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.
What art thou Faustus, but a man condemned to die?
That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
All women are ambitious naturallie