BENVOLIO. Break may his heart with groans!--Dear Frederick, see, Thus will I end his griefs immediately. MARTINO. Strike with a willing hand. [BENVOLIO strikes off FAUSTUS' head.] His head is off. BENVOLIO. The devil's dead; the Furies now [184] may laugh. FREDERICK. Was this that stern aspect, that awful frown, Made the grim monarch of infernal spirits Tremble and quake at his commanding charms? MARTINO. Was this that damned head, whose art [185] conspir'd Benvolio's shame before the Emperor? BENVOLIO. Ay, that's the head, and there [186] the body lies, Justly rewarded for his villanies. FREDERICK. Come, let's devise how we may add more shame To the black scandal of his hated name. BENVOLIO. First, on his head, in quittance of my wrongs, I'll nail huge forked horns, and let them hang Within the window where he yok'd me first, That all the world may see my just revenge. MARTINO. What use shall we put his beard to? BENVOLIO. We'll sell it to a chimney-sweeper: it will wear out ten birchen brooms, I warrant you. FREDERICK. What shall his [187] eyes do? BENVOLIO. We'll pull [188] out his eyes; and they shall serve for buttons to his lips, to keep his tongue from catching cold. MARTINO. An excellent policy! and now, sirs, having divided him, what shall the body do? [FAUSTUS rises.] BENVOLIO. Zounds, the devil's alive again! FREDERICK. Give him his head, for God's sake. FAUSTUS. Nay, keep it: Faustus will have heads and hands, Ay, all [189] your hearts to recompense this deed. Knew you not, traitors, I was limited For four-and-twenty years to breathe on earth? And, had you cut my body with your swords, Or hew'd this flesh and bones as small as sand, Yet in a minute had my spirit return'd, And I had breath'd a man, made free from harm. But wherefore do I dally my revenge?-- Asteroth, Belimoth, Mephistophilis? Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS, and other Devils. Go, horse these traitors on your fiery backs, And mount aloft with them as high as heaven: Thence pitch them headlong to the lowest hell. Yet, stay: the world shall see their misery, And hell shall after plague their treachery. Go, Belimoth, and take this caitiff hence, And hurl him in some lake of mud and dirt. Take thou this other, drag him through [190] the woods Amongst [191] the pricking thorns and sharpest briers; Whilst, with my gentle Mephistophilis, This traitor flies unto some steepy rock, That, rolling down, may break the villain's bones, As he intended to dismember me. Fly hence; despatch my charge immediately. FREDERICK. Pity us, gentle Faustus! save our lives! FAUSTUS. Away!