Mep. Most surely!
Faust. When?
Mep. This very day!
Faust. 'Tis well.
Mep. Then let's away.
Both. 'Tis pleasure I covet, 'Tis beauty I crave; I sigh for its kisses, Its love I demand! With ardor unwonted I long now to burn; I sigh for the rapture Of heart and of sense.
(Exeunt. The curtain falls.)