A Walk.

Faust going up and down thoughtfully; then enter Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles. By all the keen pangs of love! by all the hot blasts of hell! By all the fellest of curses, if curse there be any more fell!

Faust. How now, Mephisto? what the devil’s wrong? I ne’er beheld a face one half so long!

Mephistopheles. But that I am a devil myself, I’d sell Both soul and body on the spot to hell!

Faust. I verily believe you’ve got a craze! Beseems it you with such outrageous phrase, To rage like any bedlamite?

Mephistopheles. Only conceive! the box of rare gewgaws For Margaret got, is in a parson’s claws! The thing came to the mother’s sight, Who soon suspected all was not right: The woman has got a most delicate nose, That snuffling through the prayer-book goes, And seldom scents a thing in vain, If it be holy or profane. Your jewels, she was not long in guessing, Were not like to bring a blessing. “My child,” quoth she, “ill-gotten gear Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood; We’ll give it to Mary-mother dear, And she will feed us with heavenly food!” Margaret looked blank—“’tis hard,” thought she, “To put a gift-horse away from me; And surely godless was he never Who lodged it here, a gracious giver.” The mother then brought in the priest; He quickly understood the jest, And his eyes watered at the sight. “Good dame,” quoth he, “you have done right! He conquers all the world who wins A victory o’er his darling sins. The Church is a most sharp-set lady, And her stomach holds good store, Has swallowed lands on lands already, And, still unglutted, craves for more; The Church alone, my ladies dear, Can digest ill-gotten gear.”

Faust. That is a general fashion—Jew, And King, and Kaiser have it too.

Mephistopheles. Then ring and ear-ring, and necklace, and casket, Like a bundle of toad-stools away he bore; Thanked her no less, and thanked her no more, Than had it been so many nuts in a basket; On heavenly treasures then held an oration, Much, of course, to their edification.

Faust. And Margaret?

Mephistopheles. Sits now in restless mood, Knows neither what she would, nor what she should; Broods o’er the trinkets night and day, And on him who sent them, more.

Faust. Sweet love! her grief doth vex me sore. Mephisto, mark well what I say! Get her another set straightway! The first were not so very fine.

Mephistopheles. O yes! with you all things are mere child’s play.

Faust. Quick hence! and match your will with mine! Throw thee oft in her neighbor’s way. Be not a devil of milk and water, And for another gift go cater.

Mephistopheles. Yes, gracious sir! most humbly I obey.

[Exit Faust.

Mephistopheles. Such love-sick fools as these would blow Sun, moon, and stars, like vilest stuff, To nothing with a single puff, To make their lady-love a show!