Night. The open Field.

Faust. Mephistopheles. (Galloping past on black horses.)

Faust. What are they about there, bustling round the Ravenstone?

Mephistopheles. Can’t say what they are cooking and kitchening.

Faust. They hover up, they hover down, bending and bowing.

Mephistopheles. A corporation of Witches.

Faust. They seem to be sprinkling and blessing something.

Mephistopheles. On! on!