Margret. Say that she joyes his fancies be at rest, 165
And praies that his misfortune[1481] may be hers.
Exit.
[Scene Eleventh. Frier Bacons cell.]
Enter Frier Bacon drawing the courtaines with a white stick, a booke in his hand, and a lampe lighted by him; and the Brasen Head, and Miles with weapons by him.
Bacon. Miles, where are you?
Miles. Here, sir.
Bacon. How chaunce you tarry so long?
Miles. Thinke you that the watching of the Brazen Head craves no furniture? I warrant you, sir, I have so armed my selfe[1482] that if all your devills come, I will not feare them an inch. 6
Bacon. Miles, thou knowst that I have dived into hell,