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 Fooles that will laugh on earth, most weepe in Hell. Exit.

Good. O Faustus, if thou hadst given ears to me, Innumerable joyes had followed thee. But thou didst love the world.

Bad. Gave eare to me, And now must taste hell paines perpetually.

Good. O what will all thy riches, pleasures, pomps, Availe thee now?

Bad. Nothing but vex thee more, To want in hell, that had on earth such store.

Good. O thou hast lost celestiall happinesse, Pleasures unspeakable, blisse without end. Hadst thou affected sweet Divinity, Hell or the Devill had had no power on thee: Hadst thou kept on that way, Faustus behold, In what resplendent glory thou hadst sit In yonder Throne, like those bright shining Saints, And triumpht over Hell: that hast thou lost, And now (poor soule) must thy good Angell leave thee, The jawes of Hell is ready to receive thee. Bad. Now Faustus let shine eyes with horror stare Into that vast perpetuall torture house: There are the Furies tossing damned soules, On burning Forkes, their bodies boyle in Lead. There are live quarters broiling on the Coles, That ne're can die: this ever-burning chaire, Is for o're tortured soules to rest them in. These that are fed with sops of flaming fire, Were gluttons, and lov'd only delicates, And laught to see the poore starve at their gates: But yet all these are nothing, thou shalt see Rh