Mephistopheles monologue (Act 8) — Faust: A Tragedy

Only conceive! the box of rare gewgaws For Margaret got, is in a parson's claws! The thing came to the mother's sight, Who soon suspected all was not right: The woman has got a most delicate nose, That snuffling through the prayer-book goes, And seldom scents a thing in vain, If it be holy or profane. Your jewels, she was not long in guessing, Were not like to bring a blessing. "My child," quoth she, "ill-gotten gear Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood; We'll give it to Mary-mother dear, And she will feed us with heavenly food!" Margaret looked blank--"'tis hard," thought she, "To put a gift-horse away from me; And surely godless was he never Who lodged it here, a gracious giver." The mother then brought in the priest; He quickly understood the jest, And his eyes watered at the sight. "Good dame," quoth he, "you have done right! He conquers all the world who wins A victory o'er his darling sins. The Church is a most sharp-set lady, And her stomach holds good store, Has swallowed lands on lands already, And, still unglutted, craves for more; The Church alone, my ladies dear, Can digest ill-gotten gear."