Proceed, and tell the story of his end!
Mephistopheles (to Faust)
How name ye that stiff formal man, Who strides with lofty paces? He tracksthe game where'er he can, "He scents the Jesuits' traces."Crane
Incomparable Sibyl cease, I pray! Hand us the liquor without more delay.And to the very brim the goblet crown! My friend he is, and need not beafraid; Besides, he is a man of many a grade, Who hath drunk deep already.(The Witch, with many ceremonies, pours the liquor into a cup; as Faust lifts itto his mouth, a light flame arises.)}
That you're an amateur one plainly sees!
Swift in the circle they advanced, They danced to right, to left they danced,And all the skirts were swinging. And they grew red, and they grew warm,Panting, they rested arm in arm, Juchhe! Juchhe! Juchheisa! Heisa! He! Tohip their elbow bringing.