That dies, ere our desire for it be dead? Show me the trees, that still retain the charm, MEPHISTOPHELES. Fine things to fancy! -to be sure you shall FAUSTUS. Comfort and quiet!— no, no! none of these For me I ask them not - I seek them not. If ever I upon the bed of sloth Lie down and rest, then be the hour, in which I so lie down and rest, my last of life. Canst thou by falsehood or by flattery be this our wager. Done. MEPHISTOPHELES. FAUSTUS. And done, say I- clench we at once the bargain. Happy days, "Fair visions! yet a little "Why will Or words like these. then throw me into fetters Then willingly do I consent to perish; Then may the death-bell peal its heavy sounds; Then is thy service at an end - and then The clock may cease to strike the hand to move For me be time then passed away for ever! MEPHISTOPHeles. Consider well for we will not forget. FAUSTUS. Remember, or forget it, as you please; I have resolved -- and that not rashly: here, While I remain, I needs must be a slave What matter, therefore, whether thine, or whose? MEPHISTOPHELES. I will to-day, then, at the Doctor's table Attend as servant, and discharge the duties. FAUSTUS. And dost thou ask a writing, too, poor pedant? Know you not Man? Man's nature? or Man's word? Is it not enough that I have spoken it? What is it but an echo of my word, Held back, the slave and prisoner of a promise? Yet in this fancy all believe alike: If a delusion, all men are deluded And is there one that would be undeceived? Truth and the feeling of integrity Are of the heart's own essence should they call For sufferings, none repents the sacrifice. Oh, happy he, whom Truth accompanies In all his walks Pure of all soil from outward cumbrance free dwelling within the heart, Light to his steps and guidance: oracle As seal and stamp, as lead and wax can give- Brass ? marble? parchment? paper ? do you wish Mephistopheles. Why this excitement? why this waste of oratory? These frantic gestures? any scrap will do; Just scratch your name, there, in a drop of blood. FAUSTUS. A silly farce but if it gratifies you MEPHISTOPHEles. Blood it must be -- blood has peculiar virtues. FAUSTUS. Fear not that I will break this covenant: To still these burning passions; to be wrapped With things miraculous to feast the senses! MEPHISTOPHEles. Nothing whatever is there to restrain you Of every sweet - sip all things settle nowhere- |