The Tragicall History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus/Scene 12

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A Senit. Charles the Germane Emperour, Bruno,
Saxony, Faustus, Mephostophilis, Fredericke,
Martino, and Attendants.

Wonder of men, renown'd Magitian,
Thrice learned Faustus welcome to our Court.
This deed of thine in setting Bruno free,
From his and our professed enemy,
Shal adde more excellence unto thine Art,
Then if by powerfull Necromanticke spels,
Thou couldst command the worlds obedience:
Forever be belov'd of Carolus.
And if this Bruno thou hast late redeem'd,
In peace possesse the triple Diadem,
And sit in Peters Chaire despite of chance,
Thou shalt be famous through all Italy,
And honour'd of the Germaine Emperour.

Those gracious words, most royall Carolus,
Shall make poore Faustus to his utmost power,
Both love and serve the Germane Emperour,
And lay his life at holy Bruno's feet.
For proofe whereof, if so your Grace be pleas'd,

The Doctor stands prepar'd by power of Art,
To cast his Magicke charmes that shall pierce through
The Ebon gates of ever-burning Hell,
And hale the stubborne Furies from their caves,
To compasse wheresoere your Grace commands.

Blood hee speakes terribly: but for all that I doe not greatly beleeve him, he lookes as like a Conjuror, as the Pope to a Costermonger.

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 Majesticall,
That we may wonder at their excellence.

Your Majesty shall see them presently,
Mephostophilis away.
And with a solemne noyse of Trumpets sound,
Present before this royall Emperour,
Great Alexander and his beautious Paramour.

Faustus, I will.

Well, M. Doctor, and your Divels come not away quickly you shall have me asleepe presently: zounds I could eat my selfe for anger, to thinke I have beene such an Asse all this while to stand gaping after the Divels Governour, and can see nothing.

I'le make you feele some thing anon if my Art faile me not.
My Lord, I must forewarne your Majesty,
That when my Spirits present the royall shapes
Of Alexander and his Paramour,
Your Grace demand no questions of the King,
But in dumbe silence let them come and goe.

Be it as Faustus please, we are content.

I, I, and I am content too: and thou bring Alexander and his Paramour before the Emperour. I'le be Acteon, and turne my selfe to a Stagge.

And I'le play Diana, and send you the hornes presently.

Senit. Enter at one doore the Emperour Alexander, at the other
Darius; they meete, Darius is throwne downe, Alexander
kills him, takes off his Crowne, and offering to goe
out, his Paramour meets him, he embraceth her and
sets Darius Crowne upon her head; and comming
backe, both salute the Emperour,
who leaving his State offers to embrace
them, which Faustus seeing,
suddenly stayes him. Then,
trumpets cease and
Musicke sounds

My gracious Lord, you doe forget your selfe,

They are but shadowes, not substantiall.

O pardon me, my thoughts are so ravished
With sight of this renowned Emperour,
That in mine armes I would have compast him.
But Faustus, since I may not speake to them,
To satisfie my longing thoughts at full,
Let me this tell thee: I have heard it said,
That this faire Lady while she liv'd on earth,
Had on her necke a little wart, or mole;
How may I prove that saying to be true?

Your Majesty may boldly goe and see.

Faustus, I see it plaine,
And in this sight thou better pleasest me,
Than if I gain'd another Monarchie.

Away, be gone. Exit show.
See see my gracious Lord, what strange Beast is yon,
That thrusts his head out at window.

O wondrous sight! see Duke of Saxony,
Two spreading hornes most strangely fassened
Upon the head of young Benvolio.

What is he asleepe or dead?

He sleepes my lord, but dreames not of his hornes.

This sport is excellent: wee'l call and wake him.
What ho, Benvolio.

A plague upon you, let me sleepe a while.

I blame thee not to sleepe much having such a head of thine own.

Look up Benvolio, 'tis the Emperour calls.

The Emperour? where? O zounds my head.

Nay, and thy hornes hold, 'tis no matter for thy head, for that's arm'd sufficiently.

Why how now sir Knight? what hang'd by the hornes? this most horrible: fie, fie, pull in your head for shame, let not all the world wonder at you.

Zounds Doctor, is this your villainy?

O say not so sir: the Doctor has no skill,
No Art, no cunning, to present these Lords,
Or bring before this royall Emperour
The mighty Monarch, warlike Alexander.
If Faustus doe it, you are straight resolv'd,
In bold Acteons shape to turne a Stagge.
And therefore my Lord so please your Majesty,
Ile raise a kennell of Hounds shall hunt him so,
And all his footmanship shall scarce prevaile,
To keepe his Carkasse from their bloudy phangs.
Ho, Belimote, Argiron, Asterote.

Hold, hold: Zounds hee'le raise up a kennell of Divels, I think anon: good my lord, intreat for me! s'bloud I am never able to endure these torments.

Then good M. Doctor,
Let me intreat you to remove his hornes,
He has done Pennance now sufficiently.

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 hornes: Mephostophilis, transforme him; and hereafter sir, looke you speake well of Schollers.

Speake well of yee? 's blood, and Schollers be such Cuckold-makers to clap hornes of honest mens heads o' this order, I'le nere trust smooth faces, and small ruffes more. But

an I be not revenged for this, would I might bee turned to a gaping Oyster and drinke nothing but salt water.

Come Faustus, while the Emperour lives,
In recompence of this thy high desert,
Thou shalt command the state of Germany,
And live belov'd of mighty Carolus. Exeunt omnes.