Faust.
The being of such gentlemen as you, indeed,
In general, from your titles one can read.
It shows itself but all too plainly when men dub
You Liar or Destroyer or Beelzebub.
Well now, who are you then?
Mephistopheles.
Part of that Power which would
The Evil ever do, and ever does the Good.
Faust.
A riddle! Say what it implies!
Mephistopheles.
I am the Spirit that denies!
And rightly too; for all that doth begin
Should rightly to destruction run;
'Twere better then that nothing were begun.
Thus everything that you call Sin,
Destruction - in a word, as Evil represent-
That is my own, real element.
Faust.
You call yourself a part, yet whole you're standing there.
Mephistopheles.
A modest truth do I declare.
A man, the microcosmic fool, down in his soul
Is wont to think himself a whole,
But I'm part of the Part which at the first was all,
Part of the Darkness that gave birth to Light,
The haughty Light that now with Mother Night
Disputes her ancient rank and space withal,
And yet 'twill not succeed, since, strive as strive it may,
Fettered to bodies will Light stay.
It streams from bodies, it makes bodies fair,
A body hinders it upon its way,
And so, I hope, it has not long to stay
And will with bodies their destruction share.
Faust.
Now I perceive your worthy occupation!
You can't achieve wholesale annihilation
And now a retail business you've begun.
Mephistopheles.
And truly there by nothing much is done.
What stands out as the opposite of Naught-
This Something, this your clumsy world - for aught
I have already undertaken,
It have I done no harm nor shaken
With waves and storms, with earthquakes, fiery brand.
Calm, after all, remain both sea and land.
And that accursed trash, the brood of beasts and men,
A way to get at them I've never found.
How many now I've buried in the ground!
Yet fresh, new blood forever circulates again.
Thus on and on - one could go mad in sheer despair!
From earth, from water, and from air
A thousand germs evolving start,
In dryness, moisture, warmth, and cold!
Weren't it for fire which I withhold,
I'd have as mine not one thing set apart.
Faust.
So to that Power never reposing,
Creative, healing, you're opposing
Your frigid devil's fist with might and main.
It's clenched in spite and clenched in vain!
Seek something else to undertake,
You, Chaos' odd, fantastic son!