IXPROMENADE
(FAUST, walking thoughtfully up and down. To him MEPHISTOPHELES.)
MEPHISTOPHELES
By all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and unsparing!
I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it for
swearing!
FAUST
What ails thee? What is't gripes thee, elf?
A face like thine beheld I never.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I would myself unto the Devil deliver,
If I were not a Devil myself!
FAUST
Thy head is out of order, sadly:
It much becomes thee to be raving madly.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Just think, the pocket of a priest should get
The trinkets left for Margaret!
The mother saw them, and, instanter,
A secret dread began to haunt her.
Keen scent has she for tainted air;
She snuffs within her book of prayer,
And smells each article, to see
If sacred or profane it be;
So here she
