ur heart a special fire.

_Mephistopheles [to Faust_]. Only make haste; and even shouldst thou tire,
Still follow me; one must perspire,
That it may set his nerves all quivering.
I'll teach thee by and bye to prize a noble leisure,
And soon, too, shalt thou feel with hearty pleasure,
How busy Cupid stirs, and shakes his nimble wing.

_Faust_. But first one look in yonder glass, I pray thee!
Such beauty I no more may find!

_Mephistopheles_. Nay! in the flesh thine eyes shall soon display thee
The model of all woman-kind.
[_Softly_.]
Soon will, when once this drink shall heat thee,
In every girl a Helen meet thee!

A STREET.

FAUST. MARGARET [_passing over_].

_Faust_. My fair young lady, will it offend her
If I offer my arm and escort to lend her?

_Margaret_. Am neither lady, nor yet am fair!
Can find my way home without any one's care.
[_Disengages herself and exit_.]

_Faust_. By heavens, but then the child _is_ fair!
I've never seen the like, I swear.
So modest is she and so pure,
And somewhat saucy, too, to be sure.
The light of the cheek, the lip's red bloom,
I shall never forget to the day of doom!
How me cast down her lovely eyes,
Deep in my soul imprinted lies;
How she spoke up, so curt and tart,
Ah, that went right to my ravished heart!
[_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES.]

_Faust_. Hark, thou shalt find me a way to address her!

_Mephistopheles_. Which one?

_Faust_. She just went by.

_Mephistopheles_. What! She?
She came just now from her father confessor,
Who from all sins pronounced her free;
I stole behind her noiselessly,
'Tis an innocent thing, who, for nothing at all,
Must go to the confessional;
O'er such as she no power I hold!

_Faust_. But then she's over fourteen years old.

_Mephistopheles_. Thou speak'st exactly like Jack Rake,
Who every fair flower his own would make.
And thinks there can be no favor nor fame,
But one may straightway pluck the same.
But 'twill not always do, we see.

_Faust_. My worthy Master Gravity,
Let not a word of the Law be spoken!
One thing be clearly understood,--
Unless I clasp the sweet, young blood
This night in my arms--then, well and good:
When midnight strikes, our bond is broken.

_Mephistopheles_. Reflect on all that lies in the way!
I need a fortnight, at least, to a day,
For finding so much as a way to reach her.

_Faust_. Had I seven hours, to call my own,
Without the devil's aid, alone
I'd sn