MEPHISTOPHELES
What wouldest thou! She thinks you've taken flight;
It seems, she's partly in the right.
FAUST
I'm near her still—and should I distant rove,
Her I can ne'er forget, ne'er lose her love;
And all things touch'd by those sweet lips of hers,
Even the very Host, my envy stirs.
MEPHISTOPHELES
'Tis well! I oft have envied you indeed,
The twin-pair that among the roses feed.
FAUST
Pander, avaunt!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Go to! I laugh, the while you rail,
The power which fashion'd youth and maid,
Well understood the noble trade;
So neither shall occasion fail.
But hence!—A mighty grief I trow!
Unto thy lov'd one's chamber thou
And not to death shouldst go.