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MEPHISTOPHELES:
At last he will sit down in some foul puddle;
That is his way of solacing himself;
Until some leech, diverted with his gravity,
Cures him of spirits and the spirit together. 370
[TO FAUST, WHO HAS SECEDED FROM THE DANCE.]
Why do you let that fair girl pass from you,
Who sung so sweetly to you in the dance?

FAUST:
A red mouse in the middle of her singing
Sprung from her mouth.

MEPHISTOPHELES:
That was all right, my friend:
Be it enough that the mouse was not gray. 375
Do not disturb your hour of happiness
With close consideration of such trifles.

FAUST:
Then saw I–

MEPHISTOPHELES:
What?

FAUST:
Seest thou not a pale,
Fair girl, standing alone, far, far away?
She drags herself now forward with slow steps, 380
And seems as if she moved with shackled feet:
I cannot overcome the thought that she
Is like poor Margaret.

MEPHISTOPHELES:
Let it be–pass on–
No good can come of it–it is not well
To meet it–it is an enchanted phantom, 385
A lifeless idol; with its numbing look,
It freezes up the blood of man; and they
Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone,
Like those who saw Medusa.

FAUST:
Oh, too true!
Her eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse 390
Which no beloved hand has closed, alas!
That is the breast which Margaret yielded to me–
Those are the lovely limbs which I enjoyed!

NOTE:
392 breast editions 1839; heart 1822, 1824.

MEPHISTOPHELES:
It is all magic, poor deluded fool!
She looks to every one like his first love. 395

FAUST:
Oh, what delight! what woe! I cannot turn
My looks from her sweet piteous countenance.
How strangely does a single blood-red line,
Not broader than the sharp edge of a knife,
Adorn her lovely neck!

MEPHISTOPHELES:
Ay, she can carry 400
Her head under her arm upon occasion;
Perseus has cut it off for her. These pleasures
End in delusion.–Gain this rising ground,
It is as airy here as in a…
And if I am not mightily deceived, 405
I see a theatre.–What may this mean?

ATTENDANT:
Quite a new piece, the last of seven, for ’tis
The custom now to represent that number.
‘Tis written by a Dilettante, and
The actors who perform are Dilettanti; 410
Excuse me, gentlemen; but I must vanish.
I am a Dilettante curtain-lifter.