Mephistopheles. Thou super-sensual sensual fool, A silly girl takes thee to school! Faust. Thou son of filth and fire, thou monster, thou! Mephistopheles. And then her skill in reading faces Is not the least of all her graces! When I come near, she feels, she knows not how, And through my mask can read it on my brow That I must be, if not the very Devil, A genius far above the common level. And now to-night-- Faust. What's that to thee? Mephistopheles. What brings my master joy, brings joy to me. Scene VI. _At the Well._ /Margaret/ _and_ /Eliza/, _with water-pitchers._ Eliza. Have you heard nought of Barbara? Margaret. Nothing at all. I seldom stray From home, to hear of other folk's affairs. Eliza. You may believe me every whit; Sibylla told it me to-day. She too has been befooled: that comes of it, When people give themselves such airs! Margaret. How so? Eliza. 'Tis rank! She eats and drinks for two, not now for one. Margaret. Poor girl! Eliza. Well, well! she has herself to thank. How long did she not hang upon The fellow!--Yes! that was a parading, A dancing and a promenading! Must always be before the rest! And to wines and pasties be pressed; Began then to be proud of her beauty, And was so reckless of her duty As to take presents from him too. That was a cooing and a caressing! No wonder if the flower too be amissing! Margaret. I pity her. Eliza. Methinks you have not much to do. When we were not allowed to venture o'er The threshold, night and day kept close at spinning, There stood she, with her paramour, Upon the bench, before the door, Or in the lane, and hour for hour Scarce knew the end from the beginning. 'Tis time that she should go to school And learn--on the repentance-stool! Margaret. But he will take her for his wife. Eliza. He marry her! not for his life! An active youth like him can find, Where'er he pleases, quarters to his mind. Besides, he's gone! Margaret. That was not fair. Eliza. And if he should come back, she'll not enjoy him more. Her marriage wreath the boys will tear, And we will strew chopped straw before the door.[*n9] [_Exit._ Margaret. [_going homewards_] How could I once so boldly chide When a poor maiden stepped aside, And scarce found words enough to name The measure of a sister's shame! If it was black, I blackened it yet more, And with that blackness not content, More thickly still laid on the paint, And blessed my stars, as cased in mail, Against all frailties of the frail; And now myself am what I chid before!-- Yet was each step that lured my slippery feet So good, so lovely, so enticing sweet! Scene VII.