In the following lines, Faustus is upset because . FAUSTUS. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin

To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess:

Having commenc’d, be a divine in show,

Yet level at the end of every art,

And live and die in Aristotle’s works.

Sweet Analytics, ’tis thou hast ravish’d me!

Bene disserere est finis logices.

Is, to dispute well, logic’s chiefest end?

Affords this art no greater miracle?

Then read no more; thou hast attain’d that end:

A greater subject fitteth Faustus’ wit:

Bid Economy farewell, and Galen come:

Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold,

And be eterniz’d for some wondrous cure:

Summum bonum medicinoe sanitas,

The end of physic is our body’s health.

Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain’d that end?

Are not thy bills hung up as monuments,

Whereby whole cities have escap’d the plague,

And thousand desperate maladies been cur’d?

Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man.

Couldst thou make men to live eternally,

Or, being dead, raise them to life again,

Then this profession were to be esteem’d.

Physic, farewell! Where is Justinian?