Mephistopheles. What need of such a hasty flare Of words about so paltry an affair? Paper or parchment, any scrap will do, Then write in blood your signature thereto. Faust. If this be all, there needs but small delay, Such trifles shall not stand long in my way. Mephistopheles. [_while Faust is signing the paper_] Blood is a juice of most peculiar virtue. Faust. Only no fear that I shall e'er demur to The bond as signed; my whole heart swears Even to the letter that the parchment bears. Too high hath soared my blown ambition; I now take rank with thy condition; The Mighty Spirit of All hath scorned me, And Nature from her secrets spurned me: My thread of thought is rent in twain, All science I loathe with its wranglings vain. In the depths of sensual joy, let us tame Our glowing passion's restless flame! In magic veil, from unseen hand, Be wonders ever at our command! Plunge we into the rush of Time! Into Action's rolling main! Then let pleasure and pain, Loss and gain, Joy and sorrow, alternate chime! Let bright suns shine, or dark clouds lower, The man that works is master of the hour. Mephistopheles. To thee I set nor bound nor measure, Every dainty thou may'st snatch, Every flying joy may'st catch, Drink deep, and drain each cup of pleasure; Only have courage, friend, and be not shy! Faust. Content from thee thy proper wares to buy, Thou markest well, I do not speak of joy, Pleasure that smarts, giddy intoxication, Enamoured hate, and stimulant vexation. My bosom healed from hungry greed of science With every human pang shall court alliance; What all mankind of pain and of enjoyment May taste, with them to taste be my employment; Their deepest and their highest I will sound, Want when they want, be filled when they abound, My proper self unto their self extend, And with them too be wrecked, and ruined in the end. Mephistopheles. Believe thou me, who speak from test severe, Chewing the same hard food from year to year, There lives (were but the naked truth confessed) No man who, from his cradle to his bier, The same sour leaven can digest! Trust one of us--this universe so bright, He made it only for his own delight; Supreme He reigns, in endless glory shining, To utter darkness me and mine consigning, And grudges ev'n to you the day without the night. Faust. But I will!