Fornication: but that was in another country; And besides, the wench is dead.
You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.
Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.
Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow.
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.