Good evening, Mr. Faust.

FAUST

Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!...

And who, I beg, are you?

SATAN

I ask your pardon For thus appearing in a way unknown To strict convention. But I never set Great store by custom; and though nowadays I follow the proprieties, still I feel That one need not be slavish--

FAUST

Who are you?

What are you talking of? How did you get here?

SATAN

I am, sir, Nicholas Satan, at your service.

FAUST

Nicholas Satan! Quite a name. Perhaps Some relative of the ill.u.s.trious one?

SATAN

Himself.

FAUST Stop this cheap foolishness! Who are you?

Or shall I ring for the police?

SATAN

I am Satan. If I appeared with colored fire And lightnings round me, you would doubt no more.

But like your narrow and near-sighted age, You know me not in my own natural shape.

Now let this end! Here is my proof. You once Summoned me to your aid, and, when I came, Weakly rejected me. You were a boy In college, and a woman blackmailed you-- A low, crude matter. I had settled it Swiftly, if you had let me. We alone, We three, on Harvard Bridge--night--and beneath, A practicable river: ah, it was A child's task! But you faltered.... You recall, Possibly.

FAUST

I recall.... So you are he.

I did not know you.

SATAN

Let's forget the past.

We meet now under happier auspices.

FAUST

Incredible.

SATAN

No, quite an honest fact Am I.

FAUST

I hardly can persuade myself Whether to laugh or pull a solemn face At seeing you. It is preposterous!

I thought that you were dead--a myth--a wraith.

SATAN

Dead? That is rich!

FAUST

Well ... don't you think yourself A slight anachronism?

SATAN

My young friend, I am no laughing matter. With the times I, too, have changed, and am as up-to-date As the Ritz-Carlton.

FAUST

But your horns and tail And pitchfork? Not a vestige do I see Of your famed look! You have no frightful glance; I cannot even so far flatter you As to say special badness makes your face Great and distinguished. If you're Prince of h.e.l.l, How villanously have the poets lied!

SATAN

They have lied, always, horribly, of me!

I am not half so black as they allege.

You know, exaggeration is to them What whiskey is to most men. But time bursts Their bubbles--or at least we come to take Their work as merely art. Thus their description As art is not so bad; but if you seek For truth, it's outright libel.

FAUST

I admit It has a certain perfectness of evil Lacking in you.

SATAN

Surely to-day we know That nothing is so wholly good or bad As our forefathers thought: not black and white, But gray, predominates. Well, I am gray, Possibly. I was never black; and age Has made me stouter, and with gentle warmth Ripened my virtues; and, even though I say it, You will not find me a bad sort to meet If you will but be fair, and put aside Your ancient and poetic prejudice.

FAUST

Well spoken! And well met! Come, have a drink.

You are the most diverting visitor I've had in many a day. Bourbon or Scotch?

SATAN

A very little Scotch. That's plenty, thanks.

It's very seldom those who summon me Would give, not take. And did you send for me Only to have a drink?