No More Learning

Shall I let slip so great an injury,
When every servile groom jests at my wrongs,
And in their rustic gambols proudly say,
"Benvolio's head was graced with horns to-day? "
If you will aid me in this enterprise,
Then draw your weapons and be resolute.
If not, depart; here will Benvolio die,
But Faustus' death shall quit my infamy.

FREDERICK: Nay, we will stay with thee, betide what may,
And kill that doctor, if he comes this way.
Close, close! The conjurer is at hand,
And all alone comes walking in his gown.
Be ready, then, and strike the peasant down.

BENVOLIO: Mine be that honour, then. Now, sword, strike home!
For horns he gave, I'll have his head anon!

[_Enter_ FAUSTUS.

No words; this blow ends all.
Hell take his soul! His body thus must fall.

[BENVOLIO _stabs_ FAUSTUS, _who falls_; BENVOLIO _cuts
off his head_.
FREDERICK: Was this that stern aspect, that awful frown
Made the grim monarchs of infernal spirits
Tremble and quake at his commanding charms?

MARTINO: Was this that damned head, whose art conspired
Benvolio's shame before the emperor?

BENVOLIO: Aye, that's the head, and there the body lies.
Justly rewarded for his villainies. [Faustus _rises_.
Zounds, the devil's alive again!

FREDERICK: Give him his head, for God's sake!

FAUSTUS: Nay, keep it; Faustus will have heads and hands,
Aye, all your hearts, to recompense this deed.
Then, wherefore do I dally my revenge?
Asteroth! Belimoth! Mephistophilis!

[_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHILIS, _and other_ DEVILS.

Go, horse these traitors on your fiery backs,
And mount aloft with them as high as Heaven;
Thence pitch them headlong to the lowest hell.
Yet stay, the world shall see their misery,
And hell shall after plague their treachery.
Go, Belimoth, and take this caitiff hence,
And hurl him in some lake of mud and dirt;
Take thou this other, drag him through the woods,
Amongst the pricking thorns and sharpest briars;
Whilst with my gentle Mephistophilis
This traitor flies unto some steepy rock
That rolling down may break the villain's bones.