, ever on the one planetary theme.
    FAUSTUS: Whose name is?
    WIFE: He pines for you.
    FAUSTUS: … you give him to understand … my work …
    WIFE: Which names his enemy, but cannot diminish his longing.
    FAUSTUS: My sweet son.
    WIFE: We have all fretted.
    FAUSTUS: Fretted for me?
    WIFE:
With
you, say, rather—
with
you—in your seclusion.
    FAUSTUS: Yes,