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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Act: 4 Scene: 4

Here, what Frederick, ho.

Defend me, heaven. Shall I be haunted still?

My friends transformed thus. O hellish spite! Your

heads are all set with horns.

'Zounds, horns again!

What devil attends this damned magician,

That, spite of spite, our wrongs are doubled?

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.

I have a castle joining near these woods,

And thither we'll repair and live obscure,

Till time shall alter this our brutish shapes.

Since black disgrace hath thus eclipsed our fame,

We'll rather die with grief, than live with shame.