BENVOLIO. Has not the Pope enough of conjuring yet? He was upon the devil's back late enough: An if he be so far in love with him, I would he would post with him to Rome again!

FREDERICK. Speak, wilt thou come and see this sport?


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

BENVOLIO. Ay, an I fall not asleep i' the mean time.

MARTINO. The Emperor is at hand, who comes to see What wonders by black spells may compass'd be.

BENVOLIO. Well, go you attend the Emperor. I am content, for this once, to thrust my head out at a(150) 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. [Exeunt FREDERICK and MARTINO.]


EMPEROR. Wonder of men, renowm'd(151) 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 couldst command the world's obedience: 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(152) all Italy, And honour'd of the German Emperor.

FAUSTUS. These(153) 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(154) The ebon gates of ever-burning hell, And hale the stubborn Furies from their caves, To compass whatsoe'er your grace commands.

BENVOLIO. Blood, he speaks terribly! but, for all that, I do not greatly believe him: he looks as like a(153) conjurer as the Pope to a costermonger. [Aside.]

EMPEROR. Then, Faustus, as thou late didst 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.

FAUSTUS. Your majesty shall see them presently.-- Mephistophilis, away, And, with a solemn noise of trumpets' sound, Present before this(156) royal Emperor Great Alexander and his beauteous paramour.

MEPHIST. Faustus, I will. [Exit.]

BENVOLIO. Well, Master Doctor, an your devils come not away quickly, you shall have me asleep presently: 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!

FAUSTUS. 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(157) no questions of the king, But in dumb silence let them come and go.

EMPEROR. Be it as Faustus please; we are content.

BENVOLIO. Ay, ay, and I am content too: an thou bring Alexander and his paramour before the Emperor, I'll be Actaeon, and turn myself to a stag.

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

Sennet. Enter, at one door,(158) 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,(159) offers to embrace them; which FAUSTUS seeing, suddenly stays him. Then trumpets cease, and music sounds.

My gracious lord, you do forget yourself; These(160) are but shadows, not substantial.

EMPEROR. O, pardon me! my thoughts are so ravish'd With sight of this renowmed(161) 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(162) at full, Let me this tell thee: I have heard it said That this fair lady, whilst(163) she liv'd on earth, Had on her neck a little wart or mole; How may I prove that saying to be true?


Christopher Marlowe
Classic Literature Library
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