And will digest the draught with ease.
He has swilled many a goodly glass before.
[The Witch, with many ceremonies, pours the beverage into a cup. While Faust brings it to his mouth a light flame arises.
Mephistopheles.
Come, quaff it boldly, without thinking!
The draught will make thy heart to burn with love.
Art with the Devil hand and glove,
And from a fire-spurt would’st be shrinking?
[The Witch looses the circle. Faust steps out.
Mephistopheles.