Faust: A Tragedy
I feel as if I heard the ceaseless clatter
Of thirty thousand idiots in a chorus.
Mephistopheles.
Enough, kind Sibyl; thanks for thy good will!
Now bring your jug here, and the goblet fill
With this prime juice, till it be brimming o'er.
My friend here is a man of high degrees,
And will digest the draught with ease.
He has swilled many a goodly glass before.
[_The_ /Witch/, _with many ceremonies, pours the beverage into
a cup. While_ /Faust/ _brings it to his mouth a light flame arises._
Mephistopheles.
Come, quaff it boldly, without thinking!
The draught will make thy heart to burn with love.
Art with the Devil hand and glove,
And from a fire-spurt would'st be shrinking?
[_The_ /Witch/ _looses the circle._ /Faust/ _steps out._
Mephistopheles.
Come quickly out; you must not rest.
The Witch.
I hope the swig will wonders work on thee!
Mephistopheles.
And you, if you have aught to beg of me,
Upon Walpurgis' night make your request.
The Witch.
Here is a song! at times sung, you will find
It hath a wondrous working on your mind.
Mephistopheles. [_to_ /Faust/]
Come, yield thee now to my desire;
Be meek for once, and own the bridle.
You must keep quiet, and let yourself perspire,
That through your inmost frame the potent juice may pierce.
When we have time to spare, I will rehearse
Some lessons on the art of being nobly idle;
And soon thy heart with ecstasy shall know,
How Cupid 'gins to stir, and boundeth to and fro.
Faust. [_Turning again towards the mirror_]
Indulge me with one glance!--one moment spare!
It was a virgin-form surpassing fair!
Mephistopheles.
No! No! with my good aid thou soon shalt see
The paragon of women bodily.
[_Aside._] Anon, if this good potion does its duty,
He'll see in every wench the Trojan beauty.
Scene IV.
_A Street._
/Faust. Margaret/ _passes over._
Faust.
My fair young lady, may I dare
To offer you my escort home?
Margaret.
Nor lady I, good sir, nor fair,
And need no guide to show me home. [_Exit._
Faust.
By heaven, this child is passing fair!
A fairer never crossed my view;
Of such a modest gentle air,
Yet with a dash of pertness too,
And girlish innocent conceit;
Her lips so red, her cheeks so bright,
Forget I could not, if I might.
How she casts down her lovely eyes
Deep graven in my heart it lies,
And how so smartly she replied,
And with a sharp turn stepped aside,
It was most ravishingly sweet!
_Enter_ /Mephistopheles/.
Faust.
Hark! you must get the girl for me!
Mephistopheles.
Which one?
Faust.
She's just gone by.
Mephistopheles.
What! she?
She's only now come from confession,
Where she received a full remission.
I slinked close by the box, and heard
The simple damsel's every word;
'Tis a most guileless thing, that goes
For very nothing to the priest.
My power does not extend to those.
Faust.
Yet she is fourteen years of age at least.
Mephistopheles.
You speak like Jack the debauchee,
Who thinks each sweet flow'r grows for me;
As if his wish sufficed alone
To make each priceless pearl his own:
But 'tis not so; and cannot be.
Faust.
My good Sir Knight of pedantry,
Lay not thou down the law to me!
And this, for good and all, be told,
Unless, this very night, I hold
The sweet young maid in my embrace,
'Tis the last time that you shall see my face.
Mephistopheles.
Bethink thee!--what with here, and what with there,
The thing requires no little care.
Full fourteen days must first be spent,
To come upon the proper scent.
Faust.
Had I but seven good hours of rest,
The devil's aid I'd ne'er request,
To mould this fair young creature to my bent.
Mephistopheles.
You speak as if you were a Frenchman born;
But though the end be good, we must not scorn
The means; what boots the mere gratification?
It is the best half of the recreation,
When, up and down, and to and fro,
The pretty doll, through every kind
Of fiddle-faddle sweet flirtation,
You knead out first, and dress up to your mind--
As many an Italian tale can show.
Faust.
I need no tricks to whet my zest.
Mephistopheles.
I tell thee plainly without jest,
As things stand here, we cannot win
The fort by hotly rushing in;
To gain fair lady's favor, you
Must boldly scheme, and gently do.
Faust.
Fetch me something that breathed her air!
Her home, her chamber, plant me there!
A kerchief of her chaste attire!
A garter of my heart's desire!
Mephistopheles.
That you may see how I would fain
Do all I can to ease your pain,
We shall not lose a single minute;
I know her room--thou shalt enjoy thee in it.
Faust.
And I shall see her?--have her?
Mephistopheles.
No!
She'll be with a neighbor--better so.
Meanwhile, unhindered thou may'st go,
And on the hope of joys that wait thee,
Within her atmosphere may'st sate thee.
Faust.
Can we go now?
Mephistopheles.
No; we must wait till night.
Faust.
Go fetch a present for my heart's delight. [_Exit._
Mephistopheles.
Presents already! good!--a lover should not loiter!
I know some dainty spots of ground,
Where hidden treasures can be found;
I will go straight and reconnoitre. [_Exit._
Scene V.
_A small neat Chamber._
Margaret. [_Plaiting and putting up her hair._]
I wonder who the gentleman could be,
That on the street accosted me to-day!
He looked a gallant cavalier and gay,
And must be of a noble family;
That I could read upon his brow--
Else had he never been so free. [_Exit._
_Enter_ /Faust/ _and_ /Mephistopheles/.
Mephistopheles.
Come in--but softly--we are landed now!
Faust. [_after a pause_]
Leave me alone a minute, I entreat!
Mephistopheles. [_looking round about_]
Not every maiden keeps her room so neat. [_Exit._
Faust. [_looking round_]
Be greeted, thou sweet twilight-shine!
Through this chaste sanctuary shed!
Oh seize my heart, sweet pains of love divine,
That on the languid dew of hope are fed!
What sacred stillness holds the air!
What order, what contentment rare!
[_He throws himself on the old leathern arm-chair beside the bed._]
Receive thou me! thou, who, in ages gone,
In joy and grief hast welcomed sire and son.
How often round this old paternal throne,
A clambering host of playful children hung!
Belike that here my loved one too hath clung
To her hoar grandsire's neck, with childish joy
Thankful received the yearly Christmas toy,
And with the full red cheeks of childhood pressed
Upon his withered hand a pious kiss.
I feel, sweet maid, mine inmost soul possessed
By thy calm spirit of order and of bliss,
That motherly doth teach thee day by day:
That bids thee deck the table clean and neat,
And crisps the very sand strewn at thy feet.
Sweet hand! sweet, lovely hand! where thou dost sway,
The meanest hut is decked in heaven's array.
And here! [_He lifts up the bed-curtain._]
O Heaven, what strange o'ermastering might
Thrills every sense with fine delight!
Here might I gaze unwearied day and night.
Nature! in airy dreams here didst thou build
The mortal hull of the angelic child;
Here she reposed! her tender bosom teeming
With warmest life, in buoyant fulness streaming,
And here, with pulse of gently gracious power,
The heaven-born bud was nursed into a flower!
And thou! what brought thee here? why now backshrinks
Thy courage from the prize it sought before?
What wouldst thou have? Thy heart within thee sinks;
Poor wretched Faust! thou know'st thyself no more.
Do I then breathe a magic atmosphere?
I sought immediate enjoyment here,
And into viewless dreams my passion flows!
Are we the sport of every breath that blows?
If now she came, and found me gazing here,
How for this boldfaced presence must I pay!
The mighty man, how small would he appear,
And at her feet, a suppliant, sink away!
Mephistopheles. [_coming back_]
Quick! quick! I see her--she'll be here anon.
Faust.
Yes, let's be gone! for once and all be gone!
Mephistopheles.
Here is a casket, of a goodly weight;
Its former lord, I ween, bewails its fate.
Come, put it in the press. I swear
She'll lose her senses when she sees it there.
The trinkets that I stowed within it
Were bait meant for a nobler prey:
But child is child, and play is play!
Faust.
I know not--shall I?
Mephistopheles.
Can you doubt a minute?
Would you then keep the dainty pelf,
Like an old miser, to yourself?
If so, I would advise you, sir,
To spare your squire the bitter toil,
And with some choicer sport the hour beguile
Than looking lustfully at her.
I scratch my head and rub my hands that you--
[_He puts the casket into the cupboard, and locks the door again._]
Come, let's away!--
With this sweet piece of womanhood may do,
As will may sway;
And you stand there,
And gape and stare,
As if you looked into a lecture-room,
And there with awe
The twin grey spectres bodily saw,
Physics and Metaphysics! Come!
[_Exeunt._
_Enter_ /Margaret/, _with a lamp._
Margaret.
It is so sultry here, so hot! [_She opens the window._]
And yet so warm without 'tis not.
I feel--I know not how--oppressed;
Would to God that my mother came!
A shivering cold runs o'er my frame--
I'm but a silly timid girl at best!
[_While taking off her clothes, she sings._]
There was a king in Thule,
True-hearted to his grave:
To him his dying lady
A golden goblet gave.
He prized it more than rubies;
At every drinking-bout
His eyes they swam in glory,
When he would drain it out.
On his death-bed he counted
His cities one by one;
Unto his heirs he left them;
The bowl he gave to none.
He sat amid his barons,
And feasted merrily,
Within his father's castle,
That beetles o'er the sea.
There stood the old carouser,
And drank his life's last glow;
Then flung the goblet over
Into the sea below.
He saw it fall, and gurgling
Sink deep into the sea;
His eyes they sank in darkness;
No bumper more drank he.
[_She opens the cupboard to put in her clothes, and sees the
casket._]
How came the pretty casket here? no doubt
I locked the press when I went out.
'Tis really strange!--Belike that it was sent
A pledge for money that my mother lent.
Here hangs the key; sure there can be no sin
In only looking what may be within.
What have we here? good heavens! see!
What a display of finery!
Here is a dress in which a queen
Might on a gala-day be seen.
I wonder how the necklace would suit me!
Who may the lord of all this splendor be?
[_She puts on the necklace, and looks at herself in the glass._]
Were but the ear-rings mine to wear!
It gives one such a different air.
What boots the beauty of the poor?
'Tis very beautiful to be sure,
But without riches little weighs;
They praise you, but half pity while they praise.
Gold is the pole,
To which all point: the whole
Big world hangs on gold. Alas we poor!
Scene VI.
_A Walk._