I’ll show you, it could not be otherwise: 
The first being so, the second so,
The third and fourth must of course be so;
And were not the first and second, you see,
The third and fourth could never be. 
The scholars everywhere call this clever,
But none have yet become weavers ever. 
Whoever will know a live thing and expound it,
First kills out the spirit it had when he found it,
And then the parts are all in his hand,
Minus only the spiritual band! 
Encheiresin naturae’s[19] the chemical name,
By which dunces themselves unwittingly shame.

Scholar.  Cannot entirely comprehend you.

Mephistopheles.  Better success will shortly attend you, When you learn to analyze all creation And give it a proper classification.

Scholar.  I feel as confused by all you’ve said, As if ’twere a mill-wheel going round in my head!

Mephistopheles.  The next thing most important to mention,
Metaphysics will claim your attention! 
There see that you can clearly explain
What fits not into the human brain: 
For that which will not go into the head,
A pompous word will stand you in stead. 
But, this half-year, at least, observe
From regularity never to swerve. 
You’ll have five lectures every day;
Be in at the stroke of the bell I pray! 
And well prepared in every part;
Study each paragraph by heart,
So that you scarce may need to look
To see that he says no more than’s in the book;
And when he dictates, be at your post,
As if you wrote for the Holy Ghost!

Scholar.  That caution is unnecessary! 
I know it profits one to write,
For what one has in black and white,
He to his home can safely carry.

Mephistopheles.  But choose some faculty, I pray!

Scholar.  I feel a strong dislike to try the legal college.

Mephistopheles.  I cannot blame you much, I must acknowledge. 
I know how this profession stands to-day. 
Statutes and laws through all the ages
Like a transmitted malady you trace;
In every generation still it rages
And softly creeps from place to place. 
Reason is nonsense, right an impudent suggestion;
Alas for thee, that thou a grandson art! 
Of inborn law in which each man has part,
Of that, unfortunately, there’s no question.

Scholar.  My loathing grows beneath your speech. 
O happy he whom you shall teach! 
To try theology I’m almost minded.

Mephistopheles.  I must not let you by zeal be blinded. 
This is a science through whose field
Nine out of ten in the wrong road will blunder,
And in it so much poison lies concealed,
That mould you this mistake for physic, no great wonder. 
Here also it were best, if only one you heard
And swore to that one master’s word. 
Upon the whole—­words only heed you! 
These through the temple door will lead you
Safe to the shrine of certainty.