these noble gentlemen:      I heard them parley with the conjurer. SECOND SOLDIER. See, where he comes! despatch and kill the slave. FAUSTUS. What's here? an ambush to betray my life! Then, Faustus, try thy skill.—Base peasants, stand! For, lo, these 193 trees remove at my command, And stand as bulwarks 'twixt yourselves and me, To shield me from your hated treachery! Yet, to encounter this your weak attempt, Behold, an army comes incontinent! FAUSTUS strikes the door, 194 and enter a DEVIL playing on a drum; after him another, bearing an ensign; and divers with weapons; MEPHISTOPHILIS with fire-works. They set upon           the SOLDIERS, drive them out, and exeunt. Enter, at several doors, BENVOLIO, FREDERICK, and MARTINO, their heads and faces bloody, and besmeared with mud and dirt; all having horns on their heads. MARTINO. What, ho, Benvolio! BENVOLIO. Here.—What, Frederick, ho! FREDERICK. O, help me, gentle friend!—Where is Martino? MARTINO. Dear Frederick, here, Half smother'd in a lake of mud and dirt, Through which the Furies dragg'd me by the heels. FREDERICK. Martino, see, Benvolio's horns again! MARTINO. O, misery!—How now, Benvolio! BENVOLIO. Defend me, heaven! shall I be haunted still? MARTINO. Nay, fear not, man; we have no power to kill. BENVOLIO. My friends transformed thus! O, hellish spite! Your heads are all set with horns. FREDERICK. You hit it right; It is your own you mean; feel on your head. BENVOLIO. Zounds, 195 horns again! MARTINO. Nay, chafe not, man; we all are 196 sped. BENVOLIO. What devil attends this damn'd magician, That, spite of spite, our wrongs are doubled? FREDERICK. What may we do, that we may hide our shames? BENVOLIO. If we should follow him to work revenge, He'd join long asses' ears to these huge horns, And make us laughing-stocks to all the world. MARTINO. What shall we, then, do, dear Benvolio? BENVOLIO. I have a castle joining near these woods; And thither we'll repair, and live obscure, Till time shall alter these 197 our brutish shapes:      Sith black disgrace hath thus eclips'd our fame, We'll rather die with grief than live with shame.           [Exeunt.]            Enter FAUSTUS, a HORSE-COURSER, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. HORSE-COURSER. I beseech your worship, accept of these forty dollars. FAUSTUS. Friend, thou canst not buy so good a horse for so small a price. I have no great need to sell him:  but, if thou likest him for ten dollars more, take him, because I see thou hast a good mind to him. HORSE-COURSER. I 

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