_Mephistopheles_. Just think, the pretty toy we got for Peg, A priest has hooked, the cursed plague I-- The thing came under the eye of the mother, And caused her a dreadful internal pother: The woman's scent is fine and strong; Snuffles over her prayer-book all day long, And knows, by the smell of an article, plain, Whether the thing is holy or profane; And as to the box she was soon aware There could not be much blessing there. "My child," she cried, "unrighteous gains Ensnare the soul, dry up the veins. We'll consecrate it to God's mother, She'll give us some heavenly manna or other!" Little Margaret made a wry face; "I see 'Tis, after all, a gift horse," said she; "And sure, no godless one is he Who brought it here so handsomely." The mother sent for a priest (they're cunning); Who scarce had found what game was running, When he rolled his greedy eyes like a lizard, And, "all is rightly disposed," said he, "Who conquers wins, for a certainty. The church has of old a famous gizzard, She calls it little whole lands to devour, Yet never a surfeit got to this hour; The church alone, dear ladies; _sans_ question, Can give unrighteous gains digestion." _Faust_. That is a general pratice, too, Common alike with king and Jew. _Mephistopheles_. Then pocketed bracelets and chains and rings As if they were mushrooms or some such things, With no more thanks, (the greedy-guts!) Than if it had been a basket of nuts, Promised them all sorts of heavenly pay-- And greatly edified were they. _Faust_. And Margery? _Mephistopheles_. Sits there in distress, And what to do she cannot guess, The jewels her daily and nightly thought, And he still more by whom they were brought. _Faust._ My heart is troubled for my pet. Get her at once another set! The first were no great things in their way. _Mephistopheles._ O yes, my gentleman finds all child's play! _Faust._ And what I wish, that mind and do! Stick closely to her neighbor, too. Don't be a devil soft as pap, And fetch me some new jewels, old chap! _Mephistopheles._ Yes, gracious Sir, I will with pleasure. [_Exit_ FAUST.] Such love-sick fools will puff away Sun, moon, and stars, and all in the azure, To please a maiden's whimsies, any day. [_Exit._] THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE. MARTHA [_alone]._ My dear good man--whom God forgive! He has not treated me well, as I live! Right off into the world he's gone And left me on the straw alone. I never did vex him, I say it sincerely, I always loved him, God knows how dearly. [_She weeps_.] Perhaps he's dead!--O cruel fate!-- If I only had a certificate! _Enter_ MARGARET. Dame Martha! _Martha_. What now, Margery? _Margaret_. I scarce can keep my knees from sinking! Within my press, again, not thinking, I find a box of ebony, With things--can't tell how grand they are,-- More splendid than the first by far. _Martha_. You must not tell it to your mother, She'd serve it as she did the other.