MEPHISTOPHELES
And yet, methinks, by most 'twill be confess'd
That Death is never quite a welcome guest.
FAUST
Happy the man around whose brow he binds
The bloodstain'd wreath in conquest's dazzling hour;
Or whom, excited by the dance, he finds
Dissolv'd in bliss, in love's delicious bower!
O that before the lofty spirit's might,
Enraptured, I had rendered up my soul!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yet did a certain man refrain one night
Of its brown juice to drain the crystal bowl.
FAUST
To play the spy diverts you then?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I own,
Though not omniscient, much to me is known.