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; regard his hellish fall, | |
Whose fiendfull fortune may exhort the wise | 90 |
Only to wonder at unlawful things, | |
Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits | |
To practise more than heavenly power permits. Doctor Faustus, Marlowe |
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