The devil Leviathan angrily replied: “I swear, by the hot and foul pool of the damned, that the rebel shall one day blaspheme, and curse this and the hour of his birth.”
He went away wrapt in a veil of smoke, and the fiends pursued him with loud huzzas.
Faustus stood within the magic circle, while his breast swelled with rage. For the third time he repeated the dreadful formula, in a voice that resembled thunder. The door suddenly flew open; a thick vapour hovered around the margin of the circle; he struck into it with his magic rod, and cried in triumph, “Unveil thyself, thou thing of darkness!” The vapour dispersed, and Faustus saw a tall figure concealed beneath a red mantle.
Faustus. Why this tedious disguise to one who wishes to see thee? Discover thyself to him, who fears thee not in whatever shape thou mayst appear.
The Devil flung back his mantle, and stood in a daring and majestic attitude before the circle.
His fiery eyes sparkled from beneath their black brows, between which malice, hatred, fury, agony, and scorn had formed themselves in thick folds. These furrows were sunk in a smooth, clear, high-arched forehead, which contrasted strangely with the fiendish marks between the eyes. A finely-formed aquiline nose inclined towards a mouth which seemed to have been framed only for the enjoyment of immortal things. He had the mien of a fallen angel, whose countenance was once illuminated by the Godhead, but which was now obscured by a gloomy veil.
Faustus (in surprise). Is man, then, every where at home? Who art thou?
Devil. I am a prince of hell, and come because thy mighty call compels me.
Faustus. A prince of hell under this mask; under the figure of a man! I wished for a fiend, and not one of my own race.
Devil. Perhaps, Faustus, we are most so when we resemble ye; at least, no mask suits us better. Besides, is it not your custom to conceal what ye are, and to appear what ye are not?