Our uninquiring corpses lie more low / Than our life's curiosity doth go.

Fauſtus is gone, regard his helliſh fall, / Whoſe fiendfull fortune may exhort the wiſe / Only to wonder at unlawfull things: […]

She has a quirky laugh.

‘I mean we've heard all the things it isn't for, and we've heard it's not being spent. But we're no forrarder, are we, bless us? We don't seem to know anything.’