Our Swords Shall Play The Orators For

Jigging Veins Of Rhyming Mother Wits.

My Men Like Satyrs Grazing On The Lawns, / Shall With Their Goat-feet Dance An Antic Hay.

Faustus: Stay, Mephistopheles, And Tell Me, What Good Will My Soul Do Thy Lord? Mephistopheles: Enlarge His Kingdom. Faustus: Is That The Reason He Tempts Us Thus? Mephistopheles: Solamen Miseris Socios Habuisse Doloris. (it Is A Comfort To The Wretched To Have Companions In Misery)

I Count Religion But A Childish Toy, And Hold There Is No Sin But Ignorance.

Why This Is Hell, Nor Am I Out Of It: Thinkst Thou That I Who Saw The Face Of God, And Tasted The Eternal Joys Of Heaven, Am Not Tormented With Ten Thousand Hells In Being Deprived Of Everlasting Bliss! . . . When All The World Dissolves, And Every Creature Shall Be Purified, All Places Shall Be Hell That Are Not Heaven.