Blows all the bounties of thy love to nought;
And fans within my breast a raging fire
For that fair image, busy to do ill.
Thus reel I from desire on to enjoyment,
And in enjoyment languish for desire.
Enter Mephistopheles.
Mephistopheles.
What! not yet tired of meditation?
Methinks this is a sorry recreation.
To try it once or twice might do;