Here's a great Resort of Devils, the very Doors smell of Brimstone: I'll e'en back----No: I'll be a Man of Resolution: But if Mr. Doctor should send a Familiar to open the Door, in what language should I speak to the Devil? [_Knocks._

_Enter_ Scaramouche.

_Scar. peeping._ This is some malicious Spirit, that will not let me alone at my Study; but I'll go in, and conn my Book. [_Exit._

_Harl._ I believe Mr. Doctor is very Busy; but I'll rap this time with Authority.

[Harlequin _raps at the Door_, Scaramouche _peeps out_. Harlequin _strikes him, and jumps back, runs frighted off_.

_Scene changes to a Room in the Doctor's House._

_Enter_ Scaramouche, _with a Book in the Doctor's Gown_.

_Scar._ I have left the Door open to save the Devil the labour of Knocking, if he has a mind to come in: For I am resolved not to stir from my Book; I found it in the Doctor's Closet, and know it must contain Something of the Black Art.

_Enter_ Harlequin.

_Harl._ Oh here's Mr. Doctor himself; he's reading some conjuring Book.

_Ide fain jecit._

_Scar._ This must be a conjuring Book by the hard Words. AB, EB, IB, OB, UB, BA, BO, BU, BI.

_Harl._ Its a Child's Primer. [Harlequin _looks over him_.

_Scar._ The Devil, the Devil; be gon, avoid Satan. [_Runs off._

_Harl._ O the Devil! Now will I lye as if I were Dead, and let the Devil go hunt for my Soul. [_Lyes down._

_Enter_ Scaramouche.

_Scar._ I have learn'd to raise the Devil, but how the Devil shall I do to lay him. Ha! what's here, a dead Body? The Devil a.s.sum'd this Body, and when I began to mutter my Prayers, he was in such haste he left his Carca.s.s behind him. Ha! it stirs; no, 'twas but my Fancy.

[Scaram. _lifts up all his Limbs, and lets 'em fall, whil'st_ Harl.

_hits him on the Breech, lifts his Head, which falls gently_.

All's dead but's Head. [_Sets him upright._ The Devil, the Devil! Be gon; what art thou?

_Harl._ A poor unfortunate Devil.

_Scar._ The Devil; _Avant_ then _Hagon mogon strogon_.

_Harl._ O good Mr. Doctor, conjure up no more Devils and I'll be gon, or any thing.--I came only to ask your Black Artship a Question.

_Scar._ No, this is not the Devil. Who art thou? Whence comest thou?

What's thy Business, Quick, or _Hogon strogon_?

_Harl._ Hold, hold, hold, I am poor _Harlequin_: By the Learned I am called _Zane_, by the Vulgar _Jack Pudding_. I was late Fool to a Mountebank; and last Night, in the mistaking the Pipkin, I eat up a Pot of _Bolus_ instead of Hasty Pudding; and devour'd Three Yards of _Diaculum_ Plaister instead of Pancake, for which my Master has turn'd me out of Doors instead of Wages: Therefore, to be reveng'd, I come to hire a Devil or two of you, Mr. Doctor, of a strong Const.i.tution, that may swallow up his Turpentine Pills as fast as he makes 'em, that he may never cure poor Wh.o.r.e more of a Clap; and then he'll be undone, for they are his chief Patients.

_Scar._ What Practice has he?

_Harl._ Why his Business is to patch up rotten Wh.o.r.es against the Term for Country Lawyers, and Attorneys Clerks; and against _Christmas_, _Easter_ and _Whitsun_ Holidays, for City Apprentices; and if his Pills be destroy'd, 'twill ruin him in one Term.

_Scar._ Come in; and for a Crown a Week I'll lett thee out a Devil, as they do Horses at Livery, shall swallow him a Peck of Pills a day, though every one were as big as a Pumpkin; and make nothing of a _Bolus_ for a Breakfast.

_Harl._ O brave Mr. Doctor! O dainty Mr. Devil!

_Scar._ Seigniora. [_Here they Complement who shall go first._

_The End of the First Act._

ACT II.

Faustus _in his Study_.

_Good and Bad Angel descend._

_Good An._ _Faustus_, Repent; yet Heav'n will pity thee.

_Bad An._ Thou art a Spirit, Heav'n cannot pity thee.

_Fau._ Who buzzes in my Ear, I am a Spirit; be I a Devil yet Heaven can pity me: Yea, Heaven will pity me, if I repent.

_Bad An._ Ay, but _Faustus_ never shall repent.

_Good An._ Sweet _Faustus_ think of Heav'n, and heavenly Things.

[_Ascends._

_Fau._ My Heart is hardened, I cannot repent.

Scarce can I name Salvation, Faith, or Heav'n, But I am pinch'd, and p.r.i.c.k'd, in thousand Places.

O help distressed _Faustus_!

Lucifer, Beelzebub. _and_ Mephostopholis _rises_.

_Luc._ None can afford thee help; for only I have Interest in thee, _Faustus_.

_Fau._ Oh! What art thou, that looks so terrible?

_Luc._ I am _Lucifer_, and this is my Companion Prince in h.e.l.l.

_Beel._ We are come to tell thee thou dost injure us.

_Luc._ Thou call'st on Heav'n contrary to thy Promise.

_Beel._ Thou should'st not think on Heav'n.