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Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, Yet will I call on him: O, spare me, Lucifer!-- If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul, So that my soul may but ascend to heaven! Then will I headlong run into the earth: See, see, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament! One drop would save my soul, half a drop: ah, my Christ!-- Earth, gape! O, no, it will not harbour me! Impose some end to my incessant pain; That, when you[173] vomit forth into the air, No, no! Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist. O, no end is limited to damned souls! Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows! [The clock strikes the half-hour.] My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, Where is it now? 'tis gone: and see, where God Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ! Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, Whose influence hath allotted death and hell, Yet for Christ's sake, whose blood hath ransom'd me, A hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd! Ah, half the hour is past! 'twill all be past anon And hide me from the heavy wrath of God! You stars that reign'd at my nativity, O God, Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud[s],