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This magic, that will charm thy soul to hell, Hell claims his right, and with a roaring voice OLD MAN. O, stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps! Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. No mortal can express the pains of hell. And pity of thy future misery; FAUSTUS. Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done? Offers to pour the same into thy soul: Seems harsh and all unpleasant: let it not; Do not persever in it like a devil: And so have hope that this my kind rebuke, Then thou art banish'd from the sight of heaven: Checking thy body, may amend thy soul. Yet, yet thou hast an amiable soul, I see an angel hover o'er thy head, Then, Faustus, will repentance come too late; OLD MAN. O gentle Faustus, leave this damned art, And, with a vial full of precious grace, If sin by custom grow not into nature; Says, "Faustus, come; thine hour is almost come;" Or envy of thee, [235] but in tender love, And Faustus now will come to do thee right. For, gentle son, I speak it not in wrath, And quite bereave thee of salvation! [MEPHISTOPHILIS gives him a dagger.] Though thou hast now offended like a man, It may be, this my exhortation