Scene eight

Enter ROBIN and RALPH with a silver goblet.

     ROBIN. Come, Ralph:  did not I tell thee, we were for ever made
     by this Doctor Faustus' book? Ecce, signum! here's a simple
     purchase for horse-keepers:  our horses shall eat no hay as
     long as this lasts.

     RALPH. But, Robin, here comes the Vintner.

     ROBIN. Hush!  I'll gull him supernaturally.

          Enter VINTNER.

     Drawer, I hope all is paid; God be with you!—Come, Ralph.

     VINTNER. Soft, sir; a word with you.  I must yet have a goblet paid
     from you, ere you go.

     ROBIN. I a goblet, Ralph, I a goblet!—I scorn you; and you are
     but a etc.  I a goblet! search me.

     VINTNER. I mean so, sir, with your favour.
          [Searches ROBIN.]

     ROBIN. How say you now?

     VINTNER. I must say somewhat to your fellow.—You, sir!

     RALPH. Me, sir! me, sir! search your fill.  [VINTNER searches him.]
     Now, sir, you may be ashamed to burden honest men with a matter
     of truth.

     VINTNER. Well, one of you hath this goblet about you.

     ROBIN. You lie, drawer, [Aside] 'tis afore me.—Sirrah you, I'll
     teach you to impeach honest men;—stand by;—I'll scour you for
     a goblet;—stand aside you had best, I charge you in the name of
     Belzebub.— [Aside to RALPH] Look to the goblet, Ralph.

     VINTNER. What mean you, sirrah?

     ROBIN. I'll tell you what I mean.  [Reads from a book] Sanctobulorum
     Periphrasticon—nay, I'll tickle you, Vintner.— [Aside to RALPH] Look to the goblet, Ralph.— [Reads] Polypragmos Belseborams framanto
     pacostiphos tostu, Mephistophilis, etc.

          Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS, sets squibs at their backs, and then
          exit.  They run about.

     VINTNER. O, nomine Domini! what meanest thou, Robin? Thou hast no

     RALPH. Peccatum peccatorum!—Here's thy goblet, good Vintner.
          [Gives the goblet to VINTNER, who exits.]

     ROBIN. Misericordia pro nobis! what shall I do?  Good devil, forgive
     me now, and I'll never rob thy library more.

          Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS.

     MEPHIST. Monarch of Hell, under whose black survey
     Great potentates do kneel with awful fear,
     Upon whose altars thousand souls do lie,
     How am I vexed with these villains' charms?
     From Constantinople am I hither come,
     Only for pleasure of these damned slaves.

     ROBIN. How, from Constantinople! you have had a great journey:
     will you take sixpence in your purse to pay for your supper, and
     be gone?

     MEPHIST. Well, villains, for your presumption, I transform thee
     into an ape, and thee into a dog; and so be gone!

     ROBIN. How, into an ape! that's brave:  I'll have fine sport with
     the boys; I'll get nuts and apples enow.

     RALPH. And I must be a dog.

     ROBIN. I'faith, thy head will never be out of the pottage-pot.

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