MEPHISTOPHELES
But whitherward to travel are we fain?
Your antique colleagues are against my grain.
HOMUNCULUS
North-westward, Satan, lies thy pleasure-ground;
But, this time, we to the south-east are bound.—
An ample vale Peneios floweth through,
'Mid bush and tree its curving shores it laves;
The plain extendeth to the mountain caves,
Above it lies Pharsalus, old and new.