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Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, and an ass bray, Purgatory, come to beg a pardon of your Holiness. FAUSTUS. How! bell, book, and candle,--candle, book, and bell,-- FAUSTUS. I'll pledge your grace. of the ear; and they all run away.] [The POPE crosses himself again.] C. OF LOR. My lord, it may be some ghost, newly crept out of Re-enter all the FRIARS to sing the Dirge. Come on, Mephistophilis; what shall we do? of Florence. FAUSTUS. What, are you crossing of yourself? POPE. What, again!--My lord, I'll drink to your grace. [Snatches the cup.] Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell! [Snatches the dish.] and candle. POPE. It may be so.--Friars, prepare a dirge to lay the fury I give you fair warning. Because it is Saint Peter's holiday. [The POPE crosses himself.] no man look?--My lord, this dish was sent me from the Cardinal Well, use that trick no more, I would advise you. MEPHIST. Nay, I know not: we shall be cursed with bell, book, of this ghost.--Once again, my lord, fall to. [The POPE crosses himself again, and FAUSTUS hits him a box Well, there's the second time. Aware the third; FAUSTUS. You say true; I'll ha't.