Nothing Violent, Oft Have I Heard Tell,

That Perfect Bliss And Sole Felicity, The Sweet Fruition Of An Earthly Crown.

Faustus. [stabbing His Arm.] Lo, Mephistophilis, For Love Of Thee, I Cut Mine Arm, And With My Proper Blood Assure My Soul To Be Great Lucifer's, Chief Lord And Regent Of Perpetual Night!

Love Me Little, Love Me Long.

Is It Not Passing Brave To Be A King And Ride In Triumph Through Persepolis?

Cut Is The Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight, And Burned Is Apollo's Laurel Bough, That Sometime Grew Within This Learned Man. Faustus Is Gone.