MARTHA
Thus, sir, unceasing travel is your lot?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Traffic and duty urge us! With what pain
Are we compelled to leave full many a spot,
Where yet we dare not once remain!
MARTHA
In youth's wild years, with vigor crown'd,
'Tis not amiss thus through the world to sweep;
But ah, the evil days come round!
And to a lonely grave as bachelor to creep
A pleasant thing has no one found.
MEPHISTOPHELES
The prospect fills me with dismay.
MARTHA
Therefore in time, dear sir, reflect, I pray.