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,