But see! He’s dead therefrom, at last.
Were I in your place, do not doubt me,
I’d mourn him decently a year,
And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me.
MARTHA
Ah, God! another one so dear
As was my first, this world will hardly give me.
There never was a sweeter fool than mine,
Only he loved to roam and leave me,
And foreign wenches and foreign wine,
And the damned throw of dice, indeed.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Well, well! That might have done, however,
If he had only been as clever,
And treated your slips with as little heed.
I swear, with this condition, too,
I would, myself, change rings with you.
MARTHA
The gentleman is pleased to jest.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ll cut away, betimes, from here:
She’d take the Devil at his word, I fear.
(To MARGARET)