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So you will spare me four and twenty years, Letting me live in all voluptuousness; Having thee ever to attend on me, To give me whatsoever I shall ask, To tell me whatsoever I demand, To slay mine enemies, and to aid my friends, And always be obedient to my will.
Go, and return to mighty Lucifer, And meet me in my study at midnight, And then resolve me of thy master’s mind.
I will, Faustus.
Now, Faustus, Must thou needs be damn’d, canst thou not be sav’d. What boots it, then, to think on God or heaven? Away with such vain fancies, and despair; Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub: Now, go not backward, Faustus; be resolute: Why waver’st thou? O, something soundeth in mine ear, “Abjure this magic, turn to God again!”
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