When those soft meshes once a young man snare,
How hard 'twill be to escape he little guesses.

_Faust_. There sit an old one and a young together;
They've skipped it well along the heather!

_Mephistopheles_. No rest from that till night is through.
Another dance is up; come on! let us fall to.

_Faust_ [_dancing with the young one_]. A lovely dream once came to me;
In it I saw an apple-tree;
Two beauteous apples beckoned there,
I climbed to pluck the fruit so fair.

_The Fair one_. Apples you greatly seem to prize,
And did so even in Paradise.
I feel myself delighted much
That in my garden I have such.

_Mephistopheles_ [_with the old hag_]. A dismal dream once came to me;
In it I saw a cloven tree,
It had a ------ but still,
I looked on it with right good-will.

_The Hog_. With best respect I here salute
The noble knight of the cloven foot!
Let him hold a ------ near,
If a ------ he does not fear.

_Proctophantasmist_.[38] What's this ye undertake? Confounded crew!
Have we not giv'n you demonstration?
No spirit stands on legs in all creation,
And here you dance just as we mortals do!

_The Fair one_ [_dancing_]. What does that fellow at our ball?

_Faust_ [_dancing_]. Eh! he must have a hand in all.
What others dance that he appraises.
Unless each step he criticizes,
The step as good as no step he will call.
But when we move ahead, that plagues him more than all.
If in a circle you would still keep turning,
As he himself in his old mill goes round,
He would be sure to call that sound!
And most so, if you went by his superior learning.

_Proctophantasmist_. What, and you still are here! Unheard off obstinates!
Begone! We've cleared it up! You shallow pates!
The devilish pack from rules deliverance boasts.
We've grown so wise, and Tegel[39] still sees ghosts.
How long I've toiled to sweep these cobwebs from the brain,
And yet--unheard of folly! all in vain.

_The Fair one_. And yet on us the stupid bore still tries it!

_Proctophantasmist_. I tell you spirits, to the face,
I give to spirit-tyranny no place,
My spirit cannot exercise it.
[_They dance on_.]
I can't succeed to-day, I know it;
Still, there's the journey, which I like to make,
And hope, before the final step I take,
To rid the world of devil and of poet.

_Mephistopheles_. You'll see him shortly sit into a puddle,
In that way his heart is reassured;
When on his rump the leeches well shall fuddle,
Of spirits and of