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,
and I'll give them you.
MEPHIST. Be gone quickly.
[HORSE-COURSER runs away.]
FAUSTUS. What, is he gone? farewell he! Faustus has his leg again,
and the Horse-courser, I take it, a bottle of hay for his labour:
well, this trick shall cost him forty dollars more.
Enter WAGNER.
How now, Wagner! what's the news with thee?
WAGNER. Sir, the Duke of Vanholt doth earnestly entreat your
company.
FAUSTUS. The Duke of Vanholt! an honourable gentleman, to whom
I must be no niggard of my cunning.
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