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xxxiv Am not tormented by a thousand Hells In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss?— Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one set place,—but where we are is Hell— And where Hell is, there must we ever be. And, to be short, when all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be Hell that are not Heaven."

These are noble lines—Lord Byron's obligations to them in his "Manfred" have been noted.—The last hour of Faustus' life is spent in such mental torture, as "thicks the" reader's "blood with cold."—"It is indeed an agony and fearful colluctation."

"(The clock strikes eleven.) (Faustus solus.) Oh! Faustus! Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damn'd perpetually.— Stand still you ever-moving spheres of Heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come. Fair Nature's eye! rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day! or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustas may repent and save his soul.— O lentè, lentè, currite noctis equi!—