I've mark'd him long, naught strange in him I see!
FAUST
Note him! What takest thou the brute to be?
WAGNER
But for a poodle, whom his instinct serves
His master's track to find once more.
FAUST
Dost mark how round us, with wide spiral curves,
He wheels, each circle closer than before?
And, if I err not, he appears to me
A line of fire upon his track to leave.
WAGNER
Naught but a poodle black of hue I see;
'Tis some illusion doth your sight deceive.