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  Yea I will wound Achilles in the heele, And then returne to Hellen for a kisse. O thou art fairer than the Evenings Ayre, Clad in the beauty of a thousand starres: Brighter art thou then flaming Jupiter, When he appeard to hapless Semele. More lovely then the Monarch of the Skye, In wanton Arethusa's azurd armes, And none but thou shalt be my Paramour. Exeunt.  

Lucif. Thus from infernall Dis doe we ascend, To view the subjects of our monarchie, Those soules which sinne seales the blacke sonnes of hell, 'Mong which as chiefe, Faustus we come to thee, Bringing with us lasting damnation, To wait upon thy soule; the time is come Which makes it forfeit.

Meph. And this gloomy night, Here in this roome will wretched Faustus be.

Belz. And here wee'le stay, To marke him how he doth demeane himselfe.

Meph. How should he, but in desperate lunacy? Fond worldling now his heart-bloud dries with griefe; His conscience kils it, and his labouring braine Begets a world of idle fantasies, To over-reach the Divell; but all in vaine, His store of pleasures must be sauc'd with paine. He and his servant Wagner are at hand, Both come from drawing Faustus latest Will. See where they come.

Faust. Say Wagner, thou hast perus'd my Will, How dost thou like it?

Wag. Sir, so wondrous well, As in all humble duty I do yeeld My life and lasting service for your love.  Faust.