hance
To win the paradise you hunger for!

FAUST

A pleasing logic; but I do not trust
The mind behind it.

SATAN

Trust it, or distrust--
What matter?--when the issue is so plain!

FAUST

Away! Away!

SATAN

Well, if this hope is vain
To urge you, let despair serve in its stead
As roweled spur. For see where now you stand:
The mock of destiny--the man who lost
All joys of the bright many that the world
Cherishes! Aye, and even lost his friend,
His one deep lasting friend--and stood thereafter
Fixed like a donkey.... Though I led you on
From paradise to paradise, and none
Sufficed you--that were surely better sport--
Testing and trying with sublime contempt--
Than finger-twirling! But not thus I lead.
For now you shall, you shall have paradise!

FAUST

Deep in my soul, there is a sense that loathes
Pacts with the Devil. Yet the sanctioned powers
Established in the world have proved them void
And ignorant of paradise.... Where lies it?

SATAN

Follow, and I will lead.

FAUST

A long path?

SATAN

Yes.

FAUST

On! But your bondage waits you at the end.

SATAN

Ah, jester, jester!... Come--give me your hand!

CURTAIN

THE THIRD ACT

_The scene is the nave of a great cathedral. Two rows of many-shafted
columns stretch back to where, in the far background, rises the
elaborate magnificence of the High Altar.

The nave is empty, except for an occasional figure moving at the far
end of the long central aisle, and an occasional attendant in
sacerdotal robes making ready the Altar.

Faust, entering from the right, and Satan, entering from the left,
meet in the foreground. Satan is dressed in the dark robes of a
priest._

FAUST

I care not for your masquerade attire;
But let that pass.... Well, I have kept your hour.
And this perhaps is not unfitting place
To make confession that you weary me
A little. In this running to and fro
Over the earth, my inclination tires
Of your companionship. I am resolved,
If three days' time brings forth no new event,
To end this, and reclaim you to obey
My will.

SATAN

I am content; three days will serve.

FAUST

Good! Meanwhile, 'tis at least some recompense
That we return from airy Eastern domes
Glittering in blank sunlight, unto lands
Where men erect their temple