No More Learning

The culture, too, which licks the world to shape,
The devil himself cannot escape;
The phantom 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_.