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MEPHIST. See, where he is, fast asleep.
HORSE-COURSER. Ay, this is he.—God save you, Master Doctor,
Master Doctor, Master Doctor Fustian! forty dollars, forty dollars
for a bottle of hay!
MEPHIST. Why, thou seest he hears thee not.
HORSE-COURSER. So-ho, ho! so-ho, ho! [Hollows in his ear.] No,
will you not wake? I'll make you wake ere I go. [Pulls FAUSTUS
by the leg, and pulls it away.] Alas, I am undone! what shall
I do?
FAUSTUS. O, my leg, my leg!—Help, Mephistophilis! call the
officers.—My leg, my leg!
MEPHIST. Come, villain, to the constable.
HORSE-COURSER. O Lord, sir, let me go, and I'll give you forty
dollars more!
MEPHIST. Where be they?
HORSE-COURSER. I have none about me: come to my ostry,
and I'll give them you.
MEPHIST. Be gone quickly.
[HORSE-COURSER runs away.]
FAUSTUS. What, is he gone? farewell he! Faustus has his leg again,
and the Horse-courser, I take it, a bottle of hay for his labour:
well, this trick shall cost him forty dollars more.
Enter WAGNER.
How now, Wagner! what's the news with thee?
WAGNER. Sir, the Duke of Vanholt doth earnestly entreat your
company.
FAUSTUS. The Duke of Vanholt! an honourable gentleman, to whom
I must be no niggard of my cunning.—Come, Mephistophilis,
let's away to him.
[Exeunt.]
Enter the DUKE OF VANHOLT, the DUCHESS, and FAUSTUS.
DUKE. Believe me, Master Doctor, this merriment hath much pleased
me.
FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, I am glad it contents you so well.
—But it may be, madam, you take no delight in this. I have heard
that great-bellied women do long for some dainties or other: what
is it, madam? tell me, and you shall have it.
DUCHESS. Thanks, good Master Doctor: and, for I see your courteous
intent to pleasure me, I will not hide from you the thing my heart
desires; and, were it now summer, as it is January and the dead
time of the winter, I would desire no better meat than a dish
of ripe grapes.
FAUSTUS. Alas, madam, that's nothing!—Mephistophilis, be gone.
[Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.] Were it a greater thing than this, so it
would content you, you should have it.
Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with grapes.
Here they be, madam: wilt please you taste on them?
DUKE. Believe me, Master Doctor, this makes me wonder above the
rest, that being in the dead time of winter and in the month of
January, how you should come by these grapes.
