No broader than the back o’ a knife!
Mephistopheles.
Quite right! I see it, just as well as you.
Sometimes her head beneath her elbow too
She wears; for Perseus cut it off, you know.
What! will you still a-dreaming go?
Come, let us mount the hillock—there
We shall have noble sport, believe me;
For, unless mine eyes deceive me,
They have got up a theatre.