sir; if my horse be sick or ill at ease, if I bring his water to you, you'll tell me what it is? FAUSTUS. Away, you villain! what, dost think I am a horse-doctor?           [Exit HORSE-COURSER.]       What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemn'd to die? Thy fatal time doth draw to final end; Despair doth drive distrust into142 my thoughts:      Confound these passions with a quiet sleep:      Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the Cross; Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit.           [Sleeps in his chair.]            Re-enter HORSE-COURSER, all wet, crying. HORSE-COURSER. Alas, alas! Doctor Fustian, quoth a? mass, Doctor Lopus143 was never such a doctor:  has given me a purgation, has purged me of forty dollars; I shall never see them more. But yet, like an ass as I was, I would not be ruled by him, for he bade me I should ride him into no water:  now I, thinking my horse had had some rare quality that he would not have had me know of,144 I, like a venturous youth, rid him into the deep pond at the town's end. I was no sooner in the middle of the pond, but my horse vanished away, and I sat upon a bottle of hay, never so near drowning in my life. But I'll seek out my doctor, and have my forty dollars again, or I'll make it the dearest horse!—O, yonder is his snipper-snapper.—Do you hear? you, hey-pass,145 where's your master? MEPHIST. Why, sir, what would you? you cannot speak with him. HORSE-COURSER. But I will speak with him. MEPHIST. Why, he's fast asleep:  come some other time. HORSE-COURSER. I'll speak with him now, or I'll break his glass-windows about his ears. MEPHIST. I tell thee, he has not slept this eight nights. HORSE-COURSER. An he have not slept this eight weeks, I'll speak with him. 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,146 and I'll give them you. MEPHIST. Be gone quickly.           [HORSE-COURSER runs 

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