The monk stood between the two speakers as between two volcanoes in eruption; he crossed his hands humbly upon his breast, and cried, “Have mercy!”
The Devil continued:
“Among the many impudent follies which I
observed in thy book was an attempt to draw the Devil’s portrait. It is now high time for him to appear to thee, in order that thou mayst correct the likeness. Look at me; and for once thou shalt be able to say thou hast seen an object in its proper form.”
The Devil then appeared to him in the most frightful of infernal figures; but he rolled a thick mist before the eyes of Faustus, in order that he might not blast his sight. The monk fell to the earth; and the Devil, resuming all his former comeliness, exclaimed:
“Now thou mayst paint the Devil in his proper colours, provided thou hast strength. Thou wouldst often be thus overcome, if thou didst in reality see the innermost of those whom thou makest angels.”
Faustus. Persist in thy folly; communicate it to others; and by thy extravagances render religion repulsive to reasonable people. Thou canst not farther more efficaciously the interests of the enemy. Farewell!
The monk had lost his senses through terror;
but he still continued writing notwithstanding his madness; and his readers never once perceived his derangement, so much did his new books resemble his old ones.
Faustus was delighted with this adventure; but becoming weary of the town, he quitted it the next morning with the Devil, and took the road to France.