the lion, which the gentleman possesses, has been aroused by some
external provocation, or some trifling thought."

Faustus was laughing at all this, when suddenly a beautiful female looked
down upon him from a window, and cried, in sweet amazement: "Holy
Catherine! what a noble head! what soft and angelic pensiveness in the
eyes! what a sweet and lovely physiognomy!" These melodious words sunk
into the heart of Faustus. He looked up to the window: her eyes met his
for a moment ere she drew herself back. Faustus whispered to the Devil:
"I will not quit this town till I have possessed that maiden: what
voluptuousness beams in her eyes!" They had scarcely entered a side
street, when one of the physiognomists came up and asked them very
civilly for "the physiognomy of their writing," assuring them that no
stranger had hitherto refused him this favour, and he hoped and trusted
that they would not. He thereupon pulled out his album, and offered it
to Faustus, at the same time producing pen and ink.

_Faustus_. Not so fast, my friend; one good turn deserves another. Tell
me, first, who the maiden is that I this moment saw at the window of
yonder house, and whose countenance is so celestial.

_Physiognomist_. Ah! she is an angel in every sense of the word. Our
illustrious master has often assured us, that her eyes are the very
mirrors of chastity, her lovely mouth only formed to express the
inspiration of a heart filled with heavenly ideas; that her brow is the
polished shield of virtue, against which all temptations, all earthly
sin, will be shivered; that her nose snuffs the odours of the fields of
bliss; and that she is the most perfect cast of ideal beauty ever yet
permitted to appear in the world.

_Faustus_. Truly, you have depicted her to me with more than earthly
colours; and now tell me her situation in life, and her name.

_Physiognomist_. She is the daughter of a physician; but her father and
mother being lately dead, she lives by herself on her own property. Her
name is Angelica.

They then wrote some nonsensical lines in his album, and the
physiognomist departed, delighted with his treasure.

_Faustus_. Now tell me, Devil, how this child of grace is to be come at.
I am just inclined to see this monk's ideal beauty.

_Devil_. By the high road to the human heart you will certainly meet
her; for sooner or later all must fall in with it, however far their
fancies may have caused them to stray f