Good Frederick, see the rooms be voided straight, His majesty is coming to the hall;

Go back, and see the state in readiness.

Fred. But where is Bruno, our elected Pope, That on a fury's back came post from Rome? Will not his Grace consort the Emperor?

Mart. O yes; and with him comes the German conjurer,

The learned Faustus, fame of Wittenberg;
The wonder of the world for magic art:
And he intends to show great Carolus
The race of all his stout progenitors;
And bring in presence of his majesty,
The royal shapes, and warlike semblances,
Of Alexander and his beauteous paramour.
Fred. Where is Benvolio?

Mart. Fast asleep, I warrant you;

He took his rouse with stoops of Rhenish wine So kindly yesternight to Bruno's health,

That all this day the sluggard keeps his bed. Fred. See, see his window's ope! we'll call to him.

Mart. What, ho! Benvolio!

Enter BENVOLIO above, at a window, in his Nightcap: buttoning.

Benv. What a devil ails you two?

Mart. Speak softly, sir, lest the devil hear you: For Faustus at the court is late arriv'd,

And at his heels a thousand furies wait,

To accomplish whatsoever the Doctor please.
Benv. What of this?

Mart. Come, leave thy chamber first, and thou shalt see

This conjurer perform such rare exploits,
Before the Pope and Royal Emperor,
As never yet was seen in Germany.

[yet?

Benv. Has not the Pope enough of conjuring He was upon the devil's back late enough; And if he be so far in love with him,

I would he would post with him to Rome again. Fred. Speak, wilt thou come and see this sport? Benv. Not I.

Mart. Wilt thou stand in thy window, and see it then?

Benv. Aye, an I fall not asleep i̇' the mean time.

Mart. The Emperor is at hand, who comes

to see

What wonders by black spells may compass'd be.

Benv. Well, go you attend the Emperor: I am content, for this once, to thrust my head out at a window for they say, if a man be drunk over night, the devil cannot hurt him in the morning: if that be true, I have a charm in my head, shall control him as well as the conjurer, I warrant you. [Exit. A Senet. Enter CHARLES, the German Emperor, BRUNO, SAXONY, FAUSTUS, MEPHOSTOPHILIS, FREDERICK, MARTINO, and Attendants.

Emp. Wonder of men, renown'd magician, Thrice learned Faustus, welcome to our court. This deed of thine, in setting Bruno free From his and our professed enemy, Shall add more excellence unto thine art, Than if by powerful necromantic spells

Thou could'st command the world's obedience;

DOCTOR FAUSTUS.

For ever be belov'd of Carolus ;

And if this Bruno thou hast late redeem'd,
In peace possess the triple diadem,

And sit in Peter's chair, despite of chance;
Thou shalt be famous through all Italy,
And honour'd of the German Emperor.

57

Faust. These gracious words, most royal Carolus,

Shall make poor Faustus, to his utmost power,
Both love and serve the German Emperor,
And lay his life at holy Bruno's feet:

For proof whereof, if so your Grace be pleas'd,
The Doctor stands prepar'd, by power of art,
To cast his magic charms, that shall pierce through
The ebon gates of ever-burning hell,

And hale the stubborn Furies from their caves,
To compass whatsoe'er your Grace commands.

Benv. Blood, he speaks terribly! but for all that, I do not greatly believe him; he looks as like a conjurer as the Pope to a coster-monger. Emp. Then, Faustus, as thou late did'st promise us,

We would behold that famous conqueror,
Great Alexander and his paramour,

In their true shapes, and state majestical,
That we may wonder at their excellence.

Faust. Your majesty shall see them presently. Mephostophilis, away;

And with a solemn noise of trumpets sound,
Present before this royal Emperor,

Great Alexander and his beauteous paramour.
Meph. Faustus, I will.

Benv. Well, Mr. Doctor, an your devils come not away quickly, you shall have me asleep pre

sently: zounds! I could eat myself for anger, to think I have been such an ass all this while, to stand gaping after the devil's governor, and can see nothing.

Faust. I'll make you feel something anon, if
my art fail me not.

My lord, I must forewarn your majesty,
That when my spirits present the royal shapes
Of Alexander and his paramour,

Your grace demand no questions of the king;
But in dumb silence let them come and go.

Emp. Be it as Faustus please, we are content. Benv. Aye, aye, and I am content too: an thou bring Alexander and his paramour before the Emperor, I'll be Acteon, and turn myself to a stag.

Faust. And I'll play Diana, and send you the horns presently.

Senet. Enter at one Door the EMPEROR ALEXANDER, at the other DARIUS; they meet; DARIUS is thrown down, ALEXANDER kills him; takes off his crown, and offering to go out, his Paramour meets him; he embraceth her, and sets DARIUS' Crown upon her Head; and coming back, both salute the EMPEROR, who leaving his State, offers to embrace them; which FAUSTUS seeing, suddenly stays him: then Trumpets cease, and Music sounds.

My gracious lord, you do forget yourself,
These are but shadows, not substantial.

Emp. O pardon me, my thoughts are so ravished With sight of this renowned Emperor,

That in mine arms I would have compass'd him

But, Faustus, since, I may not speak to them,
To satisfy my longing thoughts at full,

Let me this tell thee: I have heard it said,
That this fair lady, whilst she liv'd on earth,
Had on her neck a little wart or mole;
Now may I prove that saying to be true?
Faust. Your majesty may boldly go and see.
Emp. Faustus, I see it plain;

And in this sight thou better pleasest me,
Than if I'd gain'd another monarchy.

Faust. Away! begone!

(

[Exit show.

See, see, my gracious lord! what strange beast

That thrust his head out at window?

Emp. O wondrous sight! see, Duke of Saxony, Two spreading horns most strangely fastened Upon the head of young Benvolio.

Sax. What, is he asleep or dead?

Faust. He sleeps, my lord, but dreams not of his horns.

Emp. This sport is excellent: we'll call and

wake him.

What, ho! Benvolio!

Benv. A plague upon you, let me sleep awhile. Emp. I blame thee not to sleep much, having such a head of thine own.

Sax. Look up, Benvolio, 'tis the Emperor calls.
Benv. The Emperor! where? O, zounds, my

head!

Emp. Nay, an thy horns hold, 'tis no matter for thy head, for that's arm'd sufficiently.

Faust. Why, how now, Sir Knight, what hang'd by the horns? This is most horrible: fie,