վҳʱ ƾ̨ ۵ Ļ Ƶ֪ʶȨ

ֲֽ:иȾר仰Ӧ

2020-08-13 00:29:42  Դձ
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ֲַֽ:a g 9 559 v i p

And this young lady, we shall find her too? A noble youth, far travelled, heShows to the sex all courtesy.

ֲֽ𣨲廭

Whom have we here? Who's sneaking here? Whence are ye come? Withwhat desire? The plague of fire Your bones consume!(She dips the skimming - ladle into the caldron and throws flames at Faust,Mephistopheles, and the Monkeys. The Monkeys whimper.)Mephistopheles

Faust

To cut the matter short, my friend, She must this very night be mine, And if tohelp me you decline, Midnight shall see our compact end.Mephistopheles

ֲֽ ɻ

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.

But with the grapes how was it, pray?

ֲֽйҶ ۻ

Blood is a juice of very special kind.

Now field and meadow I've forsaken; O'er them deep night her veil dothdraw; In us the better soul doth waken, With feelings of foreboding awe, Alllawless promptings, deeds unholy, Now slumber, and all wild desires; Thelove of man doth sway us wholly, And love to God the soul inspires.Peace, poodle, peace! Scamper not thus; obey me! Why at the thresholdsnuffest thou so? Behind the stove now quietly lay thee, My softest cushion tothee I'll throw. As thou, without, didst please and amuse me Running andfrisking about on the hill, So tendance now I will not refuse thee; A welcomeguest, if thou'lt be still.

If unprepar'd, however, this man drink, He hath not, as you know, an hour tolive.

ֲֽͻ

Ay! what 'mong men as knowledge doth obtain! Who on the child its truename dares bestow? The few who somewhat of these things have known,Who their full hearts unguardedly reveal'd, Nor thoughts, nor feelings, fromthe mob conceal'd, Have died on crosses, or in flames been thrown. Excuseme, friend, far now the night is spent, For this time we must say adieu.Wagner

ƷͼƬֲֽ

(ࣺӱӱ)

ֲֽר

ֲֽƼĶ

ֲֽةΨһûвŹĴĿ¾ҽԱ Ϊ人 We're too well - bred to squabble here, Or insult back to render; But mayyou wither soon, my dear, Although so young and tender.Leader of the Band ϸ

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