Confess And Be Hanged.

O Soul, Be Changed Into Little Waterdrops, / And Fall Into The Ocean, Ne'er Be Found!

He That Loves Pleasure Must For Pleasure Fall.

Cut Is The Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight, And Burned Is Apollo's Laurel Bough, That Sometime Grew Within This Learned Man. Faustus Is Gone.

Hell Hath No Limits, Nor Is Circumscribed In One Self Place, For Where We Are Is Hell, And Where Hell Is There Must We Ever Be.

Lone Women, Like To Empty Houses, Perish.