SATAN
Dead? That is rich!
FAUST
Well ... don't you think yourself
A slight anachronism?
SATAN
My young friend,
I am no laughing matter. With the times
I, too, have changed, and am as up-to-date
As the Ritz-Carlton.
FAUST
But your horns and tail
And pitchfork? Not a vestige do I see
Of your famed look! You have no frightful glance;
I cannot even so far flatter you
As to say special badness makes your face
Great and distinguished. If you're Prince of Hell,
How villanously have the poets lied!
SATAN
They have lied, always, horribly, of me!
I am not half so black as they allege.
You know, exaggeration is to them
What whiskey is to most men. But time bursts
Their bubbles—or at least we come to take
Their work as merely art. Thus their description
As art is not so bad; but if you seek
For truth, it's outright libel.