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179

SCENE XXIII.

Night. Open Plain.
Faust and Mephistopheles riding furiously on black horses.
Faust.
Why hover they there round the gallows-tree?

Mephistopheles.
I know not what they are cooking and brewing.

Faust.
Hovering up, hovering down, they are bending and bowing.

Mephistopheles.
'Tis a Witches' Guild.

Faust.
They are sacring and strewing.

Mephistopheles.
Go by! go by!