That on a Fury's back came post from Rome?
Will not his grace consort the Emperor?

MARTINO. O, yes; and with him comes the German conjurer,
The learned Faustus, fame of Wittenberg,
The wonder of the world for magic art;
And he intends to shew great Carolus
The race of all his stout progenitors,
And bring in presence of his majesty
The royal shapes and perfect<147> semblances
Of Alexander and his beauteous paramour.

FREDERICK. Where is Benvolio?

MARTINO. Fast asleep, I warrant you;
He took his rouse<148> with stoops of Rhenish wine
So kindly yesternight to Bruno's health,
That all this day the sluggard keeps his bed.

FREDERICK. See, see, his window's ope! we'll call to him.

MARTINO. What, ho! Benvolio!

Enter BENVOLIO above, at a window, in his nightcap, buttoning.

BENVOLIO. What a devil ail you two?

MARTINO. Speak softly, sir, lest the devil hear you;
For Faustus at the court is late arriv'd,
And at his heels a<149> thousand Furies wait,