Your majesty may boldly go and see.

EMPEROR. Faustus, I see it plain; And in this sight thou better pleasest me Than if I gain'd(164) another monarchy.

FAUSTUS. Away! be gone! [Exit show.]--See, see, my gracious lord! what strange beast is yon, that thrusts his head out at window?(165)

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

SAXONY. What, is he asleep or dead?

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

EMPEROR. This sport is excellent: we'll call and wake him.-- What, ho, Benvolio!

BENVOLIO. A plague upon you! let me sleep a while.

EMPEROR. I blame thee not to sleep much, having such a head of thine own.

SAXONY. Look up, Benvolio; 'tis the Emperor calls.

BENVOLIO. The Emperor! where?--O, zounds, my head!

EMPEROR. Nay, an thy horns hold, 'tis no matter for thy head, for that's armed sufficiently.

FAUSTUS. Why, how now, Sir Knight! what, hanged by the horns! this is(166) most horrible: fie, fie, pull in your head, for shame! let not all the world wonder at you.

BENVOLIO. Zounds, doctor, this is(167) your villany!

FAUSTUS. O, say not so, sir! the doctor has no skill, No art, no cunning, to present these lords, Or bring before this royal Emperor The mighty monarch, warlike Alexander. If Faustus do it, you are straight resolv'd, In bold Actaeon's shape, to turn a stag:-- And therefore, my lord, so please your majesty, I'll raise a kennel of hounds shall hunt him so As(168) all his footmanship shall scarce prevail To keep his carcass from their bloody fangs.-- Ho, Belimoth, Argiron, Asteroth!(169)

BENVOLIO. Hold, hold!--Zounds, he'll raise up a kennel of devils, I think, anon.--Good my lord, entreat for me.--'Sblood, I am never able to endure these torments.

EMPEROR. Then, good Master Doctor, Let me entreat you to remove his horns; He has(170) done penance now sufficiently.

FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, not so much for injury done to me, as to delight your majesty with some mirth, hath Faustus justly requited this injurious knight; which being all I desire, I am content to remove his horns.(171)--Mephistophilis, transform him [MEPHISTOPHILIS removes the horns]:--and hereafter, sir,(172) look you speak well of scholars.

BENVOLIO. Speak well of ye! 'sblood, an scholars be such cuckold-makers, to clap horns of(173) honest men's heads o' this order, I'll ne'er trust smooth faces and small ruffs more.--But, an I be not revenged for this, would I might be turned to a gaping oyster, and drink nothing but salt water! [Aside, and then exit above.]

EMPEROR. Come, Faustus: while the Emperor lives, In recompense of this thy high desert, Thou shalt command the state of Germany, And live belov'd of mighty Carolus. [Exeunt.]


MARTINO. Nay, sweet Benvolio, let us sway(174) thy thoughts )From this attempt against the conjurer.(175)

BENVOLIO. Away! you love me not, to urge me thus: Shall I let slip so great an injury, When every servile groom jests at my wrongs, And in their rustic gambols proudly say, "Benvolio's head was grac'd with horns today?" O, may these eyelids never close again, Till with my sword I have that(176) conjurer slain! If you will aid me in this enterprise, Then draw your weapons and be resolute; If not, depart: here will Benvolio die, But Faustus' death shall quit my(177) infamy.

FREDERICK. Nay, we will stay with thee, betide what may, And kill that(178) doctor, if he come this way.

BENVOLIO. Then, gentle Frederick, hie thee to the grove, And place our servants and our followers Close in an(179) ambush there behind the trees. By this, I know the conjurer is near: I saw him kneel, and kiss the Emperor's hand, And take his leave, laden with rich rewards. Then, soldiers, boldly(180) fight: if Faustus die, Take you the wealth, leave us the victory.

FREDERICK. Come, soldiers, follow me unto the grove: Who kills him shall have gold and endless love. [Exit FREDERICK with SOLDIERS.]


The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus Page 17

Christopher Marlowe

16th Century Literature

Free Books in the public domain from the Classic Literature Library ©

Christopher Marlowe
Classic Literature Library
Classic Authors

All Pages of This Book