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him for ten dollars more, take him, because I see thou hast a poor man, and have lost very much of late by horse-flesh, and That, spite of spite, our wrongs are doubled? It is your own you mean; feel on your head. MARTINO. Nay, chafe not, man; we all are [196] sped. Enter FAUSTUS, a HORSE-COURSER, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. MARTINO. What shall we, then, do, dear Benvolio? BENVOLIO. What devil attends this damn'd magician, We'll rather die with grief than live with shame. HORSE-COURSER. I beseech your worship, accept of these forty dollars. Sith black disgrace hath thus eclips'd our fame, BENVOLIO. If we should follow him to work revenge, Till time shall alter these [197] our brutish shapes: good mind to him. [Exeunt.] HORSE-COURSER. I beseech you, sir, accept of this: I am a very FAUSTUS. Friend, thou canst not buy so good a horse for so small He'd join long asses' ears to these huge horns, BENVOLIO. Zounds, [195] horns again! a price. I have no great need to sell him: but, if thou likest And thither we'll repair, and live obscure, BENVOLIO. I have a castle joining near these woods; FREDERICK. You hit it right; And make us laughing-stocks to all the world. FAUSTUS. Well, I will not stand with thee: give me the money this bargain will set me up again. FREDERICK. What may we do, that we may hide our shames?