Oh poor, woeful and weary wretch: oh sorrowful soul of Faustus, now art thou in the number of the damned, for now must I wait for unmeasurable pains of death, yea far more lamentable than ever yet any creature hath suffered. Ah senseless, wilful and desperate forgetfulness! O cursed and unstable life! O blind and careless wretch, that so hast abused thy body, sense, and soul! O foolish pleasure, into what a weary labyrinth hast thou brought me, blinding mine eyes in the clearest day? Ah weak heart! O troubled soul, where is become thy knowledge to comfort thee? O pitiful weariness! Oh desperate hope, now shall I never more be thought upon! Oh, care upon carefulness, and sorrows on heaps: Ah grievous pains that pierce my panting heart, whom is there now that can deliver me? Would God that I knew where to hide me, or into what place to creep or fly. Ah, woe, woe is me, be where I will, yet am I taken. Herewith poor Faustus was so sorrowfully troubled, that he could not speak or utter his mind any further. CHAPTER LXI _How Doctor Faustus bewailed to think on Hell, and of the miserable pains therein provided for him_ Now thou Faustus, damned wretch, how happy wert thou if as an unreasonable beast thou mightest die without soul, so shouldst 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 others’ 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 that God hath created are enemies to me. And now too late I remember that my Spirit Mephostophiles did once tell me, there was a great difference amongst the damned; for the greater the sin, the greater the torment: for as the twigs of the tree make greater flame 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, now art thou thrown into the everlasting fiery lake that never shall be quenched, there must I dwell in all manner of wailing, sorrow, misery, pain, torment, grief, howling, sighing, sobbing, blubbering, running of eyes, stinking at nose, gnashing of teeth, fear to the ears, horror to the conscience, and shaking both of hand and foot. Ah that I could carry the heavens on my shoulders, so that there were time at last to quit me of this everlasting damnation! Oh who can deliver me out of these fearful tormenting flames, the which I see prepared for me? Oh there is no help, nor any man that can deliver me, nor any wailing of sins can help me, neither is there rest to be found for me day nor night. Ah woe is me, for there is no help for me, no shield, no defence, no comfort. Where is my hold? knowledge dare I not trust: and for a soul to Godwards that have I not, for I shame to speak unto him: