"Why, thou art grown peevish with thy distemper. Since 'tis so, I must e'en force thy stubborn will."
"Alas! I cannot."
"
If not thy hand, show me thy wrist!—I have here a match to it, methinks. O earth—earth—hide me in thy womb!—let the darkness blot me out and this blasting testimony for ever!—Accursed hag, what hast thou done?"
He seized her by the hair.
"What hast thou promised the fiend? Tell me,—or"—
"I have, oh, I fear I have,—consented to the compact!"
"How far doth it bind thee?"
"My soul—my better part!"
"Thy better part?—thy worse! A loathsome ulcer, reeking with the stench from the pit! Better have given thy body to the stake, than have let in one unhallowed desire upon thy soul. How far does thy contract reach?"