FAUST: 
There sit a girl and an old woman—­they
Seem to be tired with pleasure and with play.

MEPHISTOPHELES: 
There is no rest to-night for any one: 
When one dance ends another is begun; 325
Come, let us to it.  We shall have rare fun.

[FAUST DANCES AND SINGS WITH A GIRL, AND MEPHISTOPHELES WITH AN OLD WOMAN.]

FAUST: 
I had once a lovely dream
In which I saw an apple-tree,
Where two fair apples with their gleam
To climb and taste attracted me. 330

NOTES: 
327-334 So Boscombe manuscript ("Westminster Review”, July, 1870);
          wanting, 1822, 1824, 1839.

THE GIRL: 
She with apples you desired
From Paradise came long ago: 
With you I feel that if required,
Such still within my garden grow.

...

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: 
What is this cursed multitude about? 335
Have we not long since proved to demonstration
That ghosts move not on ordinary feet? 
But these are dancing just like men and women.

NOTE: 
335 Procto-Phantasmist]Brocto-Phantasmist editions 1824, 1839.

THE GIRL: 
What does he want then at our ball?

FAUST: 
Oh! he
Is far above us all in his conceit:  340
Whilst we enjoy, he reasons of enjoyment;
And any step which in our dance we tread,
If it be left out of his reckoning,
Is not to be considered as a step. 
There are few things that scandalize him not:  345
And when you whirl round in the circle now,
As he went round the wheel in his old mill,
He says that you go wrong in all respects,
Especially if you congratulate him
Upon the strength of the resemblance.

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: 
Fly! 350
Vanish!  Unheard-of impudence!  What, still there! 
In this enlightened age too, since you have been
Proved not to exist!—­But this infernal brood
Will hear no reason and endure no rule. 
Are we so wise, and is the POND still haunted? 355
How long have I been sweeping out this rubbish
Of superstition, and the world will not
Come clean with all my pains!—­it is a case
Unheard of!

NOTE: 
355 pond wanting in Boscombe manuscript.

THE GIRL: 
Then leave off teasing us so.

PROCTO-PHANTASMIST: 
I tell you, spirits, to your faces now, 360
That I should not regret this despotism
Of spirits, but that mine can wield it not. 
To-night I shall make poor work of it,
Yet I will take a round with you, and hope
Before my last step in the living dance 365
To beat the poet and the devil together.