Is like an ox on heath all brown and yellow,
Led in a circle by an evil spirit,
With roods of lush green pasture smiling near it.
Faust.
But how shall we commence?
Mephistopheles.
We start this minute:
Why, what a place of torture is here,
And what a life you live within it!
Yourself and your pack of younkers dear,
Killing outright with ennui!
Leave that to honest neighbor Paunch!
Thrashing of straw is not for thee:
Besides, into the best of all your knowledge,
You know ’tis not permitted you to launch
With chicken-hearted boys at College.
Ev’n now, methinks, I hear one on the stair.
Faust.
Send him away: I cannot bear—
Mephistopheles.
Poor boy! he’s waited long, nor must depart
Without some friendly word for head and heart;
Come, let me slip into your gown; the mask
Will suit me well; as for the teaching task,
[He puts on Faust’s scholastic robes.]
Leave that to me! I only ask
A quarter of an hour; and you make speed
And have all ready for our journey’s need. [Exit.
Mephistopheles. [solus]
Continue thus to hold at nought
Man’s highest power, his power of thought;
Thus let the Father of all lies
With shows of magic blind thine eyes,
And thou art mine, a certain prize.
To him hath Fate a spirit given,
With reinless impulse ever forwards driven,
Whose hasty striving overskips
The joys that flow for mortal lips;
Him drag I on through life’s wild chase,
Through flat unmeaning emptiness;
