Mephistopheles.  A starving tom-cat I feel quite like,
That o’er the fire ladders crawls
Then softly creeps, ground the walls. 
My aim’s quite virtuous ne’ertheless,
A bit of thievish lust, a bit of wantonness. 
I feel it all my members haunting—­
The glorious Walpurgis night. 
One day—­then comes the feast enchanting
That shall all pinings well requite.

Faust.  Meanwhile can that the casket be, I wonder, I see behind rise glittering yonder.[28]

Mephistopheles.  Yes, and thou soon shalt have the pleasure
Of lifting out the precious treasure. 
I lately ’neath the lid did squint,
Has piles of lion-dollars[29] in’t.

Faust.  But not a jewel?  Not a ring?  To deck my mistress not a trinket?

Mephistopheles.  I caught a glimpse of some such thing, Sort of pearl bracelet I should think it.

Faust.  That’s well!  I always like to bear Some present when I visit my fair.

Mephistopheles.  You should not murmur if your fate is,
To have a bit of pleasure gratis. 
Now, as the stars fill heaven with their bright throng,
List a fine piece, artistic purely: 
I sing her here a moral song,
To make a fool of her more surely.
            [Sings to the guitar.][30]
    What dost thou here,
    Katrina dear,
    At daybreak drear,
    Before thy lover’s chamber? 
    Give o’er, give o’er! 
    The maid his door
    Lets in, no more
    Goes out a maid—­remember!

Take heed! take heed! 
Once done, the deed
Ye’ll rue with speed—­
And then—­good night—­poor thing—­a! 
Though ne’er so fair
His speech, beware,
Until you bear
His ring upon your finger.

Valentine [comes forward]. 
Whom lur’ft thou here? what prey dost scent? 
Rat-catching[81] offspring of perdition! 
To hell goes first the instrument! 
To hell then follows the musician!

Mephistopheles.  He ’s broken the guitar! to music, then, good-bye, now.

Valentine.  A game of cracking skulls we’ll try now!

Mephistopbeles [to Faust].  Never you flinch, Sir Doctor!  Brisk! 
Mind every word I say—–­be wary! 
Stand close by me, out with your whisk! 
Thrust home upon the churl!  I’ll parry.

Valentine.  Then parry that!

Mephistopheles.  Be sure.  Why not?

Valentine.  And that!

Mephistopheles.  With ease!

Valentine.  The devil’s aid he’s got!  But what is this?  My hand’s already lame.

Mephistopheles [to Faust].  Thrust home!

Valentine [falls].  O woe!

Mephistopheles.  Now is the lubber tame! 
But come!  We must be off.  I hear a clatter;
And cries of murder, too, that fast increase. 
I’m an old hand to manage the police,
But then the penal court’s another matter.