Model of beauty both in form and face!
Is't possible? Hath woman charms so rare?
In this recumbent form, supremely fair,
The essence must I see of heavenly grace?
Can aught so exquisite on earth be found?

MEPHISTOPHELES

The six days' labour of a god, my friend,
Who doth himself cry bravo, at the end,
By something clever doubtless should be crown'd.
For this time gaze your fill, and when you please
Just such a prize for you I can provide;
How blest is he to whom kind fate decrees,
To take her to his home, a lovely bride!

(FAUST continues to gaze into the mirror. MEPHISTOPHELES
stretching himself on the settle and playing with the whisk,
continues to speak.)

Here sit I, like a king upon his throne;
My sceptre this;--the crown I want alone.

THE MONKEYS

(who have hitherto been making all sorts of strange gestures, bring
MEPHISTOPHELES a crown, with loud cries)

Oh, be so good,
With Sweat and with blood