Mephistopheles. Alas, that business forces us to do it! With what regret from many a place we go, Though tenderest bonds may bind us to it!
Martha. 'Twill do in youth's tumultuous maze
To wander round the world, a careless rover;
But soon will come the evil days,
And then, a lone dry stick, on the grave's brink to hover,
For that nobody ever prays.
Mephistopheles. The distant prospect shakes my reason.
Martha. Then, worthy sir, bethink yourself in season. [They pass on.]
Margaret. Yes, out of sight and out of mind!
Politeness you find no hard matter;
But you have friends in plenty, better
Than I, more sensible, more refined.
Faust. Dear girl, what one calls sensible on earth, Is often vanity and nonsense.
Margaret. How?
Faust. Ah, that the pure and simple never know
Aught of themselves and all their holy worth!
That meekness, lowliness, the highest measure
Of gifts by nature lavished, full and free—
Margaret. One little moment, only, think of me, I shall to think of you have ample time and leisure.
Faust. You're, may be, much alone?