Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it:
Mephistopheles answers Faustus, who asks how he can be out of hell if he stands before him. Hell, in Marlowe’s play, is a condition rather than a place. The play survives in two quite different early texts, from 1604 and 1616.
Come live with me and be my love, / And we will all the pleasures prove.
It lies not in our power to love or hate, / For will in us is overruled by fate.
Ah, Faustus, / Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, / And then thou must be damn’d perpetually!
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.
A house divided against itself cannot stand.
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, / The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.