Men lose all faith, and put the liar by
As something worse than useless. I, clock-cobbler,
Wind up the moral timepiece, make new faces,
Repair this wheel, that spring, mend here, mend there;
In short, I do my very best to make
A timepiece that has lost its character
Pass for a trusty herald of the hour.
Faus. Get thee behind me, for I know thee now,
Despite thy fair disguise!
Meph.Oh, pardon me,