gracious lord! what strange beast is yon, that thrusts his head out at window? 165 EMPEROR. O, wondrous sight!—See, Duke of Saxony, Two spreading horns most strangely fastened Upon the head of young Benvolio! SAXONY. What, is he asleep or dead? FAUSTUS. He sleeps, my lord; but dreams not of his horns. EMPEROR. This sport is excellent:  we'll call and wake him.—      What, ho, Benvolio! BENVOLIO. A plague upon you! let me sleep a while. EMPEROR. I blame thee not to sleep much, having such a head of thine own. SAXONY. Look up, Benvolio; 'tis the Emperor calls. BENVOLIO. The Emperor! where?—O, zounds, my head!       EMPEROR. Nay, an thy horns hold, 'tis no matter for thy head, for that's armed sufficiently. FAUSTUS. Why, how now, Sir Knight! what, hanged by the horns! this is 166 most horrible:  fie, fie, pull in your head, for shame! let not all the world wonder at you. BENVOLIO. Zounds, doctor, this is 167 your villany! FAUSTUS. O, say not so, sir! the doctor has no skill, No art, no cunning, to present these lords, Or bring before this royal Emperor The mighty monarch, warlike Alexander. If Faustus do it, you are straight resolv'd, In bold Actaeon's shape, to turn a stag:—      And therefore, my lord, so please your majesty, I'll raise a kennel of hounds shall hunt him so As 168 all his footmanship shall scarce prevail To keep his carcass from their bloody fangs.—      Ho, Belimoth, Argiron, Asteroth! 169 BENVOLIO. Hold, hold!—Zounds, he'll raise up a kennel of devils, I think, anon.—Good my lord, entreat for me.—'Sblood, I am never able to endure these torments. EMPEROR. Then, good Master Doctor, Let me entreat you to remove his horns; He has 170 done penance now sufficiently. FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, not so much for injury done to me, as to delight your majesty with some mirth, hath Faustus justly requited this injurious knight; which being all I desire, I am      content to remove his horns. 171—Mephistophilis, transform him      [MEPHISTOPHILIS removes the horns]:—and hereafter, sir, 172 look you speak well of scholars. BENVOLIO. Speak well of ye! 'sblood, an scholars be such cuckold-makers, to clap horns of 173 honest men's heads o' this order, I'll ne'er trust smooth faces and small ruffs more.—But, an I be not revenged for this, would I might be turned to a gaping oyster, and drink nothing but salt water!           [Aside, and then exit above.]       EMPEROR. Come, Faustus:  while the Emperor lives, In recompense of this thy high desert, Thou shalt command the state of Germany, And live belov'd of 

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