MEPHISTOPHELES: 
At last he will sit down in some foul puddle;
That is his way of solacing himself;
Until some leech, diverted with his gravity,
Cures him of spirits and the spirit together. 370
[TO FAUST, WHO HAS SECEDED FROM THE DANCE.]
Why do you let that fair girl pass from you,
Who sung so sweetly to you in the dance?

FAUST: 
A red mouse in the middle of her singing
Sprung from her mouth.

MEPHISTOPHELES: 
That was all right, my friend: 
Be it enough that the mouse was not gray. 375
Do not disturb your hour of happiness
With close consideration of such trifles.

FAUST: 
Then saw I—­

MEPHISTOPHELES: 
What?

FAUST: 
Seest thou not a pale,
Fair girl, standing alone, far, far away? 
She drags herself now forward with slow steps, 380
And seems as if she moved with shackled feet: 
I cannot overcome the thought that she
Is like poor Margaret.

MEPHISTOPHELES: 
Let it be—­pass on—­
No good can come of it—­it is not well
To meet it—­it is an enchanted phantom, 385
A lifeless idol; with its numbing look,
It freezes up the blood of man; and they
Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone,
Like those who saw Medusa.

FAUST: 
Oh, too true! 
Her eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse 390
Which no beloved hand has closed, alas! 
That is the breast which Margaret yielded to me—­
Those are the lovely limbs which I enjoyed!

NOTE: 
392 breast editions 1839; heart 1822, 1824.

MEPHISTOPHELES: 
It is all magic, poor deluded fool! 
She looks to every one like his first love. 395

FAUST: 
Oh, what delight! what woe!  I cannot turn
My looks from her sweet piteous countenance. 
How strangely does a single blood-red line,
Not broader than the sharp edge of a knife,
Adorn her lovely neck!

MEPHISTOPHELES: 
Ay, she can carry 400
Her head under her arm upon occasion;
Perseus has cut it off for her.  These pleasures
End in delusion.—­Gain this rising ground,
It is as airy here as in a... 
And if I am not mightily deceived, 405
I see a theatre.—­What may this mean?

ATTENDANT: 
Quite a new piece, the last of seven, for ’tis
The custom now to represent that number. 
’Tis written by a Dilettante, and
The actors who perform are Dilettanti; 410
Excuse me, gentlemen; but I must vanish. 
I am a Dilettante curtain-lifter.

***

JUVENILIA.