To crush, with one good stroke, the poets and the devils.
Mephistopheles.
He will now go, and, bare of breeches,
Sit in a pool with solemn patience;
And, when his buttocks are well sucked by leeches,
Be cured of ghosts and ghostly inspirations.
[To Faust, who has just left the dance.]
Why do you let the lovely damsel go,
That in the dance with sweet song pleased you so?
Faust.