Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell.

[Thunder and lightning.

O soul, be changed into little water-drops,
And fall into the ocean - ne'er be found.

[Enter Devils.
My God! my God! look not so fierce on me!
Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile!
Ugly hell, gape not! come not, Lucifer!
I'll burn my books! - Ah Mephistophilis!

[Exeunt Devils with FAUSTUS.

Enter CHORUS.

Cho. Cut is the branch that might have grown

straight,

And burnèd is Apollo's laurel bough,

That sometime grew within this learned man.
Faustus is gone; regard his hellish fall,

Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise

Only to wonder at unlawful things,

Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits

full

To practise more than heavenly power permits. [Exit.

EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR.

BY BEN JONSON.