Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with horror...

Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with horror stare

[Hell is discovered.]

Into that vast perpetual torture-house:

There are the Furies tossing damned souls

On burning forks; there bodies boil in lead;

There are live quarters broiling on the coals,

That ne'er can die; this ever-burning chair

Is for o'er-tortur'd souls to rest them in;

These that are fed with sops of flaming fire,

Were gluttons, and lov'd only delicates,

And laugh'd to see the poor starve at their gates:

But yet all these are nothing; thou shalt see

Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be.