and the hero will drown story of the year download

Re-enter FREDERICK. Hell take his soul! his body thus must fall. MARTINO. See, see, he comes! His head is off. Enter FAUSTUS with a false head. MARTINO. Where shall we place ourselves, Benvolio? Made the grim monarch of infernal spirits FAUSTUS. [falling.] O! Thou soon shouldst see me quit my foul disgrace! Thus will I end his griefs immediately. Tremble and quake at his commanding charms? BENVOLIO. The devil's dead; the Furies now [184] may laugh. BENVOLIO. Break may his heart with groans!--Dear Frederick, see, FREDERICK. Groan you, Master Doctor? BENVOLIO. Mine be that honour, then. Now, sword, strike home! Be ready, then, and strike the [183] peasant down. FREDERICK. Close, close! the conjurer is at hand, [BENVOLIO strikes off FAUSTUS' head.] [Stabs FAUSTUS.] O, were that damned hell-hound but in place, And all alone comes walking in his gown; For horns he gave I'll have his head anon. MARTINO. Was this that damned head, whose art [185] conspir'd FREDERICK. Was this that stern aspect, that awful frown, BENVOLIO. Here will we stay to bide the first assault: MARTINO. Strike with a willing hand. BENVOLIO. No words. This blow ends all: