“O gentle Faustus, leave this damnèd art, This magic that will charm thy soul to hell And quite bereave thee of salvation. Though thou has now offended like a man, Do not persever in it like a devil. Yet, yet, thou hast an amiable soul If sin by custom grow not into nature. Then, Faustus, will repentance come too late! Then, thou art banished from the sight of heaven! No mortal can express the pains of hell! . . . For gentle son, I speak it not in wrath Or envy of thee but in tender love . . . And so have hope that this my kind rebuke, Checking thy body, may amend thy soul.”
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