of Doctor Faustus
Not long he stayd within his quiet house
To rest his bones after his weary toyle,
But new exployts doe hale him out agen
And mounted then upon a Dragons backe,
That with his wings did part the subtill Ayre,
He now is gone to prove Cosmography,
That measures coasts and kingdomes of the earth:
And as I guesse, will first arive at Rome,
To see the Pope and manner of his Court,
And take some part of holy Peters feast,
The which this day is highly solemnized. Exit.
Enter Faustus and Mephostophilis.
Faust.
Having now my good Mephostophilis,
Past with delight the stately towne of Trier:
Environ'd with airy mountaine tops,
With wals of flint, and deepe intrenched Lakes,
Not to be won by any conquering Prince,
From Paris next, coasting the Realme of France,
We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine,
Whose banks are set with groves of fruitfull Vines.
Then unto Naples, rich Campania,
Whose buildings faire and gorgeous to the eye,
The streets straight-forth, & paved with finest brick.
There saw we learned Maros golden tombe:
The way he cut an English mile in length,
Through a rocke of stone in one nights space.
From thence to Venice, Padua, and the East,
In one of which a sumptuous Temple stands,
That threats the Starres with her aspiring top,
Whose frame is paved with sundry coloured stones,
And rooft aloft with curious work in gold.
Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time.
But tell me now what resting place is this?
Hast thou, as earst I did command,
Conducted me within the wals of Rome?
Meph.
I have my Faustus, and for proofe thereof,
