Scene VII


[Mephistophilis charms him.]

Sound a sonnet. Enter the POPE and the CARDINAL OF LORRAIN to the banquet, with Friars attending.

[Snatches the dish.]

[Snatches the dish.]

[Snatches the cup.]

[The POPE crosses himself.]

Re-enter the Friars to sing the Dirge.

[MEPHISTOPHILIS and FAUSTUS beat the Friars, and fling fireworks among them: and so exeunt.]

Having now, my good Mephistophilis,
Passed with delight the stately town of Trier,
Environed round with airy mountain-tops,
With walls of flint, and deep entrenched lakes,
Not to be won by any conquering prince;(5)
From Paris next, coasting the realm of France,
We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine,
Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines;
Then up to Naples, rich Campania,
Whose buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye,(10)
The streets straight forth, and paved with finest brick,
Quarter the town in four equivalents:
There saw we learned Maro's golden tomb,
The way he cut, an English mile in length,
Thorough a rock of stone, in one night's space;(15)
From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest,
In one of which a sumptuous temple stands,
That threats the stars with her aspiring top.
Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time:
But tell me, now, what resting-place is this?(20)
Hast thou, as erst I did command,
Conducted me within the walls of Rome?
Faustus, I have; and because we will not be unpro-
vided, I have taken up his Holiness' privy-chamber for
our use.(25)
I hope his Holiness will bid us welcome.
Tut, 'tis no matter; man, we'll be bold with his
good cheer.
And now, my Faustus, that thou may'st perceive
What Rome containeth to delight thee with,(30)
Know that this city stands upon seven hills
That underprop the groundwork of the same:
Just through the midst runs flowing Tiber's stream
With winding banks that cut it in two parts:
Over the which four stately bridges lean,(35)
That make safe passage to each part of Rome:
Upon the bridge called Ponte Angelo
Erected is a castle passing strong,
Within whose walls such store of ordnance are,
And double cannons formed of carved brass,(40)
As match the days within one complete year;
Besides the gates, and high pyramides,
Which Julius Cæsar brought from Africa.
Now, by the kingdoms of infernal rule,
Of Styx, of Acheron, and the fiery lake(45)
Of ever-burning Phlegethon, I swear
That I do long to see the monuments
And situation of bright-splendent Rome
Come, therefore, let's away.
Nay, Faustus, stay: I know you'd see the Pope,(50)
And take some part of holy Peter's feast,
Where thou shalt see a troop of bald-pate friars,
Whose summum bonum is in belly-cheer.
Well, I'm content to compass them some
And by their folly make us merriment.
Then charm me, Mephistophilis, that I
May be invisible, to do what I please
Unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome.
So, Faustus, now(60)
Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discerned.
My Lord of Lorrain, wilt please you draw near?
Fall to, and the Devil choke you an you spare!
How now! Who's that which spake?—Friars, look
Here's nobody, if it like your Holiness.
My lord, here is a dainty dish was sent me from the
Bishop of Milan.
I thank you, sir.
How now! Who's that which snatched the meat from(70)
me? Will no man look? My lord, this dish was sent me
from the Cardinal of Florence.
You say true; I'll ha't.
What, again! My lord, I'll drink to your grace.
I'll pledge your grace.(75)
My lord, it may be some ghost newly crept out
of purgatory, come to beg a pardon of your Holiness.
It may be so. Friars, prepare a dirge to lay the fury
of this ghost. Once again, my Lord, fall to.
What, are you crossing of yourself?(80)
Well, use that trick no more I would advise you.
Well, there's the second time. Aware the third,
I give you fair warning.
Come on, Mephistophilis, what shall we do?

[The POPE crosses himself again.]

[The POPE crosses himself again, and FAUSTUS hits him a box of the ear; and they all run away.]

Nay, I know not. We shall be cursed with bell,(85)
book, and candle.
How! bell, book, and candle,—candle, book,
and bell,
Forward and backward to curse Faustus to hell!
Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, an(90)
ass bray,
Because it is Saint Peter's holiday.
Come, brethren, let's about our business
with good devotion.
Cursed be he that stole away his holiness' meat(95)
from the table! Maledicat Dominus!
Cursed be he that struck his holiness a blow on
the face! Maledicat Dominus!
Cursed be he that took Friar Sandelo a blow on the
pate! Maledicat Dominus!(100)
Cursed be he that disturbeth our holy dirge!
Maledicat Dominus!
Cursed be he that took away his holiness' wine!
Maledicat Dominus! Et omnes sancti!

They sing: