m of the North men's thoughts have left behind them,
Horns, tail, and claws, where now d'ye find them?
And for the foot, with which dispense I nowise can,
'Twould with good circles hurt my standing;
And so I've worn, some years, like many a fine young man,
False calves to make me more commanding.

_The witch [dancing_]. O I shall lose my wits, I fear,
Do I, again, see Squire Satan here!

_Mephistopheles_. Woman, the name offends my ear!

_The witch_. Why so? What has it done to you?

_Mephistopheles_. It has long since to fable-books been banished;
But men are none the better for it; true,
The wicked _one_, but not the wicked _ones_, has vanished.
Herr Baron callst thou me, then all is right and good;
I am a cavalier, like others. Doubt me?
Doubt for a moment of my noble blood?
See here the family arms I bear about me!
[_He makes an indecent gesture.]

The witch [laughs immoderately_]. Ha! ha! full well I know you, sir!
You are the same old rogue you always were!

_Mephistopheles [to Faust_]. I pray you, carefully attend,
This is the way to deal with witches, friend.

_The witch_. Now, gentles, what shall I produce?

_Mephistopheles_. A right good glassful of the well-known juice!
And pray you, let it be the oldest;
Age makes it doubly strong for use.

_The witch_. Right gladly! Here I have a bottle,
From which, at times, I wet my throttle;
Which now, not in the slightest, stinks;
A glass to you I don't mind giving;
[_Softly_.]
But if this man, without preparing, drinks,
He has not, well you know, another hour for living.

_Mephistopheles_.
'Tis a good friend of mine, whom it shall straight cheer up;
Thy kitchen's best to give him don't delay thee.
Thy ring--thy spell, now, quick, I pray thee,
And give him then a good full cup.

[_The_ WITCH, _with strange gestures, draws a circle, and places singular
things in it; mean-while the glasses begin to ring, the kettle to sound
and make music. Finally, she brings a great book and places the monkeys in
the circle, whom she uses as a reading-desk and to hold the torches. She
beckons_ FAUST _to come to her_.]

_Faust [to Mephistopheles_].
Hold! what will come of this? These creatures,
These frantic gestures and distorted features,
And all the crazy, juggling fluff,
I've known and loathed it long enough!

_Mephistopheles_. Pugh! that is only done to smoke us;
Don't be so serious, my man!
She must, as Doctor, play her hocus-pocus
To make the do