FREDERICK. He must needs go that the devil drives. [Exeunt MEPHISTOPHILIS and DEVILS with BENVOLIO, MARTINO, and FREDERICK.] Enter the ambushed SOLDIERS. [192] FIRST SOLDIER. Come, sirs, prepare yourselves in readiness; Make haste to help these noble gentlemen: I heard them parley with the conjurer. SECOND SOLDIER. See, where he comes! despatch and kill the slave. FAUSTUS. What's here? an ambush to betray my life! Then, Faustus, try thy skill.--Base peasants, stand! For, lo, these [193] trees remove at my command, And stand as bulwarks 'twixt yourselves and me, To shield me from your hated treachery! Yet, to encounter this your weak attempt, Behold, an army comes incontinent! FAUSTUS strikes the door, [194] and enter a DEVIL playing on a drum; after him another, bearing an ensign; and divers with weapons; MEPHISTOPHILIS with fire-works. They set upon the SOLDIERS, drive them out, and exeunt. Enter, at several doors, BENVOLIO, FREDERICK, and MARTINO, their heads and faces bloody, and besmeared with mud and dirt; all having horns on their heads. MARTINO. What, ho, Benvolio! BENVOLIO. Here.--What, Frederick, ho! FREDERICK. O, help me, gentle friend!--Where is Martino? MARTINO. Dear Frederick, here, Half smother'd in a lake of mud and dirt, Through which the Furies dragg'd me by the heels. FREDERICK. Martino, see, Benvolio's horns again! MARTINO. O, misery!--How now, Benvolio! BENVOLIO. Defend me, heaven! shall I be haunted still? MARTINO. Nay, fear not, man; we have no power to kill. BENVOLIO. My friends transformed thus! O, hellish spite! Your heads are all set with horns. FREDERICK. You hit it right; It is your own you mean; feel on your head. BENVOLIO. Zounds, [195] horns again! MARTINO. Nay, chafe not, man; we all are [196] sped. BENVOLIO. What devil attends this damn'd magician, That, spite of spite, our wrongs are doubled? FREDERICK. What may we do, that we may hide our shames? BENVOLIO. If we should follow him to work revenge, He'd join long asses' ears to these huge horns, And make us laughing-stocks to all the world. MARTINO. What shall we, then, do, dear Benvolio? BENVOLIO. I have a castle joining near these woods; And thither we'll repair, and live obscure, Till time shall alter these [197] our brutish shapes: Sith black disgrace hath thus eclips'd our fame, We'll rather die with grief than live with shame. [Exeunt.] Enter FAUSTUS, a HORSE-COURSER, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. HORSE-COURSER. I beseech your worship, accept of these forty dollars.