Mephistopheles. Poor boy! he's waited long, nor must depart Without some friendly word for head and heart; Come, let me slip into your gown; the mask Will suit me well; as for the teaching task, [_He puts on_ /Faust's/ _scholastic robes._] Leave that to me! I only ask A quarter of an hour; and you make speed And have all ready for our journey's need. [_Exit._ Mephistopheles. [_solus_] Continue thus to hold at nought Man's highest power, his power of thought; Thus let the Father of all lies With shows of magic blind thine eyes, And thou art mine, a certain prize. To him hath Fate a spirit given, With reinless impulse ever forwards driven, Whose hasty striving overskips The joys that flow for mortal lips; Him drag I on through life's wild chase, Through flat unmeaning emptiness; He shall cling and cleave to me, Like a sprawling child in agony, And food and drink, illusive hovering nigh, Shall shun his parchèd lips, and cheat his longing eye; He shall pine and pant and strain For the thing he may not gain, And, though he ne'er had sold him to do evil, He would have damned himself without help from the devil. Scene VII. _Enter a_ /Student/. Student. I am but fresh arrived to-day, And come my best respects to pay, To one whose name, from boor to Kaiser, None, without veneration, mention. Mephistopheles. I feel obliged by your attention! You see a man than other men no wiser: Have you made inquiry elsewhere? Student. Beseech you, sir, be my adviser! I come with money to spend and spare, With fresh young blood, and a merry heart, On my college career to start: My mother sent me, not without a tear, To get some needful schooling here. Mephistopheles. A better place you could not find. Student. To speak the truth, 'tis not much to my mind. Within these narrow cloister walls, These antiquated Gothic halls, I feel myself but ill at ease; No spot of green I see, no trees, And 'mid your formal rows of benches, I almost seem to lose my senses. Mephistopheles. That all depends on custom. Don't you see How a young babe at first is slow To know its mother's breast; but soon With joy it strains the milky boon; So you anon will suck nutrition From Wisdom's breasts with blest fruition. Student. I yearn to do so even now; But, in the first place, tell me how? Mephistopheles. My help is yours, or great or small; But choose your Faculty, first of all. Student. I aim at culture, learning, all That men call science on the ball Of earth, or in the starry tent Of heaven; all Nature high and low, Broad and deep, I seek to know. Mephistopheles. There you are on the proper scent; Only beware of too much distraction.