Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe is a surprisingly easy-to-read Elizabethan play. The protagonist (or perhaps he is an antagonist) is Doctor Faustus himself. He is an incredibly vain and arrogant man in search of knowledge. However, his desire to be knowledgeable is insatiable and quickly he wishes to be equal to God. This is beautifully expressed in the prologue when he is compared to Ikarus: „His waxen wings did mount above his reach, / And melting heavens conspired his overthrow.“ Faustus then starts dabbling in magic and conjuring, but his goal is still something much more. He decides to sell his soul to the Devil. As he speaks an utterly and unnecessarily melodramatic incantation, Mephistopheles appears. This is the moment in which I lost my shit. Why? You may ask.