Me thus with grief, when he might hap to die.
Mephistopheles.
Joy hath its sorrow, sorrow hath its joy;
Twin sisters are they, as the proverb saith.
Martha.
Now let me hear the manner of his death.
Mephistopheles.
Where Padua’s sacred turrets rise,
Above the grave of holy Antony,
On consecrated ground thy husband lies,