Now, by the kingdoms of infernal rule, Of Styx, of120 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 I121 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.122 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 

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