So murky is it in my soul.
Mephistopheles.
And I’ve a qualmish sort of feeling,
Like a cat on a rainy day,
Creeping round the wall, and stealing
Near the fireplace, if it may.
Yet am I in most virtuous trim
For a small turn at stealing, or at lechery;
So jumps already through my every limb
Walpurgis-Night, with all its glorious witchery.
The day after to-morrow brings again
The Feast, with fun and frolic in its train.
Faust.
Is it not time that you were raising
The treasure there in the distance blazing?
Mephistopheles.
Soon shall you sate your eyes with gazing,
And lift up from the urn yourself
A little mine of precious pelf.
I gave it a side-glance before—
Saw lion-dollars by the score.
Faust.
Is there no gaud?—no jewel at all?
To deck my sweet little mistress withal.
Mephistopheles.
O yes! I saw some trinkets for the girls,—
A sort of necklace strung with pearls.
Faust.
’Tis well that we have this to give her,
For empty-handed go I never.
Mephistopheles.
And yet a wise man ought to learn
To enjoy gratis, as well as to earn.
Now, that the stars are bright and clear the sky,
I’ll give you a touch of choicest melody;
A moral song—that, while we seem to school her,
With the more certainty we may befool her.
[Sings to the guitar.]
Why stands before
Her lover’s door,
