[Exit.]

INDUCTION.

[The Chime goes, in which time Fabell is oft seen to stare about him, and hold up his hands.]

Fabell. 
What means the tolling of this fatal chime? 
O, what a trembling horror strikes my heart! 
My stiffned hair stands upright on my head,
As do the bristles of a porcupine.

[Enter Coreb, a Spirit.]

Coreb. 
Fabell, awake, or I will bear thee hence
Headlong to hell.

Fabell. 
Ha, ha,
Why dost thou wake me?  Coreb, is it thou?

Coreb. 
Tis I.

Fabell. 
I know thee well:  I hear the watchful dogs
With hollow howling tell of thy approach;
The lights burn dim, affrighted with thy presence;
And this distemperd and tempestuous night
Tells me the air is troubled with some Devill.

Coreb. 
Come, art thou ready?

Fabell. 
Whither? or to what?

Coreb. 
Why, Scholler, this the hour my date expires;
I must depart, and come to claim my due.

Fabell. 
Hah, what is thy due?

Coreb. 
Fabell, thy self.

Fabell. 
O, let not darkness hear thee speak that word,
Lest that with force it hurry hence amain,
And leave the world to look upon my woe: 
Yet overwhelm me with this globe of earth,
And let a little sparrow with her bill
Take but so much as she can bear away,
That, every day thus losing of my load,
I may again in time yet hope to rise.

Coreb. 
Didst thou not write thy name in thine own blood,
And drewst the formall deed twixt thee and me,
And is it not recorded now in hell?

Fabell. 
Why comst thou in this stern and horrid shape,
Not in familiar sort, as thou wast wont?

Coreb. 
Because the date of thy command is out,
And I am master of thy skill and thee.

Fabell. 
Coreb, thou angry and impatient spirit,
I have earnest business for a private friend;
Reserve me, spirit, until some further time.

Coreb. 
I will not for the mines of all the earth.

Fabell. 
Then let me rise, and ere I leave the world,
Dispatch some business that I have to do;
And in mean time repose thee in that chair.

Coreb. 
Fabell, I will.

[Sit down.]

Fabell. 
O, that this soul, that cost so great a price
As the dear precious blood of her redeemer,
Inspired with knowledge, should by that alone
Which makes a man so mean unto the powers,
Even lead him down into the depth of hell,
When men in their own pride strive to know more
Then man should know! 
For this alone God cast the Angels down. 
The infinity of Arts is like a sea,
Into which, when man will take in hand to sail
Further then reason, which should be his pilot,
Hath skill to guide him, losing once his compass,
He falleth to such deep and dangerous whirl-pools
As he doth lose the very sight of heaven: 
The more he strives to come to quiet harbor,
The further still he finds himself from land. 
Man, striving still to find the depth of evil,
Seeking to be a God, becomes a Devil.