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!
It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.
Love me little, love me long.
Things that are not at all, are never lost.
Religion hides many mischiefs from suspicion.
Religion! O Diabole! Fie, I am asham'd, however that I seem, To think a word of such simple sound, Of such great matter should be made the ground.