Part 41

MEPHISTOPHELES

Joy still must sorrow, sorrow joy attend.

MARTHA

Proceed, and tell the story of his end!

MEPHISTOPHELES

At Padua, in St. Anthony's, In holy ground his body lies; Quiet and cool his place of rest, With pious ceremonials blest.

MARTHA

And had you naught besides to bring?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Oh yes! one grave and solemn prayer; Let them for him three hundred masses sing! But in my pockets, I have nothing there.

MARTHA

No trinket! no love-token did he send! What every journeyman safe in his pouch will hoard There for remembrance fondly stored, And rather hungers, rather begs than spend!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Madam, in truth, it grieves me sore, But he his gold not lavishly bath spent. His failings too he deeply did repent, Ay! and his evil plight bewail'd still more.

MARGARET

Alas! That men should thus be doomed to woe! I for his soul will many a requiem pray.

MEPHISTOPHELES

A husband you deserve this very day; A child so worthy to be loved.

MARGARET

Ah no, That time bath not yet come for me.

MEPHISTOPHELES

If not a spouse, a gallant let it be. Among heaven's choicest gifts, I place, So sweet a darling to embrace.

MARGARET

MEPHISTOPHELES

Usage or not, it happens so.

MARTHA

Go on, I pray!

MEPHISTOPHELES