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<pre>
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Faust, by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
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with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: Faust

Author: Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Release Date: January 4, 2005 [EBook #14591]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAUST ***




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<h1>FAUST</h1>
<p class="center"><i>by</i><br>
</p>
<h2>Johann Wolfgang von Goethe</h2>
<p class="center">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY<br>
</p>
<h3>Harry Clarke</h3>
<p class="center">TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH, IN THE ORIGINAL METRES, BY<br>
</p>
<h3>Bayard Taylor</h3>
<p class="center"><i>An Illustrated Edition</i><br>
</p>
<p class="center">THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY<br>
</p>
<p class="center">CLEVELAND, OHIO NEW YORK, N.Y.<br>
</p>
<p class="center">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br>
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<p class="center"><b>CONTENTS</b><br>
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<p class="center"><br>
    <a href="#Preface"><b>PREFACE</b></a><br>
    <a href="#AN_GOETHE"><b>AN GOETHE</b></a><br>
    <a href="#DEDICATION"><b>DEDICATION</b></a><br>
    <a href="#PRELUDE_AT_THE_THEATRE"><b>PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE</b></a><br>
    <a href="#PROLOGUE_IN_HEAVEN"><b>PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN</b></a><br>
</p>
<p class="center"><b>FAUST</b><br>
    <a href="#I"><b>SCENE I. NIGHT (<i>Faust's Monologue</i>)</b></a><br>
    <a href="#II"><b>II. BEFORE THE CITY-GATE</b></a><br>
    <a href="#III"><b>III. THE STUDY (<i>The Exorcism</i>)</b></a><br>
    <a href="#IV"><b>IV. THE STUDY (<i>The Compact</i>)</b></a><br>
    <a href="#V"><b>V. AUERBACH'S CELLAR</b></a><br>
    <a href="#VI"><b>VI. WITCHES' KITCHEN</b></a><br>
    <a href="#VII"><b>VII. A STREET</b></a><br>
    <a href="#VIII"><b>VIII. EVENING</b></a><br>
    <a href="#IX"><b>IX. PROMENADE</b></a><br>
    <a href="#X"><b>X. THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XI"><b>XI. STREET</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XII"><b>XII. GARDEN</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XIII"><b>XIII. A GARDEN-ARBOR</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XIV"><b>XIV. FOREST AND CAVERN</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XV"><b>XV. MARGARET'S ROOM</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XVI"><b>XVI. MARTHA'S GARDEN</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XVII"><b>XVII. AT THE FOUNTAIN</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XVIII"><b>XVIII. DONJON (<i>Margaret's Prayer</i>)</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XIX"><b>XIX. NIGHT (<i>Valentine's Death</i>)</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XX"><b>XX. CATHEDRAL</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XXI"><b>XXI. WALPURGIS-NIGHT</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XXII"><b>XXII. OBERON AND TITANIA'S GOLDEN WEDDING</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XXIII"><b>XXIII. DREARY DAY</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XXIV"><b>XXIV. NIGHT</b></a><br>
    <a href="#XXV"><b>XXV. DUNGEON</b></a><br>
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<h2><a name="Preface" id="Preface"></a>Preface</h2>
<p>It is twenty years since I first determined to attempt the translation of
    <i>Faust</i>, in the original metres. At that time, although more than a score of
    English translations of the First Part, and three or four of the Second Part, were in
    existence, the experiment had not yet been made. The prose version of Hayward seemed
    to have been accepted as the standard, in default of anything more satisfactory: the
    English critics, generally sustaining the translator in his views concerning the
    secondary importance of form in Poetry, practically discouraged any further attempt;
    and no one, familiar with rhythmical expression through the needs of his own nature,
    had devoted the necessary love and patience to an adequate reproduction of the great
    work of Goethe's life.</p>
<p>Mr. Brooks was the first to undertake the task, and the publication of his
    translation of the First Part (in 1856) induced me, for a time, to give up my own
    design. No previous English version exhibited such abnegation of the translator's own
    tastes and habits of thought, such reverent desire to present the original in its
    purest form. The care and conscience with which the work had been performed were so
    apparent, that I now state with reluctance what then seemed to me to be its only
    deficiencies,—a lack of the lyrical fire and fluency of the original in some
    passages, and an occasional lowering of the tone through the use of words which are
    literal, but not equivalent. The plan of translation adopted by Mr. Brooks was so
    entirely my own, that when further residence in Germany and a more careful study of
    both parts of <i>Faust</i> had satisfied me that the field was still open,—that
    the means furnished by the poetical affinity of the two languages had not yet been
    exhausted,—nothing remained for me but to follow him in all essential
    particulars. His example confirmed me in the belief that there were few difficulties
    in the way of a nearly literal yet thoroughly rhythmical version of <i>Faust</i>,
    which might not be overcome by loving labor. A comparison of seventeen English
    translations, in the arbitrary metres adopted by the translators, sufficiently showed
    the danger of allowing license in this respect: the white light of Goethe's thought
    was thereby passed through the tinted glass of other minds, and assumed the coloring
    of each. Moreover, the plea of selecting different metres in the hope of producing a
    similar effect is unreasonable, where the identical metres are possible.</p>
<p>The value of form, in a poetical work, is the first question to be considered. No
    poet ever understood this question more thoroughly than Goethe himself, or expressed
    a more positive opinion in regard to it. The alternative modes of translation which
    he presents (reported by Riemer, quoted by Mrs. Austin, in her "Characteristics of
    Goethe," and accepted by Mr. Hayward),<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> are quite independent of his views
    concerning the value of form, which we find given elsewhere, in the clearest and most
    emphatic manner.<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> Poetry is not simply a fashion of expression: it is the form
    of expression absolutely required by a certain class of ideas. Poetry, indeed, may be
    distinguished from Prose by the single circumstance, that it is the utterance of
    whatever in man cannot be perfectly uttered in any other than a rhythmical form: it
    is useless to say that the naked meaning is independent of the form: on the contrary,
    the form contributes essentially to the fullness of the meaning. In Poetry which
    endures through its own inherent vitality, there is no forced union of these two
    elements. They are as intimately blended, and with the same mysterious beauty, as the
    sexes in the ancient Hermaphroditus. To attempt to represent Poetry in Prose, is very
    much like attempting to translate music into speech.<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> "'There are two maxims of translation,' says he: 'the
        one requires that the author, of a foreign nation, be brought to us in such a
        manner that we may regard him as our own; the other, on the contrary, demands of us
        that we transport ourselves over to him, and adopt his situation, his mode of
        speaking, and his peculiarities. The advantages of both are sufficiently known to
        all instructed persons, from masterly examples.'" Is it necessary, however, that
        there should always be this alternative? Where the languages are kindred, and
        equally capable of all varieties of metrical expression, may not both these
        "maxims" be observed in the same translation? Goethe, it is true, was of the
        opinion that <i>Faust</i> ought to be given, in French, in the manner of Clement
        Marot; but this was undoubtedly because he felt the inadequacy of modern French to
        express the naive, simple realism of many passages. The same objection does not
        apply to English. There are a few archaic expressions in <i>Faust</i>, but no more
        than are still allowed—nay, frequently encouraged—in the English of our
        day.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> "You are right," said Goethe; "there are great and
        mysterious agencies included in the various forms of Poetry. If the substance of my
        'Roman Elegies' were to be expressed in the tone and measure of Byron's 'Don Juan,'
        it would really have an atrocious effect."—<i>Eckermann</i>.</p>
    <p>"The rhythm," said Goethe, "is an unconscious result of the poetic mood. If one
        should stop to consider it mechanically, when about to write a poem, one would
        become bewildered and accomplish nothing of real poetical
        value."—<i>Ibid</i>.</p>
    <p>"<i>All that is poetic in character should be rythmically treated</i>! Such is
        my conviction; and if even a sort of poetic prose should be gradually introduced,
        it would only show that the distinction between prose and poetry had been
        completely lost sight of."—<i>Goethe to Schiller</i>, 1797.</p>
    <p>Tycho Mommsen, in his excellent essay, <i>Die Kunst des Deutschen Uebersetzers
            aus neueren Sprachen</i>, goes so far as to say: "The metrical or rhymed modelling
        of a poetical work is so essentially the germ of its being, that, rather than by
        giving it up, we might hope to construct a similar work of art before the eyes of
        our countrymen, by giving up or changing the substance. The immeasurable result
        which has followed works wherein the form has been retained—such as the Homer
        of Voss, and the Shakespeare of Tieck and Schlegel—is an incontrovertible
        evidence of the vitality of the endeavor."</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> "Goethe's poems exercise a great sway over me, not
        only by their meaning, but also by their rhythm. It is a language which stimulates
        me to composition."—<i>Beethoven</i>.</p>
</div>
<p>The various theories of translation from the Greek and Latin poets have been
    admirably stated by Dryden in his Preface to the "Translations from Ovid's Epistles,"
    and I do not wish to continue the endless discussion,—especially as our
    literature needs examples, not opinions. A recent expression, however, carries with
    it so much authority, that I feel bound to present some considerations which the
    accomplished scholar seems to have overlooked. Mr. Lewes<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> justly says:
    "The effect of poetry is a compound of music and suggestion; this music and this
    suggestion are intermingled in words, which to alter is to alter the effect. For
    words in poetry are not, as in prose, simple representatives of objects and ideas:
    they are parts of an organic whole,—they are tones in the harmony." He
    thereupon illustrates the effect of translation by changing certain well-known
    English stanzas into others, equivalent in meaning, but lacking their felicity of
    words, their grace and melody. I cannot accept this illustration as valid, because
    Mr. Lewes purposely omits the very quality which an honest translator should exhaust
    his skill in endeavoring to reproduce. He turns away from the <i>one best</i> word or
    phrase in the English lines he quotes, whereas the translator seeks precisely that
    one best word or phrase (having <i>all</i> the resources of his language at command),
    to represent what is said in <i>another</i> language. More than this, his task is not
    simply mechanical: he must feel, and be guided by, a secondary inspiration.
    Surrendering himself to the full possession of the spirit which shall speak through
    him, he receives, also, a portion of the same creative power. Mr. Lewes reaches this
    conclusion: "If, therefore, we reflect what a poem <i>Faust</i> is, and that it
    contains almost every variety of style and metre, it will be tolerably evident that
    no one unacquainted with the original can form an adequate idea of it from
    translation,"<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> which is certainly correct of any translation wherein
    something of the rhythmical variety and beauty of the original is not retained. That
    very much of the rhythmical character may be retained in English, was long ago shown
    by Mr. Carlyle,<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> in the passages which he translated, both literally and
    rhythmically, from the <i>Helena</i> (Part Second). In fact, we have so many
    instances of the possibility of reciprocally transferring the finest qualities of
    English and German poetry, that there is no sufficient excuse for an unmetrical
    translation of <i>Faust</i>. I refer especially to such subtile and melodious lyrics
    as "The Castle by the Sea," of Uhland, and the "Silent Land" of Salis, translated by
    Mr. Longfellow; Goethe's "Minstrel" and "Coptic Song," by Dr. Hedge; Heine's "Two
    Grenadiers," by Dr. Furness and many of Heine's songs by Mr Leland; and also to the
    German translations of English lyrics, by Freiligrath and Strodtmann.<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a></p>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Life of Goethe (Book VI.).</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Mr. Lewes gives the following advice: "The English
        reader would perhaps best succeed who should first read Dr. Anster's brilliant
        paraphrase, and then carefully go through Hayward's prose translation." This is
        singularly at variance with the view he has just expressed. Dr. Anster's version is
        an almost incredible dilution of the original, written in <i>other</i> metres;
        while Hayward's entirely omits the element of poetry.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> Foreign Review, 1828.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> When Freiligrath can thus give us Walter
        Scott:—</p>
    <p><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Kommt, wie der Wind kommt,</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Wenn Wälder erzittern</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Kommt, wie die Brandung</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Wenn Flotten zersplittern!</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Schnell heran, schnell herab,</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Schneller kommt Al'e!—</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Häuptling und Bub' und Knapp,</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Herr und Vasalle!"</span><br>
    </p>
    <br>
    <br>

    <p>or Strodtmann thus reproduce Tennyson:—</p>
    <p><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Es fällt der Strahl auf Burg und
            Thal,</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Und schneeige Gipfel, reich an
            Sagen;</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Viel' Lichter wehn auf blauen Seen,</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Bergab die Wasserstürze jagen!</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Blas, Hüfthorn, blas, in Wiederhall
            erschallend:</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Blas, Horn—antwortet, Echos, hallend,
            hallend, hallend!"</span><br>
    </p>
    <br>
    <br>

    <p>—it must be a dull ear which would be satisfied with the omission of
        rhythm and rhyme.</p>
</div>
<p>I have a more serious objection, however, to urge against Mr. Hayward's prose
    translation. Where all the restraints of verse are flung aside, we should expect, at
    least, as accurate a reproduction of the sense, spirit, and tone of the original, as
    the genius of our language will permit. So far from having given us such a
    reproduction, Mr. Hayward not only occasionally mistakes the exact meaning of the
    German text,<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> but, wherever two phrases may be used to express the meaning
    with equal fidelity, he very frequently selects that which has the less grace,
    strength, or beauty.<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a></p>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> On his second page, the line <i>Mein Lied ertönt
            der unbekannten Menge</i>, "My song sounds to the unknown multitude," is
        translated: "My <i>sorrow</i> voices itself to the strange throng." Other English
        translators, I notice, have followed Mr. Hayward in mistaking <i>Lied</i> for
        <i>Leid</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> I take but one out of numerous instances, for the sake
        of illustration. The close of the Soldier's Song (Part I. Scene II.) is:—</p>
    <p><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Kühn is das Mühen,</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Herrlich der Lohn!</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Und die Soldaten</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Ziehen davon."</span><br>
    </p>
    <br>
    <br>

    <p>Literally:</p>
    <p><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Bold is the endeavor,</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Splendid the pay!</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">And the soldiers</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">March away.</span><br>
    </p>
    <br>
    <br>

    <p>This Mr. Hayward translates:—</p>
    <p><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Bold the adventure,</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Noble the reward—</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">And the soldiers</span><br>
        <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Are off.</span><br>
    </p>
</div>
<p>For there are few things which may not be said, in English, in a twofold
    manner,—one poetic, and the other prosaic. In German, equally, a word which in
    ordinary use has a bare prosaic character may receive a fairer and finer quality from
    its place in verse. The prose translator should certainly be able to feel the
    manifestation of this law in both languages, and should so choose his words as to
    meet their reciprocal requirements. A man, however, who is not keenly sensible to the
    power and beauty and value of rhythm, is likely to overlook these delicate yet most
    necessary distinctions. The author's thought is stripped of a last grace in passing
    through his mind, and frequently presents very much the same resemblance to the
    original as an unhewn shaft to the fluted column. Mr. Hayward unconsciously
    illustrates his lack of a refined appreciation of verse, "in giving," as he says,
    "<i>a sort of rhythmical arrangement</i> to the lyrical parts," his object being "to
    convey some notion of the variety of versification which forms one great charm of the
    poem." A literal translation is always possible in the unrhymed passages; but even
    here Mr. Hayward's ear did not dictate to him the necessity of preserving the
    original rhythm.</p>
<p>While, therefore, I heartily recognize his lofty appreciation of
    <i>Faust</i>,—while I honor him for the patient and conscientious labor he has
    bestowed upon his translation,—I cannot but feel that he has himself
    illustrated the unsoundness of his argument. Nevertheless, the circumstance that his
    prose translation of <i>Faust</i> has received so much acceptance proves those
    qualities of the original work which cannot be destroyed by a test so violent. From
    the cold bare outline thus produced, the reader unacquainted with the German language
    would scarcely guess what glow of color, what richness of changeful life, what fluent
    grace and energy of movement have been lost in the process. We must, of course,
    gratefully receive such an outline, where a nearer approach to the form of the
    original is impossible, but, until the latter has been demonstrated, we are wrong to
    remain content with the cheaper substitute.</p>
<p>It seems to me that in all discussions upon this subject the capacities of the
    English language have received but scanty justice. The intellectual tendencies of our
    race have always been somewhat conservative, and its standards of literary taste or
    belief, once set up, are not varied without a struggle. The English ear is suspicious
    of new metres and unaccustomed forms of expression: there are critical detectives on
    the track of every author, and a violation of the accepted canons is followed by a
    summons to judgment. Thus the tendency is to contract rather than to expand the
    acknowledged excellences of the language.<a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a></p>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> I cannot resist the temptation of quoting the
        following passage from Jacob Grimm: "No one of all the modern languages has
        acquired a greater force and strength than the English, through the derangement and
        relinquishment of its ancient laws of sound. The unteachable (nevertheless
        <i>learnable</i>) profusion of its middle-tones has conferred upon it an intrinsic
        power of expression, such as no other human tongue ever possessed. Its entire,
        thoroughly intellectual and wonderfully successful foundation and perfected
        development issued from a marvelous union of the two noblest tongues of Europe, the
        Germanic and the Romanic. Their mutual relation in the English language is well
        known, since the former furnished chiefly the material basis, while the latter
        added the intellectual conceptions. The English language, by and through which the
        greatest and most eminent poet of modern times—as contrasted with ancient
        classical poetry—(of course I can refer only to Shakespeare) was begotten and
        nourished, has a just claim to be called a language of the world; and it appears to
        be destined, like the English race, to a higher and broader sway in all quarters of
        the earth. For in richness, in compact adjustment of parts, and in pure
        intelligence, none of the living languages can be compared with it,—not even
        our German, which is divided even as we are divided, and which must cast off many
        imperfections before it can boldly enter on its career."—<i>Ueber den
            Ursprung der Sprache</i>.</p>
</div>
<p>The difficulties in the way of a nearly literal translation of <i>Faust</i> in the
    original metres have been exaggerated, because certain affinities between the two
    languages have not been properly considered. With all the splendor of versification
    in the work, it contains but few metres of which the English tongue is not equally
    capable. Hood has familiarized us with dactylic (triple) rhymes, and they are
    remarkably abundant and skillful in Mr. Lowell's "Fable for the Critics": even the
    unrhymed iambic hexameter of the <i>Helena</i> occurs now and then in Milton's
    <i>Samson Agonistes</i>. It is true that the metrical foot into which the German
    language most naturally falls is the <i>trochaic</i>, while in English it is the
    <i>iambic</i>: it is true that German is rich, involved, and tolerant of new
    combinations, while English is simple, direct, and rather shy of compounds; but
    precisely these differences are so modified in the German of <i>Faust</i> that there
    is a mutual approach of the two languages. In <i>Faust</i>, the iambic measure
    predominates; the style is compact; the many licenses which the author allows himself
    are all directed towards a shorter mode of construction. On the other hand, English
    metre compels the use of inversions, admits many verbal liberties prohibited to
    prose, and so inclines towards various flexible features of its sister-tongue that
    many lines of <i>Faust</i> may be repeated in English without the slightest change of
    meaning, measure, or rhyme. There are words, it is true, with so delicate a bloom
    upon them that it can in no wise be preserved; but even such words will always lose
    less when they carry with them their rhythmical atmosphere. The flow of Goethe's
    verse is sometimes so similar to that of the corresponding English metre, that not
    only its harmonies and caesural pauses, but even its punctuation, may be easily
    retained.</p>
<p>I am satisfied that the difference between a translation of <i>Faust</i> in prose
    or metre is chiefly one of labor,—and of that labor which is successful in
    proportion as it is joyously performed. My own task has been cheered by the
    discovery, that the more closely I reproduced the language of the original, the more
    of its rhythmical character was transferred at the same time. If, now and then, there
    was an inevitable alternative of meaning or music, I gave the preference to the
    former. By the term "original metres" I do not mean a rigid, unyielding adherence to
    every foot, line, and rhyme of the German original, although this has very nearly
    been accomplished. Since the greater part of the work is written in an irregular
    measure, the lines varying from three to six feet, and the rhymes arranged according
    to the author's will, I do not consider that an occasional change in the number of
    feet, or order of rhyme, is any violation of the metrical plan. The single slight
    liberty I have taken with the lyrical passages is in Margaret's song,—"The King
    of Thule,"—in which, by omitting the alternate feminine rhymes, yet retaining
    the metre, I was enabled to make the translation strictly literal. If, in two or
    three instances, I have left a line unrhymed, I have balanced the omission by giving
    rhymes to other lines which stand unrhymed in the original text. For the same reason,
    I make no apology for the imperfect rhymes, which are frequently a translation as
    well as a necessity. With all its supreme qualities, <i>Faust</i> is far from being a
    technically perfect work.<a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a></p>
<div class="footnote">
    <p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> "At present, everything runs in technical grooves, and
        the critical gentlemen begin to wrangle whether in a rhyme an <i>s</i> should
        correspond with an <i>s</i> and not with <i>sz</i>. If I were young and reckless
        enough, I would purposely offend all such technical caprices: I would use
        alliteration, assonance, false rhyme, just according to my own will or
        convenience—but, at the same time, I would attend to the main thing, and
        endeavor to say so many good things that every one would be attracted to read and
        remember them."—<i>Goethe</i>, in 1831.</p>
</div>
<p>The feminine and dactylic rhymes, which have been for the most part omitted by all
    metrical translators except Mr. Brooks, are indispensable. The characteristic tone of
    many passages would be nearly lost, without them. They give spirit and grace to the
    dialogue, point to the aphoristic portions (especially in the Second Part), and an
    ever-changing music to the lyrical passages. The English language, though not so rich
    as the German in such rhymes, is less deficient than is generally supposed. The
    difficulty to be overcome is one of construction rather than of the vocabulary. The
    present participle can only be used to a limited extent, on account of its weak
    termination, and the want of an accusative form to the noun also restricts the
    arrangement of words in English verse. I cannot hope to have been always successful;
    but I have at least labored long and patiently, bearing constantly in mind not only
    the meaning of the original and the mechanical structure of the lines, but also that
    subtile and haunting music which seems to govern rhythm instead of being governed by
    it.</p>
<p>B.T.</p>
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-022"></a> <img src="images/Illus-022.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<br>

<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="AN_GOETHE" id="AN_GOETHE"></a>AN GOETHE</h2>
<p><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 8em;">I</span><br>
    <br>
    <i>Erhabener Geist, im Geisterreich verloren!</i><br>
    Wo immer Deine lichte Wohnung sey,<br>
    Zum höh'ren Schaffen bist Du neugeboren,<br>
    Und singest dort die voll're Litanei.<br>
    Von jenem Streben das Du auserkoren,<br>
    Vom reinsten Aether, drin Du athmest frei,<br>
    O neige Dich zu gnädigem Erwiedern<br>
    Des letzten Wiederhalls von Deinen Liedern!<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 8em;">II</span><br>
    <br>
    <i>Den alten Musen die bestäubten Kronen<br>
        Nahmst Du, zu neuem Glanz, mit kühner Hand:<br>
        Du löst die Räthsel ältester Aeonen<br>
        Durch jüngeren Glauben, helleren Verstand,<br>
        Und machst, wo rege Menschengeister wohnen,<br>
        Die ganze Erde Dir zum Vaterland;<br>
        Und Deine Jünger sehn in Dir, verwundert,<br>
        Verkörpert schon das werdende Jahrhundert</i>.<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 8em;">III</span><br>
    <br>
    <i>Was Du gesungen, Aller Lust und Klagen,<br>
        Des Lebens Wiedersprüche, neu vermählt,—<br>
        Die Harfe tausendstimmig frisch geschlagen,<br>
        Die Shakspeare einst, die einst Homer gewählt,—<br>
        Darf ich in fremde Klänge übertragen<br>
        Das Alles, wo so Mancher schon gefehlt?<br>
        Lass Deinen Geist in meiner Stimme klingen,<br>
        Und was Du sangst, lass mich es Dir nachsingen!</i><br>
</p>
<p>B.T.</p>
<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-024"></a> <img src="images/Illus-024.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<br>
<br>

<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-025"></a> <img src="images/Illus-025.jpg" alt="Dedication" title="Dedication">
</div>
<br>
<br>

<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="DEDICATION" id="DEDICATION"></a>DEDICATION</h2>
<p>Again ye come, ye hovering Forms! I find ye,<br>
    As early to my clouded sight ye shone!<br>
    Shall I attempt, this once, to seize and bind ye?<br>
    Still o'er my heart is that illusion thrown?<br>
    Ye crowd more near! Then, be the reign assigned ye,<br>
    And sway me from your misty, shadowy zone!<br>
    My bosom thrills, with youthful passion shaken,<br>
    From magic airs that round your march awaken.<br>
    <br>
    Of joyous days ye bring the blissful vision;<br>
    The dear, familiar phantoms rise again,<br>
    And, like an old and half-extinct tradition,<br>
    First Love returns, with Friendship in his train.<br>
    Renewed is Pain: with mournful repetition<br>
    Life tracks his devious, labyrinthine chain,<br>
    And names the Good, whose cheating fortune tore them<br>
    From happy hours, and left me to deplore them.<br>
    <br>
    They hear no longer these succeeding measures,<br>
    The souls, to whom my earliest songs I sang:<br>
    <br>
    Dispersed the friendly troop, with all its pleasures,<br>
    And still, alas! the echoes first that rang!<br>
    I bring the unknown multitude my treasures;<br>
    Their very plaudits give my heart a pang,<br>
    And those beside, whose joy my Song so flattered,<br>
    If still they live, wide through the world are scattered.<br>
    <br>
    And grasps me now a long-unwonted yearning<br>
    For that serene and solemn Spirit-Land:<br>
    My song, to faint Aeolian murmurs turning,<br>
    Sways like a harp-string by the breezes fanned.<br>
    I thrill and tremble; tear on tear is burning,<br>
    And the stern heart is tenderly unmanned.<br>
    What I possess, I see far distant lying,<br>
    And what I lost, grows real and undying.<br>
</p>
<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-026"></a> <img src="images/Illus-026.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>

<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-027"></a> <img src="images/Illus-027.jpg" alt="Prelude at the Theatre" title="Prelude at the Theatre">
</div>
<br>
<br>

<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="PRELUDE_AT_THE_THEATRE" id="PRELUDE_AT_THE_THEATRE"></a>PRELUDE AT THE
    THEATRE</h2>
<br>
<br>

<p>MANAGER ==== DRAMATIC POET ==== MERRY-ANDREW<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    MANAGER<br>
    <br>
    You two, who oft a helping hand<br>
    Have lent, in need and tribulation.<br>
    Come, let me know your expectation<br>
    Of this, our enterprise, in German land!<br>
    I wish the crowd to feel itself well treated,<br>
    Especially since it lives and lets me live;<br>
    The posts are set, the booth of boards completed.<br>
    And each awaits the banquet I shall give.<br>
    Already there, with curious eyebrows raised,<br>
    They sit sedate, and hope to be amazed.<br>
    I know how one the People's taste may flatter,<br>
    Yet here a huge embarrassment I feel:<br>
    What they're accustomed to, is no great matter,<br>
    But then, alas! they've read an awful deal.<br>
    How shall we plan, that all be fresh and new,—<br>
    Important matter, yet attractive too?<br>
    For 'tis my pleasure-to behold them surging,<br>
    When to our booth the current sets apace,<br>
    And with tremendous, oft-repeated urging,<br>
    Squeeze onward through the narrow gate of grace:<br>
    By daylight even, they push and cram in<br>
    To reach the seller's box, a fighting host,<br>
    And as for bread, around a baker's door, in famine,<br>
    To get a ticket break their necks almost.<br>
    This miracle alone can work the Poet<br>
    On men so various: now, my friend, pray show it.<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    POET<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    Speak not to me of yonder motley masses,<br>
    Whom but to see, puts out the fire of Song!<br>
    Hide from my view the surging crowd that passes,<br>
    And in its whirlpool forces us along!<br>
    No, lead me where some heavenly silence glasses<br>
    The purer joys that round the Poet throng,—<br>
    Where Love and Friendship still divinely fashion<br>
    The bonds that bless, the wreaths that crown his passion!<br>
    Ah, every utterance from the depths of feeling<br>
    The timid lips have stammeringly expressed,—<br>
    Now failing, now, perchance, success revealing,—<br>
    Gulps the wild Moment in its greedy breast;<br>
    Or oft, reluctant years its warrant sealing,<br>
    Its perfect stature stands at last confessed!<br>
    What dazzles, for the Moment spends its spirit:<br>
    What's genuine, shall Posterity inherit.<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    MERRY-ANDREW<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    Posterity! Don't name the word to me!<br>
    If <i>I</i> should choose to preach Posterity,<br>
    Where would you get contemporary fun?<br>
    That men <i>will</i> have it, there's no blinking:<br>
    A fine young fellow's presence, to my thinking,<br>
    Is something worth, to every one.<br>
    Who genially his nature can outpour,<br>
    Takes from the People's moods no irritation;<br>
    The wider circle he acquires, the more<br>
    Securely works his inspiration.<br>
    Then pluck up heart, and give us sterling coin!<br>
    Let Fancy be with her attendants fitted,—<br>
    Sense, Reason, Sentiment, and Passion join,—<br>
    But have a care, lest Folly be omitted!<br>
    <br>
    MANAGER<br>
    <br>
    Chiefly, enough of incident prepare!<br>
    They come to look, and they prefer to stare.<br>
    Reel off a host of threads before their faces,<br>
    So that they gape in stupid wonder: then<br>
    By sheer diffuseness you have won their graces,<br>
    And are, at once, most popular of men.<br>
    Only by mass you touch the mass; for any<br>
    Will finally, himself, his bit select:<br>
    Who offers much, brings something unto many,<br>
    And each goes home content with the effect,<br>
    If you've a piece, why, just in pieces give it:<br>
    A hash, a stew, will bring success, believe it!<br>
    'Tis easily displayed, and easy to invent.<br>
    What use, a Whole compactly to present?<br>
    Your hearers pick and pluck, as soon as they receive it!<br>
    <br>
    POET<br>
    <br>
    You do not feel, how such a trade debases;<br>
    How ill it suits the Artist, proud and true!<br>
    The botching work each fine pretender traces<br>
    Is, I perceive, a principle with you.<br>
    <br>
    MANAGER<br>
    <br>
    Such a reproach not in the least offends;<br>
    A man who some result intends<br>
    Must use the tools that best are fitting.<br>
    Reflect, soft wood is given to you for splitting,<br>
    And then, observe for whom you write!<br>
    If one comes bored, exhausted quite,<br>
    Another, satiate, leaves the banquet's tapers,<br>
    And, worst of all, full many a wight<br>
    Is fresh from reading of the daily papers.<br>
    Idly to us they come, as to a masquerade,<br>
    Mere curiosity their spirits warming:<br>
    The ladies with themselves, and with their finery, aid,<br>
    Without a salary their parts performing.<br>
    What dreams are yours in high poetic places?<br>
    You're pleased, forsooth, full houses to behold?<br>
    Draw near, and view your patrons' faces!<br>
    The half are coarse, the half are cold.<br>
    One, when the play is out, goes home to cards;<br>
    A wild night on a wench's breast another chooses:<br>
    Why should you rack, poor, foolish bards,<br>
    For ends like these, the gracious Muses?<br>
    I tell you, give but more—more, ever more, they ask:<br>
    Thus shall you hit the mark of gain and glory.<br>
    Seek to confound your auditory!<br>
    To satisfy them is a task.—<br>
    What ails you now? Is't suffering, or pleasure?<br>
    <br>
    POET<br>
    <br>
    Go, find yourself a more obedient slave!<br>
    What! shall the Poet that which Nature gave,<br>
    The highest right, supreme Humanity,<br>
    Forfeit so wantonly, to swell your treasure?<br>
    Whence o'er the heart his empire free?<br>
    The elements of Life how conquers he?<br>
    Is't not his heart's accord, urged outward far and dim,<br>
    To wind the world in unison with him?<br>
    When on the spindle, spun to endless distance,<br>
    By Nature's listless hand the thread is twirled,<br>
    And the discordant tones of all existence<br>
    In sullen jangle are together hurled,<br>
    Who, then, the changeless orders of creation<br>
    Divides, and kindles into rhythmic dance?<br>
    Who brings the One to join the general ordination,<br>
    Where it may throb in grandest consonance?<br>
    Who bids the storm to passion stir the bosom?<br>
    In brooding souls the sunset burn above?<br>
    Who scatters every fairest April blossom<br>
    Along the shining path of Love?<br>
    Who braids the noteless leaves to crowns, requiting<br>
    Desert with fame, in Action's every field?<br>
    Who makes Olympus sure, the Gods uniting?<br>
    The might of Man, as in the Bard revealed.<br>
    <br>
    MERRY-ANDREW<br>
    <br>
    So, these fine forces, in conjunction,<br>
    Propel the high poetic function,<br>
    As in a love-adventure they might play!<br>
    You meet by accident; you feel, you stay,<br>
    And by degrees your heart is tangled;<br>
    Bliss grows apace, and then its course is jangled;<br>
    You're ravished quite, then comes a touch of woe,<br>
    And there's a neat romance, completed ere you know!<br>
    Let us, then, such a drama give!<br>
    Grasp the exhaustless life that all men live!<br>
    Each shares therein, though few may comprehend:<br>
    Where'er you touch, there's interest without end.<br>
    In motley pictures little light,<br>
    Much error, and of truth a glimmering mite,<br>
    Thus the best beverage is supplied,<br>
    Whence all the world is cheered and edified.<br>
    Then, at your play, behold the fairest flower<br>
    Of youth collect, to hear the revelation!<br>
    Each tender soul, with sentimental power,<br>
    Sucks melancholy food from your creation;<br>
    And now in this, now that, the leaven works.<br>
    For each beholds what in his bosom lurks.<br>
    They still are moved at once to weeping or to laughter,<br>
    Still wonder at your flights, enjoy the show they see:<br>
    A mind, once formed, is never suited after;<br>
    One yet in growth will ever grateful be.<br>
    <br>
    POET<br>
    <br>
    Then give me back that time of pleasures,<br>
    While yet in joyous growth I sang,—<br>
    When, like a fount, the crowding measures<br>
    Uninterrupted gushed and sprang!<br>
    Then bright mist veiled the world before me,<br>
    In opening buds a marvel woke,<br>
    As I the thousand blossoms broke,<br>
    Which every valley richly bore me!<br>
    I nothing had, and yet enough for youth—<br>
    Joy in Illusion, ardent thirst for Truth.<br>
    Give, unrestrained, the old emotion,<br>
    The bliss that touched the verge of pain,<br>
    The strength of Hate, Love's deep devotion,—<br>
    O, give me back my youth again!<br>
    <br>
    MERRY ANDREW<br>
    <br>
    Youth, good my friend, you certainly require<br>
    When foes in combat sorely press you;<br>
    When lovely maids, in fond desire,<br>
    Hang on your bosom and caress you;<br>
    When from the hard-won goal the wreath<br>
    Beckons afar, the race awaiting;<br>
    When, after dancing out your breath,<br>
    You pass the night in dissipating:—<br>
    But that familiar harp with soul<br>
    To play,—with grace and bold expression,<br>
    And towards a self-erected goal<br>
    To walk with many a sweet digression,—<br>
    This, aged Sirs, belongs to you,<br>
    And we no less revere you for that reason:<br>
    Age childish makes, they say, but 'tis not true;<br>
    We're only genuine children still, in Age's season!<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    MANAGER<br>
    <br>
    The words you've bandied are sufficient;<br>
    'Tis deeds that I prefer to see:<br>
    In compliments you're both proficient,<br>
    But might, the while, more useful be.<br>
    What need to talk of Inspiration?<br>
    'Tis no companion of Delay.<br>
    If Poetry be your vocation,<br>
    Let Poetry your will obey!<br>
    Full well you know what here is wanting;<br>
    The crowd for strongest drink is panting,<br>
    And such, forthwith, I'd have you brew.<br>
    What's left undone to-day, To-morrow will not do.<br>
    Waste not a day in vain digression:<br>
    With resolute, courageous trust<br>
    Seize every possible impression,<br>
    And make it firmly your possession;<br>
    You'll then work on, because you must.<br>
    Upon our German stage, you know it,<br>
    Each tries his hand at what he will;<br>
    So, take of traps and scenes your fill,<br>
    And all you find, be sure to show it!<br>
    Use both the great and lesser heavenly light,—<br>
    Squander the stars in any number,<br>
    Beasts, birds, trees, rocks, and all such lumber,<br>
    Fire, water, darkness, Day and Night!<br>
    Thus, in our booth's contracted sphere,<br>
    The circle of Creation will appear,<br>
    And move, as we deliberately impel,<br>
    From Heaven, across the World, to Hell!<br>
    <br>
    <br>
    <br>
</p>
<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-034"></a> <img src="images/Illus-034.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>

<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-035"></a> <img src="images/Illus-035.jpg" alt="PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN" title="PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN">
</div>
<br>
<br>

<h2><a name="PROLOGUE_IN_HEAVEN" id="PROLOGUE_IN_HEAVEN"></a>PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN</h2>
<br>
<br>
THE LORD === THE HEAVENLY HOST <br>
<i>Afterwards</i><br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
(<i>The</i> THREE ARCHANGELS <i>come forward</i>.)<br>
<br>
<br>
RAPHAEL<br>
<br>
The sun-orb sings, in emulation,<br>
'Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round:<br>
His path predestined through Creation<br>
He ends with step of thunder-sound.<br>
The angels from his visage splendid<br>
Draw power, whose measure none can say;<br>
The lofty works, uncomprehended,<br>
Are bright as on the earliest day.<br>
<br>
<br>
GABRIEL<br>
<br>
And swift, and swift beyond conceiving,<br>
The splendor of the world goes round,<br>
Day's Eden-brightness still relieving<br>
The awful Night's intense profound:<br>
The ocean-tides in foam are breaking,<br>
Against the rocks' deep bases hurled,<br>
And both, the spheric race partaking,<br>
Eternal, swift, are onward whirled!<br>
<br>
<br>
MICHAEL<br>
<br>
And rival storms abroad are surging<br>
From sea to land, from land to sea.<br>
A chain of deepest action forging<br>
Round all, in wrathful energy.<br>
There flames a desolation, blazing<br>
Before the Thunder's crashing way:<br>
Yet, Lord, Thy messengers are praising<br>
The gentle movement of Thy Day.<br>
<br>
<br>
THE THREE<br>
<br>
Though still by them uncomprehended,<br>
From these the angels draw their power,<br>
And all Thy works, sublime and splendid,<br>
Are bright as in Creation's hour.<br>
<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Since Thou, O Lord, deign'st to approach again<br>
And ask us how we do, in manner kindest,<br>
And heretofore to meet myself wert fain,<br>
Among Thy menials, now, my face Thou findest.<br>
Pardon, this troop I cannot follow after<br>
With lofty speech, though by them scorned and spurned:<br>
My pathos certainly would move Thy laughter,<br>
If Thou hadst not all merriment unlearned.<br>
Of suns and worlds I've nothing to be quoted;<br>
How men torment themselves, is all I've noted.<br>
The little god o' the world sticks to the same old way,<br>
And is as whimsical as on Creation's day.<br>
Life somewhat better might content him,<br>
But for the gleam of heavenly light which Thou hast lent<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">him:</span><br>
He calls it Reason—thence his power's increased,<br>
To be far beastlier than any beast.<br>
Saving Thy Gracious Presence, he to me<br>
A long-legged grasshopper appears to be,<br>
That springing flies, and flying springs,<br>
And in the grass the same old ditty sings.<br>
Would he still lay among the grass he grows in!<br>
Each bit of dung he seeks, to stick his nose in.<br>
<br>
<br>
THE LORD<br>
<br>
Hast thou, then, nothing more to mention?<br>
Com'st ever, thus, with ill intention?<br>
Find'st nothing right on earth, eternally?<br>
<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
No, Lord! I find things, there, still bad as they can be.<br>
Man's misery even to pity moves my nature;<br>
I've scarce the heart to plague the wretched creature.<br>
<br>
<br>
THE LORD<br>
<br>
Know'st Faust?<br>
<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
<div class="indented">
    The Doctor Faust?<br>
</div>
<br>
<br>
THE LORD<br>
<br>
<div class="indentedss">
    My servant, he!<br>
</div>
<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Forsooth! He serves you after strange devices:<br>
No earthly meat or drink the fool suffices:<br>
His spirit's ferment far aspireth;<br>
Half conscious of his frenzied, crazed unrest,<br>
The fairest stars from Heaven he requireth,<br>
From Earth the highest raptures and the best,<br>
And all the Near and Far that he desireth<br>
Fails to subdue the tumult of his breast.<br>
<br>
<br>
THE LORD<br>
<br>
Though still confused his service unto Me,<br>
I soon shall lead him to a clearer morning.<br>
Sees not the gardener, even while buds his tree,<br>
Both flower and fruit the future years adorning?<br>
<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
What will you bet? There's still a chance to gain him,<br>
If unto me full leave you give,<br>
Gently upon <i>my</i> road to train him!<br>
<br>
<br>
THE LORD<br>
<br>
As long as he on earth shall live,<br>
So long I make no prohibition.<br>
While Man's desires and aspirations stir,<br>
He cannot choose but err.<br>
<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
My thanks! I find the dead no acquisition,<br>
And never cared to have them in my keeping.<br>
I much prefer the cheeks where ruddy blood is leaping,<br>
And when a corpse approaches, close my house:<br>
It goes with me, as with the cat the mouse.<br>
<br>
<br>
THE LORD<br>
<br>
Enough! What thou hast asked is granted.<br>
Turn off this spirit from his fountain-head;<br>
To trap him, let thy snares be planted,<br>
And him, with thee, be downward led;<br>
Then stand abashed, when thou art forced to say:<br>
A good man, through obscurest aspiration,<br>
Has still an instinct of the one true way.<br>
<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Agreed! But 'tis a short probation.<br>
About my bet I feel no trepidation.<br>
If I fulfill my expectation,<br>
You'll let me triumph with a swelling breast:<br>
Dust shall he eat, and with a zest,<br>
As did a certain snake, my near relation.<br>
<br>
<br>
THE LORD<br>
<br>
Therein thou'rt free, according to thy merits;<br>
The like of thee have never moved My hate.<br>
Of all the bold, denying Spirits,<br>
The waggish knave least trouble doth create.<br>
Man's active nature, flagging, seeks too soon the level;<br>
Unqualified repose he learns to crave;<br>
Whence, willingly, the comrade him I gave,<br>
Who works, excites, and must create, as Devil.<br>
But ye, God's sons in love and duty,<br>
Enjoy the rich, the ever-living Beauty!<br>
Creative Power, that works eternal schemes,<br>
Clasp you in bonds of love, relaxing never,<br>
And what in wavering apparition gleams<br>
Fix in its place with thoughts that stand forever!<br>
<br>
<br>
(<i>Heaven closes: the</i> ARCHANGELS <i>separate</i>.)<br>
<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>solus</i>)<br>
<br>
I like, at times, to hear The Ancient's word,<br>
And have a care to be most civil:<br>
It's really kind of such a noble Lord<br>
So humanly to gossip with the Devil!<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>

<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-040"></a> <img src="images/Illus-040.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>

<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-041"></a> <img src="images/Illus-041.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>

<h2>FIRST PART OF THE TRAGEDY</h2>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>

<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2>
<br>
<br>
<br>
NIGHT<br>
<br>
(<i>A lofty-arched, narrow, Gothic chamber</i>. FAUST, <i>in a chair at his<br>
    desk, restless</i>.)<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
I've studied now Philosophy<br>
And Jurisprudence, Medicine,—<br>
And even, alas! Theology,—<br>
From end to end, with labor keen;<br>
And here, poor fool! with all my lore<br>
I stand, no wiser than before:<br>
I'm Magister—yea, Doctor—hight,<br>
And straight or cross-wise, wrong or right,<br>
These ten years long, with many woes,<br>
I've led my scholars by the nose,—<br>
And see, that nothing can be known!<br>
<i>That</i> knowledge cuts me to the bone.<br>
I'm cleverer, true, than those fops of teachers,<br>
Doctors and Magisters, Scribes and Preachers;<br>
Neither scruples nor doubts come now to smite me,<br>
Nor Hell nor Devil can longer affright me.<br>
<br>
For this, all pleasure am I foregoing;<br>
I do not pretend to aught worth knowing,<br>
I do not pretend I could be a teacher<br>
To help or convert a fellow-creature.<br>
Then, too, I've neither lands nor gold,<br>
Nor the world's least pomp or honor hold—<br>
No dog would endure such a curst existence!<br>
Wherefore, from Magic I seek assistance,<br>
That many a secret perchance I reach<br>
Through spirit-power and spirit-speech,<br>
And thus the bitter task forego<br>
Of saying the things I do not know,—<br>
That I may detect the inmost force<br>
Which binds the world, and guides its course;<br>
Its germs, productive powers explore,<br>
And rummage in empty words no more!<br>
<br>
O full and splendid Moon, whom I<br>
Have, from this desk, seen climb the sky<br>
So many a midnight,—would thy glow<br>
For the last time beheld my woe!<br>
Ever thine eye, most mournful friend,<br>
O'er books and papers saw me bend;<br>
But would that I, on mountains grand,<br>
Amid thy blessed light could stand,<br>
With spirits through mountain-caverns hover,<br>
Float in thy twilight the meadows over,<br>
And, freed from the fumes of lore that swathe me,<br>
To health in thy dewy fountains bathe me!<br>
<br>
Ah, me! this dungeon still I see.<br>
This drear, accursed masonry,<br>
Where even the welcome daylight strains<br>
But duskly through the painted panes.<br>
Hemmed in by many a toppling heap<br>
Of books worm-eaten, gray with dust,<br>
Which to the vaulted ceiling creep,<br>
Against the smoky paper thrust,—<br>
With glasses, boxes, round me stacked,<br>
And instruments together hurled,<br>
Ancestral lumber, stuffed and packed—<br>
Such is my world: and what a world!<br>
<br>
And do I ask, wherefore my heart<br>
Falters, oppressed with unknown needs?<br>
Why some inexplicable smart<br>
All movement of my life impedes?<br>
Alas! in living Nature's stead,<br>
Where God His human creature set,<br>
In smoke and mould the fleshless dead<br>
And bones of beasts surround me yet!<br>
<br>
Fly! Up, and seek the broad, free land!<br>
And this one Book of Mystery<br>
From Nostradamus' very hand,<br>
Is't not sufficient company?<br>
When I the starry courses know,<br>
And Nature's wise instruction seek,<br>
With light of power my soul shall glow,<br>
As when to spirits spirits speak.<br>
Tis vain, this empty brooding here,<br>
Though guessed the holy symbols be:<br>
Ye, Spirits, come—ye hover near—<br>
Oh, if you hear me, answer me!<br>
<br>
(<i>He opens the Book, and perceives the sign of the Macrocosm</i>.)<br>
<br>
Ha! what a sudden rapture leaps from this<br>
I view, through all my senses swiftly flowing!<br>
I feel a youthful, holy, vital bliss<br>
In every vein and fibre newly glowing.<br>
Was it a God, who traced this sign,<br>
With calm across my tumult stealing,<br>
My troubled heart to joy unsealing,<br>
With impulse, mystic and divine,<br>
The powers of Nature here, around my path, revealing?<br>
Am I a God?—so clear mine eyes!<br>
In these pure features I behold<br>
Creative Nature to my soul unfold.<br>
What says the sage, now first I recognize:<br>
"The spirit-world no closures fasten;<br>
Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead:<br>
Disciple, up! untiring, hasten<br>
To bathe thy breast in morning-red!"<br>
<br>
(<i>He contemplates the sign</i>.)<br>
<br>
How each the Whole its substance gives,<br>
Each in the other works and lives!<br>
Like heavenly forces rising and descending,<br>
Their golden urns reciprocally lending,<br>
With wings that winnow blessing<br>
From Heaven through Earth I see them pressing,<br>
Filling the All with harmony unceasing!<br>
How grand a show! but, ah! a show alone.<br>
Thee, boundless Nature, how make thee my own?<br>
Where you, ye beasts? Founts of all Being, shining,<br>
Whereon hang Heaven's and Earth's desire,<br>
Whereto our withered hearts aspire,—<br>
Ye flow, ye feed: and am I vainly pining?<br>
<br>
(<i>He turns the leaves impatiently, and perceives the sign of the<br>
    Earth-Spirit</i>.)<br>
<br>
How otherwise upon me works this sign!<br>
Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art nearer:<br>
Even now my powers are loftier, clearer;<br>
I glow, as drunk with new-made wine:<br>
New strength and heart to meet the world incite me,<br>
The woe of earth, the bliss of earth, invite me,<br>
And though the shock of storms may smite me,<br>
No crash of shipwreck shall have power to fright me!<br>
Clouds gather over me—<br>
The moon conceals her light—<br>
The lamp's extinguished!—<br>
Mists rise,—red, angry rays are darting<br>
Around my head!—There falls<br>
A horror from the vaulted roof,<br>
And seizes me!<br>
I feel thy presence, Spirit I invoke!<br>
Reveal thyself!<br>
Ha! in my heart what rending stroke!<br>
With new impulsion<br>
My senses heave in this convulsion!<br>
I feel thee draw my heart, absorb, exhaust me:<br>
Thou must! thou must! and though my life it cost me!<br>
<br>
(<i>He seizes the book, and mysteriously pronounces the sign of<br>
    the Spirit. A ruddy flame flashes: the Spirit appears in<br>
    the flame</i>.)<br>
<br>
<br>
SPIRIT<br>
<br>
Who calls me?<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST (<i>with averted head</i>)<br>
<br>
<div class="indented">
    Terrible to see!<br>
    <br>
</div>
SPIRIT<br>
<br>
Me hast thou long with might attracted,<br>
Long from my sphere thy food exacted,<br>
And now—<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Woe! I endure not thee!</span><br>
<br>
<br>
SPIRIT<br>
<br>
To view me is thine aspiration,<br>
My voice to hear, my countenance to see;<br>
Thy powerful yearning moveth me,<br>
Here am I!—what mean perturbation<br>
Thee, superhuman, shakes? Thy soul's high calling, where?<br>
Where is the breast, which from itself a world did bear,<br>
And shaped and cherished—which with joy expanded,<br>
To be our peer, with us, the Spirits, banded?<br>
Where art thou, Faust, whose voice has pierced to me,<br>
Who towards me pressed with all thine energy?<br>
<i>He</i> art thou, who, my presence breathing, seeing,<br>
Trembles through all the depths of being,<br>
A writhing worm, a terror-stricken form?<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Thee, form of flame, shall I then fear?<br>
Yes, I am Faust: I am thy peer!<br>
<br>
<br>
SPIRIT<br>
<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the tides of Life, in Action's
    storm,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A fluctuant wave,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A shuttle free,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Birth and the Grave,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An eternal sea,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A weaving, flowing</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life, all-glowing,</span><br>
Thus at Time's humming loom 'tis my hand prepares<br>
The garment of Life which the Deity wears!<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Thou, who around the wide world wendest,<br>
Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee!<br>
<br>
<br>
SPIRIT<br>
<br>
Thou'rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest,<br>
Not me!<br>
<br>
(<i>Disappears</i>.)<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST (<i>overwhelmed</i>)<br>
<br>
Not thee!<br>
Whom then?<br>
I, image of the Godhead!<br>
Not even like thee!<br>
<br>
(<i>A knock</i>).<br>
<br>
O Death!—I know it—'tis my Famulus!<br>
My fairest luck finds no fruition:<br>
In all the fullness of my vision<br>
The soulless sneak disturbs me thus!<br>
<br>
(<i>Enter</i> WAGNER<i>, in dressing-gown and night-cap, a lamp in<br>
    his hand.</i> FAUST <i>turns impatiently</i>.)<br>
<br>
<br>
WAGNER<br>
<br>
Pardon, I heard your declamation;<br>
'Twas sure an old Greek tragedy you read?<br>
In such an art I crave some preparation,<br>
Since now it stands one in good stead.<br>
I've often heard it said, a preacher<br>
Might learn, with a comedian for a teacher.<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Yes, when the priest comedian is by nature,<br>
As haply now and then the case may be.<br>
<br>
<br>
WAGNER<br>
<br>
Ah, when one studies thus, a prisoned creature,<br>
That scarce the world on holidays can see,—<br>
Scarce through a glass, by rare occasion,<br>
How shall one lead it by persuasion?<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
You'll ne'er attain it, save you know the feeling,<br>
Save from the soul it rises clear,<br>
Serene in primal strength, compelling<br>
The hearts and minds of all who hear.<br>
You sit forever gluing, patching;<br>
You cook the scraps from others' fare;<br>
And from your heap of ashes hatching<br>
A starveling flame, ye blow it bare!<br>
Take children's, monkeys' gaze admiring,<br>
If such your taste, and be content;<br>
But ne'er from heart to heart you'll speak inspiring,<br>
Save your own heart is eloquent!<br>
<br>
<br>
WAGNER<br>
<br>
Yet through delivery orators succeed;<br>
I feel that I am far behind, indeed.<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Seek thou the honest recompense!<br>
Beware, a tinkling fool to be!<br>
With little art, clear wit and sense<br>
Suggest their own delivery;<br>
And if thou'rt moved to speak in earnest,<br>
What need, that after words thou yearnest?<br>
Yes, your discourses, with their glittering show,<br>
Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper,<br>
Are unrefreshing as the winds that blow<br>
The rustling leaves through chill autumnal vapor!<br>
<br>
<br>
WAGNER<br>
<br>
Ah, God! but Art is long,<br>
And Life, alas! is fleeting.<br>
And oft, with zeal my critic-duties meeting,<br>
In head and breast there's something wrong.<br>
<br>
How hard it is to compass the assistance<br>
Whereby one rises to the source!<br>
And, haply, ere one travels half the course<br>
Must the poor devil quit existence.<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Is parchment, then, the holy fount before thee,<br>
A draught wherefrom thy thirst forever slakes?<br>
No true refreshment can restore thee,<br>
Save what from thine own soul spontaneous breaks.<br>
<br>
<br>
WAGNER<br>
<br>
Pardon! a great delight is granted<br>
When, in the spirit of the ages planted,<br>
We mark how, ere our times, a sage has thought,<br>
And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have brought.<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
O yes, up to the stars at last!<br>
Listen, my friend: the ages that are past<br>
Are now a book with seven seals protected:<br>
What you the Spirit of the Ages call<br>
Is nothing but the spirit of you all,<br>
Wherein the Ages are reflected.<br>
So, oftentimes, you miserably mar it!<br>
At the first glance who sees it runs away.<br>
An offal-barrel and a lumber-garret,<br>
Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Judy play,<br>
With maxims most pragmatical and hitting,<br>
As in the mouths of puppets are befitting!<br>
<br>
<br>
WAGNER<br>
<br>
But then, the world—the human heart and brain!<br>
Of these one covets some slight apprehension.<br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Yes, of the kind which men attain!<br>
Who dares the child's true name in public mention?<br>
The few, who thereof something really learned,<br>
Unwisely frank, with hearts that spurned concealing,<br>
And to the mob laid bare each thought and feeling,<br>
Have evermore been crucified and burned.<br>
I pray you, Friend, 'tis now the dead of night;<br>
Our converse here must be suspended.<br>
<br>
<br>
WAGNER<br>
<br>
I would have shared your watches with delight,<br>
That so our learned talk might be extended.<br>
To-morrow, though, I'll ask, in Easter leisure,<br>
This and the other question, at your pleasure.<br>
Most zealously I seek for erudition:<br>
Much do I know—but to know all is my ambition.<br>
<br>
<span style="margin-left: 22em;">[<i>Exit</i>.</span><br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST (<i>solus</i>)<br>
<br>
That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is<br>
To stick in shallow trash forevermore,—<br>
Which digs with eager hand for buried ore,<br>
And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices!<br>
<br>
Dare such a human voice disturb the flow,<br>
Around me here, of spirit-presence fullest?<br>
And yet, this once my thanks I owe<br>
To thee, of all earth's sons the poorest, dullest!<br>
For thou hast torn me from that desperate state<br>
Which threatened soon to overwhelm my senses:<br>
The apparition was so giant-great,<br>
It dwarfed and withered all my soul's pretences!<br>
<br>
I, image of the Godhead, who began—<br>
Deeming Eternal Truth secure in nearness—<br>
Ye choirs, have ye begun the sweet, consoling chant,<br>
Which, through the night of Death, the angels ministrant<br>
Sang, God's new Covenant repeating?<br>
<br>
<br>
CHORUS OF WOMEN<br>
<br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">With spices and precious</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Balm, we arrayed him;</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Faithful and gracious,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">We tenderly laid him:</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Linen to bind him</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Cleanlily wound we:</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Ah! when we would find him,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Christ no more found we!</span><br>
<br>
<br>
CHORUS OF ANGELS<br>
<br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Christ is ascended!</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Bliss hath invested him,—</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Woes that molested him,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Trials that tested him,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Gloriously ended!</span><br>
<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Why, here in dust, entice me with your spell,<br>
Ye gentle, powerful sounds of Heaven?<br>
Peal rather there, where tender natures dwell.<br>
Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given;<br>
The dearest child of Faith is Miracle.<br>
I venture not to soar to yonder regions<br>
Whence the glad tidings hither float;<br>
And yet, from childhood up familiar with the note,<br>
To Life it now renews the old allegiance.<br>
Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss<br>
Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy;<br>
And, filled with mystic presage, chimed the church-bell slowly,<br>
And prayer dissolved me in a fervent bliss.<br>
A sweet, uncomprehended yearning<br>
Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free,<br>
And while a thousand tears were burning,<br>
I felt a world arise for me.<br>
These chants, to youth and all its sports appealing,<br>
Proclaimed the Spring's rejoicing holiday;<br>
And Memory holds me now, with childish feeling,<br>
Back from the last, the solemn way.<br>
Sound on, ye hymns of Heaven, so sweet and mild!<br>
My tears gush forth: the Earth takes back her child!<br>
<br>
<br>
CHORUS OF DISCIPLES<br>
<br>

<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Has He, victoriously,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Burst from the vaulted</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Grave, and all-gloriously</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Now sits exalted?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Is He, in glow of birth,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Rapture creative near?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! to the woe of earth</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Still are we native here.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">We, his aspiring</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Followers, Him we miss;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Weeping, desiring,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Master, Thy bliss!</span><br>
</p>
<p>CHORUS OF ANGELS</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Christ is arisen,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Out of Corruption's womb:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Burst ye the prison,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Break from your gloom!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Praising and pleading him,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lovingly needing him,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Brotherly feeding him,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Preaching and speeding him,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Blessing, succeeding Him,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thus is the Master near,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thus is He here!</span><br>
</p>
<br>
<br>

<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-053"></a> <img src="images/Illus-053.jpg" alt="Before the City-Gate" title="Before the City-Gate">
</div>
<br>
<br>

<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2>
<p>BEFORE THE CITY-GATE</p>
<p>(<i>Pedestrians of all kinds come forth</i>.)</p>
<p>SEVERAL APPRENTICES</p>
<p>Why do you go that way?</p>
<p>OTHERS</p>
<p>We're for the Hunters' lodge, to-day.</p>
<p>THE FIRST</p>
<p>We'll saunter to the Mill, in yonder hollow.</p>
<p>AN APPRENTICE</p>
<p>Go to the River Tavern, I should say.</p>
<p>SECOND APPRENTICE</p>
<p>But then, it's not a pleasant way.</p>
<p>THE OTHERS</p>
<p>And what will <i>you</i>?</p>
<p>A THIRD</p>
<span style="margin-left: 6em;">As goes the crowd, I follow.</span><br>

<p>A FOURTH</p>
<p>Come up to Burgdorf? There you'll find good cheer,<br>
    The finest lasses and the best of beer,<br>
    And jolly rows and squabbles, trust me!</p>
<p>A FIFTH</p>
<p>You swaggering fellow, is your hide<br>
    A third time itching to be tried?<br>
    I won't go there, your jolly rows disgust me!</p>
<p>SERVANT-GIRL</p>
<p>No,—no! I'll turn and go to town again.</p>
<p>ANOTHER</p>
<p>We'll surely find him by those poplars yonder.</p>
<p>THE FIRST</p>
<p>That's no great luck for me, 'tis plain.<br>
    You'll have him, when and where you wander:<br>
    His partner in the dance you'll be,—<br>
    But what is all your fun to me?</p>
<p>THE OTHER</p>
<p>He's surely not alone to-day:<br>
    He'll be with Curly-head, I heard him say.</p>
<p>A STUDENT</p>
<p>Deuce! how they step, the buxom wenches!<br>
    Come, Brother! we must see them to the benches.<br>
    A strong, old beer, a pipe that stings and bites,<br>
    A girl in Sunday clothes,—these three are my delights.</p>
<p>CITIZEN'S DAUGHTER</p>
<p>Just see those handsome fellows, there!<br>
    It's really shameful, I declare;—<br>
    To follow servant-girls, when they<br>
    Might have the most genteel society to-day!</p>
<p>SECOND STUDENT (<i>to the First</i>)</p>
<p>Not quite so fast! Two others come behind,—<br>
    Those, dressed so prettily and neatly.<br>
    My neighbor's one of them, I find,<br>
    A girl that takes my heart, completely.<br>
    They go their way with looks demure,<br>
    But they'll accept us, after all, I'm sure.</p>
<p>THE FIRST</p>
<p>No, Brother! not for me their formal ways.<br>
    Quick! lest our game escape us in the press:<br>
    The hand that wields the broom on Saturdays<br>
    Will best, on Sundays, fondle and caress.</p>
<p>CITIZEN</p>
<p>He suits me not at all, our new-made Burgomaster!<br>
    Since he's installed, his arrogance grows faster.<br>
    How has he helped the town, I say?<br>
    Things worsen,—what improvement names he?<br>
    Obedience, more than ever, claims he,<br>
    And more than ever we must pay!</p>
<p>BEGGAR (<i>sings</i>)</p>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good gentlemen and lovely ladies,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So red of cheek and fine of dress,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Behold, how needful here your aid is,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And see and lighten my distress!</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let me not vainly sing my ditty;</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's only glad who gives away:</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A holiday, that shows your pity,</span><br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall be for me a harvest-day!</span><br>

<p>ANOTHER CITIZEN</p>
<p>On Sundays, holidays, there's naught I take delight in,<br>
    Like gossiping of war, and war's array,<br>
    When down in Turkey, far away,<br>
    The foreign people are a-fighting.<br>
    One at the window sits, with glass and friends,<br>
    And sees all sorts of ships go down the river gliding:<br>
    And blesses then, as home he wends<br>
    At night, our times of peace abiding.</p>
<p>THIRD CITIZEN</p>
<p>Yes, Neighbor! that's my notion, too:<br>
    Why, let them break their heads, let loose their passions,<br>
    And mix things madly through and through,<br>
    So, here, we keep our good old fashions!</p>
<p>OLD WOMAN (<i>to the Citizen's Daughter</i>)</p>
<p>Dear me, how fine! So handsome, and so young!<br>
    Who wouldn't lose his heart, that met you?<br>
    Don't be so proud! I'll hold my tongue,<br>
    And what you'd like I'll undertake to get you.</p>
<p>CITIZEN'S DAUGHTER</p>
<p>Come, Agatha! I shun the witch's sight<br>
    Before folks, lest there be misgiving:<br>
    'Tis true, she showed me, on Saint Andrew's Night,<br>
    My future sweetheart, just as he were living.</p>
<p>THE OTHER</p>
<p>She showed me mine, in crystal clear,<br>
    With several wild young blades, a soldier-lover:<br>
    I seek him everywhere, I pry and peer,<br>
    And yet, somehow, his face I can't discover.</p>
<p>SOLDIERS</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Castles, with lofty</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ramparts and towers,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Maidens disdainful</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">In Beauty's array,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Both shall be ours!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Bold is the venture,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Splendid the pay!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lads, let the trumpets</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">For us be suing,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Calling to pleasure,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Calling to ruin.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Stormy our life is;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Such is its boon!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Maidens and castles</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Capitulate soon.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Bold is the venture,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Splendid the pay!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And the soldiers go marching,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Marching away!</span><br>
</p>
<p>FAUST AND WAGNER</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Released from ice are brook and river<br>
    By the quickening glance of the gracious Spring;<br>
    The colors of hope to the valley cling,<br>
    And weak old Winter himself must shiver,<br>
    Withdrawn to the mountains, a crownless king:<br>
    Whence, ever retreating, he sends again<br>
    Impotent showers of sleet that darkle<br>
    In belts across the green o' the plain.<br>
    But the sun will permit no white to sparkle;<br>
    Everywhere form in development moveth;<br>
    He will brighten the world with the tints he loveth,<br>
    And, lacking blossoms, blue, yellow, and red,<br>
    He takes these gaudy people instead.<br>
    Turn thee about, and from this height<br>
    Back on the town direct thy sight.<br>
    Out of the hollow, gloomy gate,<br>
    The motley throngs come forth elate:<br>
    Each will the joy of the sunshine hoard,<br>
    To honor the Day of the Risen Lord!<br>
    They feel, themselves, their resurrection:<br>
    From the low, dark rooms, scarce habitable;<br>
    From the bonds of Work, from Trade's restriction;<br>
    From the pressing weight of roof and gable;<br>
    From the narrow, crushing streets and alleys;<br>
    From the churches' solemn and reverend night,<br>
    All come forth to the cheerful light.<br>
    How lively, see! the multitude sallies,<br>
    Scattering through gardens and fields remote,<br>
    While over the river, that broadly dallies,<br>
    Dances so many a festive boat;<br>
    And overladen, nigh to sinking,<br>
    The last full wherry takes the stream.<br>
    Yonder afar, from the hill-paths blinking,<br>
    Their clothes are colors that softly gleam.<br>
    I hear the noise of the village, even;<br>
    Here is the People's proper Heaven;<br>
    Here high and low contented see!<br>
    Here I am Man,—dare man to be!</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>To stroll with you, Sir Doctor, flatters;<br>
    'Tis honor, profit, unto me.<br>
    But I, alone, would shun these shallow matters,<br>
    Since all that's coarse provokes my enmity.<br>
    This fiddling, shouting, ten-pin rolling<br>
    I hate,—these noises of the throng:<br>
    They rave, as Satan were their sports controlling.<br>
    And call it mirth, and call it song!</p>
PEASANTS, UNDER THE LINDEN-TREE<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(<i>Dance and Song</i>.)</span><br>

<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;">All for the dance the shepherd
        dressed,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">In ribbons, wreath, and gayest vest</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Himself with care arraying:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Around the linden lass and lad</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Already footed it like mad:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hurrah! hurrah!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hurrah—tarara-la!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">The fiddle-bow was playing.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">He broke the ranks, no whit afraid,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">And with his elbow punched a maid,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Who stood, the dance surveying:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">The buxom wench, she turned and said:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Now, you I call a stupid-head!"</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hurrah! hurrah!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hurrah—tarara-la!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Be decent while you're staying!"</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Then round the circle went their
        flight,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">They danced to left, they danced to
        right:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Their kirtles all were playing.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">They first grew red, and then grew
        warm,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">And rested, panting, arm in arm,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hurrah! hurrah!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hurrah—tarara-la!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">And hips and elbows straying.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Now, don't be so familiar here!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">How many a one has fooled his dear,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Waylaying and betraying!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">And yet, he coaxed her soon aside,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">And round the linden sounded wide.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hurrah! hurrah!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hurrah—tarara-la!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">And the fiddle-bow was playing.</span><br>
</p>
<p>OLD PEASANT</p>
<p>Sir Doctor, it is good of you,<br>
    That thus you condescend, to-day,<br>
    Among this crowd of merry folk,<br>
    A highly-learned man, to stray.<br>
    Then also take the finest can,<br>
    We fill with fresh wine, for your sake:<br>
    I offer it, and humbly wish<br>
    That not alone your thirst is slake,—<br>
    That, as the drops below its brink,<br>
    So many days of life you drink!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>I take the cup you kindly reach,<br>
    With thanks and health to all and each.</p>
<p>(<i>The People gather in a circle about him</i>.)</p>
<p>OLD PEASANT</p>
<p>In truth, 'tis well and fitly timed,<br>
    That now our day of joy you share,<br>
    Who heretofore, in evil days,<br>
    Gave us so much of helping care.<br>
    Still many a man stands living here,<br>
    Saved by your father's skillful hand,<br>
    That snatched him from the fever's rage<br>
    And stayed the plague in all the land.<br>
    Then also you, though but a youth,<br>
    Went into every house of pain:<br>
    Many the corpses carried forth,<br>
    But you in health came out again.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>No test or trial you evaded:<br>
    A Helping God the helper aided.</p>
<p>ALL</p>
<p>Health to the man, so skilled and tried.<br>
    That for our help he long may abide!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>To Him above bow down, my friends,<br>
    Who teaches help, and succor sends!</p>
<p>(<i>He goes on with</i> WAGNER.)</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>With what a feeling, thou great man, must thou<br>
    Receive the people's honest veneration!<br>
    How lucky he, whose gifts his station<br>
    With such advantages endow!<br>
    Thou'rt shown to all the younger generation:<br>
    Each asks, and presses near to gaze;<br>
    The fiddle stops, the dance delays.<br>
    Thou goest, they stand in rows to see,<br>
    And all the caps are lifted high;<br>
    A little more, and they would bend the knee<br>
    As if the Holy Host came by.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>A few more steps ascend, as far as yonder stone!—<br>
    Here from our wandering will we rest contented.<br>
    Here, lost in thought, I've lingered oft alone,<br>
    When foolish fasts and prayers my life tormented.<br>
    Here, rich in hope and firm in faith,<br>
    With tears, wrung hands and sighs, I've striven,<br>
    The end of that far-spreading death<br>
    Entreating from the Lord of Heaven!<br>
    Now like contempt the crowd's applauses seem:<br>
    Couldst thou but read, within mine inmost spirit,<br>
    How little now I deem,<br>
    That sire or son such praises merit!<br>
    My father's was a sombre, brooding brain,<br>
    Which through the holy spheres of Nature groped and wandered,<br>
    And honestly, in his own fashion, pondered<br>
    With labor whimsical, and pain:<br>
    Who, in his dusky work-shop bending,<br>
    With proved adepts in company,<br>
    Made, from his recipes unending,<br>
    Opposing substances agree.<br>
    There was a Lion red, a wooer daring,<br>
    Within the Lily's tepid bath espoused,<br>
    And both, tormented then by flame unsparing,<br>
    By turns in either bridal chamber housed.<br>
    If then appeared, with colors splendid,<br>
    The young Queen in her crystal shell,<br>
    This was the medicine—the patients' woes soon ended,<br>
    And none demanded: who got well?<br>
    Thus we, our hellish boluses compounding,<br>
    Among these vales and hills surrounding,<br>
    Worse than the pestilence, have passed.<br>
    Thousands were done to death from poison of my giving;<br>
    And I must hear, by all the living,<br>
    The shameless murderers praised at last!</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>Why, therefore, yield to such depression?<br>
    A good man does his honest share<br>
    In exercising, with the strictest care,<br>
    The art bequeathed to his possession!<br>
    Dost thou thy father honor, as a youth?<br>
    Then may his teaching cheerfully impel thee:<br>
    Dost thou, as man, increase the stores of truth?<br>
    Then may thine own son afterwards excel thee.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>O happy he, who still renews<br>
    The hope, from Error's deeps to rise forever!<br>
    That which one does not know, one needs to use;<br>
    And what one knows, one uses never.<br>
    But let us not, by such despondence, so<br>
    The fortune of this hour embitter!<br>
    Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow,<br>
    The green-embosomed houses glitter!<br>
    The glow retreats, done is the day of toil;<br>
    It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;<br>
    Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil,<br>
    Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!<br>
    Then would I see eternal Evening gild<br>
    The silent world beneath me glowing,<br>
    On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled,<br>
    The silver brook to golden rivers flowing.<br>
    The mountain-chain, with all its gorges deep,<br>
    Would then no more impede my godlike motion;<br>
    And now before mine eyes expands the ocean<br>
    With all its bays, in shining sleep!<br>
    Yet, finally, the weary god is sinking;<br>
    The new-born impulse fires my mind,—<br>
    I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking,<br>
    The Day before me and the Night behind,<br>
    Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me,—<br>
    A glorious dream! though now the glories fade.<br>
    Alas! the wings that lift the mind no aid<br>
    Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me.<br>
    Yet in each soul is born the pleasure<br>
    Of yearning onward, upward and away,<br>
    When o'er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure,<br>
    The lark sends down his flickering lay,—<br>
    When over crags and piny highlands<br>
    The poising eagle slowly soars,<br>
    And over plains and lakes and islands<br>
    The crane sails by to other shores.</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>I've had, myself, at times, some odd caprices,<br>
    But never yet such impulse felt, as this is.<br>
    One soon fatigues, on woods and fields to look,<br>
    Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us:<br>
    How otherwise the mental raptures bear us<br>
    From page to page, from book to book!<br>
    Then winter nights take loveliness untold,<br>
    As warmer life in every limb had crowned you;<br>
    And when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old,<br>
    All Heaven descends, and opens bright around you!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>One impulse art thou conscious of, at best;<br>
    O, never seek to know the other!<br>
    Two souls, alas! reside within my breast,<br>
    And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.<br>
    One with tenacious organs holds in love<br>
    And clinging lust the world in its embraces;<br>
    The other strongly sweeps, this dust above,<br>
    Into the high ancestral spaces.<br>
    If there be airy spirits near,<br>
    'Twixt Heaven and Earth on potent errands fleeing,<br>
    Let them drop down the golden atmosphere,<br>
    And bear me forth to new and varied being!<br>
    Yea, if a magic mantle once were mine,<br>
    To waft me o'er the world at pleasure,<br>
    I would not for the costliest stores of treasure—<br>
    Not for a monarch's robe—the gift resign.</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>Invoke not thus the well-known throng,<br>
    Which through the firmament diffused is faring,<br>
    And danger thousand-fold, our race to wrong.<br>
    In every quarter is preparing.<br>
    Swift from the North the spirit-fangs so sharp<br>
    Sweep down, and with their barbéd points assail you;<br>
    Then from the East they come, to dry and warp<br>
    Your lungs, till breath and being fail you:<br>
    If from the Desert sendeth them the South,<br>
    With fire on fire your throbbing forehead crowning,<br>
    The West leads on a host, to cure the drouth<br>
    Only when meadow, field, and you are drowning.<br>
    They gladly hearken, prompt for injury,—<br>
    Gladly obey, because they gladly cheat us;<br>
    From Heaven they represent themselves to be,<br>
    And lisp like angels, when with lies they meet us.<br>
    But, let us go! 'Tis gray and dusky all:<br>
    The air is cold, the vapors fall.<br>
    At night, one learns his house to prize:—<br>
    Why stand you thus, with such astonished eyes?<br>
    What, in the twilight, can your mind so trouble?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Seest thou the black dog coursing there, through corn and<br>
    stubble?</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>Long since: yet deemed him not important in the least.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Inspect him close: for what tak'st thou the beast?</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>Why, for a poodle who has lost his master,<br>
    And scents about, his track to find.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Seest thou the spiral circles, narrowing faster,<br>
    Which he, approaching, round us seems to wind?<br>
    A streaming trail of fire, if I see rightly,<br>
    Follows his path of mystery.</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>It may be that your eyes deceive you slightly;<br>
    Naught but a plain black poodle do I see.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>It seems to me that with enchanted cunning<br>
    He snares our feet, some future chain to bind.</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>I see him timidly, in doubt, around us running,<br>
    Since, in his master's stead, two strangers doth he find.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>The circle narrows: he is near!</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>A dog thou seest, and not a phantom, here!<br>
    Behold him stop—upon his belly crawl—His<br>
    tail set wagging: canine habits, all!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Come, follow us! Come here, at least!</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>'Tis the absurdest, drollest beast.<br>
    Stand still, and you will see him wait;<br>
    Address him, and he gambols straight;<br>
    If something's lost, he'll quickly bring it,—<br>
    Your cane, if in the stream you fling it.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>No doubt you're right: no trace of mind, I own,<br>
    Is in the beast: I see but drill, alone.</p>
<p>WAGNER</p>
<p>The dog, when he's well educated,<br>
    Is by the wisest tolerated.<br>
    Yes, he deserves your favor thoroughly,—<br>
    The clever scholar of the students, he!</p>
<p>(<i>They pass in the city-gate</i>.)</p>
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    <a id="illus-067"></a> <img src="images/Illus-067.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
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    <a id="illus-068"></a> <img src="images/Illus-068.jpg" alt="The Study" title="The Study">
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<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2>
<p>THE STUDY</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>(<i>Entering, with the poodle</i>.)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Behind me, field and meadow
        sleeping,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I leave in deep, prophetic night,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Within whose dread and holy keeping</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The better soul awakes to light.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The wild desires no longer win us,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The deeds of passion cease to chain;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The love of Man revives within us,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The love of God revives again.</span><br>
</p>
<p>Be still, thou poodle; make not such racket and riot!<br>
    Why at the threshold wilt snuffing be?<br>
    Behind the stove repose thee in quiet!<br>
    My softest cushion I give to thee.<br>
    As thou, up yonder, with running and leaping<br>
    Amused us hast, on the mountain's crest,<br>
</p>
<p>So now I take thee into my keeping,<br>
    A welcome, but also a silent, guest.</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Ah, when, within our narrow chamber</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The lamp with friendly lustre glows,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Flames in the breast each faded
        ember,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And in the heart, itself that knows.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Then Hope again lends sweet
        assistance,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And Reason then resumes her speech:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">One yearns, the rivers of existence,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The very founts of Life, to reach.</span><br>
</p>
<p>Snarl not, poodle! To the sound that rises,<br>
    The sacred tones that my soul embrace,<br>
    This bestial noise is out of place.<br>
    We are used to see, that Man despises<br>
    What he never comprehends,<br>
    And the Good and the Beautiful vilipends,<br>
    Finding them often hard to measure:<br>
    Will the dog, like man, snarl <i>his</i> displeasure?</p>
<p>But ah! I feel, though will thereto be stronger,<br>
    Contentment flows from out my breast no longer.<br>
    Why must the stream so soon run dry and fail us,<br>
    And burning thirst again assail us?<br>
    Therein I've borne so much probation!<br>
    And yet, this want may be supplied us;<br>
    We call the Supernatural to guide us;<br>
    We pine and thirst for Revelation,<br>
    Which nowhere worthier is, more nobly sent,<br>
    Than here, in our New Testament.<br>
    I feel impelled, its meaning to determine,—<br>
    With honest purpose, once for all,<br>
    The hallowed Original<br>
    To change to my beloved German.<br>
</p>
<p>(<i>He opens a volume, and commences</i>.)<br>
    'Tis written: "In the Beginning was the <i>Word</i>."<br>
    Here am I balked: who, now can help afford?<br>
    The <i>Word?</i>—impossible so high to rate it;<br>
    And otherwise must I translate it.<br>
    If by the Spirit I am truly taught.<br>
    Then thus: "In the Beginning was the <i>Thought</i>"<br>
    This first line let me weigh completely,<br>
    Lest my impatient pen proceed too fleetly.<br>
    Is it the <i>Thought</i> which works, creates, indeed?<br>
    "In the Beginning was the <i>Power,"</i> I read.<br>
    Yet, as I write, a warning is suggested,<br>
    That I the sense may not have fairly tested.<br>
    The Spirit aids me: now I see the light!<br>
    "In the Beginning was the <i>Act</i>," I write.<br>
    <br>
    If I must share my chamber with thee,<br>
    Poodle, stop that howling, prithee!<br>
    Cease to bark and bellow!<br>
    Such a noisy, disturbing fellow<br>
    I'll no longer suffer near me.<br>
    One of us, dost hear me!<br>
    Must leave, I fear me.<br>
    No longer guest-right I bestow;<br>
    The door is open, art free to go.<br>
    But what do I see in the creature?<br>
    Is that in the course of nature?<br>
    Is't actual fact? or Fancy's shows?<br>
    How long and broad my poodle grows!<br>
    He rises mightily:<br>
    A canine form that cannot be!<br>
    What a spectre I've harbored thus!<br>
    He resembles a hippopotamus,<br>
    With fiery eyes, teeth terrible to see:<br>
    O, now am I sure of thee!<br>
    For all of thy half-hellish brood<br>
    The Key of Solomon is good.<br>
    <br>
</p>
<p>SPIRITS (<i>in the corridor</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Some one, within, is caught!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Stay without, follow him not!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Like the fox in a snare,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Quakes the old hell-lynx there.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Take heed—look about!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Back and forth hover,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Under and over,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And he'll work himself out.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">If your aid avail him,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Let it not fail him;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">For he, without measure,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Has wrought for our pleasure.</span><br>
</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>First, to encounter the beast,<br>
    The Words of the Four be addressed:<br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Salamander, shine glorious!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wave, Undine, as bidden!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sylph, be thou hidden!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gnome, be laborious!</span><br>
</p>
<p>Who knows not their sense<br>
    (These elements),—<br>
    Their properties<br>
    And power not sees,—<br>
    No mastery he inherits<br>
    Over the Spirits.</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Vanish in flaming ether,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Salamander!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Flow foamingly together,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Undine!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Shine in meteor-sheen,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Sylph!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bring help to hearth and shelf.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Incubus! Incubus!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Step forward, and finish thus!</span><br>
</p>
<p>Of the Four, no feature<br>
    Lurks in the creature.<br>
    Quiet he lies, and grins disdain:<br>
    Not yet, it seems, have I given him pain.<br>
    Now, to undisguise thee,<br>
    Hear me exorcise thee!<br>
    Art thou, my gay one,<br>
    Hell's fugitive stray-one?<br>
    The sign witness now,<br>
    Before which they bow,<br>
    The cohorts of Hell!</p>
<p>With hair all bristling, it begins to swell.</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Base Being, hearest thou?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Knowest and fearest thou</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The One, unoriginate,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Named inexpressibly,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Through all Heaven impermeate,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Pierced irredressibly!</span><br>
</p>
<p>Behind the stove still banned,<br>
    See it, an elephant, expand!<br>
    It fills the space entire,<br>
    Mist-like melting, ever faster.<br>
    'Tis enough: ascend no higher,—<br>
    Lay thyself at the feet of the Master!<br>
    Thou seest, not vain the threats I bring thee:<br>
    With holy fire I'll scorch and sting thee!<br>
    Wait not to know<br>
    The threefold dazzling glow!<br>
    Wait not to know<br>
    The strongest art within my hands!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>(<i>while the vapor is dissipating, steps forth from behind the<br>
        stove, in the costume of a Travelling Scholar</i>.)<br>
    Why such a noise? What are my lord's commands?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>This was the poodle's real core,<br>
    A travelling scholar, then? The <i>casus</i> is diverting.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>The learned gentleman I bow before:<br>
    You've made me roundly sweat, that's certain!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>What is thy name?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>A question small, it seems,<br>
    For one whose mind the Word so much despises;<br>
    Who, scorning all external gleams,<br>
    The depths of being only prizes.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>With all you gentlemen, the name's a test,<br>
    Whereby the nature usually is expressed.<br>
    Clearly the latter it implies<br>
    In names like Beelzebub, Destroyer, Father of Lies.<br>
    Who art thou, then?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Part of that Power, not understood,<br>
    Which always wills the Bad, and always works the Good.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>What hidden sense in this enigma lies?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I am the Spirit that Denies!<br>
    And justly so: for all things, from the Void<br>
    Called forth, deserve to be destroyed:<br>
    'Twere better, then, were naught created.<br>
    Thus, all which you as Sin have rated,—<br>
    Destruction,—aught with Evil blent,—<br>
    That is my proper element.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Thou nam'st thyself a part, yet show'st complete to me?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>The modest truth I speak to thee.<br>
    If Man, that microcosmic fool, can see<br>
    Himself a whole so frequently,<br>
    Part of the Part am I, once All, in primal Night,—<br>
    Part of the Darkness which brought forth the Light,<br>
    The haughty Light, which now disputes the space,<br>
    And claims of Mother Night her ancient place.<br>
    And yet, the struggle fails; since Light, howe'er it weaves,<br>
    Still, fettered, unto bodies cleaves:<br>
    It flows from bodies, bodies beautifies;<br>
    By bodies is its course impeded;<br>
    And so, but little time is needed,<br>
    I hope, ere, as the bodies die, it dies!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>I see the plan thou art pursuing:<br>
    Thou canst not compass general ruin,<br>
    And hast on smaller scale begun.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And truly 'tis not much, when all is done.<br>
    That which to Naught is in resistance set,—<br>
    The Something of this clumsy world,—has yet,<br>
    With all that I have undertaken,<br>
    Not been by me disturbed or shaken:<br>
    From earthquake, tempest, wave, volcano's brand,<br>
    Back into quiet settle sea and land!<br>
    And that damned stuff, the bestial, human brood,—<br>
    What use, in having that to play with?<br>
    How many have I made away with!<br>
    And ever circulates a newer, fresher blood.<br>
    It makes me furious, such things beholding:<br>
    From Water, Earth, and Air unfolding,<br>
    A thousand germs break forth and grow,<br>
    In dry, and wet, and warm, and chilly;<br>
    And had I not the Flame reserved, why, really,<br>
    There's nothing special of my own to show!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>So, to the actively eternal<br>
    Creative force, in cold disdain<br>
    You now oppose the fist infernal,<br>
    Whose wicked clench is all in vain!<br>
    Some other labor seek thou rather,<br>
    Queer Son of Chaos, to begin!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Well, we'll consider: thou canst gather<br>
    My views, when next I venture in.<br>
    Might I, perhaps, depart at present?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Why thou shouldst ask, I don't perceive.<br>
    Though our acquaintance is so recent,<br>
    For further visits thou hast leave.<br>
    The window's here, the door is yonder;<br>
    A chimney, also, you behold.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I must confess that forth I may not wander,<br>
    My steps by one slight obstacle controlled,—<br>
    The wizard's-foot, that on your threshold made is.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>The pentagram prohibits thee?<br>
    Why, tell me now, thou Son of Hades,<br>
    If that prevents, how cam'st thou in to me?<br>
    Could such a spirit be so cheated?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Inspect the thing: the drawing's not completed.<br>
    The outer angle, you may see,<br>
    Is open left—the lines don't fit it.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Well,—Chance, this time, has fairly hit it!<br>
    And thus, thou'rt prisoner to me?<br>
    It seems the business has succeeded.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>The poodle naught remarked, as after thee he speeded;<br>
    But other aspects now obtain:<br>
    The Devil can't get out again.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Try, then, the open window-pane!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>For Devils and for spectres this is law:<br>
    Where they have entered in, there also they withdraw.<br>
    The first is free to us; we're governed by the second.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>In Hell itself, then, laws are reckoned?<br>
    That's well! So might a compact be<br>
    Made with you gentlemen—and binding,—surely?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>All that is promised shall delight thee purely;<br>
    No skinflint bargain shalt thou see.<br>
    But this is not of swift conclusion;<br>
    We'll talk about the matter soon.<br>
    And now, I do entreat this boon—<br>
    Leave to withdraw from my intrusion.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>One moment more I ask thee to remain,<br>
    Some pleasant news, at least, to tell me.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Release me, now! I soon shall come again;<br>
    Then thou, at will, mayst question and compel me.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>I have not snares around thee cast;<br>
    Thyself hast led thyself into the meshes.<br>
    Who traps the Devil, hold him fast!<br>
    Not soon a second time he'll catch a prey so precious.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>An't please thee, also I'm content to stay,<br>
    And serve thee in a social station;<br>
    But stipulating, that I may<br>
    With arts of mine afford thee recreation.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Thereto I willingly agree,<br>
    If the diversion pleasant be.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>My friend, thou'lt win, past all pretences,<br>
    More in this hour to soothe thy senses,<br>
    Than in the year's monotony.<br>
    That which the dainty spirits sing thee,<br>
    The lovely pictures they shall bring thee,<br>
    Are more than magic's empty show.<br>
    Thy scent will be to bliss invited;<br>
    Thy palate then with taste delighted,<br>
    Thy nerves of touch ecstatic glow!<br>
    All unprepared, the charm I spin:<br>
    We're here together, so begin!</p>
<p>SPIRITS</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Vanish, ye darking</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Arches above him!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Loveliest weather,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Born of blue ether,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Break from the sky!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">O that the darkling</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Clouds had departed!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Starlight is sparkling,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Tranquiller-hearted</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Suns are on high.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Heaven's own children</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In beauty bewildering,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Waveringly bending,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Pass as they hover;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Longing unending</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Follows them over.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">They, with their glowing</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Garments, out-flowing,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Cover, in going,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Landscape and bower,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Where, in seclusion,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Lovers are plighted,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Lost in illusion.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bower on bower!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Tendrils unblighted!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Lo! in a shower</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Grapes that o'ercluster</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Gush into must, or</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Flow into rivers</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Of foaming and flashing</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Wine, that is dashing</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Gems, as it boundeth</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Down the high places,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And spreading, surroundeth</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With crystalline spaces,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In happy embraces,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Blossoming forelands,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Emerald shore-lands!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the winged races</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Drink, and fly onward—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Fly ever sunward</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">To the enticing</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Islands, that flatter,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Dipping and rising</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Light on the water!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Hark, the inspiring</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Sound of their quiring!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">See, the entrancing</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Whirl of their dancing!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">All in the air are</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Freer and fairer.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Some of them scaling</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Boldly the highlands,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Others are sailing,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Circling the islands;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Others are flying;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Life-ward all hieing,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">All for the distant</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Star of existent</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Rapture and Love!</span><br>
</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>He sleeps! Enough, ye fays! your airy number<br>
    Have sung him truly into slumber:<br>
    For this performance I your debtor prove.—<br>
    Not yet art thou the man, to catch the Fiend and hold him!—<br>
    With fairest images of dreams infold him,<br>
    Plunge him in seas of sweet untruth!<br>
    Yet, for the threshold's magic which controlled him,<br>
    The Devil needs a rat's quick tooth.<br>
    I use no lengthened invocation:<br>
    Here rustles one that soon will work my liberation.</p>
<p>The lord of rats and eke of mice,<br>
    Of flies and bed-bugs, frogs and lice,<br>
    Summons thee hither to the door-sill,<br>
    To gnaw it where, with just a morsel<br>
    Of oil, he paints the spot for thee:—<br>
    There com'st thou, hopping on to me!<br>
    To work, at once! The point which made me craven<br>
    Is forward, on the ledge, engraven.<br>
    Another bite makes free the door:<br>
    So, dream thy dreams, O Faust, until we meet once more!</p>
<p>FAUST <i>(awaking)</i></p>
<p>Am I again so foully cheated?<br>
    Remains there naught of lofty spirit-sway,<br>
    But that a dream the Devil counterfeited,<br>
    And that a poodle ran away?</p>
<br>
<br>

<hr style="width: 65%;">
<br>
<br>

<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-081"></a> <img src="images/Illus-081.jpg" alt="The Study" title="The Study">
</div>
<br>
<br>

<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2>
<p>THE STUDY</p>
<p>FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>A knock? Come in! Again my quiet broken?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>'Tis I!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Come in!</span><br>

<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Thrice must the words be spoken.</span><br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Come in, then!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">Thus thou pleasest me.</span><br>
I hope we'll suit each other well;<br>
For now, thy vapors to dispel,<br>
I come, a squire of high degree,<br>
In scarlet coat, with golden trimming,<br>
A cloak in silken lustre swimming,<br>
A tall cock's-feather in my hat,<br>
A long, sharp sword for show or quarrel,—<br>
And I advise thee, brief and flat,<br>
To don the self-same gay apparel,<br>
That, from this den released, and free,<br>
Life be at last revealed to thee!<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>This life of earth, whatever my attire,<br>
    Would pain me in its wonted fashion.<br>
    Too old am I to play with passion;<br>
    Too young, to be without desire.<br>
    What from the world have I to gain?<br>
    Thou shalt abstain—renounce—refrain!<br>
    Such is the everlasting song<br>
    That in the ears of all men rings,—<br>
    That unrelieved, our whole life long,<br>
    Each hour, in passing, hoarsely sings.<br>
    In very terror I at morn awake,<br>
    Upon the verge of bitter weeping,<br>
    To see the day of disappointment break,<br>
    To no one hope of mine—not one—its promise keeping:—<br>
    That even each joy's presentiment<br>
    With wilful cavil would diminish,<br>
    With grinning masks of life prevent<br>
    My mind its fairest work to finish!<br>
    Then, too, when night descends, how anxiously<br>
    Upon my couch of sleep I lay me:<br>
    There, also, comes no rest to me,<br>
    But some wild dream is sent to fray me.<br>
    The God that in my breast is owned<br>
    Can deeply stir the inner sources;<br>
    The God, above my powers enthroned,<br>
    He cannot change external forces.<br>
    So, by the burden of my days oppressed,<br>
    Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And yet is never Death a wholly welcome guest.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>O fortunate, for whom, when victory glances,<br>
    The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth!<br>
    Whom, after rapid, maddening dances,<br>
    In clasping maiden-arms he findeth!<br>
    O would that I, before that spirit-power,<br>
    Ravished and rapt from life, had sunken!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And yet, by some one, in that nightly hour,<br>
    A certain liquid was not drunken.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Eavesdropping, ha! thy pleasure seems to be.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Omniscient am I not; yet much is known to me.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Though some familiar tone, retrieving<br>
    My thoughts from torment, led me on,<br>
    And sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving<br>
    A faith bequeathed from Childhood's dawn,<br>
    Yet now I curse whate'er entices<br>
    And snares the soul with visions vain;<br>
    With dazzling cheats and dear devices<br>
    Confines it in this cave of pain!<br>
    Cursed be, at once, the high ambition<br>
    Wherewith the mind itself deludes!<br>
    Cursed be the glare of apparition<br>
    That on the finer sense intrudes!<br>
    Cursed be the lying dream's impression<br>
    Of name, and fame, and laurelled brow!<br>
    Cursed, all that flatters as possession,<br>
    As wife and child, as knave and plow!<br>
    Cursed Mammon be, when he with treasures<br>
    To restless action spurs our fate!<br>
    Cursed when, for soft, indulgent leisures,<br>
    He lays for us the pillows straight!<br>
    Cursed be the vine's transcendent nectar,—<br>
    The highest favor Love lets fall!<br>
    Cursed, also, Hope!—cursed Faith, the spectre!<br>
    And cursed be Patience most of all!</p>
<p>CHORUS OF SPIRITS (<i>invisible</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Woe! woe!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Thou hast it destroyed,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The beautiful world,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With powerful fist:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In ruin 'tis hurled,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">By the blow of a demigod shattered!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The scattered</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Fragments into the Void we carry,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Deploring</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The beauty perished beyond restoring.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Mightier</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">For the children of men,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Brightlier</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Build it again,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In thine own bosom build it anew!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bid the new career</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Commence,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With clearer sense,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the new songs of cheer</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Be sung thereto!</span><br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    These are the small dependants<br>
    Who give me attendance.<br>
    Hear them, to deeds and passion<br>
    Counsel in shrewd old-fashion!<br>
    Into the world of strife,<br>
    Out of this lonely life<br>
    That of senses and sap has betrayed thee,<br>
    They would persuade thee.<br>
    This nursing of the pain forego thee,<br>
    That, like a vulture, feeds upon thy breast!<br>
    The worst society thou find'st will show thee<br>
    Thou art a man among the rest.<br>
    But 'tis not meant to thrust<br>
    Thee into the mob thou hatest!<br>
    I am not one of the greatest,<br>
    Yet, wilt thou to me entrust<br>
    Thy steps through life, I'll guide thee,—<br>
    Will willingly walk beside thee,—<br>
    Will serve thee at once and forever<br>
    With best endeavor,<br>
    And, if thou art satisfied,<br>
    Will as servant, slave, with thee abide.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    And what shall be my counter-service therefor?<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    The time is long: thou need'st not now insist.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    No—no! The Devil is an egotist,<br>
    And is not apt, without a why or wherefore,<br>
    "For God's sake," others to assist.<br>
    Speak thy conditions plain and clear!<br>
    With such a servant danger comes, I fear.<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    <i>Here</i>, an unwearied slave, I'll wear thy tether,<br>
    And to thine every nod obedient be:<br>
    When <i>There</i> again we come together,<br>
    Then shalt thou do the same for me.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    The <i>There</i> my scruples naught increases.<br>
    When thou hast dashed this world to pieces,<br>
    The other, then, its place may fill.<br>
    Here, on this earth, my pleasures have their sources;<br>
    Yon sun beholds my sorrows in his courses;<br>
    And when from these my life itself divorces,<br>
    Let happen all that can or will!<br>
    I'll hear no more: 'tis vain to ponder<br>
    If there we cherish love or hate,<br>
    Or, in the spheres we dream of yonder,<br>
    A High and Low our souls await.<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    In this sense, even, canst thou venture.<br>
    Come, bind thyself by prompt indenture,<br>
    And thou mine arts with joy shalt see:<br>
    What no man ever saw, I'll give to thee.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever?<br>
    When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor,<br>
    E'er understood by such as thou?<br>
    Yet, hast thou food which never satiates, now,—<br>
    The restless, ruddy gold hast thou,<br>
    That runs, quicksilver-like, one's fingers through,—<br>
    A game whose winnings no man ever knew,—<br>
    A maid that, even from my breast,<br>
    Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances,<br>
    And Honor's godlike zest,<br>
    The meteor that a moment dances,—<br>
    Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot,<br>
    And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them!<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    Such a demand alarms me not:<br>
    Such treasures have I, and can show them.<br>
    But still the time may reach us, good my friend.<br>
    When peace we crave and more luxurious diet.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    When on an idler's bed I stretch myself in quiet.<br>
    There let, at once, my record end!<br>
    Canst thou with lying flattery rule me,<br>
    Until, self-pleased, myself I see,—<br>
    Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me,<br>
    Let that day be the last for me!<br>
    The bet I offer.<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">Done!</span><br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">And heartily!</span><br>
    When thus I hail the Moment flying:<br>
    "Ah, still delay—thou art so fair!"<br>
    Then bind me in thy bonds undying,<br>
    My final ruin then declare!<br>
    Then let the death-bell chime the token.<br>
    Then art thou from thy service free!<br>
    The clock may stop, the hand be broken,<br>
    Then Time be finished unto me!<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    Consider well: my memory good is rated.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    Thou hast a perfect right thereto.<br>
    My powers I have not rashly estimated:<br>
    A slave am I, whate'er I do—<br>
    If thine, or whose? 'tis needless to debate it.<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    Then at the Doctors'-banquet I, to-day,<br>
    Will as a servant wait behind thee.<br>
    But one thing more! Beyond all risk to bind thee,<br>
    Give me a line or two, I pray.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    Demand'st thou, Pedant, too, a document?<br>
    Hast never known a man, nor proved his word's intent?<br>
    Is't not enough, that what I speak to-day<br>
    Shall stand, with all my future days agreeing?<br>
    In all its tides sweeps not the world away,<br>
    And shall a promise bind my being?<br>
    Yet this delusion in our hearts we bear:<br>
    Who would himself therefrom deliver?<br>
    Blest he, whose bosom Truth makes pure and fair!<br>
    No sacrifice shall he repent of ever.<br>
    Nathless a parchment, writ and stamped with care,<br>
    A spectre is, which all to shun endeavor.<br>
    The word, alas! dies even in the pen,<br>
    And wax and leather keep the lordship then.<br>
    What wilt from me, Base Spirit, say?—<br>
    Brass, marble, parchment, paper, clay?<br>
    The terms with graver, quill, or chisel, stated?<br>
    I freely leave the choice to thee.<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    Why heat thyself, thus instantly,<br>
    With eloquence exaggerated?<br>
    Each leaf for such a pact is good;<br>
    And to subscribe thy name thou'lt take a drop of blood.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    If thou therewith art fully satisfied,<br>
    So let us by the farce abide.<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    Blood is a juice of rarest quality.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    Fear not that I this pact shall seek to sever?<br>
    The promise that I make to thee<br>
    Is just the sum of my endeavor.<br>
    I have myself inflated all too high;<br>
    My proper place is thy estate:<br>
    The Mighty Spirit deigns me no reply,<br>
    And Nature shuts on me her gate.<br>
    The thread of Thought at last is broken,<br>
    And knowledge brings disgust unspoken.<br>
    Let us the sensual deeps explore,<br>
    To quench the fervors of glowing passion!<br>
    Let every marvel take form and fashion<br>
    Through the impervious veil it wore!<br>
    Plunge we in Time's tumultuous dance,<br>
    In the rush and roll of Circumstance!<br>
    Then may delight and distress,<br>
    And worry and success,<br>
    Alternately follow, as best they can:<br>
    Restless activity proves the man!<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    For you no bound, no term is set.<br>
    Whether you everywhere be trying,<br>
    Or snatch a rapid bliss in flying,<br>
    May it agree with you, what you get!<br>
    Only fall to, and show no timid balking.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    But thou hast heard, 'tis not of joy we're talking.<br>
    I take the wildering whirl, enjoyment's keenest pain,<br>
    Enamored hate, exhilarant disdain.<br>
    My bosom, of its thirst for knowledge sated,<br>
    Shall not, henceforth, from any pang be wrested,<br>
    And all of life for all mankind created<br>
    Shall be within mine inmost being tested:<br>
    The highest, lowest forms my soul shall borrow,<br>
    Shall heap upon itself their bliss and sorrow,<br>
    And thus, my own sole self to all their selves expanded,<br>
    I too, at last, shall with them all be stranded!<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    Believe me, who for many a thousand year<br>
    The same tough meat have chewed and tested,<br>
    That from the cradle to the bier<br>
    No man the ancient leaven has digested!<br>
    Trust one of us, this Whole supernal<br>
    Is made but for a God's delight!<br>
    <i>He</i> dwells in splendor single and eternal,<br>
    But <i>us</i> he thrusts in darkness, out of sight,<br>
    And <i>you</i> he dowers with Day and Night.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    Nay, but I will!<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    A good reply!<br>
    One only fear still needs repeating:<br>
    The art is long, the time is fleeting.<br>
    Then let thyself be taught, say I!<br>
    Go, league thyself with a poet,<br>
    Give the rein to his imagination,<br>
    Then wear the crown, and show it,<br>
    Of the qualities of his creation,—<br>
    The courage of the lion's breed,<br>
    The wild stag's speed,<br>
    The Italian's fiery blood,<br>
    The North's firm fortitude!<br>
    Let him find for thee the secret tether<br>
    That binds the Noble and Mean together.<br>
    And teach thy pulses of youth and pleasure<br>
    To love by rule, and hate by measure!<br>
    I'd like, myself, such a one to see:<br>
    Sir Microcosm his name should be.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    What am I, then, if 'tis denied my part<br>
    The crown of all humanity to win me,<br>
    Whereto yearns every sense within me?<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    Why, on the whole, thou'rt—what thou art.<br>
    Set wigs of million curls upon thy head, to raise thee,<br>
    Wear shoes an ell in height,—the truth betrays thee,<br>
    And thou remainest—what thou art.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    I feel, indeed, that I have made the treasure<br>
    Of human thought and knowledge mine, in vain;<br>
    And if I now sit down in restful leisure,<br>
    No fount of newer strength is in my brain:<br>
    I am no hair's-breadth more in height,<br>
    Nor nearer, to the Infinite,<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
    Good Sir, you see the facts precisely<br>
    As they are seen by each and all.<br>
    We must arrange them now, more wisely,<br>
    Before the joys of life shall pall.<br>
    Why, Zounds! Both hands and feet are, truly—<br>
    And head and virile forces—thine:<br>
    Yet all that I indulge in newly,<br>
    Is't thence less wholly mine?<br>
    If I've six stallions in my stall,<br>
    Are not their forces also lent me?<br>
    I speed along, completest man of all,<br>
    As though my legs were four-and-twenty.<br>
    Take hold, then! let reflection rest,<br>
    And plunge into the world with zest!<br>
    I say to thee, a speculative wight<br>
    Is like a beast on moorlands lean,<br>
    That round and round some fiend misleads to evil plight,<br>
    While all about lie pastures fresh and green.<br>
    <br>
    FAUST<br>
    <br>
    Then how shall we begin?<br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <br>
</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    We'll try a wider sphere.<br>
</div>
What place of martyrdom is here!<br>
Is't life, I ask, is't even prudence,<br>
To bore thyself and bore the students?<br>
Let Neighbor Paunch to that attend!<br>
Why plague thyself with threshing straw forever?<br>
The best thou learnest, in the end<br>
Thou dar'st not tell the youngsters—never!<br>
I hear one's footsteps, hither steering.<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
To see him now I have no heart.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
So long the poor boy waits a hearing,<br>
He must not unconsoled depart.<br>
Thy cap and mantle straightway lend me!<br>
I'll play the comedy with art.<br>
<br>
(<i>He disguises himself</i>.)<br>
<br>
My wits, be certain, will befriend me.<br>
But fifteen minutes' time is all I need;<br>
For our fine trip, meanwhile, prepare thyself with speed!<br>
<br>

<div class="indentedss">
    [<i>Exit</i> FAUST.<br>
    <br>
</div>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
(<i>In</i> FAUST'S <i>long mantle</i>.)<br>
<br>
Reason and Knowledge only thou despise,<br>
The highest strength in man that lies!<br>
Let but the Lying Spirit bind thee<br>
With magic works and shows that blind thee,<br>
And I shall have thee fast and sure!—<br>
Fate such a bold, untrammelled spirit gave him,<br>
As forwards, onwards, ever must endure;<br>
Whose over-hasty impulse drave him<br>
Past earthly joys he might secure.<br>
Dragged through the wildest life, will I enslave him,<br>
Through flat and stale indifference;<br>
With struggling, chilling, checking, so deprave him<br>
That, to his hot, insatiate sense,<br>
The dream of drink shall mock, but never lave him:<br>
Refreshment shall his lips in vain implore—<br>
Had he not made himself the Devil's, naught could save him,<br>
Still were he lost forevermore!<br>
<br>
(<i>A</i> STUDENT <i>enters</i>.)<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
A short time, only, am I here,<br>
And come, devoted and sincere,<br>
To greet and know the man of fame,<br>
Whom men to me with reverence name.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Your courtesy doth flatter me:<br>
You see a man, as others be.<br>
Have you, perchance, elsewhere begun?<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
Receive me now, I pray, as one<br>
Who comes to you with courage good,<br>
Somewhat of cash, and healthy blood:<br>
My mother was hardly willing to let me;<br>
But knowledge worth having I fain would get me.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Then you have reached the right place now.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
I'd like to leave it, I must avow;<br>
I find these walls, these vaulted spaces<br>
Are anything but pleasant places.<br>
Tis all so cramped and close and mean;<br>
One sees no tree, no glimpse of green,<br>
And when the lecture-halls receive me,<br>
Seeing, hearing, and thinking leave me.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
All that depends on habitude.<br>
So from its mother's breasts a child<br>
At first, reluctant, takes its food,<br>
But soon to seek them is beguiled.<br>
Thus, at the breasts of Wisdom clinging,<br>
Thou'lt find each day a greater rapture bringing.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
I'll hang thereon with joy, and freely drain them;<br>
But tell me, pray, the proper means to gain them.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Explain, before you further speak,<br>
The special faculty you seek.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
I crave the highest erudition;<br>
And fain would make my acquisition<br>
All that there is in Earth and Heaven,<br>
In Nature and in Science too.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Here is the genuine path for you;<br>
Yet strict attention must be given.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
Body and soul thereon I'll wreak;<br>
Yet, truly, I've some inclination<br>
On summer holidays to seek<br>
A little freedom and recreation.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Use well your time! It flies so swiftly from us;<br>
But time through order may be won, I promise.<br>
So, Friend (my views to briefly sum),<br>
First, the <i>collegium logicum</i>.<br>
There will your mind be drilled and braced,<br>
As if in Spanish boots 'twere laced,<br>
And thus, to graver paces brought,<br>
'Twill plod along the path of thought,<br>
Instead of shooting here and there,<br>
A will-o'-the-wisp in murky air.<br>
Days will be spent to bid you know,<br>
What once you did at a single blow,<br>
Like eating and drinking, free and strong,—<br>
That one, two, three! thereto belong.<br>
Truly the fabric of mental fleece<br>
Resembles a weaver's masterpiece,<br>
Where a thousand threads one treadle throws,<br>
Where fly the shuttles hither and thither.<br>
Unseen the threads are knit together.<br>
And an infinite combination grows.<br>
Then, the philosopher steps in<br>
And shows, no otherwise it could have been:<br>
The first was so, the second so,<br>
Therefore the third and fourth are so;<br>
Were not the first and second, then<br>
The third and fourth had never been.<br>
The scholars are everywhere believers,<br>
But never succeed in being weavers.<br>
He who would study organic existence,<br>
First drives out the soul with rigid persistence;<br>
Then the parts in his hand he may hold and class,<br>
But the spiritual link is lost, alas!<br>
<i>Encheiresin natures</i>, this Chemistry names,<br>
Nor knows how herself she banters and blames!<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
I cannot understand you quite.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Your mind will shortly be set aright,<br>
When you have learned, all things reducing,<br>
To classify them for your using.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
I feel as stupid, from all you've said,<br>
As if a mill-wheel whirled in my head!<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
And after—first and foremost duty—Of<br>
Metaphysics learn the use and beauty!<br>
See that you most profoundly gain<br>
What does not suit the human brain!<br>
A splendid word to serve, you'll find<br>
For what goes in—or won't go in—your mind.<br>
But first, at least this half a year,<br>
To order rigidly adhere;<br>
Five hours a day, you understand,<br>
And when the clock strikes, be on hand!<br>
Prepare beforehand for your part<br>
With paragraphs all got by heart,<br>
So you can better watch, and look<br>
That naught is said but what is in the book:<br>
Yet in thy writing as unwearied be,<br>
As did the Holy Ghost dictate to thee!<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
No need to tell me twice to do it!<br>
I think, how useful 'tis to write;<br>
For what one has, in black and white,<br>
One carries home and then goes through it.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Yet choose thyself a faculty!<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
I cannot reconcile myself to Jurisprudence.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Nor can I therefore greatly blame you students:<br>
I know what science this has come to be.<br>
All rights and laws are still transmitted<br>
Like an eternal sickness of the race,—<br>
From generation unto generation fitted,<br>
And shifted round from place to place.<br>
Reason becomes a sham, Beneficence a worry:<br>
Thou art a grandchild, therefore woe to thee!<br>
The right born with us, ours in verity,<br>
This to consider, there's, alas! no hurry.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
My own disgust is strengthened by your speech:<br>
O lucky he, whom you shall teach!<br>
I've almost for Theology decided.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
I should not wish to see you here misguided:<br>
For, as regards this science, let me hint<br>
'Tis very hard to shun the false direction;<br>
There's so much secret poison lurking in 't,<br>
So like the medicine, it baffles your detection.<br>
Hear, therefore, one alone, for that is best, in sooth,<br>
And simply take your master's words for truth.<br>
On <i>words</i> let your attention centre!<br>
Then through the safest gate you'll enter<br>
The temple-halls of Certainty.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
Yet in the word must some idea be.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Of course! But only shun too over-sharp a tension,<br>
For just where fails the comprehension,<br>
A word steps promptly in as deputy.<br>
With words 'tis excellent disputing;<br>
Systems to words 'tis easy suiting;<br>
On words 'tis excellent believing;<br>
No word can ever lose a jot from thieving.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
Pardon! With many questions I detain you.<br>
Yet must I trouble you again.<br>
Of Medicine I still would fain<br>
Hear one strong word that might explain you.<br>
Three years is but a little space.<br>
And, God! who can the field embrace?<br>
If one some index could be shown,<br>
'Twere easier groping forward, truly.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>aside</i>)<br>
<br>
I'm tired enough of this dry tone,—<br>
Must play the Devil again, and fully.<br>
<br>

<div class="indenteds">
    (<i>Aloud</i>)<br>
</div>
<br>
To grasp the spirit of Medicine is easy:<br>
Learn of the great and little world your fill,<br>
To let it go at last, so please ye,<br>
Just as God will!<br>
In vain that through the realms of science you may drift;<br>
Each one learns only—just what learn he can:<br>
Yet he who grasps the Moment's gift,<br>
He is the proper man.<br>
Well-made you are, 'tis not to be denied,<br>
The rest a bold address will win you;<br>
If you but in yourself confide,<br>
At once confide all others in you.<br>
To lead the women, learn the special feeling!<br>
Their everlasting aches and groans,<br>
In thousand tones,<br>
Have all one source, one mode of healing;<br>
And if your acts are half discreet,<br>
You'll always have them at your feet.<br>
A title first must draw and interest them,<br>
And show that yours all other arts exceeds;<br>
Then, as a greeting, you are free to touch and test them,<br>
While, thus to do, for years another pleads.<br>
You press and count the pulse's dances,<br>
And then, with burning sidelong glances,<br>
You clasp the swelling hips, to see<br>
If tightly laced her corsets be.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
That's better, now! The How and Where, one sees.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
My worthy friend, gray are all theories,<br>
And green alone Life's golden tree.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
I swear to you, 'tis like a dream to me.<br>
Might I again presume, with trust unbounded,<br>
To hear your wisdom thoroughly expounded?<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Most willingly, to what extent I may.<br>
<br>
STUDENT<br>
<br>
I cannot really go away:<br>
Allow me that my album first I reach you,—<br>
Grant me this favor, I beseech you!<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Assuredly.<br>
<br>
(<i>He writes, and returns the book</i>.)<br>
<br>
STUDENT (<i>reads</i>)<br>
<br>

<div class="indented">
    <i>Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum</i>.<br>
</div>
(<i>Closes the book with reverence, and withdraws</i>)<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
Follow the ancient text, and the snake thou wast ordered to trample!<br>
With all thy likeness to God, thou'lt yet be a sorry example!<br>
<br>
(FAUST <i>enters</i>.)<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Now, whither shall we go?<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>

<div class="indentedss">
    As best it pleases thee.<br>
</div>
The little world, and then the great, we'll see.<br>
With what delight, what profit winning,<br>
Shalt thou sponge through the term beginning!<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
Yet with the flowing beard I wear,<br>
Both ease and grace will fail me there.<br>
The attempt, indeed, were a futile strife;<br>
I never could learn the ways of life.<br>
I feel so small before others, and thence<br>
Should always find embarrassments.<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
My friend, thou soon shalt lose all such misgiving:<br>
Be thou but self-possessed, thou hast the art of living!<br>
<br>
FAUST<br>
<br>
How shall we leave the house, and start?<br>
Where hast thou servant, coach and horses?<br>
<br>
MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
<br>
We'll spread this cloak with proper art,<br>
Then through the air direct our courses.<br>
But only, on so bold a flight,<br>
Be sure to have thy luggage light.<br>
A little burning air, which I shall soon prepare us,<br>
Above the earth will nimbly bear us,<br>
And, if we're light, we'll travel swift and clear:<br>
I gratulate thee on thy new career!<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>

<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-102"></a> <img src="images/Illus-102.jpg" alt="Auerbach's Cellar In Leipzig" title="Auerbach's Cellar In Leipzig">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2>
<br>
<br>
AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG<br>
<br>
<br>
CAROUSAL OF JOLLY COMPANIONS<br>
<br>
FROSCH<br>
<br>
Is no one laughing? no one drinking?<br>
I'll teach you how to grin, I'm thinking.<br>
To-day you're like wet straw, so tame;<br>
And usually you're all aflame.<br>
<br>
BRANDER<br>
<br>
Now that's your fault; from you we nothing see,<br>
No beastliness and no stupidity.<br>
<br>
FROSCH<br>
<br>
(<i>Pours a glass of wine over</i> BRANDER'S <i>head</i>.)<br>
There's both together!<br>
<br>
BRANDER<br>
<br>
<div class="indenteds">
    Twice a swine!<br>
</div>
<br>
FROSCH<br>
<br>
You wanted them: I've given you mine.<br>
<br>
SIEBEL<br>
<br>
Turn out who quarrels—out the door!<br>
With open throat sing chorus, drink and roar!<br>
Up! holla! ho!<br>
<br>
ALTMAYER<br>
<br>
Woe's me, the fearful bellow!<br>
Bring cotton, quick! He's split my ears, that fellow.<br>
<br>
SIEBEL<br>
<br>
When the vault echoes to the song,<br>
One first perceives the bass is deep and strong.<br>
<br>
FROSCH<br>
<br>
Well said! and out with him that takes the least offence!<br>
<div class="indenteds">
    <i>Ah, tara, lara da</i>!<br>
</div>
<br>
ALTMAYER<br>
<br>
<div class="indenteds">
    <i>Ah, tara, lara, da</i>!<br>
</div>
<br>
FROSCH<br>
<br>
The throats are tuned, commence!<br>
<br>

<div class="indentedss">
    (<i>Sings</i>.)<br>
</div>
<br>
<div class="indented">
    <i>The dear old holy Roman realm,<br>
        How does it hold together</i>?<br>
</div>
<br>
BRANDER<br>
<br>
A nasty song! Fie! a political song—<br>
A most offensive song! Thank God, each morning, therefore,<br>
That you have not the Roman realm to care for!<br>
At least, I hold it so much gain for me,<br>
That I nor Chancellor nor Kaiser be.<br>
Yet also we must have a ruling head, I hope,<br>
And so we'll choose ourselves a Pope.<br>
You know the quality that can<br>
Decide the choice, and elevate the man.<br>
<br>
FROSCH<br>
<div class="indentedss">
    (<i>sings</i>)<br>
    <br>
</div>
<div class="indented">
    <p><i>Soar up, soar up, Dame Nightingale!</i><br>
        Ten thousand times my sweetheart hail!</p>
</div>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>No, greet my sweetheart not! I tell you, I'll resent it.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>My sweetheart greet and kiss! I dare you to prevent it!</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>(<i>Sings</i>.)<br>
    </p>
</div>
<br>
<div class="indented">
    <p><i>Draw the latch! the darkness makes:</i><br>
        Draw the latch! the lover wakes.<br>
        Shut the latch! the morning breaks</p>
</div>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>Yes, sing away, sing on, and praise, and brag of her!<br>
    I'll wait my proper time for laughter:<br>
    Me by the nose she led, and now she'll lead you after.<br>
    Her paramour should be an ugly gnome,<br>
    Where four roads cross, in wanton play to meet her:<br>
    An old he-goat, from Blocksberg coming home,<br>
    Should his good-night in lustful gallop bleat her!<br>
    A fellow made of genuine flesh and blood<br>
    Is for the wench a deal too good.<br>
    Greet her? Not I: unless, when meeting,<br>
    To smash her windows be a greeting!</p>
<p>BRANDER (<i>pounding on the table</i>)</p>
<p>Attention! Hearken now to me!<br>
    Confess, Sirs, I know how to live.<br>
    Enamored persons here have we,<br>
    And I, as suits their quality,<br>
    Must something fresh for their advantage give.<br>
    Take heed! 'Tis of the latest cut, my strain,<br>
    And all strike in at each refrain!</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">(<i>He sings</i>.)</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">There was a rat in the cellar-nest,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Whom fat and butter made smoother:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He had a paunch beneath his vest</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Like that of Doctor Luther.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The cook laid poison cunningly,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And then as sore oppressed was he</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As if he had love in his bosom.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">CHORUS (<i>shouting</i>)</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As if he had love in his bosom!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">BRANDER</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He ran around, he ran about,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">His thirst in puddles laving;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He gnawed and scratched the house
        throughout.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">But nothing cured his raving.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He whirled and jumped, with torment
        mad,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And soon enough the poor beast had,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As if he had love in his bosom.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">CHORUS</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As if he had love in his bosom!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">BRANDER</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And driven at last, in open day,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He ran into the kitchen,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Fell on the hearth, and squirming
        lay,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In the last convulsion twitching.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Then laughed the murderess in her
        glee:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Ha! ha! he's at his last gasp," said
        she,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"As if he had love in his bosom!"</span><br>
</p>
<p>CHORUS</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As if he had love in his bosom!</span><br>
</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>How the dull fools enjoy the matter!<br>
    To me it is a proper art<br>
    Poison for such poor rats to scatter.</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>Perhaps you'll warmly take their part?</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>The bald-pate pot-belly I have noted:<br>
    Misfortune tames him by degrees;<br>
    For in the rat by poison bloated<br>
    His own most natural form he sees.</p>
<p>FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Before all else, I bring thee hither<br>
    Where boon companions meet together,<br>
    To let thee see how smooth life runs away.<br>
    Here, for the folk, each day's a holiday:<br>
    With little wit, and ease to suit them,<br>
    They whirl in narrow, circling trails,<br>
    Like kittens playing with their tails?<br>
    And if no headache persecute them,<br>
    So long the host may credit give,<br>
    They merrily and careless live.</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>The fact is easy to unravel,<br>
    Their air's so odd, they've just returned from travel:<br>
    A single hour they've not been here.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>You've verily hit the truth! Leipzig to me is dear:<br>
    Paris in miniature, how it refines its people!</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>Who are the strangers, should you guess?</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>Let me alone! I'll set them first to drinking,<br>
    And then, as one a child's tooth draws, with cleverness,<br>
    I'll worm their secret out, I'm thinking.<br>
    They're of a noble house, that's very clear:<br>
    Haughty and discontented they appear.</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>They're mountebanks, upon a revel.</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>Perhaps.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>Look out, I'll smoke them now!</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> FAUST)</p>
<p>Not if he had them by the neck, I vow,<br>
    Would e'er these people scent the Devil!</p>
<p>FAUST Fair greeting, gentlemen!</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Our thanks: we give the same.<br>
    </p>
</div>
<div class="indented">
    (<i>Murmurs, inspecting</i> MEPHISTOPHELES <i>from the side</i>.)<br>
</div>
In one foot is the fellow lame?<br>
<br>

<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Is it permitted that we share your leisure?<br>
    In place of cheering drink, which one seeks vainly here,<br>
    Your company shall give us pleasure.</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>A most fastidious person you appear.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>No doubt 'twas late when you from Rippach started?<br>
    And supping there with Hans occasioned your delay?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>We passed, without a call, to-day.<br>
    At our last interview, before we parted<br>
    Much of his cousins did he speak, entreating<br>
    That we should give to each his kindly greeting.</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>(<i>He bows to</i> FROSCH.)</p>
</div>
<p>ALTMAYER (<i>aside</i>)</p>
<p>You have it now! he understands.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>A knave sharp-set!</p>
</div>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>Just wait awhile: I'll have him yet.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>If I am right, we heard the sound<br>
    Of well-trained voices, singing chorus;<br>
    And truly, song must here rebound<br>
    Superbly from the arches o'er us.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>Are you, perhaps, a virtuoso?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>O no! my wish is great, my power is only so-so.</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>Give us a song!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>If you desire, a number.</p>
</div>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>So that it be a bran-new strain!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>We've just retraced our way from. Spain,<br>
    The lovely land of wine, and song, and slumber.</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>(<i>Sings</i>.)</p>
</div>
<p>There was a king once reigning,<br>
    Who had a big black flea—</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>Hear, hear! A flea! D'ye rightly take the jest?<br>
    I call a flea a tidy guest.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>sings</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">There was a king once reigning,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Who had a big black flea,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And loved him past explaining,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As his own son were he.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He called his man of stitches;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The tailor came straightway:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Here, measure the lad for breeches.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And measure his coat, I say!</span><br>
</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>But mind, allow the tailor no caprices:<br>
    Enjoin upon him, as his head is dear,<br>
    To most exactly measure, sew and shear,<br>
    So that the breeches have no creases!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In silk and velvet gleaming</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He now was wholly drest—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Had a coat with ribbons streaming,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">A cross upon his breast.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He had the first of stations,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">A minister's star and name;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And also all his relations</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Great lords at court became.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the lords and ladies of honor</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Were plagued, awake and in bed;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The queen she got them upon her,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The maids were bitten and bled.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And they did not dare to brush them,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Or scratch them, day or night:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">We crack them and we crush them,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">At once, whene'er they bite.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">CHORUS (<i>shouting</i>)</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">We crack them and we crush them,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">At once, whene'er they bite!</span><br>
</p>
<p>FROSCH Bravo! bravo! that was fine.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>Every flea may it so befall!</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>Point your fingers and nip them all!</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>Hurrah for Freedom! Hurrah for wine!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I fain would drink with you, my glass to Freedom clinking,<br>
    If 'twere a better wine that here I see you drinking.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>Don't let us hear that speech again!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Did I not fear the landlord might complain,<br>
    I'd treat these worthy guests, with pleasure,<br>
    To some from out our cellar's treasure.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>Just treat, and let the landlord me arraign!</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>And if the wine be good, our praises shall be ample.<br>
    But do not give too very small a sample;<br>
    For, if its quality I decide,<br>
    With a good mouthful I must be supplied.</p>
<p>ALTMAYER (<i>aside</i>)</p>
<p>They're from the Rhine! I guessed as much, before.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Bring me a gimlet here!</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>What shall therewith be done?<br>
    </p>
</div>
You've not the casks already at the door?<br>
<br>

<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>Yonder, within the landlord's box of tools, there's one!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>takes the gimlet</i>)</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>(<i>To</i> FROSCH.)</p>
</div>
<p>Now, give me of your taste some intimation.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>How do you mean? Have you so many kinds?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>The choice is free: make up your minds.</p>
<p>ALTMAYER (<i>to</i> FROSCH)</p>
<p>Aha! you lick your chops, from sheer anticipation.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>Good! if I have the choice, so let the wine be Rhenish!<br>
    Our Fatherland can best the sparkling cup replenish.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>(<i>boring a hole in the edge of the table, at the place where</i><br>
    FROSCH <i>sits</i>)</p>
<p>Get me a little wax, to make the stoppers, quick!</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>Ah! I perceive a juggler's trick.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> BRANDER)</p>
<p>And you?</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>Champagne shall be my wine,<br>
    And let it sparkle fresh and fine!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>(<i>bores: in the meantime one has made the wax stoppers, and<br>
        plugged the holes with them</i>.)</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>What's foreign one can't always keep quite clear of,<br>
    For good things, oft, are not so near;<br>
    A German can't endure the French to see or hear of,<br>
    Yet drinks their wines with hearty cheer.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>(<i>as</i> MEPHISTOPHELES <i>approaches his seat</i>)<br>
    For me, I grant, sour wine is out of place;<br>
    Fill up my glass with sweetest, will you?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>boring</i>)</p>
<p>Tokay shall flow at once, to fill you!</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>No—look me, Sirs, straight in the face!<br>
    I see you have your fun at our expense.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>O no! with gentlemen of such pretence,<br>
    That were to venture far, indeed.<br>
    Speak out, and make your choice with speed! With what a vintage can I serve you?</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>With any—only satisfy our need.</p>
<p>(<i>After the holes have been bored and plugged</i>)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>with singular gestures</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Grapes the vine-stem bears,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Horns the he-goat wears!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The grapes are juicy, the vines are
        wood,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The wooden table gives wine as good!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Into the depths of Nature
        peer,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Only believe there's a miracle here!</span><br>
</p>
<p>Now draw the stoppers, and drink your fill!</p>
<p>ALL</p>
<p>(<i>as they draw out the stoppers, and the wine which has been<br>
        desired flows into the glass of each)</i></p>
<p>O beautiful fountain, that flows at will!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>But have a care that you nothing spill!</p>
<p>(<i>They drink repeatedly</i>.)</p>
<p>ALL (<i>sing</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As 'twere five hundred hogs, we
        feel</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">So cannibalic jolly!</span><br>
</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>See, now, the race is happy—it is free!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>To leave them is my inclination.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Take notice, first! their bestiality<br>
    Will make a brilliant demonstration.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>(<i>drinks carelessly: the wine spills upon the earth, and turns to<br>
        flame</i>)</p>
<p>Help! Fire! Help! Hell-fire is sent!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>charming away the flame)</i></p>
<p>Be quiet, friendly element!</p>
<p>(<i>To the revellers</i>)</p>
<p>A bit of purgatory 'twas for this time, merely.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>What mean you? Wait!—you'll pay for't dearly!<br>
    You'll know us, to your detriment.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>Don't try that game a second time upon us!</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>I think we'd better send him packing quietly.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>What, Sir! you dare to make so free,<br>
    And play your hocus-pocus on us!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Be still, old wine-tub.</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>Broomstick, you!<br>
    You face it out, impertinent and heady?</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>Just wait! a shower of blows is ready.</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>(<i>draws a stopper out of the table: fire flies in his face</i>.)<br>
    I burn! I burn!</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>'Tis magic! Strike—<br>
    The knave is outlawed! Cut him as you like!<br>
    (<i>They draw their knives, and rush upon</i> MEPHISTOPHELES.)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>with solemn gestures</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">False word and form of air,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Change place, and sense ensnare!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Be here—and there!</span><br>
</p>
<p>(<i>They stand amazed and look at each other</i>.)</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>Where am I? What a lovely land!</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>Vines? Can I trust my eyes?</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>And purple grapes at hand!</p>
</div>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>Here, over this green arbor bending,<br>
    See what a vine! what grapes depending!</p>
<p>(<i>He takes</i> SIEBEL <i>by the nose: the others do the same reciprocally,<br>
        and raise their knives</i>.)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>as above</i>)</p>
<p>Loose, Error, from their eyes the band,<br>
    And how the Devil jests, be now enlightened!</p>
<p>(<i>He disappears with</i> FAUST: <i>the revellers start and separate</i>.)</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>What happened?</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>How?</p>
</div>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Was that your nose I tightened?</p>
</div>
<p>BRANDER (<i>to</i> SIEBEL)</p>
<p>And yours that still I have in hand?</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>It was a blow that went through every limb!<br>
    Give me a chair! I sink! my senses swim.</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>But what has happened, tell me now?</p>
<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>Where is he? If I catch the scoundrel hiding,<br>
    He shall not leave alive, I vow.</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>I saw him with these eyes upon a wine-cask riding<br>
    Out of the cellar-door, just now.<br>
    Still in my feet the fright like lead is weighing.<br>
</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    (<i>He turns towards the table</i>.)<br>
</div>
<br>
Why! If the fount of wine should still be playing?<br>
<br>

<p>SIEBEL</p>
<p>'Twas all deceit, and lying, false design!</p>
<p>FROSCH</p>
<p>And yet it seemed as I were drinking wine.</p>
<p>BRANDER</p>
<p>But with the grapes how was it, pray?</p>
<p>ALTMAYER</p>
<p>Shall one believe no miracles, just say!</p>
<br>
<br>

<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-117"></a> <img src="images/Illus-117.jpg" alt="Witches' Kitchen" title="Witches' Kitchen">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<br>
<br>

<div class="left">
    <a id="illus-118"></a> <img src="images/Illus-118.jpg" alt="Witches' Kitchen" title="Witches' Kitchen">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2>
<p>WITCHES' KITCHEN</p>
<p>(<i>Upon a low hearth stands a great caldron, under which a fire<br>
        is burning. Various figures appear in the vapors which<br>
        rise from the caldron. An ape sits beside it, skims it, and<br>
        watches lest it boil over. The he-ape, with the young<br>
        ones, sits near and warms himself. Ceiling and walls are<br>
        covered with the most fantastic witch-implements</i>.)</p>
<p>FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>These crazy signs of witches' craft repel me!<br>
    I shall recover, dost thou tell me,<br>
    Through this insane, chaotic play?<br>
    From an old hag shall I demand assistance?<br>
    And will her foul mess take away<br>
    Full thirty years from my existence?<br>
    Woe's me, canst thou naught better find!<br>
    Another baffled hope must be lamented:<br>
    Has Nature, then, and has a noble mind<br>
    Not any potent balsam yet invented?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Once more, my friend, thou talkest sensibly.<br>
    There is, to make thee young, a simpler mode and apter;<br>
    But in another book 'tis writ for thee,<br>
    And is a most eccentric chapter.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Yet will I know it.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Good! the method is revealed<br>
    Without or gold or magic or physician.<br>
    Betake thyself to yonder field,<br>
    There hoe and dig, as thy condition;<br>
    Restrain thyself, thy sense and will<br>
    Within a narrow sphere to flourish;<br>
    With unmixed food thy body nourish;<br>
    Live with the ox as ox, and think it not a theft<br>
    That thou manur'st the acre which thou reapest;—<br>
    That, trust me, is the best mode left,<br>
    Whereby for eighty years thy youth thou keepest!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>I am not used to that; I cannot stoop to try it—<br>
    To take the spade in hand, and ply it.<br>
    The narrow being suits me not at all.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Then to thine aid the witch must call.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Wherefore the hag, and her alone?<br>
    Canst thou thyself not brew the potion?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>That were a charming sport, I own:<br>
    I'd build a thousand bridges meanwhile, I've a notion.<br>
    Not Art and Science serve, alone;<br>
    Patience must in the work be shown.<br>
    Long is the calm brain active in creation;<br>
    Time, only, strengthens the fine fermentation.<br>
    And all, belonging thereunto,<br>
    Is rare and strange, howe'er you take it:<br>
    The Devil taught the thing, 'tis true,<br>
    And yet the Devil cannot make it.<br>
    (<i>Perceiving the Animals</i>)<br>
    See, what a delicate race they be!<br>
    That is the maid! the man is he!<br>
    (<i>To the Animals</i>)<br>
    It seems the mistress has gone away?</p>
<p>THE ANIMALS</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Carousing, to-day!<br>
        Off and about,<br>
        By the chimney out!</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>What time takes she for dissipating?</p>
<p>THE ANIMALS</p>
<p>While we to warm our paws are waiting.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> FAUST)</p>
<p>How findest thou the tender creatures?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Absurder than I ever yet did see.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Why, just such talk as this, for me,<br>
    Is that which has the most attractive features!</p>
<p>(<i>To the Animals</i>)</p>
<p>But tell me now, ye cursed puppets,<br>
    Why do ye stir the porridge so?</p>
<p>THE ANIMALS</p>
<p>We're cooking watery soup for beggars.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Then a great public you can show.</p>
<p>THE HE-APE</p>
<p>(<i>comes up and fawns on</i> MEPHISTOPHELES)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">O cast thou the dice!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Make me rich in a trice,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Let me win in good season!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Things are badly controlled,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And had I but gold,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">So had I my reason.</span><br>
</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>How would the ape be sure his luck enhances.<br>
    Could he but try the lottery's chances!</p>
<p>(<i>In the meantime the young apes have been playing with a<br>
        large ball, which they now roll forward</i>.)</p>
<p>THE HE-APE</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The world's the ball:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Doth rise and fall,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And roll incessant:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Like glass doth ring,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">A hollow thing,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">How soon will't spring,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And drop, quiescent?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Here bright it gleams,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Here brighter seems:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I live at present!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Dear son, I say,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Keep thou away!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Thy doom is spoken!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Tis made of clay,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And will be broken.</span><br>
</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>What means the sieve?</p>
<p>THE HE-APE (<i>taking it down</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Wert thou the thief,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I'd know him and shame him.</span><br>
    <br>
    (<i>He runs to the</i> SHE-APE, <i>and lets her look through it</i>.)<br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Look through the sieve!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Know'st thou the thief,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And darest not name him?</span><br>
</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>approaching the fire)</i></p>
<p>And what's this pot?</p>
<p>HE-APE AND SHE-APE</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The fool knows it not!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He knows not the pot,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He knows not the kettle!</span><br>
</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Impertinent beast!</p>
<p>THE HE-APE</p>
<p>Take the brush here, at least,<br>
    And sit down on the settle!</p>
<p>(<i>He invites</i> MEPHISTOPHELES <i>to sit down</i>.)</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>(<i>who during all this time has been standing before a mirror,<br>
        now approaching and now retreating from it</i>)</p>
<p>What do I see? What heavenly form revealed<br>
    Shows through the glass from Magic's fair dominions!<br>
    O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions,<br>
    And bear me to her beauteous field!<br>
    Ah, if I leave this spot with fond designing,<br>
    If I attempt to venture near,<br>
    Dim, as through gathering mist, her charms appear!—<br>
    A woman's form, in beauty shining!<br>
    Can woman, then, so lovely be?<br>
    And must I find her body, there reclining,<br>
    Of all the heavens the bright epitome?<br>
    Can Earth with such a thing be mated?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Why, surely, if a God first plagues Himself six days,<br>
    Then, self-contented, <i>Bravo</i>! says,<br>
    Must something clever be created.<br>
    This time, thine eyes be satiate!<br>
    I'll yet detect thy sweetheart and ensnare her,<br>
    And blest is he, who has the lucky fate,<br>
    Some day, as bridegroom, home to bear her.</p>
<p>(FAUST <i>gazes continually in the mirror</i>. MEPHISTOPHELES,<br>
    <i>stretching himself out on the settle, and playing with the<br>
        brush, continues to speak</i>.)</p>
<p>So sit I, like the King upon his throne:<br>
    I hold the sceptre, here,—and lack the crown alone.</p>
<p>THE ANIMALS</p>
<p>(<i>who up to this time have been making all kinds of fantastic<br>
        movements together bring a crown to</i> MEPHISTOPHELES<br>
    <i>with great noise</i>.)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">O be thou so good</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With sweat and with blood</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The crown to belime!</span><br>
</p>
<p>(<i>They handle the crown awkwardly and break it into two<br>
        pieces, with which they spring around</i>.)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Tis done, let it be!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">We speak and we see,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">We hear and we rhyme!</span><br>
</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>before the mirror</i>)</p>
<p>Woe's me! I fear to lose my wits.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>pointing to the Animals</i>)</p>
<p>My own head, now, is really nigh to sinking.</p>
<p>THE ANIMALS</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">If lucky our hits,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And everything fits,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Tis thoughts, and we're thinking!</span><br>
</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>as above</i>)</p>
<p>My bosom burns with that sweet vision;<br>
    Let us, with speed, away from here!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>in the same attitude</i>)</p>
<p>One must, at least, make this admission—<br>
    They're poets, genuine and sincere.</p>
<p>(<i>The caldron, which the</i> SHE-APE <i>has up to this time neglected<br>
        to watch, begins to boil over: there ensues a great flame</i>,<br>
    <i>which blazes out the chimney. The</i> WITCH <i>comes careering<br>
        down through the flame, with terrible cries</i>.)</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Ow! ow! ow! ow!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The damnéd beast—the curséd
        sow!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">To leave the kettle, and singe the
        Frau!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Accurséd fere!</span><br>
</p>
<p>(<i>Perceiving</i> FAUST <i>and</i> MEPHISTOPHELES.)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">What is that here?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Who are you here?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">What want you thus?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Who sneaks to us?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The fire-pain</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Burn bone and brain!</span><br>
</p>
<p>(<i>She plunges the skimming-ladle into the caldron, and scatters<br>
        flames towards</i> FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, <i>and the Animals.<br>
        The Animals whimper</i>.)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>(<i>reversing the brush, which he has been holding in his hand,<br>
        and striding among the jars and glasses</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 5em;">In two! in two!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">There lies the brew!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">There lies the glass!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">The joke will pass,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">As time, foul ass!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 5em;">To the singing of thy crew.</span><br>
</p>
<p>(<i>As the</i> WITCH <i>starts back, full of wrath and horror</i>)</p>
<p>Ha! know'st thou me? Abomination, thou!<br>
    Know'st thou, at last, thy Lord and Master?<br>
    What hinders me from smiting now<br>
    Thee and thy monkey-sprites with fell disaster?<br>
    Hast for the scarlet coat no reverence?<br>
    Dost recognize no more the tall cock's-feather?<br>
    Have I concealed this countenance?—<br>
    Must tell my name, old face of leather?</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p>O pardon, Sir, the rough salute!<br>
    Yet I perceive no cloven foot;<br>
    And both your ravens, where are <i>they</i> now?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>This time, I'll let thee 'scape the debt;<br>
    For since we two together met,<br>
    'Tis verily full many a day now.<br>
    Culture, which smooth the whole world licks,<br>
    Also unto the Devil sticks.<br>
    The days of that old Northern phantom now are over:<br>
    Where canst thou horns and tail and claws discover?<br>
    And, as regards the foot, which I can't spare, in truth,<br>
    'Twould only make the people shun me;<br>
    Therefore I've worn, like many a spindly youth,<br>
    False calves these many years upon me.</p>
<p>THE WITCH (<i>dancing</i>)</p>
<p>Reason and sense forsake my brain,<br>
    Since I behold Squire Satan here again!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Woman, from such a name refrain!</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p>Why so? What has it done to thee?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>It's long been written in the Book of Fable;<br>
    Yet, therefore, no whit better men we see:<br>
    The Evil One has left, the evil ones are stable.<br>
    Sir Baron call me thou, then is the matter good;<br>
    A cavalier am I, like others in my bearing.<br>
    Thou hast no doubt about my noble blood:<br>
    See, here's the coat-of-arms that I am wearing!</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>(<i>He makes an indecent gesture</i>.)</p>
</div>
<p>THE WITCH (<i>laughs immoderately</i>)</p>
<p>Ha! ha! That's just your way, I know:<br>
    A rogue you are, and you were always so.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> FAUST)</p>
<p>My friend, take proper heed, I pray!<br>
    To manage witches, this is just the way.</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p>Wherein, Sirs, can I be of use?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Give us a goblet of the well-known juice!<br>
    But, I must beg you, of the oldest brewage;<br>
    The years a double strength produce.</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p>With all my heart! Now, here's a bottle,<br>
    Wherefrom, sometimes, I wet my throttle,<br>
    Which, also, not the slightest, stinks;<br>
    And willingly a glass I'll fill him.</p>
<p>(<i>Whispering</i>)</p>
<p>Yet, if this man without due preparation drinks,<br>
    As well thou know'st, within an hour 'twill kill him.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>He is a friend of mine, with whom it will agree,<br>
    And he deserves thy kitchen's best potation:<br>
    Come, draw thy circle, speak thine adjuration,<br>
    And fill thy goblet full and free!</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p>(<i>with fantastic gestures draws a circle and places mysterious<br>
        articles therein; meanwhile the glasses begin to ring, the<br>
        caldron to sound, and make a musical accompaniment.<br>
        Finally she brings a great book, and stations in the circle<br>
        the Apes, who are obliged to serve as reading-desk, and to<br>
        hold the torches. She then beckons</i> FAUST <i>to approach</i>.)</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>to</i> MEPHISTOPHELES)</p>
<p>Now, what shall come of this? the creatures antic,<br>
    The crazy stuff, the gestures frantic,—<br>
    All the repulsive cheats I view,—<br>
    Are known to me, and hated, too.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>O, nonsense! That's a thing for laughter;<br>
    Don't be so terribly severe!<br>
    She juggles you as doctor now, that, after,<br>
    The beverage may work the proper cheer.</p>
<p>(<i>He persuades</i> FAUST <i>to step into the circle</i>.)</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p>(<i>begins to declaim, with much emphasis, from the book</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">See, thus it's done!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Make ten of one,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And two let be,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Make even three,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And rich thou 'It be.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Cast o'er the four!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">From five and six</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">(The witch's tricks)</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Make seven and eight,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Tis finished straight!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And nine is one,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And ten is none.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">This is the witch's once-one's-one!</span><br>
</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>She talks like one who raves in fever.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Thou'lt hear much more before we leave her.<br>
    'Tis all the same: the book I can repeat,<br>
    Such time I've squandered o'er the history:<br>
    A contradiction thus complete<br>
    Is always for the wise, no less than fools, a mystery.<br>
    The art is old and new, for verily<br>
    All ages have been taught the matter,—<br>
    By Three and One, and One and Three,<br>
    Error instead of Truth to scatter.<br>
    They prate and teach, and no one interferes;<br>
    All from the fellowship of fools are shrinking.<br>
    Man usually believes, if only words he hears,<br>
    That also with them goes material for thinking!</p>
<p>THE WITCH (<i>continues</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The lofty skill</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Of Science, still</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">From all men deeply hidden!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Who takes no thought,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">To him 'tis brought,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Tis given unsought, unbidden!</span><br>
</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>What nonsense she declaims before us!<br>
    My head is nigh to split, I fear:<br>
    It seems to me as if I hear<br>
    A hundred thousand fools in chorus.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>O Sibyl excellent, enough of adjuration!<br>
    But hither bring us thy potation,<br>
    And quickly fill the beaker to the brim!<br>
    This drink will bring my friend no injuries:<br>
    He is a man of manifold degrees,<br>
    And many draughts are known to him.</p>
<p>(<i>The</i> WITCH, <i>with many ceremonies, pours the drink into a<br>
        cup; as</i> FAUST <i>sets it to his lips, a light flame arises</i>.)</p>
<p>Down with it quickly! Drain it off!<br>
    'Twill warm thy heart with new desire:<br>
    Art with the Devil hand and glove,<br>
    And wilt thou be afraid of fire?</p>
<p>(<i>The</i> WITCH <i>breaks the circle</i>: FAUST <i>steps forth</i>.)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And now, away! Thou dar'st not rest.</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p>And much good may the liquor do thee!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to the</i> WITCH)</p>
<p>Thy wish be on Walpurgis Night expressed;<br>
    What boon I have, shall then be given unto thee.</p>
<p>THE WITCH</p>
<p>Here is a song, which, if you sometimes sing,<br>
    You'll find it of peculiar operation.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> FAUST)</p>
<p>Come, walk at once! A rapid occupation<br>
    Must start the needful perspiration,<br>
    And through thy frame the liquor's potence fling.<br>
    The noble indolence I'll teach thee then to treasure,<br>
    And soon thou'lt be aware, with keenest thrills of pleasure,<br>
    How Cupid stirs and leaps, on light and restless wing.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>One rapid glance within the mirror give me,<br>
    How beautiful that woman-form!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>No, no! The paragon of all, believe me,<br>
    Thou soon shalt see, alive and warm.</p>
<p><i>(Aside)</i></p>
<p>Thou'lt find, this drink thy blood compelling,<br>
    Each woman beautiful as Helen!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-131"></a> <img src="images/Illus-131.jpg" alt="Street" title="Street">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-132"></a> <img src="images/Illus-132.jpg" alt="Street" title="Street">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2>
<p>STREET</p>
<p>FAUST MARGARET <i>(passing by)</i></p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Fair lady, let it not offend you,<br>
    That arm and escort I would lend you!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I'm neither lady, neither fair,<br>
    And home I can go without your care.</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>She releases herself, and exit</i>.</p>
</div>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>By Heaven, the girl is wondrous fair!<br>
    Of all I've seen, beyond compare;<br>
    So sweetly virtuous and pure,<br>
    And yet a little pert, be sure!<br>
    The lip so red, the cheek's clear dawn,</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-133"></a> <img src="images/Illus-133.jpg" alt="So sweetly virtuous and pure,and yet a little pert be sure." title="So sweetly virtuous and pure,and yet a little pert be sure.">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<p>I'll not forget while the world rolls on!<br>
    How she cast down her timid eyes,<br>
    Deep in my heart imprinted lies:<br>
    How short and sharp of speech was she,<br>
    Why, 'twas a real ecstasy!</p>
<p>(MEPHISTOPHELES <i>enters</i>)</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Hear, of that girl I'd have possession!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Which, then?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>The one who just went by.</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>She, there? She's coming from confession,<br>
    Of every sin absolved; for I,<br>
    Behind her chair, was listening nigh.<br>
    So innocent is she, indeed,<br>
    That to confess she had no need.<br>
    I have no power o'er souls so green.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>And yet, she's older than fourteen.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>How now! You're talking like Jack Rake,<br>
    Who every flower for himself would take,<br>
    And fancies there are no favors more,<br>
    Nor honors, save for him in store;<br>
    Yet always doesn't the thing succeed.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Most Worthy Pedagogue, take heed!<br>
    Let not a word of moral law be spoken!<br>
    I claim, I tell thee, all my right;<br>
    And if that image of delight<br>
    Rest not within mine arms to-night,<br>
    At midnight is our compact broken.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>But think, the chances of the case!<br>
    I need, at least, a fortnight's space,<br>
    To find an opportune occasion.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Had I but seven hours for all,<br>
    I should not on the Devil call,<br>
    But win her by my own persuasion.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>You almost like a Frenchman prate;<br>
    Yet, pray, don't take it as annoyance!<br>
    Why, all at once, exhaust the joyance?<br>
    Your bliss is by no means so great<br>
    As if you'd use, to get control,<br>
    All sorts of tender rigmarole,<br>
    And knead and shape her to your thought,<br>
    As in Italian tales 'tis taught.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Without that, I have appetite.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>But now, leave jesting out of sight!<br>
    I tell you, once for all, that speed<br>
    With this fair girl will not succeed;<br>
    By storm she cannot captured be;<br>
    We must make use of strategy.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Get me something the angel keeps!<br>
    Lead me thither where she sleeps!<br>
    Get me a kerchief from her breast,—<br>
    A garter that her knee has pressed!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>That you may see how much I'd fain<br>
    Further and satisfy your pain,<br>
    We will no longer lose a minute;<br>
    I'll find her room to-day, and take you in it.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>And shall I see—possess her?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>No!<br>
    </p>
</div>
Unto a neighbor she must go,<br>
And meanwhile thou, alone, mayst glow<br>
With every hope of future pleasure,<br>
Breathing her atmosphere in fullest measure.<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Can we go thither?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>'Tis too early yet.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>A gift for her I bid thee get!<br>
</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    [<i>Exit</i>.<br>
    <br>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Presents at once? That's good: he's certain to get at her!<br>
    Full many a pleasant place I know,<br>
    And treasures, buried long ago:<br>
    I must, perforce, look up the matter. <i>[Exit</i>.</p>
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-138"></a> <img src="images/Illus-138.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2>
<p>EVENING A SMALL, NEATLY KEPT CHAMBER</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>(<i>plaiting and binding up the braids of her hair</i>)</p>
<p>I'd something give, could I but say<br>
    Who was that gentleman, to-day.<br>
    Surely a gallant man was he,<br>
    And of a noble family;<br>
    And much could I in his face behold,—<br>
    And he wouldn't, else, have been so bold!</p>
<span style="margin-left: 15em;">[<i>Exit</i></span><br>

<p>MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Come in, but gently: follow me!</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>after a moment's silence</i>)</p>
<p>Leave me alone, I beg of thee!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>prying about</i>)</p>
<p>Not every girl keeps things so neat.</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>looking around</i>)</p>
<p>O welcome, twilight soft and sweet,<br>
    That breathes throughout this hallowed shrine!<br>
    Sweet pain of love, bind thou with fetters fleet<br>
    The heart that on the dew of hope must pine!<br>
    How all around a sense impresses<br>
    Of quiet, order, and content!<br>
    This poverty what bounty blesses!<br>
    What bliss within this narrow den is pent!</p>
<p>(<i>He throws himself into a leathern arm-chair near the bed</i>.)</p>
<p>Receive me, thou, that in thine open arms<br>
    Departed joy and pain wert wont to gather!<br>
    How oft the children, with their ruddy charms,<br>
    Hung here, around this throne, where sat the father!<br>
    Perchance my love, amid the childish band,<br>
    Grateful for gifts the Holy Christmas gave her,<br>
    Here meekly kissed the grandsire's withered hand.<br>
    I feel, O maid! thy very soul<br>
    Of order and content around me whisper,—<br>
    Which leads thee with its motherly control,<br>
    The cloth upon thy board bids smoothly thee unroll,<br>
    The sand beneath thy feet makes whiter, crisper.<br>
    O dearest hand, to thee 'tis given<br>
    To change this hut into a lower heaven!<br>
    And here!</p>
<p>(<i>He lifts one of the bed-curtains</i>.)</p>
<p>What sweetest thrill is in my blood!<br>
    Here could I spend whole hours, delaying:<br>
    Here Nature shaped, as if in sportive playing,<br>
    The angel blossom from the bud.<br>
    Here lay the child, with Life's warm essence<br>
    The tender bosom filled and fair,<br>
    And here was wrought, through holier, purer presence,<br>
    The form diviner beings wear!</p>
<p>And I? What drew me here with power?<br>
    How deeply am I moved, this hour!<br>
    What seek I? Why so full my heart, and sore?<br>
    Miserable Faust! I know thee now no more.</p>
<p>Is there a magic vapor here?<br>
    I came, with lust of instant pleasure,<br>
    And lie dissolved in dreams of love's sweet leisure!<br>
    Are we the sport of every changeful atmosphere?</p>
<p>And if, this moment, came she in to me,<br>
    How would I for the fault atonement render!<br>
    How small the giant lout would be,<br>
    Prone at her feet, relaxed and tender!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Be quick! I see her there, returning.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Go! go! I never will retreat.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Here is a casket, not unmeet,<br>
    Which elsewhere I have just been earning.<br>
    Here, set it in the press, with haste!<br>
    I swear, 'twill turn her head, to spy it:<br>
    Some baubles I therein had placed,<br>
    That you might win another by it.<br>
    True, child is child, and play is play.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>I know not, should I do it?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Ask you, pray?</p>
</div>
Yourself, perhaps, would keep the bubble?<br>
Then I suggest, 'twere fair and just<br>
To spare the lovely day your lust,<br>
And spare to me the further trouble.<br>
You are not miserly, I trust?<br>
I rub my hands, in expectation tender—<br>
<br>

<p>(<i>He places the casket in the press, and locks it again</i>.)</p>
<p>Now quick, away!<br>
    The sweet young maiden to betray,<br>
    So that by wish and will you bend her;<br>
    And you look as though<br>
    To the lecture-hall you were forced to go,—<br>
    As if stood before you, gray and loath,<br>
    Physics and Metaphysics both!<br>
    But away!</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    [<i>Exeunt</i>.<br>
    <br>
</div>
<p>MARGARET (<i>with a lamp</i>)</p>
<p>It is so close, so sultry, here!</p>
<p>(<i>She opens the window</i>)</p>
<p>And yet 'tis not so warm outside.<br>
    I feel, I know not why, such fear!—<br>
    Would mother came!—where can she bide?<br>
    My body's chill and shuddering,—<br>
    I'm but a silly, fearsome thing!</p>
<p>(<i>She begins to sing while undressing</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">There was a King in Thule,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Was faithful till the grave,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">To whom his mistress, dying,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">A golden goblet gave.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Naught was to him more precious;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">He drained it at every bout:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">His eyes with tears ran over,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">As oft as he drank thereout.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">When came his time of dying,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The towns in his land he told,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Naught else to his heir denying</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Except the goblet of gold.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">He sat at the royal banquet</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">With his knights of high degree,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">In the lofty hall of his fathers</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">In the Castle by the Sea.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">There stood the old carouser,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And drank the last life-glow;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And hurled the hallowed goblet</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Into the tide below.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">He saw it plunging and filling,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And sinking deep in the sea:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Then fell his eyelids forever,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And never more drank he!</span><br>
</p>
<p>(<i>She opens the press in order to arrange her clothes, and perceives<br>
        the casket of jewels</i>.)</p>
<p>How comes that lovely casket here to me?<br>
    I locked the press, most certainly.<br>
    'Tis truly wonderful! What can within it be?<br>
    Perhaps 'twas brought by some one as a pawn,<br>
    And mother gave a loan thereon?<br>
    And here there hangs a key to fit:<br>
    I have a mind to open it.<br>
    What is that? God in Heaven! Whence came<br>
    Such things? Never beheld I aught so fair!<br>
    Rich ornaments, such as a noble dame<br>
    On highest holidays might wear!<br>
    How would the pearl-chain suit my hair?<br>
    Ah, who may all this splendor own?</p>
<p>(<i>She adorns herself with the jewelry, and steps before the<br>
        mirror</i>.)</p>
<p>Were but the ear-rings mine, alone!<br>
    One has at once another air.<br>
    What helps one's beauty, youthful blood?<br>
    One may possess them, well and good;<br>
    But none the more do others care.<br>
    They praise us half in pity, sure:<br>
    To gold still tends,<br>
    On gold depends<br>
    All, all! Alas, we poor!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-143"></a> <img src="images/Illus-143.jpg" alt="Promenade" title="Promenade">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-144"></a> <img src="images/Illus-144.jpg" alt="Promenade" title="Promenade">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2>
<p>PROMENADE</p>
<p>(FAUST, <i>walking thoughtfully up and down. To him</i> MEPHISTOPHELES.)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>By all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and unsparing!<br>
    I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it for<br>
    swearing!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>What ails thee? What is't gripes thee, elf?<br>
    A face like thine beheld I never.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I would myself unto the Devil deliver,<br>
    If I were not a Devil myself!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Thy head is out of order, sadly:<br>
    It much becomes thee to be raving madly.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Just think, the pocket of a priest should get<br>
    The trinkets left for Margaret!<br>
    The mother saw them, and, instanter,<br>
    A secret dread began to haunt her.<br>
    Keen scent has she for tainted air;<br>
    She snuffs within her book of prayer,<br>
    And smells each article, to see<br>
    If sacred or profane it be;<br>
    So here she guessed, from every gem,<br>
    That not much blessing came with them.<br>
    "My child," she said, "ill-gotten good<br>
    Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood.<br>
    Before the Mother of God we'll lay it;<br>
    With heavenly manna she'll repay it!"<br>
    But Margaret thought, with sour grimace,<br>
    "A gift-horse is not out of place,<br>
    And, truly! godless cannot be<br>
    The one who brought such things to me."<br>
    A parson came, by the mother bidden:<br>
    He saw, at once, where the game was hidden,<br>
    And viewed it with a favor stealthy.<br>
    He spake: "That is the proper view,—<br>
    Who overcometh, winneth too.<br>
    The Holy Church has a stomach healthy:<br>
    Hath eaten many a land as forfeit,<br>
    And never yet complained of surfeit:<br>
    The Church alone, beyond all question,<br>
    Has for ill-gotten goods the right digestion."</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>A general practice is the same,<br>
    Which Jew and King may also claim.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Then bagged the spangles, chains, and rings,<br>
    As if but toadstools were the things,<br>
    And thanked no less, and thanked no more<br>
    Than if a sack of nuts he bore,—<br>
    Promised them fullest heavenly pay,<br>
    And deeply edified were they.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>And Margaret?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Sits unrestful still,<br>
    And knows not what she should, or will;<br>
    Thinks on the jewels, day and night,<br>
    But more on him who gave her such delight.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>The darling's sorrow gives me pain.<br>
    Get thou a set for her again!<br>
    The first was not a great display.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>O yes, the gentleman finds it all child's-play!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Fix and arrange it to my will;<br>
    And on her neighbor try thy skill!<br>
    Don't be a Devil stiff as paste,<br>
    But get fresh jewels to her taste!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Yes, gracious Sir, in all obedience!</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>Exit</i> FAUST.</p>
</div>
<p>Such an enamored fool in air would blow<br>
    Sun, moon, and all the starry legions,<br>
    To give his sweetheart a diverting show.</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>Exit</i>.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-147"></a> <img src="images/Illus-147.jpg" alt="The Neighbor's House" title="The Neighbor's House">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2>
<p>THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE</p>
<p>MARTHA (<i>solus</i>)</p>
<p>God forgive my husband, yet he<br>
    Hasn't done his duty by me!<br>
    Off in the world he went straightway,—<br>
    Left me lie in the straw where I lay.<br>
    And, truly, I did naught to fret him:<br>
    God knows I loved, and can't forget him!</p>
<p>(<i>She weeps</i>.)</p>
<p>Perhaps he's even dead! Ah, woe!—<br>
    Had I a certificate to show!</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>comes</i>)</p>
<p>Dame Martha!</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Margaret! what's happened thee?</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I scarce can stand, my knees are trembling!<br>
    I find a box, the first resembling,<br>
    Within my press! Of ebony,—<br>
    And things, all splendid to behold,<br>
    And richer far than were the old.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>You mustn't tell it to your mother!<br>
    'Twould go to the priest, as did the other.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Ah, look and see—just look and see!</p>
<p>MARTHA (<i>adorning her</i>)</p>
<p>O, what a blessed luck for thee!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>But, ah! in the streets I dare not bear them,<br>
    Nor in the church be seen to wear them.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Yet thou canst often this way wander,<br>
    And secretly the jewels don,<br>
    Walk up and down an hour, before the mirror yonder,—<br>
    We'll have our private joy thereon.<br>
    And then a chance will come, a holiday,<br>
    When, piece by piece, can one the things abroad display,<br>
    A chain at first, then other ornament:<br>
    Thy mother will not see, and stories we'll invent.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Whoever could have brought me things so precious?<br>
    That something's wrong, I feel suspicious.</p>
<p>(<i>A knock</i>)</p>
<p>Good Heaven! My mother can that have been?</p>
<p>MARTHA (<i>peeping through the blind</i>)</p>
<p>'Tis some strange gentleman.—Come in!</p>
<p>(MEPHISTOPHELES <i>enters</i>.)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>That I so boldly introduce me,<br>
    I beg you, ladies, to excuse me.</p>
<p>(<i>Steps back reverently, on seeing</i> MARGARET.)</p>
<p>For Martha Schwerdtlein I'd inquire!</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>I'm she: what does the gentleman desire?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>aside to her</i>)</p>
<p>It is enough that you are she:<br>
    You've a visitor of high degree.<br>
    Pardon the freedom I have ta'en,—<br>
    Will after noon return again.</p>
<p>MARTHA (<i>aloud</i>)</p>
<p>Of all things in the world! Just hear—<br>
    He takes thee for a lady, dear!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I am a creature young and poor:<br>
    The gentleman's too kind, I'm sure.<br>
    The jewels don't belong to me.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Ah, not alone the jewelry!<br>
    The look, the manner, both betray—<br>
    Rejoiced am I that I may stay!</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>What is your business? I would fain—</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I would I had a more cheerful strain!<br>
    Take not unkindly its repeating:<br>
    Your husband's dead, and sends a greeting.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Is dead? Alas, that heart so true!<br>
    My husband dead! Let me die, too!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Ah, dearest dame, let not your courage fail!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Hear me relate the mournful tale!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Therefore I'd never love, believe me!<br>
    A loss like this to death would grieve me.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Joy follows woe, woe after joy comes flying.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Relate his life's sad close to me!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>In Padua buried, he is lying<br>
    Beside the good Saint Antony,<br>
    Within a grave well consecrated,<br>
    For cool, eternal rest created.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>He gave you, further, no commission?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Yes, one of weight, with many sighs:<br>
    Three hundred masses buy, to save him from perdition!<br>
    My hands are empty, otherwise.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>What! Not a pocket-piece? no jewelry?<br>
    What every journeyman within his wallet spares,<br>
    And as a token with him bears,<br>
    And rather starves or begs, than loses?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Madam, it is a grief to me;<br>
    Yet, on my word, his cash was put to proper uses.<br>
    Besides, his penitence was very sore,<br>
    And he lamented his ill fortune all the more.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Alack, that men are so unfortunate!<br>
    Surely for his soul's sake full many a prayer I'll proffer.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>You well deserve a speedy marriage-offer:<br>
    You are so kind, compassionate.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>O, no! As yet, it would not do.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>If not a husband, then a beau for you!<br>
    It is the greatest heavenly blessing,<br>
    To have a dear thing for one's caressing.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>The country's custom is not so.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Custom, or not! It happens, though.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Continue, pray!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I stood beside his bed of dying.<br>
    'Twas something better than manure,—<br>
    Half-rotten straw: and yet, he died a Christian, sure,<br>
    And found that heavier scores to his account were lying.<br>
    He cried: "I find my conduct wholly hateful!<br>
    To leave my wife, my trade, in manner so ungrateful!<br>
    Ah, the remembrance makes me die!<br>
    Would of my wrong to her I might be shriven!"</p>
<p>MARTHA (<i>weeping</i>)</p>
<p>The dear, good man! Long since was he forgiven.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>"Yet she, God knows! was more to blame than I."</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>He lied! What! On the brink of death he slandered?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>In the last throes his senses wandered,<br>
    If I such things but half can judge.<br>
    He said: "I had no time for play, for gaping freedom:<br>
    First children, and then work for bread to feed 'em,—<br>
    For bread, in the widest sense, to drudge,<br>
    And could not even eat my share in peace and quiet!"</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Had he all love, all faith forgotten in his riot?<br>
    My work and worry, day and night?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Not so: the memory of it touched him quite.<br>
    Said he: "When I from Malta went away<br>
    My prayers for wife and little ones were zealous,<br>
    And such a luck from Heaven befell us,<br>
    We made a Turkish merchantman our prey,<br>
    That to the Soldan bore a mighty treasure.<br>
    Then I received, as was most fit,<br>
    Since bravery was paid in fullest measure,<br>
    My well-apportioned share of it."</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Say, how? Say, where? If buried, did he own it?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Who knows, now, whither the four winds have blown it?<br>
    A fair young damsel took him in her care,<br>
    As he in Naples wandered round, unfriended;<br>
    And she much love, much faith to him did bear,<br>
    So that he felt it till his days were ended.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>The villain! From his children thieving!<br>
    Even all the misery on him cast<br>
    Could not prevent his shameful way of living!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>But see! He's dead therefrom, at last.<br>
    Were I in <i>your</i> place, do not doubt me,<br>
    I'd mourn him decently a year,<br>
    And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Ah, God! another one so dear<br>
    As was my first, this world will hardly give me.<br>
    There never was a sweeter fool than mine,<br>
    Only he loved to roam and leave me,<br>
    And foreign wenches and foreign wine,<br>
    And the damned throw of dice, indeed.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Well, well! That might have done, however,<br>
    If he had only been as clever,<br>
    And treated <i>your</i> slips with as little heed.<br>
    I swear, with this condition, too,<br>
    I would, myself, change rings with you.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>The gentleman is pleased to jest.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I'll cut away, betimes, from here:<br>
    She'd take the Devil at his word, I fear.</p>
<p>(<i>To</i> MARGARET)</p>
<p>How fares the heart within your breast?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>What means the gentleman?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>aside</i>)</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Sweet innocent, thou art!</p>
</div>
<p>(<i>Aloud</i>.)</p>
<p>Ladies, farewell!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Farewell!</p>
</div>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>A moment, ere we part!<br>
    </p>
</div>
I'd like to have a legal witness,<br>
Where, how, and when he died, to certify his fitness.<br>
Irregular ways I've always hated;<br>
I want his death in the weekly paper stated.<br>
<br>

<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Yes, my good dame, a pair of witnesses<br>
    Always the truth establishes.<br>
    I have a friend of high condition,<br>
    Who'll also add his deposition.<br>
    I'll bring him here.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Good Sir, pray do!</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And this young lady will be present, too?<br>
    A gallant youth! has travelled far:<br>
    Ladies with him delighted are.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Before him I should blush, ashamed.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Before no king that could be named!</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Behind the house, in my garden, then,<br>
    This eve we'll expect the gentlemen.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-155"></a> <img src="images/Illus-155.jpg" alt="A Street" title="A Street">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-156"></a> <img src="images/Illus-156.jpg" alt="A Street" title="A Street">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2>
<p>A STREET</p>
<p>FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>How is it? under way? and soon complete?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Ah, bravo! Do I find you burning?<br>
    Well, Margaret soon will still your yearning:<br>
    At Neighbor Martha's you'll this evening meet.<br>
    A fitter woman ne'er was made<br>
    To ply the pimp and gypsy trade!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Tis well.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>Yet something is required from us.</p>
</div>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>One service pays the other thus.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>We've but to make a deposition valid<br>
    That now her husband's limbs, outstretched and pallid,<br>
    At Padua rest, in consecrated soil.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Most wise! And first, of course, we'll make the journey<br>
    thither?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p><i>Sancta simplicitas</i>! no need of such a toil;<br>
    Depose, with knowledge or without it, either!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>If you've naught better, then, I'll tear your pretty plan!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Now, there you are! O holy man!<br>
    Is it the first time in your life you're driven<br>
    To bear false witness in a case?<br>
    Of God, the world and all that in it has a place,<br>
    Of Man, and all that moves the being of his race,<br>
    Have you not terms and definitions given<br>
    With brazen forehead, daring breast?<br>
    And, if you'll probe the thing profoundly,<br>
    Knew you so much—and you'll confess it roundly!—<br>
    As here of Schwerdtlein's death and place of rest?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Thou art, and thou remain'st, a sophist, liar.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Yes, knew I not more deeply thy desire.<br>
    For wilt thou not, no lover fairer,<br>
    Poor Margaret flatter, and ensnare her,<br>
    And all thy soul's devotion swear her?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>And from my heart.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>'Tis very fine!<br>
    </p>
</div>
Thine endless love, thy faith assuring,<br>
The one almighty force enduring,—<br>
Will that, too, prompt this heart of thine?<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Hold! hold! It will!—If such my flame,<br>
    And for the sense and power intense<br>
    I seek, and cannot find, a name;<br>
    Then range with all my senses through creation,<br>
    Craving the speech of inspiration,<br>
    And call this ardor, so supernal,<br>
    Endless, eternal and eternal,—<br>
    Is that a devilish lying game?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And yet I'm right!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Mark this, I beg of thee!<br>
    </p>
</div>
And spare my lungs henceforth: whoever<br>
Intends to have the right, if but his<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">tongue be clever,</span><br>
Will have it, certainly.<br>
But come: the further talking brings<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">disgust,</span><br>
For thou art right, especially since I<br>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">must.</span><br>
<br>
<br>

<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-158"></a> <img src="images/Illus-158.jpg" alt="Garden" title="Garden">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-159"></a> <img src="images/Illus-159.jpg" alt="Garden" title="Garden">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2>
<p>GARDEN</p>
<p>(MARGARET <i>on</i> FAUST'S <i>arm</i>. MARTHA <i>and</i> MEPHISTOPHELES
    <i>walking up and down</i>.)</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I feel, the gentleman allows for me,<br>
    Demeans himself, and shames me by it;<br>
    A traveller is so used to be<br>
    Kindly content with any diet.<br>
    I know too well that my poor gossip can<br>
    Ne'er entertain such an experienced man.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>A look from thee, a word, more entertains<br>
    Than all the lore of wisest brains.</p>
<p>(<i>He kisses her hand</i>.)</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Don't incommode yourself! How could you ever kiss it!<br>
    It is so ugly, rough to see!<br>
    What work I do,—how hard and steady is it!<br>
    Mother is much too close with me.</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>They pass</i>.</p>
</div>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>And you, Sir, travel always, do you not?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Alas, that trade and duty us so harry!<br>
    With what a pang one leaves so many a spot,<br>
    And dares not even now and then to tarry!</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>In young, wild years it suits your ways,<br>
    This round and round the world in freedom sweeping;<br>
    But then come on the evil days,<br>
    And so, as bachelor, into his grave a-creeping,<br>
    None ever found a thing to praise.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I dread to see how such a fate advances.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Then, worthy Sir, improve betimes your chances!</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>They pass</i>.</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Yes, out of sight is out of mind!<br>
    Your courtesy an easy grace is;<br>
    But you have friends in other places,<br>
    And sensibler than I, you'll find.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Trust me, dear heart! what men call sensible<br>
    Is oft mere vanity and narrowness.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>How so?</p>
</div>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Ah, that simplicity and innocence ne'er know<br>
    Themselves, their holy value, and their spell!<br>
    That meekness, lowliness, the highest graces<br>
    Which Nature portions out so lovingly—</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>So you but think a moment's space on me,<br>
    All times I'll have to think on you, all places!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>No doubt you're much alone?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Yes, for our household small has grown,<br>
    Yet must be cared for, you will own.<br>
    We have no maid: I do the knitting, sewing, sweeping,<br>
    The cooking, early work and late, in fact;<br>
    And mother, in her notions of housekeeping,<br>
    Is so exact!<br>
    Not that she needs so much to keep expenses down:<br>
    We, more than others, might take comfort, rather:<br>
    A nice estate was left us by my father,<br>
    A house, a little garden near the town.<br>
    But now my days have less of noise and hurry;<br>
    My brother is a soldier,<br>
    My little sister's dead.<br>
    True, with the child a troubled life I led,<br>
    Yet I would take again, and willing, all the worry,<br>
    So very dear was she.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>An angel, if like thee!</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I brought it up, and it was fond of me.<br>
    Father had died before it saw the light,<br>
    And mother's case seemed hopeless quite,<br>
    So weak and miserable she lay;<br>
    And she recovered, then, so slowly, day by day.<br>
    She could not think, herself, of giving<br>
    The poor wee thing its natural living;<br>
    And so I nursed it all alone<br>
    With milk and water: 'twas my own.<br>
    Lulled in my lap with many a song,<br>
    It smiled, and tumbled, and grew strong.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>The purest bliss was surely then thy dower.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>But surely, also, many a weary hour.<br>
    I kept the baby's cradle near<br>
    My bed at night: if 't even stirred, I'd guess it,<br>
    And waking, hear.<br>
    And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it,<br>
    And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake,<br>
    And dandling back and forth the restless creature take,<br>
    Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning's break;<br>
    And then the marketing and kitchen-tending,<br>
    Day after day, the same thing, never-ending.<br>
    One's spirits, Sir, are thus not always good,<br>
    But then one learns to relish rest and food.</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>They pass</i>.</p>
</div>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Yes, the poor women are bad off, 'tis true:<br>
    A stubborn bachelor there's no converting.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>It but depends upon the like of you,<br>
    And I should turn to better ways than flirting.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Speak plainly, Sir, have you no one detected?<br>
    Has not your heart been anywhere subjected?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>The proverb says: One's own warm hearth<br>
    And a good wife, are gold and jewels worth.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>I mean, have you not felt desire, though ne'er so slightly?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I've everywhere, in fact, been entertained politely.</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>I meant to say, were you not touched in earnest, ever?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>One should allow one's self to jest with ladies never.</p>
<p>MARTHA Ah, you don't understand!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I'm sorry I'm so blind: But I am sure—that you are very kind.</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>They pass</i>.</p>
</div>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>And me, thou angel! didst thou recognize,<br>
    As through the garden-gate I came?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>And thou forgiv'st my freedom, and the blame<br>
    To my impertinence befitting,<br>
    As the Cathedral thou wert quitting?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I was confused, the like ne'er happened me;<br>
    No one could ever speak to my discredit.<br>
    Ah, thought I, in my conduct has he read it—<br>
    Something immodest or unseemly free?<br>
    He seemed to have the sudden feeling<br>
    That with this wench 'twere very easy dealing.<br>
    I will confess, I knew not what appeal<br>
    On your behalf, here, in my bosom grew;<br>
    But I was angry with myself, to feel<br>
    That I could not be angrier with you.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Sweet darling!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Wait a while!</p>
</div>
<p>(<i>She plucks a star-flower, and pulls off the leaves, one after<br>
        the other</i>.)</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Shall that a nosegay be?</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>No, it is just in play.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>How?</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Go! you'll laugh at me.<br>
    </p>
</div>
(<i>She pulls off the leaves and murmurs</i>.)<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>What murmurest thou?</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>half aloud</i>)</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>He loves me—loves me not.</p>
</div>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Thou sweet, angelic soul!</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>continues</i>)</p>
<p>Loves me—not—loves me—not—<br>
    (<i>plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight</i>:)</p>
<p>He loves me!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Yes, child! and let this blossom-word<br>
    For thee be speech divine! He loves thee!<br>
    Ah, know'st thou what it means? He loves thee!</p>
<p>(<i>He grasps both her hands</i>.)</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I'm all a-tremble!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>O tremble not! but let this look,<br>
    Let this warm clasp of hands declare thee<br>
    What is unspeakable!<br>
    To yield one wholly, and to feel a rapture<br>
    In yielding, that must be eternal!<br>
    Eternal!—for the end would be despair.<br>
    No, no,—no ending! no ending!</p>
<p>MARTHA (<i>coming forward</i>)</p>
<p>The night is falling.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Ay! we must away.</p>
</div>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>I'd ask you, longer here to tarry,<br>
    But evil tongues in this town have full play.<br>
    It's as if nobody had nothing to fetch and carry,<br>
    Nor other labor,<br>
    But spying all the doings of one's neighbor:<br>
    And one becomes the talk, do whatsoe'er one may.<br>
    Where is our couple now?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Flown up the alley yonder,<br>
    </p>
</div>
The wilful summer-birds!<br>
<br>

<p>MARTHA</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>He seems of her still fonder.</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And she of him. So runs the world away!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-166"></a> <img src="images/Illus-166.jpg" alt="A GARDEN-ARBOR" title="A GARDEN-ARBOR">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-167"></a> <img src="images/Illus-167.jpg" alt="A GARDEN-ARBOR" title="A GARDEN-ARBOR">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2>
<p>A GARDEN-ARBOR</p>
<p>(MARGARET <i>comes in, conceals herself behind the door, puts her<br>
        finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack</i>.)</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>He comes!</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>entering</i>)</p>
<span style="margin-left: 9em;">Ah, rogue! a tease thou art:</span><br>
I have thee! (<i>He kisses her</i>.)<br>
<br>

<p>MARGARET</p>
(<i>clasping him, and returning the kiss</i>)<br>
<br>
<span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">Dearest man! I love thee from my
    heart.</span><br>

<p>(MEPHISTOPHELES <i>knocks</i>)</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>stamping his foot</i>)</p>
<p>Who's there?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>A friend!</p>
</div>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>A beast!</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Tis time to separate.</p>
</div>
<p>MARTHA (<i>coming</i>)</p>
<p>Yes, Sir, 'tis late.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>May I not, then, upon you wait?</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>My mother would—farewell!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Ah, can I not remain?<br>
    </p>
</div>
Farewell!<br>
<br>

<p>MARTHA</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>Adieu!</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>And soon to meet again!</p>
</div>
<div class="indented">
    <p>[<i>Exeunt</i> FAUST <i>and</i> MEPHISTOPHELES.</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Dear God! However is it, such<br>
    A man can think and know so much?<br>
    I stand ashamed and in amaze,<br>
    And answer "Yes" to all he says,<br>
    A poor, unknowing child! and he—<br>
    I can't think what he finds in me! &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit</i>.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-169"></a> <img src="images/Illus-169.jpg" alt="FOREST AND CAVERN" title="FOREST AND CAVERN">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2>
<p>FOREST AND CAVERN</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>solus</i>)</p>
<p>Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all<br>
    For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain<br>
    Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire.<br>
    Thou gav'st me Nature as a kingdom grand,<br>
    With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou<br>
    Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield'st,<br>
    But grantest, that in her profoundest breast<br>
    I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend.<br>
    The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead<br>
    Before me, teaching me to know my brothers<br>
    In air and water and the silent wood.<br>
    And when the storm in forests roars and grinds,<br>
    The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs<br>
    And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down,<br>
    And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,—<br>
    Then to the cave secure thou leadest me,<br>
    Then show'st me mine own self, and in my breast<br>
    The deep, mysterious miracles unfold.<br>
    And when the perfect moon before my gaze<br>
    Comes up with soothing light, around me float<br>
    From every precipice and thicket damp<br>
    The silvery phantoms of the ages past,<br>
    And temper the austere delight of thought.</p>
<p>That nothing can be perfect unto Man<br>
    I now am conscious. With this ecstasy,<br>
    Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods,<br>
    Thou gav'st the comrade, whom I now no more<br>
    Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he<br>
    Demeans me to myself, and with a breath,<br>
    A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness.<br>
    Within my breast he fans a lawless fire,<br>
    Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form:<br>
    Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment,<br>
    And in enjoyment pine to feel desire.</p>
<p>(MEPHISTOPHELES <i>enters</i>.)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Have you not led this life quite long enough?<br>
    How can a further test delight you?<br>
    'Tis very well, that once one tries the stuff,<br>
    But something new must then requite you.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Would there were other work for thee!<br>
    To plague my day auspicious thou returnest.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Well! I'll engage to let thee be:<br>
    Thou darest not tell me so in earnest.<br>
    The loss of thee were truly very slight,—<br>
    comrade crazy, rude, repelling:</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-171"></a> <img src="images/Illus-171.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<p>One has one's hands full all the day and night;<br>
    If what one does, or leaves undone, is right,<br>
    From such a face as thine there is no telling.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<br>

<p>There is, again, thy proper tone!—<br>
    That thou hast bored me, I must thankful be!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Poor Son of Earth, how couldst thou thus alone<br>
    Have led thy life, bereft of me?<br>
    I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure;<br>
    Thy fancy's rickets plague thee not at all:<br>
    Had I not been, so hadst thou, sure,<br>
    Walked thyself off this earthly ball<br>
    Why here to caverns, rocky hollows slinking,<br>
    Sit'st thou, as 'twere an owl a-blinking?<br>
    Why suck'st, from sodden moss and dripping stone,<br>
    Toad-like, thy nourishment alone?<br>
    A fine way, this, thy time to fill!<br>
    The Doctor's in thy body still.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>What fresh and vital forces, canst thou guess,<br>
    Spring from my commerce with the wilderness?<br>
    But, if thou hadst the power of guessing,<br>
    Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge my soul the blessing.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>A blessing drawn from supernatural fountains!<br>
    In night and dew to lie upon the mountains;<br>
    All Heaven and Earth in rapture penetrating;<br>
    Thyself to Godhood haughtily inflating;<br>
    To grub with yearning force through Earth's dark marrow,<br>
    Compress the six days' work within thy bosom narrow,—<br>
    To taste, I know not what, in haughty power,<br>
    Thine own ecstatic life on all things shower,<br>
    Thine earthly self behind thee cast,<br>
    And then the lofty instinct, thus—</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>(<i>With a gesture</i>:)</p>
</div>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>at last,—</p>
</div>
I daren't say how—to pluck the final flower!<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Shame on thee!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Yes, thou findest that unpleasant!<br>
    Thou hast the moral right to cry me "shame!" at present.<br>
    One dares not that before chaste ears declare,<br>
    Which chaste hearts, notwithstanding, cannot spare;<br>
    And, once for all, I grudge thee not the pleasure<br>
    Of lying to thyself in moderate measure.<br>
    But such a course thou wilt not long endure;<br>
    Already art thou o'er-excited,<br>
    And, if it last, wilt soon be plighted<br>
    To madness and to horror, sure.<br>
    Enough of that! Thy love sits lonely yonder,<br>
    By all things saddened and oppressed;<br>
    Her thoughts and yearnings seek thee, tenderer, fonder,—<br>
    mighty love is in her breast.<br>
    First came thy passion's flood and poured around her<br>
    As when from melted snow a streamlet overflows;<br>
    Thou hast therewith so filled and drowned her,<br>
    That now <i>thy</i> stream all shallow shows.<br>
    Methinks, instead of in the forests lording,<br>
    The noble Sir should find it good,<br>
    The love of this young silly blood<br>
    At once to set about rewarding.<br>
    Her time is miserably long;<br>
    She haunts her window, watching clouds that stray<br>
    O'er the old city-wall, and far away.<br>
    "Were I a little bird!" so runs her song,<br>
    Day long, and half night long.<br>
    Now she is lively, mostly sad,<br>
    Now, wept beyond her tears;<br>
    Then again quiet she appears,—Always<br>
    love-mad.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Serpent! Serpent!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES <i>(aside)</i></p>
<p>Ha! do I trap thee!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Get thee away with thine offences,<br>
    Reprobate! Name not that fairest thing,<br>
    Nor the desire for her sweet body bring<br>
    Again before my half-distracted senses!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>What wouldst thou, then? She thinks that thou art flown;<br>
    And half and half thou art, I own.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Yet am I near, and love keeps watch and ward;<br>
    Though I were ne'er so far, it cannot falter:<br>
    I envy even the Body of the Lord<br>
    The touching of her lips, before the altar.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>'Tis very well! <i>My</i> envy oft reposes<br>
    On your twin-pair, that feed among the roses.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Away, thou pimp!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>You rail, and it is fun to me.<br>
    The God, who fashioned youth and maid,<br>
    Perceived the noblest purpose of His trade,<br>
    And also made their opportunity.<br>
    Go on! It is a woe profound!<br>
    'Tis for your sweetheart's room you're bound,<br>
    And not for death, indeed.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>What are, within her arms, the heavenly blisses?<br>
    Though I be glowing with her kisses,<br>
    Do I not always share her need?<br>
    I am the fugitive, all houseless roaming,<br>
    The monster without air or rest,<br>
    That like a cataract, down rocks and gorges foaming,<br>
    Leaps, maddened, into the abyss's breast!<br>
    And side-wards she, with young unwakened senses,<br>
    Within her cabin on the Alpine field<br>
    Her simple, homely life commences,<br>
    Her little world therein concealed.<br>
    And I, God's hate flung o'er me,<br>
    Had not enough, to thrust<br>
    The stubborn rocks before me<br>
    And strike them into dust!<br>
    She and her peace I yet must undermine:<br>
    Thou, Hell, hast claimed this sacrifice as thine!<br>
    Help, Devil! through the coming pangs to push me;<br>
    What must be, let it quickly be!<br>
    Let fall on me her fate, and also crush me,—<br>
    One ruin whelm both her and me!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Again it seethes, again it glows!<br>
    Thou fool, go in and comfort her!<br>
    When such a head as thine no outlet knows,<br>
    It thinks the end must soon occur.<br>
    Hail him, who keeps a steadfast mind!<br>
    Thou, else, dost well the devil-nature wear:<br>
    Naught so insipid in the world I find<br>
    As is a devil in despair.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-177"></a> <img src="images/Illus-177.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-178"></a> <img src="images/Illus-178.jpg" alt="Margaret's Room" title="Margaret's Room">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2>
<p>MARGARET'S ROOM</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>(<i>at the spinning-wheel, alone</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">My peace is gone,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My heart is sore:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">I never shall find it,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah, nevermore!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Save I have him near.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The grave is here;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The world is gall</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And bitterness all.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My poor weak head</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Is racked and crazed;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My thought is lost,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My senses mazed.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My peace is gone,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My heart is sore:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">I never shall find it,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah, nevermore!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">To see him, him only,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">At the pane I sit;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">To meet him, him only,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The house I quit.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">His lofty gait,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">His noble size,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The smile of his mouth,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The power of his eyes,</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And the magic flow</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Of his talk, the bliss</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">In the clasp of his hand,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And, ah! his kiss!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My peace is gone,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My heart is sore:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">I never shall find it,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah, nevermore!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">My bosom yearns</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">For him alone;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah, dared I clasp him,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And hold, and own!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And kiss his mouth,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">To heart's desire,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And on his kisses</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">At last expire!</span><br>
</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-180"></a> <img src="images/Illus-180.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2>
<p>MARTHA'S GARDEN</p>
<p>MARGARET FAUST</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Promise me, Henry!—</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>What I can!</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>How is't with thy religion, pray?<br>
    Thou art a dear, good-hearted man,<br>
    And yet, I think, dost not incline that way.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Leave that, my child! Thou know'st my love is tender;<br>
    For love, my blood and life would I surrender,<br>
    And as for Faith and Church, I grant to each his own.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>That's not enough: we must believe thereon.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Must we?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>Would that I had some influence!</p>
</div>
Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments.<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>I honor them.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Desiring no possession<br>
    </p>
</div>
'Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession.<br>
Believest thou in God?<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>My darling, who shall dare<br>
    </p>
</div>
"I believe in God!" to say?<br>
Ask priest or sage the answer to declare,<br>
And it will seem a mocking play,<br>
A sarcasm on the asker.<br>
<br>

<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Then thou believest not!</p>
</div>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance!<br>
    Who dare express Him?<br>
    And who profess Him,<br>
    Saying: I believe in Him!<br>
    Who, feeling, seeing,<br>
    Deny His being,<br>
    Saying: I believe Him not!<br>
    The All-enfolding,<br>
    The All-upholding,<br>
    Folds and upholds he not<br>
    Thee, me, Himself?<br>
    Arches not there the sky above us?<br>
    Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth?<br>
    And rise not, on us shining,<br>
    Friendly, the everlasting stars?<br>
    Look I not, eye to eye, on thee,<br>
    And feel'st not, thronging<br>
    To head and heart, the force,<br>
    Still weaving its eternal secret,<br>
    Invisible, visible, round thy life?<br>
    Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart,<br>
    And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art,<br>
    Call it, then, what thou wilt,—<br>
    Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!<br>
    I have no name to give it!<br>
    Feeling is all in all:<br>
    The Name is sound and smoke,<br>
    Obscuring Heaven's clear glow.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>All that is fine and good, to hear it so:<br>
    Much the same way the preacher spoke,<br>
    Only with slightly different phrases.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>The same thing, in all places,<br>
    All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day—<br>
    Each in its language—say;<br>
    Then why not I, in mine, as well?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>To hear it thus, it may seem passable;<br>
    And yet, some hitch in't there must be<br>
    For thou hast no Christianity.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Dear love!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I've long been grieved to see<br>
    That thou art in such company.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>How so?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>The man who with thee goes, thy mate,<br>
    </p>
</div>
Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate.<br>
In all my life there's nothing<br>
Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing,<br>
As his repulsive face has done.<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I feel his presence like something ill.<br>
    I've else, for all, a kindly will,<br>
    But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth,<br>
    The secret horror of him returneth;<br>
    And I think the man a knave, as I live!<br>
    If I do him wrong, may God forgive!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>There must be such queer birds, however.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Live with the like of him, may I never!<br>
    When once inside the door comes he,<br>
    He looks around so sneeringly,<br>
    And half in wrath:<br>
    One sees that in nothing no interest he hath:<br>
    'Tis written on his very forehead<br>
    That love, to him, is a thing abhorréd.<br>
    I am so happy on thine arm,<br>
    So free, so yielding, and so warm,<br>
    And in his presence stifled seems my heart.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Foreboding angel that thou art!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>It overcomes me in such degree,<br>
    That wheresoe'er he meets us, even,<br>
    I feel as though I'd lost my love for thee.<br>
    When he is by, I could not pray to Heaven.<br>
    That burns within me like a flame,<br>
    And surely, Henry, 'tis with thee the same.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>There, now, is thine antipathy!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>But I must go.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Ah, shall there never be<br>
    </p>
</div>
A quiet hour, to see us fondly plighted,<br>
With breast to breast, and soul to soul united?<br>
<br>

<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Ah, if I only slept alone!<br>
    I'd draw the bolts to-night, for thy desire;<br>
    But mother's sleep so light has grown,<br>
    And if we were discovered by her,<br>
    'Twould be my death upon the spot!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Thou angel, fear it not!<br>
    Here is a phial: in her drink<br>
    But three drops of it measure,<br>
    And deepest sleep will on her senses sink.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>What would I not, to give thee pleasure?<br>
    It will not harm her, when one tries it?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>If 'twould, my love, would I advise it?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Ah, dearest man, if but thy face I see,<br>
    I know not what compels me to thy will:<br>
    So much have I already done for thee,<br>
    That scarcely more is left me to fulfil.</p>
<p>(<i>Enter</i> MEPHISTOPHELES.)&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; [<i>Exit</i>.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>The monkey! Is she gone?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Hast played the spy again?</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I've heard, most fully, how she drew thee.<br>
    The Doctor has been catechised, 'tis plain;<br>
    Great good, I hope, the thing will do thee.<br>
    The girls have much desire to ascertain<br>
    If one is prim and good, as ancient rules compel:<br>
    If there he's led, they think, he'll follow them as well.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Thou, monster, wilt nor see nor own<br>
    How this pure soul, of faith so lowly,<br>
    So loving and ineffable,—<br>
    The faith alone<br>
    That her salvation is,—with scruples holy<br>
    Pines, lest she hold as lost the man she loves so well!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Thou, full of sensual, super-sensual desire,<br>
    A girl by the nose is leading thee.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Abortion, thou, of filth and fire!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And then, how masterly she reads physiognomy!<br>
    When I am present she's impressed, she knows not how;<br>
    She in my mask a hidden sense would read:<br>
    She feels that surely I'm a genius now,—<br>
    Perhaps the very Devil, indeed!<br>
    Well, well,—to-night—?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>What's that to thee?</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Yet my delight 'twill also be!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-186"></a> <img src="images/Illus-186.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-187"></a> <img src="images/Illus-187.jpg" alt="At the Fountain" title="At the Fountain">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2>
<p>AT THE FOUNTAIN</p>
<p>MARGARET <i>and</i> LISBETH <i>With pitchers</i>.</p>
<p>LISBETH</p>
<p>Hast nothing heard of Barbara?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>No, not a word. I go so little out.</p>
<p>LISBETH</p>
<p>It's true, Sibylla said, to-day.<br>
    She's played the fool at last, there's not a doubt.<br>
    Such taking-on of airs!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>How so?<br>
    </p>
</div>
<br>
<br>

<p>LISBETH</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>It stinks!<br>
    </p>
</div>
She's feeding two, whene'er she eats and drinks.<br>
<br>

<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p>LISBETH</p>
<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And so, at last, it serves her rightly.<br>
    She clung to the fellow so long and tightly!<br>
    That was a promenading!<br>
    At village and dance parading!<br>
    As the first they must everywhere shine,<br>
    And he treated her always to pies and wine,<br>
    And she made a to-do with her face so fine;<br>
    So mean and shameless was her behavior,<br>
    She took all the presents the fellow gave her.<br>
    'Twas kissing and coddling, on and on!<br>
    So now, at the end, the flower is gone.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>The poor, poor thing!</p>
<p>LISBETH</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Dost pity her, at that?<br>
    </p>
</div>
When one of us at spinning sat,<br>
And mother, nights, ne'er let us out the door<br>
She sported with her paramour.<br>
On the door-bench, in the passage dark,<br>
The length of the time they'd never mark.<br>
So now her head no more she'll lift,<br>
But do church-penance in her sinner's shift!<br>
<br>

<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>He'll surely take her for his wife.</p>
<p>LISBETH</p>
<p>He'd be a fool! A brisk young blade<br>
    Has room, elsewhere, to ply his trade.<br>
    Besides, he's gone.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>That is not fair!<br>
    </p>
</div>
<br>
<br>

<p>LISBETH</p>
<p>If him she gets, why let her beware!<br>
    The boys shall dash her wreath on the floor,<br>
    And we'll scatter chaff before her door!<br>
</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>Exit</i>.</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET (<i>returning home</i>)</p>
<p>How scornfully I once reviled,<br>
    When some poor maiden was beguiled!<br>
    More speech than any tongue suffices<br>
    I craved, to censure others' vices.<br>
    Black as it seemed, I blackened still,<br>
    And blacker yet was in my will;<br>
    And blessed myself, and boasted high,—<br>
    And now—a living sin am I!<br>
    Yet—all that drove my heart thereto,<br>
    God! was so good, so dear, so true!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-189"></a> <img src="images/Illus-189.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-190"></a> <img src="images/Illus-190.jpg" alt="Donjon" title="Donjon">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2>
<p>DONJON</p>
<p>(<i>In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater<br>
        Dolorosa. Pots of flowers before it</i>.)</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>(<i>putting fresh flowers in the pots</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Incline, O Maiden,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thou sorrow-laden,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thy gracious countenance upon my pain!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The sword Thy heart in,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">With anguish smarting,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thou lookest up to where Thy Son is
        slain!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thou seest the Father;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thy sad sighs gather,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">And bear aloft Thy sorrow and His pain!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah, past guessing,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Beyond expressing,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The pangs that wring my flesh and bone!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Why this anxious heart so burneth,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Why it trembleth, why it yearneth,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Knowest Thou, and Thou alone!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Where'er I go, what sorrow,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">What woe, what woe and sorrow</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Within my bosom aches!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Alone, and ah! unsleeping,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">I'm weeping, weeping, weeping,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The heart within me breaks.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The pots before my window,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Alas! my tears did wet,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">As in the early morning</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">For thee these flowers I set.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Within my lonely chamber</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The morning sun shone red:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">I sat, in utter sorrow,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Already on my bed.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Help! rescue me from death and stain!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">O Maiden!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thou sorrow-laden,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Incline Thy countenance upon my pain!</span><br>
</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-191"></a> <img src="images/Illus-191.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-192"></a> <img src="images/Illus-192.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2>
<p>NIGHT</p>
<p>STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR</p>
<p>VALENTINE (<i>a soldier</i>, MARGARET'S <i>brother</i>)</p>
<p>When I have sat at some carouse.<br>
    Where each to each his brag allows,<br>
    And many a comrade praised to me<br>
    His pink of girls right lustily,<br>
    With brimming glass that spilled the toast,<br>
    And elbows planted as in boast:<br>
    I sat in unconcerned repose,<br>
    And heard the swagger as it rose.<br>
    And stroking then my beard, I'd say,<br>
    Smiling, the bumper in my hand:<br>
    "Each well enough in her own way.<br>
    But is there one in all the land<br>
    Like sister Margaret, good as gold,—<br>
    One that to her can a candle hold?"<br>
    Cling! clang! "Here's to her!" went around<br>
    The board: "He speaks the truth!" cried some;<br>
    "In her the flower o' the sex is found!"<br>
    And all the swaggerers were dumb.<br>
    And now!—I could tear my hair with vexation.<br>
    And dash out my brains in desperation!<br>
    With turned-up nose each scamp may face me,<br>
    With sneers and stinging taunts disgrace me,<br>
    And, like a bankrupt debtor sitting,<br>
    A chance-dropped word may set me sweating!<br>
    Yet, though I thresh them all together,<br>
    I cannot call them liars, either.</p>
<p>But what comes sneaking, there, to view?<br>
    If I mistake not, there are two.<br>
    If <i>he's</i> one, let me at him drive!<br>
    He shall not leave the spot alive.</p>
<p>FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>How from the window of the sacristy<br>
    Upward th'eternal lamp sends forth a glimmer,<br>
    That, lessening side-wards, fainter grows and dimmer,<br>
    Till darkness closes from the sky!<br>
    The shadows thus within my bosom gather.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I'm like a sentimental tom-cat, rather,<br>
    That round the tall fire-ladders sweeps,<br>
    And stealthy, then, along the coping creeps:<br>
    Quite virtuous, withal, I come,<br>
    A little thievish and a little frolicsome.<br>
    I feel in every limb the presage<br>
    Forerunning the grand Walpurgis-Night:<br>
    Day after to-morrow brings its message,<br>
    And one keeps watch then with delight.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Meanwhile, may not the treasure risen be,<br>
    Which there, behind, I glimmering see?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Shalt soon experience the pleasure,<br>
    To lift the kettle with its treasure.<br>
    I lately gave therein a squint—<br>
    Saw splendid lion-dollars in 't.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Not even a jewel, not a ring,<br>
    To deck therewith my darling girl?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I saw, among the rest, a thing<br>
    That seemed to be a chain of pearl.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>That's well, indeed! For painful is it<br>
    To bring no gift when her I visit.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Thou shouldst not find it so annoying,<br>
    Without return to be enjoying.<br>
    Now, while the sky leads forth its starry throng,<br>
    Thou'lt hear a masterpiece, no work completer:<br>
    I'll sing her, first, a moral song,<br>
    The surer, afterwards, to cheat her.</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>(<i>Sings to the cither</i>.)</p>
</div>
<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">What dost thou here</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">In daybreak clear,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Kathrina dear,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Before thy lover's door?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Beware! the blade</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Lets in a maid.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">That out a maid</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Departeth nevermore!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">The coaxing shun</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Of such an one!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">When once 'tis done</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Good-night to thee, poor thing!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Love's time is brief:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Unto no thief</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Be warm and lief,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 4em;">But with the wedding-ring!</span><br>
</p>
<p>VALENTINE (<i>comes forward</i>)</p>
<p>Whom wilt thou lure? God's-element!<br>
    Rat-catching piper, thou!—perdition!<br>
    To the Devil, first, the instrument!<br>
    To the Devil, then, the curst musician!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>The cither's smashed! For nothing more 'tis fitting.</p>
<p>VALENTINE</p>
<p>There's yet a skull I must be splitting!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> FAUST)</p>
<p>Sir Doctor, don't retreat, I pray!<br>
    Stand by: I'll lead, if you'll but tarry:<br>
    Out with your spit, without delay!<br>
    You've but to lunge, and I will parry.</p>
<p>VALENTINE</p>
<p>Then parry that!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Why not? 'tis light.</p>
</div>
<p>VALENTINE</p>
<p>That, too!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Of course.</p>
</div>
<p>VALENTINE</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>I think the Devil must fight!<br>
    </p>
</div>
How is it, then? my hand's already lame:<br>
<br>

<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> FAUST)</p>
<p>Thrust home!</p>
<p>VALENTINE (<i>jails</i>)</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>O God!</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Now is the lubber tame!<br>
    </p>
</div>
But come, away! 'Tis time for us to fly;<br>
For there arises now a murderous cry.<br>
With the police 'twere easy to compound it,<br>
But here the penal court will sift and sound it.<br>
<br>

<div class="indentedss">
    <p>[<i>Exit with</i> FAUST.</p>
</div>
<p>MARTHA (<i>at the window</i>)</p>
<p>Come out! Come out!</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>at the window</i>)</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Quick, bring a light!</p>
</div>
<p>MARTHA (<i>as above</i>)</p>
<p>They swear and storm, they yell and fight!</p>
<p>PEOPLE</p>
<p>Here lies one dead already—see!</p>
<p>MARTHA (<i>coming from the house</i>)</p>
<p>The murderers, whither have they run?</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>coming out</i>)</p>
<p>Who lies here?</p>
<p>PEOPLE</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>'Tis thy mother's son!</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Almighty God! what misery!</p>
<p>VALENTINE</p>
<p>I'm dying! That is quickly said,<br>
    And quicker yet 'tis done.<br>
    Why howl, you women there? Instead,<br>
    Come here and listen, every one!</p>
<p>(<i>All gather around him</i>)</p>
<p>My Margaret, see! still young thou art,<br>
    But not the least bit shrewd or smart,<br>
    Thy business thus to slight:<br>
    So this advice I bid thee heed—<br>
    Now that thou art a whore indeed,<br>
    Why, be one then, outright!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>My brother! God! such words to me?</p>
<p>VALENTINE</p>
<p>In this game let our Lord God be!<br>
    What's done's already done, alas!<br>
    What follows it, must come to pass.<br>
    With one begin'st thou secretly,<br>
    Then soon will others come to thee,<br>
    And when a dozen thee have known,<br>
    Thou'rt also free to all the town.<br>
    When Shame is born and first appears,<br>
    She is in secret brought to light,<br>
    And then they draw the veil of night<br>
    Over her head and ears;<br>
    Her life, in fact, they're loath to spare her.<br>
    But let her growth and strength display,<br>
    She walks abroad unveiled by day,<br>
    Yet is not grown a whit the fairer.<br>
    The uglier she is to sight,<br>
    The more she seeks the day's broad light.<br>
    The time I verily can discern<br>
    When all the honest folk will turn<br>
    From thee, thou jade! and seek protection<br>
    As from a corpse that breeds infection.<br>
    Thy guilty heart shall then dismay thee.<br>
    When they but look thee in the face:—<br>
    Shalt not in a golden chain array thee,<br>
    Nor at the altar take thy place!<br>
    Shalt not, in lace and ribbons flowing,<br>
    Make merry when the dance is going!<br>
    But in some corner, woe betide thee!<br>
    Among the beggars and cripples hide thee;<br>
    And so, though even God forgive,<br>
    On earth a damned existence live!</p>
<p>MARTHA</p>
<p>Commend your soul to God for pardon,<br>
    That you your heart with slander harden!</p>
<p>VALENTINE</p>
<p>Thou pimp most infamous, be still!<br>
    Could I thy withered body kill,<br>
    'Twould bring, for all my sinful pleasure,<br>
    Forgiveness in the richest measure.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>My brother! This is Hell's own pain!</p>
<p>VALENTINE</p>
<p>I tell thee, from thy tears refrain!<br>
    When thou from honor didst depart<br>
    It stabbed me to the very heart.<br>
    Now through the slumber of the grave<br>
    I go to God as a soldier brave.</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>(<i>Dies</i>.)</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-199"></a> <img src="images/Illus-199.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-200"></a> <img src="images/Illus-200.jpg" alt="Cathedral" title="Cathedral">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2>
<p>CATHEDRAL</p>
<p>SERVICE, ORGAN <i>and</i> ANTHEM.</p>
<p>(MARGARET <i>among much people: the</i> EVIL SPIRIT <i>behind</i><br>
    MARGARET.)</p>
<p>EVIL SPIRIT</p>
<p>HOW otherwise was it, Margaret,<br>
    When thou, still innocent,<br>
    Here to the altar cam'st,<br>
    And from the worn and fingered book<br>
    Thy prayers didst prattle,<br>
    Half sport of childhood,<br>
    Half God within thee!<br>
    Margaret!<br>
    Where tends thy thought?<br>
    Within thy bosom<br>
    What hidden crime?<br>
    Pray'st thou for mercy on thy mother's soul,<br>
    That fell asleep to long, long torment, and through thee?<br>
    Upon thy threshold whose the blood?<br>
    And stirreth not and quickens<br>
    Something beneath thy heart,<br>
    Thy life disquieting<br>
    With most foreboding presence?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Woe! woe!<br>
    Would I were free from the thoughts<br>
    That cross me, drawing hither and thither<br>
    Despite me!</p>
<p>CHORUS</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p><i>Diesira, dies illa,</i><br>
        Solvet soeclum in favilla!<br>
        <i>(Sound of the organ</i>.)<br>
    </p>
</div>
<p>EVIL SPIRIT</p>
<p>Wrath takes thee!<br>
    The trumpet peals!<br>
    The graves tremble!<br>
    And thy heart<br>
    From ashy rest<br>
    To fiery torments<br>
    Now again requickened,<br>
    Throbs to life!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Would I were forth!<br>
    I feel as if the organ here<br>
    My breath takes from me,<br>
    My very heart<br>
    Dissolved by the anthem!</p>
<p>CHORUS</p>
<div class="indented">
    <i>Judex ergo cum sedebit,</i><br>
    Quidquid latet, ad parebit,<br>
    Nil inultum remanebit.<br>
    <br>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I cannot breathe!<br>
    The massy pillars<br>
    Imprison me!<br>
    The vaulted arches<br>
    Crush me!—Air!</p>
<p>EVIL SPIRIT</p>
<p>Hide thyself! Sin and shame<br>
    Stay never hidden.<br>
    Air? Light?<br>
    Woe to thee!</p>
<p>CHORUS</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p><i>Quid sum miser tunc dicturus,</i><br>
        Quem patronem rogaturus,<br>
        Cum vix Justus sit securus<br>
    </p>
</div>
<p>EVIL SPIRIT</p>
<p>They turn their faces,<br>
    The glorified, from thee:<br>
    The pure, their hands to offer,<br>
    Shuddering, refuse thee!<br>
    Woe!</p>
<p>CHORUS</p>
<p><i>Quid sum miser tune dicturus</i>?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Neighbor! your cordial! &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;(<i>She falls in
        a swoon</i>.)</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-202"></a> <img src="images/Illus-202.jpg" alt="She falls in a swoon" title="She falls in a swoon">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-203"></a> <img src="images/Illus-203.jpg" alt="Walpurgis-Night" title="Walpurgis-Night">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2>
<p>WALPURGIS-NIGHT</p>
<p>THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS.</p>
<p><i>District of Schierke and Elend</i>.</p>
<p>FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>DOST thou not wish a broomstick-steed's assistance?<br>
    The sturdiest he-goat I would gladly see:<br>
    The way we take, our goal is yet some distance.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>So long as in my legs I feel the fresh existence.<br>
    This knotted staff suffices me.<br>
    What need to shorten so the way?<br>
    Along this labyrinth of vales to wander,<br>
    Then climb the rocky ramparts yonder,<br>
    Wherefrom the fountain flings eternal spray,<br>
    Is such delight, my steps would fain delay.<br>
    The spring-time stirs within the fragrant birches,<br>
    And even the fir-tree feels it now:<br>
    Should then our limbs escape its gentle searches?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I notice no such thing, I vow!<br>
    'Tis winter still within my body:<br>
    Upon my path I wish for frost and snow.<br>
    How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy,<br>
    The moon's lone disk, with its belated glow,<br>
    And lights so dimly, that, as one advances,<br>
    At every step one strikes a rock or tree!<br>
    Let us, then, use a Jack-o'-lantern's glances:<br>
    I see one yonder, burning merrily.<br>
    Ho, there! my friend! I'll levy thine attendance:<br>
    Why waste so vainly thy resplendence?<br>
    Be kind enough to light us up the steep!</p>
<p>WILL-O'-THE-WISP</p>
<p>My reverence, I hope, will me enable<br>
    To curb my temperament unstable;<br>
    For zigzag courses we are wont to keep.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Indeed? he'd like mankind to imitate!<br>
    Now, in the Devil's name, go straight,<br>
    Or I'll blow out his being's flickering spark!</p>
<p>WILL-O'-THE-WISP</p>
<p>You are the master of the house, I mark,<br>
    And I shall try to serve you nicely.<br>
    But then, reflect: the mountain's magic-mad to-day,<br>
    And if a will-o'-the-wisp must guide you on the way,<br>
    You mustn't take things too precisely.</p>
<p>FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, WILL-O'-THE-WISP</p>
<p>(<i>in alternating song</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">We, it seems, have entered newly</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In the sphere of dreams enchanted.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Do thy bidding, guide us truly,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">That our feet be forwards planted</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">In the vast, the desert spaces!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">See them swiftly changing places,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Trees on trees beside us trooping,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the crags above us stooping,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the rocky snouts,
        outgrowing,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Hear them snoring, hear them blowing!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">O'er the stones, the grasses, flowing</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Stream and streamlet seek the hollow.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Hear I noises? songs that follow?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Hear I tender love-petitions?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Voices of those heavenly visions?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Sounds of hope, of love undying!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the echoes, like traditions</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Of old days, come faint and hollow.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Hoo-hoo! Shoo-hoo! Nearer hover</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Jay and screech-owl, and the
        plover,—</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Are they all awake and crying?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Is't the salamander pushes,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bloated-bellied, through the bushes?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the roots, like serpents twisted,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Through the sand and boulders
        toiling,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Fright us, weirdest links uncoiling</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">To entrap us, unresisted:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Living knots and gnarls uncanny</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Feel with polypus-antennae</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">For the wanderer. Mice are flying,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Thousand-colored, herd-wise hieing</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Through the moss and through the
        heather!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And the fire-flies wink and darkle,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Crowded swarms that soar and sparkle,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And in wildering escort gather!</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Tell me, if we still are standing,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Or if further we're ascending?</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">All is turning, whirling, blending,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Trees and rocks with grinning faces,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Wandering lights that spin in mazes,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Still increasing and expanding!</span><br>
</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Grasp my skirt with heart undaunted!<br>
    Here a middle-peak is planted,<br>
    Whence one seeth, with amaze,<br>
    Mammon in the mountain blaze.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>How strangely glimmers through the hollows<br>
    A dreary light, like that of dawn!<br>
    Its exhalation tracks and follows<br>
    The deepest gorges, faint and wan.<br>
    Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth;<br>
    Here burns the glow through film and haze:<br>
    Now like a tender thread it creepeth,<br>
    Now like a fountain leaps and plays.<br>
    Here winds away, and in a hundred<br>
    Divided veins the valley braids:<br>
    There, in a corner pressed and sundered,<br>
    Itself detaches, spreads and fades.<br>
    Here gush the sparkles incandescent<br>
    Like scattered showers of golden sand;—<br>
    But, see! in all their height, at present,<br>
    The rocky ramparts blazing stand.</p>
<br>

<hr style="width: 65%;">
<br>

<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-207"></a> <img src="images/Illus-207.jpg" alt="<i>Under the old ribs of the rock retreating</i>" title="<i>Under the old ribs of the rock retreating</i>">
</div>
<br>
<br>

<h3><i>Under the old ribs of the rock retreating</i></h3>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Has not Sir Mammon grandly lighted<br>
    His palace for this festal night?<br>
    'Tis lucky thou hast seen the sight;<br>
    The boisterous guests approach that were invited.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>How raves the tempest through the air!<br>
    With what fierce blows upon my neck 'tis beating!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Under the old ribs of the rock retreating,<br>
    Hold fast, lest thou be hurled down the abysses there!<br>
    The night with the mist is black;<br>
    Hark! how the forests grind and crack!<br>
    Frightened, the owlets are scattered:<br>
    Hearken! the pillars are shattered.<br>
    The evergreen palaces shaking!<br>
    Boughs are groaning and breaking,<br>
    The tree-trunks terribly thunder,<br>
    The roots are twisting asunder!<br>
    In frightfully intricate crashing<br>
    Each on the other is dashing,<br>
    And over the wreck-strewn gorges<br>
    The tempest whistles and surges!<br>
    Hear'st thou voices higher ringing?<br>
    Far away, or nearer singing?<br>
    Yes, the mountain's side along,<br>
    Sweeps an infuriate glamouring song!</p>
<p>WITCHES (<i>in chorus</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The witches ride to the Brocken's
        top,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The stubble is yellow, and green the
        crop.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">There gathers the crowd for carnival:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Sir Urian sits over all.</span><br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And so they go over stone and stock;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The witch she——-s, and——-s
        the buck.</span><br>
    <br>
    A VOICE<br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Alone, old Baubo's coming now;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">She rides upon a farrow-sow.</span><br>
    <br>
    CHORUS<br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Then honor to whom the honor is due!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Dame Baubo first, to lead the crew!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">A tough old sow and the mother
        thereon,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Then follow the witches, every one.</span><br>
</p>
<p>A VOICE</p>
<p>Which way com'st thou hither?</p>
<p>VOICE</p>
<p>O'er the Ilsen-stone.<br>
    I peeped at the owl in her nest alone:<br>
    How she stared and glared!</p>
<p>VOICE</p>
<p>Betake thee to Hell!<br>
    Why so fast and so fell?</p>
<p>VOICE</p>
<p>She has scored and has flayed me:<br>
    See the wounds she has made me!</p>
<p>WITCHES (<i>chorus</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The way is wide, the way is long:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">See, what a wild and crazy throng!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The broom it scratches, the fork it
        thrusts,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The child is stifled, the mother
        bursts.</span><br>
</p>
<p>WIZARDS (<i>semichorus</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">As doth the snail in shell, we
        crawl:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Before us go the women all.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">When towards the Devil's House we
        tread,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Woman's a thousand steps ahead.</span><br>
    <br>
    OTHER SEMICHORUS<br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">We do not measure with such care:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Woman in thousand steps is theft.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">But howsoe'er she hasten may,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Man in one leap has cleared the way.</span><br>
</p>
<p>VOICE (<i>from above</i>)</p>
<p>Come on, come on, from Rocky Lake!</p>
<p>VOICE (<i>from below</i>)</p>
<p>Aloft we'd fain ourselves betake.<br>
    We've washed, and are bright as ever you will,<br>
    Yet we're eternally sterile still.</p>
<p>BOTH CHORUSES</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The wind is hushed, the star shoots
        by.</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The dreary moon forsakes the sky;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">The magic notes, like spark on spark,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Drizzle, whistling through the dark.</span><br>
</p>
<p>VOICE (<i>from below</i>)</p>
<p>Halt, there! Ho, there!</p>
<p>VOICE (<i>from above</i>)</p>
<p>Who calls from the rocky cleft below there?</p>
<p>VOICE (<i>below</i>)</p>
<p>Take me, too! take me, too!<br>
    I'm climbing now three hundred years,<br>
    And yet the summit cannot see:<br>
    Among my equals I would be.</p>
<p>BOTH CHORUSES</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bears the broom and bears the
        stock,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Bears the fork and bears the buck:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Who cannot raise himself to-night</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Is evermore a ruined wight.</span><br>
</p>
<p>HALF-WITCH (<i>below</i>)</p>
<p>So long I stumble, ill bestead,<br>
    And the others are now so far ahead!<br>
    At home I've neither rest nor cheer,<br>
    And yet I cannot gain them here.</p>
<p>CHORUS OF WITCHES</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">To cheer the witch will salve
        avail;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">A rag will answer for a sail;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Each trough a goodly ship supplies;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">He ne'er will fly, who now not flies.</span><br>
</p>
<p>BOTH CHORUSES</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">When round the summit whirls our
        flight,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Then lower, and on the ground alight;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And far and wide the heather press</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">With witchhood's swarms of
        wantonness!</span><br>
</p>
<p>(<i>They settle down</i>.)</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>They crowd and push, they roar and clatter!<br>
    They whirl and whistle, pull and chatter!<br>
    They shine, and spirt, and stink, and burn!<br>
    The true witch-element we learn.<br>
    Keep close! or we are parted, in our turn,<br>
    Where art thou?</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>in the distance</i>)</p>
<p>Here!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>What! whirled so far astray?<br>
    </p>
</div>
Then house-right I must use, and clear the way.<br>
Make room! Squire Voland comes! Room, gentle rabble,<br>
room!<br>
<br>

<p>Here, Doctor, hold to me: in one jump we'll resume<br>
    An easier space, and from the crowd be free:<br>
    It's too much, even for the like of me.<br>
    Yonder, with special light, there's something shining clearer<br>
    Within those bushes; I've a mind to see.<br>
    Come on! we'll slip a little nearer.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Spirit of Contradiction! On! I'll follow straight.<br>
    'Tis planned most wisely, if I judge aright:<br>
    We climb the Brocken's top in the Walpurgis-Night,<br>
    That arbitrarily, here, ourselves we isolate.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>But see, what motley flames among the heather!<br>
    There is a lively club together:<br>
    In smaller circles one is not alone.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Better the summit, I must own:<br>
    There fire and whirling smoke I see.<br>
    They seek the Evil One in wild confusion:<br>
    Many enigmas there might find solution.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>But there enigmas also knotted be.<br>
    Leave to the multitude their riot!<br>
    Here will we house ourselves in quiet.<br>
    It is an old, transmitted trade,<br>
    That in the greater world the little worlds are made.<br>
    I see stark-nude young witches congregate,<br>
    And old ones, veiled and hidden shrewdly:<br>
    On my account be kind, nor treat them rudely!<br>
    The trouble's small, the fun is great.<br>
    I hear the noise of instruments attuning,—<br>
    Vile din! yet one must learn to bear the crooning.<br>
    Come, come along! It <i>must</i> be, I declare!<br>
    I'll go ahead and introduce thee there,<br>
    Thine obligation newly earning.<br>
    That is no little space: what say'st thou, friend?<br>
    Look yonder! thou canst scarcely see the end:<br>
    A hundred fires along the ranks are burning.<br>
    They dance, they chat, they cook, they drink, they court:<br>
    Now where, just tell me, is there better sport?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Wilt thou, to introduce us to the revel,<br>
    Assume the part of wizard or of devil?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I'm mostly used, 'tis true, to go incognito,<br>
    But on a gala-day one may his orders show.<br>
    The Garter does not deck my suit,<br>
    But honored and at home is here the cloven foot.<br>
    Perceiv'st thou yonder snail? It cometh, slow and steady;<br>
    So delicately its feelers pry,<br>
    That it hath scented me already:<br>
    I cannot here disguise me, if I try.<br>
    But come! we'll go from this fire to a newer:<br>
    I am the go-between, and thou the wooer.</p>
<p>(<i>To some, who are sitting around dying embers</i>:)</p>
<p>Old gentlemen, why at the outskirts? Enter!<br>
    I'd praise you if I found you snugly in the centre,<br>
    With youth and revel round you like a zone:<br>
    You each, at home, are quite enough alone.</p>
<p>GENERAL</p>
<p>Say, who would put his trust in nations,<br>
    Howe'er for them one may have worked and planned?<br>
    For with the people, as with women,<br>
    Youth always has the upper hand.</p>
<p>MINISTER</p>
<p>They're now too far from what is just and sage.<br>
    I praise the old ones, not unduly:<br>
    When we were all-in-all, then, truly,<br>
    <i>Then</i> was the real golden age.</p>
<p>PARVENU</p>
<p>We also were not stupid, either,<br>
    And what we should not, often did;<br>
    But now all things have from their bases slid,<br>
    Just as we meant to hold them fast together.</p>
<p>AUTHOR</p>
<p>Who, now, a work of moderate sense will read?<br>
    Such works are held as antiquate and mossy;<br>
    And as regards the younger folk, indeed,<br>
    They never yet have been so pert and saucy.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>(<i>who all at once appears very old</i>)</p>
<p>I feel that men are ripe for Judgment-Day,<br>
    Now for the last time I've the witches'-hill ascended:<br>
    Since to the lees <i>my</i> cask is drained away,<br>
    The world's, as well, must soon be ended.</p>
<p>HUCKSTER-WITCH</p>
<p>Ye gentlemen, don't pass me thus!<br>
    Let not the chance neglected be!<br>
    Behold my wares attentively:<br>
    The stock is rare and various.<br>
    And yet, there's nothing I've collected—<br>
    No shop, on earth, like this you'll find!—<br>
    Which has not, once, sore hurt inflicted<br>
    Upon the world, and on mankind.<br>
    No dagger's here, that set not blood to flowing;<br>
    No cup, that hath not once, within a healthy frame<br>
    Poured speedy death, in poison glowing:<br>
    No gems, that have not brought a maid to shame;<br>
    No sword, but severed ties for the unwary,<br>
    Or from behind struck down the adversary.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Gossip! the times thou badly comprehendest:<br>
    What's done has happed—what haps, is done!<br>
    'Twere better if for novelties thou sendest:<br>
    By such alone can we be won.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Let me not lose myself in all this pother!<br>
    This is a fair, as never was another!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>The whirlpool swirls to get above:<br>
    Thou'rt shoved thyself, imagining to shove.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>But who is that?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Note her especially,<br>
    Tis Lilith.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>Who?</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Adam's first wife is she.<br>
    </p>
</div>
Beware the lure within her lovely tresses,<br>
The splendid sole adornment of her hair!<br>
When she succeeds therewith a youth to snare,<br>
Not soon again she frees him from her jesses.<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Those two, the old one with the young one sitting,<br>
    They've danced already more than fitting.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>No rest to-night for young or old!<br>
    They start another dance: come now, let us take hold!</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>dancing with the young witch</i>)</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">A lovely dream once came to me;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I then beheld an apple-tree,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And there two fairest apples shone:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">They lured me so, I climbed thereon.</span><br>
    <br>
    THE FAIR ONE<br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Apples have been desired by you,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Since first in Paradise they grew;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And I am moved with joy, to know</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">That such within my garden grow.</span><br>
    <br>
    MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>dancing with the old one</i>)<br>
    <br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">A dissolute dream once came to me:</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Therein I saw a cloven tree,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Which had
        a————————;</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Yet,——as 'twas, I fancied
        it.</span><br>
</p>
<p>THE OLD ONE</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I offer here my best salute</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Unto the knight with cloven foot!</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Let him
        a—————prepare,</span><br>
    <span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">If
        him—————————does not
        scare.</span><br>
</p>
<p>PROKTOPHANTASMIST</p>
<p>Accurséd folk! How dare you venture thus?<br>
    Had you not, long since, demonstration<br>
    That ghosts can't stand on ordinary foundation?<br>
    And now you even dance, like one of us!</p>
<p>THE FAIR ONE (<i>dancing</i>)</p>
<p>Why does he come, then, to our ball?</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>dancing</i>)</p>
<p>O, everywhere on him you fall!<br>
    When others dance, he weighs the matter:<br>
    If he can't every step bechatter,<br>
    Then 'tis the same as were the step not made;<br>
    But if you forwards go, his ire is most displayed.<br>
    If you would whirl in regular gyration<br>
    As he does in his dull old mill,<br>
    He'd show, at any rate, good-will,—<br>
    Especially if you heard and heeded his hortation.</p>
<p>PROKTOPHANTASMIST</p>
<p>You still are here? Nay, 'tis a thing unheard!<br>
    Vanish, at once! We've said the enlightening word.<br>
    The pack of devils by no rules is daunted:<br>
    We are so wise, and yet is Tegel haunted.<br>
    To clear the folly out, how have I swept and stirred!<br>
    Twill ne'er be clean: why, 'tis a thing unheard!</p>
<p>THE FAIR ONE</p>
<p>Then cease to bore us at our ball!</p>
<p>PROKTOPHANTASMIST</p>
<p>I tell you, spirits, to your face,<br>
    I give to spirit-despotism no place;<br>
    My spirit cannot practise it at all.</p>
<p>(<i>The dance continues</i>)</p>
<p>Naught will succeed, I see, amid such revels;<br>
    Yet something from a tour I always save,<br>
    And hope, before my last step to the grave,<br>
    To overcome the poets and the devils.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>He now will seat him in the nearest puddle;<br>
    The solace this, whereof he's most assured:<br>
    And when upon his rump the leeches hang and fuddle,<br>
    He'll be of spirits and of Spirit cured.</p>
<p>(<i>To</i> FAUST, <i>who has left the dance</i>:)</p>
<p>Wherefore forsakest thou the lovely maiden,<br>
    That in the dance so sweetly sang?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Ah! in the midst of it there sprang<br>
    A red mouse from her mouth—sufficient reason.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>That's nothing! One must not so squeamish be;<br>
    So the mouse was not gray, enough for thee.<br>
    Who'd think of that in love's selected season?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Then saw I—.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p>What?</p>
</div>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Mephisto, seest thou there,<br>
    </p>
</div>
Alone and far, a girl most pale and fair?<br>
She falters on, her way scarce knowing,<br>
As if with fettered feet that stay her going.<br>
I must confess, it seems to me<br>
As if my kindly Margaret were she.<br>
<br>

<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Let the thing be! All thence have evil drawn:<br>
    It is a magic shape, a lifeless eidolon.<br>
    Such to encounter is not good:<br>
    Their blank, set stare benumbs the human blood,<br>
    And one is almost turned to stone.<br>
    Medusa's tale to thee is known.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Forsooth, the eyes they are of one whom, dying,<br>
    No hand with loving pressure closed;<br>
    That is the breast whereon I once was lying,—<br>
    The body sweet, beside which I reposed!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Tis magic all, thou fool, seduced so easily!<br>
    Unto each man his love she seems to be.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>The woe, the rapture, so ensnare me,<br>
    That from her gaze I cannot tear me!<br>
    And, strange! around her fairest throat<br>
    A single scarlet band is gleaming,<br>
    No broader than a knife-blade seeming!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Quite right! The mark I also note.<br>
    Her head beneath her arm she'll sometimes carry;<br>
    Twas Perseus lopped it, her old adversary.<br>
    Thou crav'st the same illusion still!<br>
    Come, let us mount this little hill;<br>
    The Prater shows no livelier stir,<br>
    And, if they've not bewitched my sense,<br>
    I verily see a theatre.<br>
    What's going on?</p>
<p>SERVIBILIS</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>'Twill shortly recommence:<br>
    </p>
</div>
A new performance—'tis the last of seven.<br>
To give that number is the custom here:<br>
'Twas by a Dilettante written,<br>
And Dilettanti in the parts appear.<br>
That now I vanish, pardon, I entreat you!<br>
As Dilettante I the curtain raise.<br>
<br>

<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>When I upon the Blocksberg meet you,<br>
    I find it good: for that's your proper place.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-221"></a> <img src="images/Illus-221.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-222"></a> <img src="images/Illus-222.jpg" alt="WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM" title="WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2>
<p>WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM</p>
<p>OBERON AND TITANIA's GOLDEN WEDDING</p>
<p>INTERMEZZO</p>
<p>MANAGER</p>
<p>Sons of Mieding, rest to-day!<br>
    Needless your machinery:<br>
    Misty vale and mountain gray,<br>
    That is all the scenery.</p>
<p>HERALD</p>
<p>That the wedding golden be.<br>
    Must fifty years be rounded:<br>
    But <i>the Golden</i> give to me,<br>
    When the strife's compounded.</p>
<p>OBERON</p>
<p>Spirits, if you're here, be seen—<br>
    Show yourselves, delighted!<br>
    Fairy king and fairy queen,<br>
    They are newly plighted.</p>
<p>PUCK</p>
<p>Cometh Puck, and, light of limb,<br>
    Whisks and whirls in measure:<br>
    Come a hundred after him,<br>
    To share with him the pleasure.</p>
<p>ARIEL</p>
<p>Ariel's song is heavenly-pure,<br>
    His tones are sweet and rare ones:<br>
    Though ugly faces he allure,<br>
    Yet he allures the fair ones.</p>
<p>OBERON</p>
<p>Spouses, who would fain agree,<br>
    Learn how we were mated!<br>
    If your pairs would loving be,<br>
    First be separated!</p>
<p>TITANIA</p>
<p>If her whims the wife control,<br>
    And the man berate her,<br>
    Take him to the Northern Pole,<br>
    And her to the Equator!</p>
<p>ORCHESTRA. TUTTI.</p>
<p><i>Fortissimo</i>.</p>
<p>Snout of fly, mosquito-bill,<br>
    And kin of all conditions,<br>
    Frog in grass, and cricket-trill,—<br>
    These are the musicians!</p>
<p>SOLO</p>
<p>See the bagpipe on our track!<br>
    'Tis the soap-blown bubble:<br>
    Hear the <i>schnecke-schnicke-schnack</i><br>
    Through his nostrils double!</p>
<p>SPIRIT, JUST GROWING INTO FORM</p>
<p>Spider's foot and paunch of toad,<br>
    And little wings—we know 'em!<br>
    A little creature 'twill not be,<br>
    But yet, a little poem.</p>
<p>A LITTLE COUPLE</p>
<p>Little step and lofty leap<br>
    Through honey-dew and fragrance:<br>
    You'll never mount the airy steep<br>
    With all your tripping vagrance.</p>
<p>INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER</p>
<p>Is't but masquerading play?<br>
    See I with precision?<br>
    Oberon, the beauteous fay,<br>
    Meets, to-night, my vision!</p>
<p>ORTHODOX</p>
<p>Not a claw, no tail I see!<br>
    And yet, beyond a cavil,<br>
    Like "the Gods of Greece," must he<br>
    Also be a devil.</p>
<p>NORTHERN ARTIST</p>
<p>I only seize, with sketchy air,<br>
    Some outlines of the tourney;<br>
    Yet I betimes myself prepare<br>
    For my Italian journey.</p>
<p>PURIST</p>
<p>My bad luck brings me here, alas!<br>
    How roars the orgy louder!<br>
    And of the witches in the mass,<br>
    But only two wear powder.</p>
<p>YOUNG WITCH</p>
<p>Powder becomes, like petticoat,<br>
    A gray and wrinkled noddy;<br>
    So I sit naked on my goat,<br>
    And show a strapping body.</p>
<p>MATRON</p>
<p>We've too much tact and policy<br>
    To rate with gibes a scolder;<br>
    Yet, young and tender though you be,<br>
    I hope to see you moulder.</p>
<p>LEADER OF THE BAND</p>
<p>Fly-snout and mosquito-bill,<br>
    Don't swarm so round the Naked!<br>
    Frog in grass and cricket-trill,<br>
    Observe the time, and make it!</p>
<p>WEATHERCOCK (<i>towards one side</i>)</p>
<p>Society to one's desire!<br>
    Brides only, and the sweetest!<br>
    And bachelors of youth and fire.<br>
    And prospects the completest!</p>
<p>WEATHERCOCK (<i>towards the other side</i>)</p>
<p>And if the Earth don't open now<br>
    To swallow up each ranter,<br>
    Why, then will I myself, I vow,<br>
    Jump into hell instanter!</p>
<p>XENIES</p>
<p>Us as little insects see!<br>
    With sharpest nippers flitting,<br>
    That our Papa Satan we<br>
    May honor as is fitting.</p>
<p>HENNINGS</p>
<p>How, in crowds together massed,<br>
    They are jesting, shameless!<br>
    They will even say, at last,<br>
    That their hearts are blameless.</p>
<p>MUSAGETES</p>
<p>Among this witches' revelry<br>
    His way one gladly loses;<br>
    And, truly, it would easier be<br>
    Than to command the Muses.</p>
<p>CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE</p>
<p>The proper folks one's talents laud:<br>
    Come on, and none shall pass us!<br>
    The Blocksberg has a summit broad,<br>
    Like Germany's Parnassus.</p>
<p>INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER</p>
<p>Say, who's the stiff and pompous man?<br>
    He walks with haughty paces:<br>
    He snuffles all he snuffle can:<br>
    "He scents the Jesuits' traces."</p>
<p>CRANE</p>
<p>Both clear and muddy streams, for me<br>
    Are good to fish and sport in:<br>
    And thus the pious man you see<br>
    With even devils consorting.</p>
<p>WORLDLING</p>
<p>Yes, for the pious, I suspect,<br>
    All instruments are fitting;<br>
    And on the Blocksberg they erect<br>
    Full many a place of meeting.</p>
<p>DANCER</p>
<p>A newer chorus now succeeds!<br>
    I hear the distant drumming.<br>
    "Don't be disturbed! 'tis, in the reeds,<br>
    The bittern's changeless booming."</p>
<p>DANCING-MASTER</p>
<p>How each his legs in nimble trip<br>
    Lifts up, and makes a clearance!<br>
    The crooked jump, the heavy skip,<br>
    Nor care for the appearance.</p>
<p>GOOD FELLOW</p>
<p>The rabble by such hate are held,<br>
    To maim and slay delights them:<br>
    As Orpheus' lyre the brutes compelled,<br>
    The bagpipe here unites them.</p>
<p>DOGMATIST</p>
<p>I'll not be led by any lure<br>
    Of doubts or critic-cavils:<br>
    The Devil must be something, sure,—<br>
    Or how should there be devils?</p>
<p>IDEALIST</p>
<p>This once, the fancy wrought in me<br>
    Is really too despotic:<br>
    Forsooth, if I am all I see,<br>
    I must be idiotic!</p>
<p>REALIST</p>
<p>This racking fuss on every hand,<br>
    It gives me great vexation;<br>
    And, for the first time, here I stand<br>
    On insecure foundation.</p>
<p>SUPERNATURALIST</p>
<p>With much delight I see the play,<br>
    And grant to these their merits,<br>
    Since from the devils I also may<br>
    Infer the better spirits.</p>
<p>SCEPTIC</p>
<p>The flame they follow, on and on,<br>
    And think they're near the treasure:<br>
    But <i>Devil</i> rhymes with <i>Doubt</i> alone,<br>
    So I am here with pleasure.</p>
<p>LEADER OF THE BAND</p>
<p>Frog in green, and cricket-trill.<br>
    Such dilettants!—perdition!<br>
    Fly-snout and mosquito-bill,—<br>
    Each one's a fine musician!</p>
<p>THE ADROIT</p>
<p><i>Sans souci</i>, we call the clan<br>
    Of merry creatures so, then;<br>
    Go a-foot no more we can,<br>
    And on our heads we go, then.</p>
<p>THE AWKWARD</p>
<p>Once many a bit we sponged, but now,<br>
    God help us! that is done with:<br>
    Our shoes are all danced out, we trow,<br>
    We've but naked soles to run with.</p>
<p>WILL-O'-THE WISPS</p>
<p>From the marshes we appear,<br>
    Where we originated;<br>
    Yet in the ranks, at once, we're here<br>
    As glittering gallants rated.</p>
<p>SHOOTING-STAR</p>
<p>Darting hither from the sky,<br>
    In star and fire light shooting,<br>
    Cross-wise now in grass I lie:<br>
    Who'll help me to my footing?</p>
<p>THE HEAVY FELLOWS</p>
<p>Room! and round about us, room!<br>
    Trodden are the grasses:<br>
    Spirits also, spirits come,<br>
    And they are bulky masses.</p>
<p>PUCK</p>
<p>Enter not so stall-fed quite,<br>
    Like elephant-calves about one!<br>
    And the heaviest weight to-night<br>
    Be Puck, himself, the stout one!</p>
<p>ARIEL</p>
<p>If loving Nature at your back,<br>
    Or Mind, the wings uncloses,<br>
    Follow up my airy track<br>
    To the mount of roses!</p>
<p>ORCHESTRA</p>
<p><i>pianissimo</i><br>
    Cloud and trailing mist o'erhead<br>
    Are now illuminated:<br>
    Air in leaves, and wind in reed,<br>
    And all is dissipated.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-230"></a> <img src="images/Illus-230.jpg" alt="DREARY DAY" title="DREARY DAY">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2>
<p>DREARY DAY</p>
<p>A FIELD</p>
<p>FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>In misery! In despair! Long wretchedly astray on the face<br>
    of the earth, and now imprisoned! That gracious, ill-starred<br>
    creature shut in a dungeon as a criminal, and given<br>
    up to fearful torments! To this has it come! to this!—Treacherous,<br>
    contemptible spirit, and thou hast concealed it from<br>
    me!—Stand, then,—stand! Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in<br>
    thy head! Stand and defy me with thine intolerable presence!<br>
    Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Delivered up to evil<br>
    spirits, and to condemning, unfeeling Man! And thou hast<br>
    lulled me, meanwhile, with the most insipid dissipations, hast<br>
    concealed from me her increasing wretchedness, and suffered<br>
    her to go helplessly to ruin!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-231"></a> <img src="images/Illus-231.jpg" alt="<i>Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head</i>" title="<i>Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head</i>">
</div>
<h4>Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head</h4>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>She is not the first.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Dog! Abominable monster! Transform him, thou Infinite<br>
    Spirit! transform the reptile again into his dog-shape? in which<br>
    it pleased him often at night to scamper on before me, to roll<br>
    himself at the feet of the unsuspecting wanderer, and hang<br>
    upon his shoulders when he fell! Transform him again into<br>
    his favorite likeness, that he may crawl upon his belly in the<br>
    dust before me,—that I may trample him, the outlawed, under<br>
    foot! Not the first! O woe! woe which no human soul can<br>
    grasp, that more than one being should sink into the depths<br>
    of this misery,—that the first, in its writhing death-agony<br>
    under the eyes of the Eternal Forgiver, did not expiate the<br>
    guilt of all others! The misery of this single one pierces to the<br>
    very marrow of my life; and thou art calmly grinning at the<br>
    fate of thousands!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Now we are already again at the end of our wits, where the<br>
    understanding of you men runs wild. Why didst thou enter<br>
    into fellowship with us, if thou canst not carry it out? Wilt fly,<br>
    and art not secure against dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves<br>
    upon thee, or thou thyself upon us?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Gnash not thus thy devouring teeth at me? It fills me with<br>
    horrible disgust. Mighty, glorious Spirit, who hast vouchsafed<br>
    to me Thine apparition, who knowest my heart and my soul,<br>
    why fetter me to the felon-comrade, who feeds on mischief and<br>
    gluts himself with ruin?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>Hast thou done?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Rescue her, or woe to thee! The fearfullest curse be upon<br>
    thee for thousands of ages!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I cannot loosen the bonds of the Avenger, nor undo his bolts.<br>
    Rescue her? Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I, or thou?</p>
<p>(FAUST <i>looks around wildly</i>.)</p>
<p>Wilt thou grasp the thunder? Well that it has not been<br>
    given to you, miserable mortals! To crush to pieces the innocent<br>
    respondent—that is the tyrant-fashion of relieving one's<br>
    self in embarrassments.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Take me thither! She shall be free!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>And the danger to which thou wilt expose thyself? Know<br>
    that the guilt of blood, from thy hand, still lies upon the town!<br>
    Avenging spirits hover over the spot where the victim fell, and<br>
    lie in wait for the returning murderer.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world upon<br>
    thee, monster! Take me thither, I say, and liberate her!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I will convey thee there; and hear, what I can do! Have I<br>
    all the power in Heaven and on Earth? I will becloud the<br>
    jailer's senses: get possession of the key, and lead her forth with<br>
    human hand! I will keep watch: the magic steeds are ready,<br>
    I will carry you off. So much is in my power.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Up and away!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-235"></a> <img src="images/Illus-235.jpg" alt="Open Field" title="Open Field">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2>
<p>NIGHT</p>
<p>OPEN FIELD</p>
<p>(FAUST <i>and</i> MEPHISTOPHELES <i>speeding onward on black horses</i>.)</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>What weave they there round the raven-stone?</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>I know not what they are brewing and doing.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Soaring up, sweeping down, bowing and bending!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>A witches'-guild.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>They scatter, devote and doom!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>On! on!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-236"></a> <img src="images/Illus-236.jpg" alt="Dungeon" title="Dungeon">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2>
<p>DUNGEON</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>(<i>with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door</i>)</p>
<p>A shudder, long unfelt, comes o'er me;<br>
    Mankind's collected woe o'erwhelms me, here.<br>
    She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me,<br>
    And all her crime was a delusion dear!<br>
    What! I delay to free her?<br>
    I dread, once again to see her?<br>
    On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near.</p>
<p>(<i>He grasps the lock: the sound of singing is heard inside</i>.)</p>
<div class="indented">
    <p><i>My mother, the harlot,</i><br>
        Who put me to death;<br>
        My father, the varlet,<br>
        Who eaten me hath!<br>
        Little sister, so good,<br>
        Laid my bones in the wood,<br>
        In the damp moss and clay:<br>
        <i>Then was I a beautiful bird o' the wood;</i><br>
        Fly away! Fly away!<br>
    </p>
</div>
<p>FAUST <i>(unlocking)</i></p>
<p>She does not dream her lover listens near;<br>
    That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear.</p>
<p><i>(He enters</i>.)</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>hiding herself on the pallet</i>)<br>
    Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness!</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>whispering</i>)<br>
    Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee.</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>throwing herself before him</i>)<br>
    Art thou a man, then pity my distress!</p>
<p>FAUST<br>
    Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee!<br>
    (<i>He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them</i>.)</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>on her knees</i>)</p>
<p>Who, headsman! unto thee such power<br>
    Over me could give?<br>
    Thou'rt come for me at midnight-hour:<br>
    Have mercy on me, let me live!<br>
    Is't not soon enough when morning chime has run?</p>
<p>(<i>She rises</i>.)</p>
<p>And I am yet so young, so young!<br>
    And now Death comes, and ruin!<br>
    I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing.<br>
    My love was near, but now he's far;<br>
    Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are.<br>
    Seize me not thus so violently!<br>
    Spare me! What have I done to thee?<br>
    Let me not vainly entreat thee!<br>
    I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Shall I outlive this misery?</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Now am I wholly in thy might.<br>
    But let me suckle, first, my baby!<br>
    I blissed it all this livelong night;<br>
    They took 't away, to vex me, maybe,<br>
    And now they say I killed the child outright.<br>
    And never shall I be glad again.<br>
    They sing songs about me! 'tis bad of the folk to do it!<br>
    There's an old story has the same refrain;<br>
    Who bade them so construe it?</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>falling upon his knees</i>)</p>
<p>Here lieth one who loves thee ever,<br>
    The thraldom of thy woe to sever.</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>flinging herself beside him</i>)</p>
<p>O let us kneel, and call the Saints to hide us!<br>
    Under the steps beside us,<br>
    The threshold under,<br>
    Hell heaves in thunder!<br>
    The Evil One<br>
    With terrible wrath<br>
    Seeketh a path<br>
    His prey to discover!</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>aloud</i>)</p>
<p>Margaret! Margaret!</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>attentively listening</i>)</p>
<p>That was the voice of my lover!</p>
<p>(<i>She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off</i>.)</p>
<p>Where is he? I heard him call me.<br>
    I am free! No one shall enthrall me.<br>
    To his neck will I fly,<br>
    On his bosom lie!<br>
    On the threshold he stood, and <i>Margaret</i>! calling,<br>
    Midst of Hell's howling and noises appalling,<br>
    Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision,<br>
    I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>'Tis I!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>'Tis thou! O, say it once again!</p>
<p>(<i>Clasping him</i>.)</p>
<p>'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain?<br>
    The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain?<br>
    'Tis thou! Thou comest to save me,<br>
    And I am saved!—<br>
    Again the street I see<br>
    Where first I looked on thee;<br>
    And the garden, brightly blooming,<br>
    Where I and Martha wait thy coming.</p>
<p>FAUST (<i>struggling to leave</i>)</p>
<p>Come! Come with me!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Delay, now!<br>
    So fain I stay, when thou delayest!</p>
<p>(<i>Caressing him</i>.)</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Away, now!<br>
    If longer here thou stayest,<br>
    We shall be made to dearly rue it.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Kiss me!—canst no longer do it?<br>
    My friend, so short a time thou'rt missing,<br>
    And hast unlearned thy kissing?<br>
    Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast?<br>
    Where once a heaven thy glances did create me,<br>
    A heaven thy loving words expressed,<br>
    And thou didst kiss, as thou wouldst suffocate me—<br>
    Kiss me!<br>
    Or I'll kiss thee!</p>
<p>(<i>She embraces him</i>.)</p>
<p>Ah, woe! thy lips are chill,<br>
    And still.<br>
    How changed in fashion<br>
    Thy passion!<br>
    Who has done me this ill?</p>
<p>(<i>She turns away from him</i>.)</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold:<br>
    I'll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousand-fold;<br>
    But follow now! 'Tis all I beg of thee.</p>
<p>MARGARET (<i>turning to him</i>)</p>
<p>And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>'Tis I! Come on!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Thou wilt unloose my chain,<br>
    </p>
</div>
And in thy lap wilt take me once again.<br>
How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?—<br>
Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak'st free?<br>
<br>

<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Come! come! The night already vanisheth.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>My mother have I put to death;<br>
    I've drowned the baby born to thee.<br>
    Was it not given to thee and me?<br>
    Thee, too!—'Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem—<br>
    Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream!<br>
    Thy dear, dear hand!—But, ah, 'tis wet!<br>
    Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet<br>
    There's blood thereon.<br>
    Ah, God! what hast thou done?<br>
    Nay, sheathe thy sword at last!<br>
    Do not affray me!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>O, let the past be past!<br>
    Thy words will slay me!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>No, no! Thou must outlive us.<br>
    Now I'll tell thee the graves to give us:<br>
    Thou must begin to-morrow<br>
    The work of sorrow!<br>
    The best place give to my mother,<br>
    Then close at her side my brother,<br>
    And me a little away,<br>
    But not too very far, I pray!<br>
    And here, on my right breast, my baby lay!<br>
    Nobody else will lie beside me!—<br>
    Ah, within thine arms to hide me,<br>
    That was a sweet and a gracious bliss,<br>
    But no more, no more can I attain it!<br>
    I would force myself on thee and constrain it,<br>
    And it seems thou repellest my kiss:<br>
    And yet 'tis thou, so good, so kind to see!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>If thou feel'st it is I, then come with me!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Out yonder?</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>To freedom.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>If the grave is there,<br>
    Death lying in wait, then come!<br>
    From here to eternal rest:<br>
    No further step—no, no!<br>
    Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>I dare not go: there's no hope any more.<br>
    Why should I fly? They'll still my steps waylay!<br>
    It is so wretched, forced to beg my living,<br>
    And a bad conscience sharper misery giving!<br>
    It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken,<br>
    And I'd still be followed and taken!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>I'll stay with thee.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Be quick! Be quick!<br>
    Save thy perishing child!<br>
    Away! Follow the ridge<br>
    Up by the brook,</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-243"></a> <img src="images/Illus-243.jpg" alt="If the grave is there, Death lying in wait, then come!" title="If the grave is there, Death lying in wait, then come!">
</div>
<h3>If the grave is there, Death lying in wait, then come!</h3>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<p>Over the bridge,<br>
    Into the wood,<br>
    To the left, where the plank is placed<br>
    In the pool!<br>
    Seize it in haste!<br>
    'Tis trying to rise,<br>
    'Tis struggling still!<br>
    Save it! Save it!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Recall thy wandering will!<br>
    One step, and thou art free at last!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>If the mountain we had only passed!<br>
    There sits my mother upon a stone,—<br>
    I feel an icy shiver!<br>
    There sits my mother upon a stone,<br>
    And her head is wagging ever.<br>
    She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o'er;<br>
    She slept so long that she wakes no more.<br>
    She slept, while we were caressing:<br>
    Ah, those were the days of blessing!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>Here words and prayers are nothing worth;<br>
    I'll venture, then, to bear thee forth.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>No—let me go! I'll suffer no force!<br>
    Grasp me not so murderously!<br>
    I've done, else, all things for the love of thee.</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Day? Yes, the day comes,—the last day breaks for me!<br>
    My wedding-day it was to be!<br>
    Tell no one thou has been with Margaret!<br>
    Woe for my garland! The chances<br>
    Are over—'tis all in vain!<br>
    We shall meet once again,<br>
    But not at the dances!<br>
    The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken:<br>
    The square below<br>
    And the streets overflow:<br>
    The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken.<br>
    I am seized, and bound, and delivered—<br>
    Shoved to the block—they give the sign!<br>
    Now over each neck has quivered<br>
    The blade that is quivering over mine.<br>
    Dumb lies the world like the grave!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<p>O had I ne'er been born!</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>appears outside</i>)</p>
<p>Off! or you're lost ere morn.<br>
    Useless talking, delaying and praying!<br>
    My horses are neighing:<br>
    The morning twilight is near.</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>What rises up from the threshold here?<br>
    He! he! suffer him not!<br>
    What does he want in this holy spot?<br>
    He seeks me!</p>
<p>FAUST</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>Thou shalt live.</p>
</div>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Judgment of God! myself to thee I give.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> FAUST)</p>
<p>Come! or I'll leave her in the lurch, and thee!</p>
<p>MARGARET</p>
<p>Thine am I, Father! rescue me!<br>
    Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me,<br>
    Camp around, and from evil ward me!<br>
    Henry! I shudder to think of thee.</p>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES</p>
<p>She is judged!</p>
<p>VOICE (<i>from above</i>)</p>
<div class="indenteds">
    <p>She is saved!</p>
</div>
<p>MEPHISTOPHELES (<i>to</i> FAUST)</p>
<div class="indentedss">
    <p>Hither to me!</p>
</div>
<p>(<i>He disappears with</i> FAUST.)</p>
<p>VOICE (<i>from within, dying away</i>)</p>
<p>Henry! Henry!</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-247"></a> <img src="images/Illus-247.jpg" alt="Faust" title="Faust">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">
<div class="center">
    <a id="illus-248"></a> <img src="images/Illus-248.jpg" alt="End" title="End">
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;">







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