_Dom._ By Heaven’s grace, He is, in body, well--yet much I fear There lies some hidden canker at his soul. When he was prostrate on a fevered bed, The utterings of his delirium Were rather those of some base man of sin, Than of a holy father, vowed to heaven. _Ans._ Thy news is grave indeed; but knowest thou this Of thine own knowledge? _Dom._ Ay, in truth I do. I took my turn with others at his bed, And all who watched him made the same report. When the delirium was at its worst His fevered brain was filled with worldly dreams, And seemed to revel in the guilty joys That he for once and all had long forsworn. Now at a gaming table, flushed with wine, And swearing roundly that the dice were loaded; Now at a drunken revel, trolling forth Ungodly songs that set mine ears ablaze; Now at the chase; now breathing words of love Into the ears of some fair wanton; then Invoking curses on her wantonness! _Ans._ But spake he never of the holy life That he is sworn to lead? _Dom._ Nay, never once, Unless it were to curse the evil haste That led him to it. _Ans._ It affects me much To hear these tidings of our well-loved Faustus. I knew that, ere he took his holy vows, He led a life of sin, and for that cause I more rejoiced his heart had turned to grace. But, see, he comes. Leave me alone with him. I’ll speak to him as father speaks to son. _Dom._ May Heaven speed thy work. [_Exit DOMINIC._ _Enter FAUSTUS._ _Ans._ Come hither, son. The kindly brothers who attended thee In thy delirium have no light cause To think that, though thy priestly ministries Are to the letter faithfully performed, Thy heart is bent on worldly matters still. _Faus._ Of what do they complain? Can any say That I have failed in my observances? That I have spoken ill of any man? That I live not a chaste and sober life? That I am loth to pray with dead and dying? Are not my priestly duties well discharged? _Ans._ Would that all priests within these sacred walls Took thee for an ensample in these matters. But who can read the inmost heart of man? The lips may move in prayer, and but the lips. Speak to me frankly--tell me by what means Thou wast induced to quit the world without, Its fleeting pleasures and its lasting pains, For the pure calm of these monastic shades? _Faus._ Oh, father, holy father, bear with me, My heart is very sore! _Ans._ Come--tell me all, Fear nothing; speak to me as to thyself.