Gott. Sleeper, awake! Thine hour or mine hath come!
Faus. (starting and turning round). Gottfried!
Gott.Ay, Gottfried! Oh, mine enemy!
Arise, destroyer! Thou that layest waste
The flowers of heaven with thy plague-laden blast!
Thou devil-wielded scourge! Thou thief of souls!
Make thine account with God—thy course is run!
Faus. Spare thou thy barbèd words for worthier foes.
There is a voice within my tortured heart
To whose anathemas thine utterance