Scene seven

  Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS.

     FAUSTUS. Having now, my good Mephistophilis,
     Pass'd with delight the stately town of Trier,
     Environ'd round with airy mountain-tops,
     With walls of flint, and deep-entrenched lakes,
     Not to be won by any conquering prince;
     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,
     The streets straight forth, and pav'd 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;
     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?
     Hast thou, as erst I did command,
     Conducted me within the walls of Rome?

     MEPHIST. Faustus, I have; and, because we will not be unprovided,
     I have taken up his Holiness' privy-chamber for our use.

     FAUSTUS. I hope his Holiness will bid us welcome.

     MEPHIST.
     Tut, 'tis no matter; man; we'll be bold with his good cheer.
     And now, my Faustus, that thou mayst perceive
     What Rome containeth to delight thee with,
     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,
     That make safe passage to each part of Rome:
     Upon the bridge call'd Ponte Angelo
     Erected is a castle passing strong,
     Within whose walls such store of ordnance are,
     And double cannons fram'd of carved brass,
     As match the days within one complete year;
     Besides the gates, and high pyramides,
     Which Julius Caesar brought from Africa.

     FAUSTUS. Now, by the kingdoms of infernal rule,
     Of Styx, of Acheron, and the fiery lake
     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.

     MEPHIST. Nay, Faustus, stay:  I know you'd fain see the Pope,
     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.

     FAUSTUS. Well, I'm content to compass then some sport,
     And by their folly make us merriment.
     Then charm me, that I
     May be invisible, to do what I please,
     Unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome.
          [Mephistophilis charms him.]

     MEPHIST. So, Faustus; now
     Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discern'd.

          Sound a Sonnet. Enter the POPE and the CARDINAL OF
          LORRAIN to the banquet, with FRIARS attending.

     POPE. My Lord of Lorrain, will't please you draw near?

     FAUSTUS. Fall to, and the devil choke you, an you spare!

     POPE. How now! who's that which spake?—Friars, look about.

     FIRST FRIAR. Here's nobody, if it like your Holiness.

     POPE. My lord, here is a dainty dish was sent me from the Bishop
     of Milan.

     FAUSTUS. I thank you, sir.
          [Snatches the dish.]

     POPE. How now! who's that which snatched the meat from me? will
     no man look?—My lord, this dish was sent me from the Cardinal
     of Florence.

     FAUSTUS. You say true; I'll ha't.
          [Snatches the dish.]

     POPE. What, again!—My lord, I'll drink to your grace.

     FAUSTUS. I'll pledge your grace.
          [Snatches the cup.]

     C. OF LOR. My lord, it may be some ghost, newly crept out of
     Purgatory, come to beg a pardon of your Holiness.

     POPE. It may be so.—Friars, prepare a dirge to lay the fury
     of this ghost.—Once again, my lord, fall to.
          [The POPE crosses himself.]

     FAUSTUS. What, are you crossing of yourself?
     Well, use that trick no more, I would advise you.
          [The POPE crosses himself again.]

     Well, there's the second time.  Aware the third;
     I give you fair warning.
          [The POPE crosses himself again, and FAUSTUS hits him a box
           of the ear; and they all run away.]

     Come on, Mephistophilis; what shall we do?

     MEPHIST. Nay, I know not:  we shall be cursed with bell, book,
     and candle.

     FAUSTUS. 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, and an ass bray,
     Because it is Saint Peter's holiday.

          Re-enter all the FRIARS to sing the Dirge.

     FIRST FRIAR.
     Come, brethren, let's about our business with good devotion.

          They sing.

     CURSED BE HE THAT STOLE AWAY HIS HOLINESS' MEAT 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!
     CURSED BE HE THAT DISTURBETH OUR HOLY DIRGE!  maledicat
     Dominus!
     CURSED BE HE THAT TOOK AWAY HIS HOLINESS' WINE!  maledicat
     Dominus?  ['?' sic]
          Et omnes Sancti!  Amen!

          [MEPHISTOPHILIS and FAUSTUS beat the FRIARS, and fling
           fire-works among them; and so exeunt.]

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