Mephistopheles. You should not murmur if your fate is,
To have a bit of pleasure gratis.
Now, as the stars fill heaven with their bright throng,
List a fine piece, artistic purely:
I sing her here a moral song,
To make a fool of her more surely.
[Sings to the guitar.][30]
What dost thou here,
Katrina dear,
At daybreak drear,
Before thy lover's chamber?
Give o'er, give o'er!
The maid his door
Lets in, no more
Goes out a maid—remember!
Take heed! take heed!
Once done, the deed
Ye'll rue with speed—
And then—good night—poor thing—a!
Though ne'er so fair
His speech, beware,
Until you bear
His ring upon your finger.
Valentine [comes forward].
Whom lur'ft thou here? what prey dost scent?
Rat-catching[81] offspring of perdition!
To hell goes first the instrument!
To hell then follows the musician!
Mephistopheles. He 's broken the guitar! to music, then, good-bye, now.
Valentine. A game of cracking skulls we'll try now!
Mephistopbeles [to Faust]. Never you flinch, Sir Doctor! Brisk!
Mind every word I say—-be wary!
Stand close by me, out with your whisk!
Thrust home upon the churl! I'll parry.
Valentine. Then parry that!
Mephistopheles. Be sure. Why not?
Valentine. And that!
Mephistopheles. With ease!