Now thou Faustus, damned wretch! how happy wert thou if, as an unreasonable beast, thou mightest die with a soul? so shouldest thou not feel any more doubts; but now the devil will take thee away, both body and soul, and set thee in an unspeakable place of darkness; for although other souls have rest and peace, yet I, poor damned wretch, must suffer all manner of filthy stench, pains, cold, hunger, thirst, heat, freezing, burning, hissing, gnashing, and all the wrath and curse of God; yea, all the creatures God hath created are enemies to me. And too late I remember that my spirit Mephistophiles did once tell me there was great difference amongst the damned, for the greater the sin the greater the torment; as the twigs of a tree make greater flames than the trunk thereof, and yet the trunk continueth longer in burning, even so the more that a man is rooted in sin, the greater is his punishment. Ah! thou perpetual damned wretch! how art thou thrown into the everlasting fiery lake that shall never be quenched! there must I dwell in all manner of wailing, sorrow, misery, pain, torment, grief, howling, sighing, sobbing, running at the eyes, stinking at the nose, gnashing of teeth, snare to the ears, horror to the conscience, and shaking both of hand and foot? Ah! that I could carry the heavens upon my shoulders, so that there were time at last to quit me of this everlasting damnation. Oh! what can deliver me out of the fearful tormenting flame, the which I see prepared for me? Oh! there is no help, nor can any man deliver me; nor my wailing of sins can help me; neither is there rest for me to be found day or night! Ah! woe is me! for there is no help for me, no shield, no defence, no comfort; where is my help? Knowledge dare I not trust; and for a soul to Godwards, that have I not, for I ashame to speak unto him; if I do, no answer shall be made me; but he will hide his face from me, to the end that I should not behold the joys of the chosen. What mean I then to complain, where no help is? No, I know no hope resteth in my groanings; I had desired it would be so, and God hath said, Amen, to my misdoings; for now I must have shame to comfort me in my calamities. CHAPTER LXI. _Here followeth the Miserable and Lamentable End of Doctor Faustus, by which all Christians may take an Example and Warning._ The full time of Dr. Faustus, his four-and-twenty years being come, his spirit appeared unto him, giving him his writing again, and commanding him to make preparation, for that the devil would fetch him against a certain time appointed. Dr. Faustus mourned and sighed wonderfully, and never went to bed, nor slept a wink for sorrow.