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 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.

Ben. 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.

Emp. 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.

Faust. 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.

Meph. Faustus, I will.

Ben. 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.

Faust. 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.

Emp. Be it as Faustus please, we are content.

Ben. 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.

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