Now behind the stove he lies, And swells him up to an elephant's size, And fills up all the space. He'll melt into a cloud; not so! Down, I say, down, proud imp, and know Here, at thy master's feet, thy place! In vain, in vain, thou seek'st to turn thee, With an holy flame I burn thee! Wait not the charm Of the triple-glowing light! Beware the harm If thou invite Upon thy head my spell of strongest might! [_The clouds vanish, and_ /Mephistopheles/ _comes forward from behind the fireplace, dressed like an itinerant scholar._ Scene V. /Faust/ _and_ /Mephistopheles/. Mephistopheles. What's all the noise about? I'm here at leisure To work your worship's will and pleasure. Faust. So, so! such kernel cracked from such a shell! A travelling scholar! the jest likes me well! Mephistopheles. I greet the learned gentleman! I've got a proper sweating 'neath your ban. Faust. What is thy name? Mephistopheles. What is my power were better, From one who so despises the mere letter, Who piercing through the coarse material shell, With Being's inmost substance loves to dwell. Faust. Yes, but you gentlemen proclaim Your nature mostly in your name; Destroyer, God of Flies, the Adversary,[*1] Such names their own interpretation carry. But say, who art thou? Mephistopheles. I am a part of that primordial Might, Which always wills the wrong, and always works the right. Faust. You speak in riddles; the interpretation? Mephistopheles. I am the Spirit of Negation: And justly so; for all that is created Deserves to be annihilated. 'Twere better, thus, that there were no creation. Thus everything that you call evil, Destruction, ruin, death, the devil, Is my pure element and sphere. Faust. Thou nam'st thyself a part, yet standest wholly here. Mephistopheles. I speak to thee the truth exact, The plain, unvarnished, naked fact, Though man, that microcosm of folly deems Himself the compact whole he seems. Part of the part I am that erst was all, Part of the darkness, from whose primal pall Was born the light, the proud rebellious Light, Which now disputeth with its mother Night, Her rank and room i' the world by ancient right. Yet vainly; though it strain and struggle much, 'Tis bound to body with the closer clutch; From body it streams, on body paints a hue, And body bends it from its course direct; Thus in due season I expect, When bodies perish, Light will perish too. Faust. Hold! now I know thy worthy duties all! Unable to annihilate wholesale, Thy mischief now thou workest by retail.