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[MEPHISTOPHILIS gives him a dagger.] If sin by custom grow not into nature; Checking thy body, may amend thy soul. And, with a vial full of precious grace, Or envy of thee, [235] but in tender love, And Faustus now will come to do thee right. This magic, that will charm thy soul to hell, FAUSTUS. Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done? Then, Faustus, will repentance come too late; Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. Offers to pour the same into thy soul: OLD MAN. O gentle Faustus, leave this damned art, For, gentle son, I speak it not in wrath, Though thou hast now offended like a man, OLD MAN. O, stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps! Hell claims his right, and with a roaring voice Do not persever in it like a devil: I see an angel hover o'er thy head, Then thou art banish'd from the sight of heaven: Seems harsh and all unpleasant: let it not; And so have hope that this my kind rebuke, Yet, yet thou hast an amiable soul, Says, "Faustus, come; thine hour is almost come;" No mortal can express the pains of hell. It may be, this my exhortation And quite bereave thee of salvation! And pity of thy future misery;