Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or why is this immortal that thou hast? Ah, Pythagoras’ metempsychosis, were that true, this soul should fly from me and I be changed unto some brutish beast. All beasts are happy, for, when they die, their souls are soon dissolved in elements; but mine must live still be plagued in hell. Curst be the parents that engendered me! No, Faustus, curse thyself. Curse Lucifer, that hath deprived thee of the joys of heaven. The clock striketh twelve. O, it strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air, or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell. Thunder and lightning. O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, and fall into the ocean, ne’er be found! My God, my God, look not so fierce on me! Enter Lucifer, Mephistopheles and other devils. Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while! Ugly hell, gape not. Come not, Lucifer! I’ll burn my books. Ah, Mephistopheles! The devils exeunt with him.
- Christopher Marlowe, “Dr Faustus, A text”, act five scene two
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