The hour strikes
Tardily; I am wearier than I was
When on this trial we entered.
SATAN
You have looked
Askance at me these many days, perplexed
To reconcile the fountains of my will
With my strange acts, and with the dark report
That you have heard concerning me. Dear friend,
Be you not angry, now I say to you
In full confession, that from day to day
I have deceived you: I have hid my face
Even from my friend: I have with doubtful mask
In alien guises tempted you, to try
Your metal. But the hour of trial is past;
The event is sure; and now I ope my heart
And show to you what few of living men
Have guessed—my final secret.
FAUST
Play no tricks.
Before me, Satan; try no mumming game.
If you speak truth, let riddles cloak it not.
SATAN
Listen, and be truth's judge. I am not such
As men esteem me; and my spirit's springs
Rise not from buried and infernal realms,
But like your own, out of the fount of God
They have their being. I, though lowliest far,
Yet am a servant of the House of God—
Deputed to mine office by His hand,
And on His mission.
FAUST
You are trifling with me.
SATAN