Thy fatal time draws to a final end;
Despair doth drive distrust into my thoughts:
Confound these passions with a quiet sleep:
Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the Cross;
Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit.
[He sits to sleep.]

Re-enter the HORSE-COURSER, wet.

HORSE-COURSER. 0, what a cozening doctor was this! I, riding
my horse into the water, thinking some hidden mystery had been
in the horse, I had nothing under me but a little straw, and had
much ado to escape<198> drowning. Well, I'll go rouse him, and
make him give me my forty dollars again.--Ho, sirrah Doctor, you
cozening scab! Master Doctor, awake, and rise, and give me my
money again, for your horse is turned to a bottle of hay, Master
Doctor! [He pulls off FAUSTUS' leg]. Alas, I am undone! what
shall I do? I have pulled off his leg.

FAUSTUS. O, help, help! the villain hath murdered me.

HORSE-COURSER. Murder or not murder, now he has<199> but one leg,
I'll outrun him, and cast this leg into some ditch or other.
[Aside, and then runs out.]

FAUSTUS. Stop him, stop him, stop him!--Ha, ha, ha! Faustus hath
his leg again, and the Horse-courser a bundle of hay for his
forty dollars.

Enter WAGNER.