SATAN
Poor thwarted fool, who would not take my lures,
Being far too wise! Yet dustward now he turns,
And where Faust stood shall nothingness survive!
FAUST
Approach me not: I have grown sanctified.
Loathing the night and dreaming of the dawn,
I claim some kinship with the Eternal Power
Which in the dust, the daisy and the star
Moves onward in its self-ordainèd sway—
Life everlasting. Through my veins it sweeps,
Bearing me onward; and as I am borne,
I onward urge, till my short day be done
And I fall spent; and over me the wave
Sweeps on its way immortal; and my soul
Partakes of that lost immortality.
SATAN
Dreamer, whose dreams shall soon be choked with dust!
FAUST (slowly rising)
I am that dreamer to whose mounting dreams
No bounds are set, no region which my will
May not reach out toward. And I will create—
I, and the souls that after me shall come—
By passion of desire a pillar of flame
Above the wastes of life. If no God be,
I will from my deep soul create a God
Into the universe to fight for me!
(He sinks back)
SATAN
How strong a master! Why not slay me now?
Put forth your strength, and try how great it be!