Mephistopheles. Yes! that's not quite to your mind. You have a privilege to cry out shame, When things are mentioned by their proper name. Before chaste ears one may not dare to spout What chastest hearts yet cannot do without. I do not envy you the pleasure Of palming lies upon yourself at leisure; But long it cannot last, I warrant thee. You are returned to your old whims, I see, And, at this rate, you soon will wear Your strength away, in madness and despair. Of this enough! thy love sits waiting thee, In doubt and darkness, cabined and confined. By day, by night, she has thee in her mind; I trow she loves thee in no common kind. Thy raging passion 'gan to flow, Like a torrent in spring from melted snow; Into her heart thy tide gushed high, Now is thy shallow streamlet dry. Instead of standing here to overbrim With fine ecstatic rapture to the trees, Methinks the mighty gentleman might please To drop some words of fond regard, to ease The sweet young chick who droops and pines for him. Poor thing, she is half dead of ennui, And at the window stands whole hours, to see The clouds pass by the old town-wall along. Were I a little bird! so goes her song The live-long day, and half the night to boot. Sometimes she will be merry, mostly sad, Now, like a child, weeping her sorrows out, Now calm again to look at, never glad; Always in love. Faust. Thou snake! thou snake! Mephistopheles. [_to himself_] So be it! that my guile thy stubborn will may break! Faust. Hence and begone, thou son of filth and fire! Name not the lovely maid again! Bring not that overmastering desire Once more to tempt my poor bewildered brain! Mephistopheles. What then? she deems that you are gone forever; And half and half methinks you are. Faust. No! I am nigh, and were I ne'er so far, I could forget her, I could lose her never; I envy ev'n the body of the Lord, When on the sacred cake her lips she closes. Mephistopheles. Yes! to be honest, and confess my sins, I oft have envied thee the lovely twins That have their fragrant pasture among roses. Faust. Avaunt, thou pimp! Mephistopheles. Rail you, and I will laugh; The God who made the human stuff Both male and female, if the book don't lie, Himself the noblest trade knew well enough, How to carve out an opportunity. But come, why peak and pine you here? I lead you to the chamber of your dear, Not to the gallows.