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!

... when all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are not heaven.

It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.

Goodness is beauty in the best estate.

Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.

Our swords shall play the orators for us.

Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.