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Whose termine [75] is term'd the world's wide pole; Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven: Are laid before me to despatch myself; And jointly move upon one axletree, MEPHIST. As are the elements, such are the heavens, Speak, are there many spheres above the moon? Why should I die, then, or basely despair? Feign'd, but are erring [76] stars. Come, Mephistophilis, let us dispute again, FAUSTUS. But have they all one motion, both situ et tempore? With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter Are all celestial bodies but one globe, And long ere this I [74] should have done the deed, MEPHIST. All move from east to west in four-and-twenty Made music with my Mephistophilis? Swords, poisons, halters, and envenom'd steel I am resolv'd; Faustus shall not repent.-- As is the substance of this centric earth? Have not I made blind Homer sing to me And reason of divine astrology. Had not sweet pleasure conquer'd deep despair. And hath not he, that built the walls of Thebes Even from the moon unto th' empyreal orb, Mutually folded in each other's spheres, FAUSTUS. My heart is harden'd, I cannot repent; Of Alexander's love and Oenon's death?