Which makes it forfeit.

MEPHIST. And, this gloomy night,
Here, in this room, will wretched Faustus be.

BELZEBUB. And here we'll stay,
To mark him how he doth demean himself.

MEPHIST. How should he but in desperate lunacy?
Fond worldling, now his heart-blood dries with grief;
His conscience kills it; and his<244> labouring brain
Begets a world of idle fantasies
To over-reach the devil; but all in vain;
His store of pleasures must be sauc'd with pain.
He and his servant Wagner are at hand;
Both come from drawing Faustus' latest will.
See, where they come!

Enter FAUSTUS and WAGNER.

FAUSTUS. Say, Wagner,--thou hast perus<'>d my will,--
How dost thou like it?

WAGNER. Sir, So wondrous well,
As in all humble duty I do yield
My life and lasting service for your love.

FAUSTUS. Gramercy,<245> Wagner.

Enter SCHOLARS.