That many years attended his command,
And often times twixt Cambridge and that town
Had in a minute borne him through the air,
By composition twixt the fiend and him,
Comes now to claim the Scholler for his due.

[Draw the Curtains.]

Behold him here, laid on his restless couch,
His fatal chime prepared at his head,
His chamber guarded with these sable slights,
And by him stands that Necromanticke chair,
In which he makes his direfull invocations,
And binds the fiends that shall obey his will.
Sit with a pleased eye, until you know
The Commicke end of our sad Tragique show.

[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,