The Tragicall History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus/Scene 9

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A Sonet while the Banquet is brought in, and then Enter
Faustus and Mephostophilis in their
owne shapes.

Now Faustus come prepare thy selfe for mirth,
The sleepy Cardinals are hard at hand,
To censure Bruno, that is posted hence,
And on a proud pac'd steed, as swift as thought,
Flies ore the Alpes to fruitfull Germany,
There to salute the wofull Emperor.

The Pope will curse them for their sloth today,
That slept both Bruno and his Crowne away:
But now that Faustus may delight his minde,
And by their folly make some meriment,
Sweet Mephostophilis so charme me here,
That I may walke invisible to all,
And do what ere I please, unseene of any.

Faustus, thou shalt, then kneele downe presently.
Whilst on thy head I lay my hand,
And charme thee with this Magicke wand.
First weare this Girdle, then appeare
Invisible to all are here:
The Planets seven, the gloomy Ayre,
Hell and the Furies forked hair,
Plutoes blue fire, and Hecats Tree,
With Magicke spels so compasse thee,
That no eye may thy body see.

So Faustus, now for all their holinesse,
Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discern'd.

Thanks Mephosto. now Friers take heed,
Let Faustus make your shaven Crownes to bleed.

Faustus no more: see where the Cardinals come.

Enter Pope and all the Lords. Enter the Cardinals
with a Booke.

Welcome Lord Cardinals: come sit downe.

Lord Raymond, take your seat, Fryers attend,
And see that all things are in readinesse,
As best beseems this solemne festivall.

1. Card.
First, may it please your sacred Holinesse,
To view the sentence of the reverend Synod,
Concerning Bruno and the Emperor.

What needs this question? Did I not tell you,
To morrow we would sit i'th Consistory,
And there determine of his punishment:
You brought us word even now, it was decreed,
That Bruno and the cursed Emperor
Were by the holy Councell both condemn'd
For loathed Lollords, and base Schismatikes:
Then wherefore would you have me view that booke?

1. Card.
Your Grace mistakes, you gave us no such charge.

Deny it not, we all are witnesses
That Bruno here was late delivered you,
With his rich triple Crowne to be reserv'd
And put into the Churches treasury.

Amb. Card.
By holy Paul we saw them not.

By Peter you shall dye,
Unlesse you bring them forth immediatly.
Hale them to prison, lade their limbs with gyves:
False Prelates for this hatefull trecherie,
Curst be your soules to hellish misery.

So, they are safe: now Faustus to the feast,
The Pope had never such a frolike guest.

Lord Archbishop of Reames, sit downe with us.

I thanke your Holinesse.

Fall to, the Devill choake you an you spare.

Who's that spoke? Fryers looke about.
Lord Raymond pray fall to: I am beholden
To the Bishop of Millaine, for this so rare a present.

I thanke you sir.

How now? who snatcht the meat from me?
Villaines, why speake ye not?
My good Lord Archbishop, here's a most dainty dish,
Was sent me from a Cardinall in France.

I'le have that too.

What Lollards doe attend our Holinesse
That we receive such great indignity? fetch me some wine.

I pray doe, for Faustus is a drye.

Lord Raymond I drinke unto your Grace.

I pledge your Grace.

My wine gone too? ye Lubbers looke about
And finde the man that doth this villainy,
Or by our sanctitude ye all shall dye.
I pray my Lords have patience
At this troublesome Banquet.

Please your Holinesse, I thinke it be some Ghost crept out of Purgatory, and now is come unto your Holinesse for his pardon.

It may be so.
Go then command our Priests to sing a Dirge,
To lay the fury of this same troublesome Ghost.

How now? must every bit be spiced with a Crosse
Nay then take that.

O, I am slain, helpe me my Lords:
O come and helpe to beare my body hence:
Damn'd be his soule for ever for this deed.

Exeunt the Pope and his trayne.

Now Faustus what will you do now? for I can tell you
You'le be curst with Bell, Booke, and Candle.

Bell, Booke, and Candle: Candle, Booke, and Bell:
Forward and backward to curse Faustus to Hell.

Enter the Friars with Bell, Booke, and Candle,
for the Dirge.

1 Frier.
Come brethren, let's about our businesse with good devotion.
Cursed be he that stole his Holinesse meat from the Table.
Maledicat Dominus.
Cursed be he that strooke his Holinesse a blow on the face.
Maledicat Dominus.

Cursed be he that strucke Fryer Sandelo a blow on the pate.
Maledicat Dom.
Cursed be he that disturbeth our holy Dirge.
Maledicat Dom.
Cursed be he that took away his Holinesse wine.
Maledicat Dom.

Beat the Friers, fling fire-works among them, and Exeunt. Exeunt.