A rare conceit! of course you must be right;
This weary way we march on famed Walpurgis night,
Like hermits in a corner here to hide us!
Mephistopheles.
Lo! where the flames mount up with bickering glee;
In sooth it is a goodly company.
In such a place one cannot be alone.
Faust.
And yet a place I’d rather own
Upon the top, where whirling smoke I see;