ut ride him not into
the water: o'er hedge and ditch, or where thou wilt, but not into
the water. Go, bid the hostler deliver him unto you, and remember
what I say.

HORSE-COURSER. I warrant you, sir!--O, joyful day! now am I a
made man for ever.
[Exit.]

FAUSTUS. What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemn'd to die?
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.

How now, Wagner! what news with thee?

WAGNER. If it please you, the Duke of Vanholt doth earnestly
entreat your company, and hath sent some of his men to attend
you, [200] with provision fit for your journey.

FAUSTUS. The Duke of Vanholt's an honourable gentleman, and one
to whom I must be no niggard of my cunning. Come, away!
[Exeunt.

Enter ROBIN, DICK, the HORSE-COURSER, and a CARTER.

CARTER. Come, my masters, I'll bring you to the best beer in
Europe.--What, ho, hostess! where be these whores?

Enter HOSTESS.

HOSTESS. How now! what lack you? What, my old guess! [201] welcome.

ROBIN. Sirrah Dick, dost thou [202] know why I stand so mute?

DICK.